#IT BEATS ME WITHIN AN INCH OF MY FUCKING LIFE

[thrilloffirstlove]

GAY NERDS FIGHTING

#HE NEARLY BEAT ME WITHIN AN INCH OF MY LIFE BUT I FUCKING LIVED ! #IM INSANE NOW. HOLY SHIT. #I KNOW IT GETS A LOT MORE WILD THAN THIS BUT UH. YEAH #HALFWAY THORUGH I REALIZED THE DESK JOCKEYS WERE BRIANBOTS AND. HOLY SHIT #THIS DUMBASS I WANT HIM SO BAD- wait no i shouldnt say that #cogs tag #ttcc #there are more screenshots but tumblr is yelling at me so

[witchcraftingboop]

What frustrates me is that since it takes me a while to process how/why people's irl actions towards me have gotten under my skin, I sometimes lose the chance to confront them naturally. For instance, it would be weird for me to pop up on homeboy with as much irritation as I feel right now for something that was said and done in January, but my brain has just now gotten around to one specific detail that fills me with Fresh Rage

#because wtf do you mean 'persistent' #bitch I ought to go back in time and slap the fucking dogshit out of your mouth #boop's rambles #this is a very specific word that he just kept saying over and over to describe a girl he supposedly wasn't interested in but brought up #every day without fail #and oh yeah she was a minor #like bitch I ought to have beat you within an inch of your life #matter of fact no jury would convict me #if I ever see this man again I'm going to jail #CT will reinstate the death penalty for the heinous treatment I will inflict upon this man #the geneva conventions will look upon my actions and flinch

[gutsby]

Ruined!

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel is an old man who struggles to cum sometimes. You’ve got time to kill and a tight hole to fill.

Warnings: 18+. Peepaw brainrot + a dash of anorgasmia. Unprotected p-in-v, cockwarming, age gap, daddy kink.

Note: Finals are whooping my ass left & right. This is a quickie.

Word count: 1.2k | Part of the Waiting Game ‘verse

Surely he was hurting you now.

Joel Miller had a kink for many, many fun activities, but splitting a sweet young thing like you over his cock to the point you were almost in tears was just not one of them.

At the same time your poor, surely-bruised walls pulsed around his hardened length, he felt a pang of guilt. His balls were pressed against your ass like two lead weights, soaked with the remains of your third release, and his mind was at war with itself—keep fucking you like this? Pull out and offer his sincerest apologies for not being able to cum? A boy your age would’ve never had you waiting around like that, aching around his cock, much less begging for something as simple as a cumshot.

He decided to go straight to the source. Leaning over your prone body on the bed before him, he was careful not to rut his hips or jostle his dick around too much.

Joel pressed a hot, stubbled kiss to your cheek, then:

“‘S’it too much, baby? She need a break, maybe?”

Joel thumbed at that space where your body ended and his began and nearly lost his mind to the pearly-white slick that had accumulated with time. Two hours time, he had to remind himself while you moaned and writhed and bucked your ass back. Your cunt was choking him.

Crying, too.

Your eyes flew open the moment his words reached you.

“You kiddin’ me, Miller?! I could do this shit all day.”

Sometimes Joel forgot you were only in your twenties. Really, the thought only occasionally crossed his mind in moments like these—or when your father, his best friend, happened to bring you up—but when it did, it hit him hard. You were young. Lively. Surely far too spry and full of life to be messing around with a man as old as him.

Joel’s guilt ran almost commensurate with his pleasure when he felt you anchor your feet on the bed and start to fuck yourself back and forth over his still-throbbing dick.

Almost.

He planted a hand beside your head and grinned. He let you fuck him. Felt you pull off, crawl up the bed a little, then beckon him back to your body, where your ass was now pointing up and your back was arched in invitation.

Almost.

“You know I can’t sleep without your cum inside me.”

And you made a point to spread your knees and look behind you with a smile as sweet as Milo’s tea, fingers drumming a beat against the bedspread in anticipation.

“You do wanna fill me up, don’t you, daddy?” you teased.

Yeah, no. The guilt was gone. Joel could worry about being a depraved old man when he was done cumming.

Then he was back inside you, driving his hips until every last inch of him was wrapped snug within your wet and velvety embrace, and he sighed. A real protracted one, like the kind he was liable to exhale after climbing two flights of stairs, or else just hoisting himself off the sofa. Or lifting you in his arms and fucking you hard against the hood of his Bronco. Any time. Any place. You were kind enough to oblige him with the best cardio of his life, so the least Joel could do now was make you cum again.

He snatched your hands up in one of his own and placed your wrists at the base of your spine. With his other, free set of fingers he took to rubbing your clit gently.

“SON OF A—”

“—good girl.”

You let out a bloodcurdling scream into your pillow and secretly hoped this man’s dick would never deflate again. Not with the way he was sawing his thing back and forth and dragging you to the edge, circling your clit like you were the single most precious thing in the world to him.

“Oh, sweet pea, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Like he could feel the tears staining the cushion himself.

“Mmrooonme,” you cried into it, voice garbled by cotton.

“What’s’at, honey? Can’t hear ya.”

Joel then bent at the waist, pretending to be leaning in to hear you better, when really he knew he’d be digging in your guts with that big, bulbous head of his and making you squeal again. Hands still held captive behind you, you inched your chin back on the pillow so your moans could be heard even louder while Joel sped up.

“You— ruined me,” you repeated. Now clear as ever.

Joel tried to hide his smile and glanced down between your body and his. Then, while his ring finger joined the other two to make their tight, light circles, he returned,

“Ruined? Pussy feels just fine t’me.”

You’d kill him if he wasn’t so good at this. You turned your head more to meet his eyes from the corner of yours.

“No. Ruined me. For anyone else.”

Probably forever.

“Good.”

You knew he liked it that way.

You saw it in his eyes. Felt it in his touch. The hefty, broad, and greying Joel Miller had been loafing around on this earth long enough to know how to claim what was his. When his hips knocked yours to lay you flat on the bed, you already knew what was coming next.

First, his arms came to rest on either side of your body.

“Shit,” you whimpered.

Next, his lips went trailing down to your ear.

“Just a little more, sugar—that’s it,” he murmured while his hips sank in, and you felt that big, delicious stretch.

Then he released your hands so they were free to squeeze the sheets, and when they did, his moved over them—lacing his fingers through your own—and his lips pressed a kiss to your jaw. He held you in a tender grasp. His breath was hot on your neck, and the whole of his body was blanketing yours. Joel knew you liked it like that, which is why he made sure not to leave an inch of space in between. He was grunting, rutting, holding you close while his cock drilled a maddening pace inside you.

“You ruined me too, y’know,” he mumbled into your skin.

His nose was flush with the side of your cheek, nudging inward. Begging you to turn your head just a little more so he could kiss you. Weak as you were, you obliged.

And you moaned against that grey, stubbled chin of his when the thrusts above you had your cunt grinding the bed, rubbing that soft and helpless nub on the sheets.

“C’mon— let daddy have it,” he growled, “Let daddy have it and make it his, huh? That okay by you, baby?”

It was.

More than okay, as confirmed by the orgasm that tore through your body moments later while your teeth sank into the flesh of Joel’s lower lip and your cunt clenched and soaked over him whole. Joel wedged his tongue in your mouth and fucked you through it. His broad and callused hands were like iron around your own, holding you tight and keeping you still amidst a maelstrom of pleasure that combed over your every last nerve.

He licked into your mouth. Licked over it. Took the sick and distinct pleasure of knowing no one but him got to see you like this, with your jaw hanging slack and your eyes rolling back and your whines repeating quietly, ‘Daddydaddypleasedaddyfuckohfuckdontstop.’

Maybe ruined wasn’t such a bad thing to be at all.

#NOBODY SPEAK TO ME UNTIL I’VE HAD MY MORNING COFFEE #AND BY MORNING COFFEE I MEAN THIS MAN’S LOAD IN MY MOUTH #PREFERABLY FOLLOWED BY AN OLD FASHIONED #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you

[cloakedsparrow]

Red Hood climbs up onto a roof with the intention of watching some drug smugglers below, only to find Robin, crouched in the perfect hiding space Jason had noticed. The boy is eating fries from a curled down Batburgers bag and sipping a Riddler Shake.

Jason: What are you doing here, Boy Wonder?

Tim: Probably the same thing you are. Spying on criminals.

Jason: ...

Tim: Want some fries? They're Jokerized, just to warn you.

Jason: Why?

Tim: Kon-El got some to try the last time he sneaked into Gotham and it turns out they're really good.

Jason: No, why would you offer me fries?

Tim: I have enough to share and I can always buy more?

Jason: Why are you being nice to me?

Tim: I'm offering fries, not a kidney. Why wouldn't I?

Jason: Because of the knife to the throat or, you know, that time I beat you within an inch of your life?

Tim: ...

Jason: ...

Tim: What the fuck was your time as Robin like?

Jason: The fuck?

Tim: A mentally unstable individual violently attacked me because he was scared or mad at Batman. That's like a bi-monthly occurrence for me, minimum. At least you were really insane and want to get better now-

Jason: I never said I wanted to stop killing.

Tim: I said get better. You want to be in control of yourself instead of being all Lazarus crazy, right?

Jason: Yes. But that doesn't mean I won't kill.

Tim: That's still wanting to get better. You think half the rouges who rotate through Arkham are actually trying to get better by even that much?

Jason: No.

Tim: Me, either. So that makes you an improvement over the usual. Plus, you know, the trauma from being murdered and all.

Jason: That's not an excuse to attack a kid.

Tim: No, but it's an explanation, which, again, is better than the usual. And you're showing signs of genuine remorse. That's huge around here. How often do we get that?

Jason: Anyone ever tell you your standards are kinda fucked up?

Tim: They'd have to pay closer attention for that.

Jason: Fucking what?

Tim: Doesn't matter. It's not like you're going to talk to anyone and even if you did, who'd believe you?

Jason: ...

Tim: So, you want some fries?

Jason: Yeah, sure.

Jason: These are good.

Tim: Right?

Jason: Is this nori?

Tim: Uh-huh; with paprika, kosher salt, and msg. I think there might be something else in there, but I haven't been able to place it.

Jason: Potato starch.

Tim: Oh, that makes sense.

Jason: I am definitely Jokerizing my fries from now on.

Tim: Try them with the Riddler Shake, too. The mint really compliments them.

Jason: I'll do that.

Tim: Wait. Doesn't that guy work for Black Mask?

Jason: Yes, he does.

Tim: So...want to pull a World's Finest?

Jason: What?

Tim: You know, a team-up?

Jason: You-? Fucking- You know what? Sure. Let's pull a World's Finest. *under his breath* Little freak.

#dc #comics #funny #ficlet #fanfiction #bat family #bat brothers #batpups #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Tim Wayne #Red Hood #Robin

[rinhaler]

so my ex just used me to get better and then dated someone else once he was okay, so i’m requesting a toji fucking megumi’s ex gf to teach his son a lesson, or megumi’s gf ends up taking “Break my heart? i’ll be your step mom.” too seriously 🫶

fuck ur ex fuck him i hate him idek know him but i hate him!!!! enjoy the filth <3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap, implied cheating, vaginal sex, revenge sex, clit rubbing, pet names, praise, slight cucking, creampie.

words: .8k

“Oh. God, T-Toji—!” you cry out as his cock buries deeper and deeper inside of you.

The prominent veins stimulate your walls with every thrust while his cockhead pummels against your g-spot with perfect precision. He doesn’t miss a beat, either, he possesses an endless supply of stamina and he’s using it to his advantage.

He silences you with a nasty, drool infused kiss as your tongues tangle effortlessly. It’s hard to feel guilty about letting your ex’s dad rail you when it feels this good. It was a messy breakup, and yet, you didn’t feel the need to cut off Toji. You broke up with Megumi, after all. Not his dad.

Though you didn’t expect to be lifted onto his chest of drawers when you came over and fucked within an inch of your life. You decided to come over and collect the last of your things and ended up staying a little longer than planned when Toji offered you a glass of wine. In hindsight, you’ve realised that he offered and spilled it on you just to get you upstairs.

“Kid’s a fuckin’ idiot,” he snarls, resting his forehead against yours. “Perfect little pussy, baby, so fucking perfect.”

You watch him as he pulls his head away from yours and licks his thumb, lowering it to rub your puffy clit without slowing his thrusts. Your head falls back against the wall behind you, feeling lighter than air and losing all sense of control as he fucks into you slow and deep.

He smiles at you as you place your hands on his shoulders, moving his lips to softly kiss each of them.

“Knew he’d fuck things up eventually,” he announces, confidently, “The minute I saw ya, I knew Megumi wasn’t gonna be able to handle you, darlin’.”

“Fuck, Toji, h-have you been waiting for this?” you ask him, already knowing the answer by the way he smirks.

“You think too much.” he tells you, leaning forwards to make out with you again. He’s right, of course, but the harder he ploughs into you the muddier your thoughts become. All you can think about is him. There’s inklings of regret as Megumi flashes through your mind. He sees it behind your eyes, he must do. Because soon after he grabs your face in one large hand until your cheeks pucker. “Stop thinkin’ about the piece of shit, he’s not thinking about you.”

“Oh my God…” you huff, knowing he’s right. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer again, moaning into his mouth as your walls begin to tighten. “Make me— wanna cum—” you tell him, earning another passion induced kiss and faster thrusts.

“Yeah? Wanna cum, baby?” he asks, and you nod in turn. “Can I cum in this pretty cunt?”

“P-Please, yes please!”

The moaning from both of you is raucous as he chases his own high and forces you into yours. You cream around him beautifully. He still can’t believe what an idiot Megumi was to let you go. But he won’t complain, not when he’s emptying his balls into your gorgeous little pussy.

You pant and move the hair out of his face being stuck down by his sweaty forehead. He laughs, softly, and you can’t help but join him when the reality sinks in. Though he helps you down and picks up your underwear from the floor. He grabs his shirt while you slip into them, feeling particularly vile when you feel his warm seed seep into the gusset of your panties.

He watches you as you pick up your jacket and your phone.

“You’re on your phone already?” he laughs. “Don’t tell me I was just a cheap fuck.” he teases you, and you smile.

“No, sorry.” you smile back as you let the intrusive thoughts whirring through your mind win. You were going to delete his number, though you’re glad you didn’t as you hit dial on Megumi’s number. You’re pleased Toji doesn’t hear the faint ringing sound, and you’re even happier when you see the time going up on your screen, seeing that Megumi actually answered.

“hello?” you hear him say a few times, muffling the sound as you put it in your jacket pocket.

“I can’t believe we had sex, Toji.” you speak, doing all you can to not smirk as you’re sure Megumi’s heart just dropped. “You won’t tell Megumi, will you? I’m so mad at him… I hate him… but I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not telling him.” Toji nods, agreeing. “Can’t lie though, I wouldn’t mind fucking you again.” he chuckles.

“Then…” you approach him again, kissing him. “Fuck me again, Toji. Wan’ your cock again. Want you t’cum in me again. Need you… s’bad.” you moan quietly as his hands begin exploring your body. He lifts you up and throws you down onto the bed, pulling his jeans down again.

“Fuck me, princess, thought you’d never ask.”

You begin kissing again, unsure how much of that Megumi heard. But you make sure to keep your volume sufficiently high as you make out with his dad.

It’s the least he deserves for cheating.

© 2023 rinhaler

#💌 — luxe mail #📨 — requests #toji x reader #toji x you #toji smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #anime smut #female reader #sub reader #jjk x fem!reader #tw age gap #tw praise #tw cucking

[tiazvni]

no backtalk | multi.

words : 862

warnings : fem!reader, black coded, choking, squirting, mating press, backshots, dumbification <3

you squeak as your boyfriend pressed you further into the mattress, his heavy hand resting on your upper back, slotted just between your shoulder blades, forcing you into the meanest arch possible as he fucked you within an inch of your life.

his thrusts were deep in this position, and the sheer force of his strokes left you sobbing. with three orgasms having already been ripped from you previously - two from his thick fingers, and one from his mouth - your body has since gone limp, your mind buzzing with euphoric numbness.

“s-s’too deep, baby!”

your whines were hardly audible over the wet squelching of your pussy as he met you thrust for thrust, but from the sound of his airy laugh, you knew your boyfriend heard you loud and clear.

“too deep?” there was a teasing lilt to the low rumble of his voice. “you told me you could take it, sweetheart.”

oh, you know what you said, but that was the hennessy talking.

having been with your boyfriend for the past seven months, you felt that some liquid courage was required before telling him - the man with the biggest dick you’ve ever seen, and a cocky attitude to match - that you were finally ready for sex.

truth be told, drunk-you talked a big game. while you were normally shy and reserved, she had the confidence sober-you wished she could exude. your mind raced with flashbacks of you sitting on your boyfriend’s lap, whispering to him that you wanted to be stuffed full with his cock, boasting that you weren’t one for tapping out.

it was then when you realized that you bit off more than you could chew.

your breath catches after one particularly vicious thrust, feeling the bulbous head of his dick drag repeatedly against that spot deep within you that made you tremble and keen uncontrollably. though your cries were cut short when the hand keeping you molded to the mattress slithered around your throat, lifting you from your arch and pressing your back to his chest.

“and after all that backtalk.” he tsks, the warmth of his breath on the shell of your ear making you shudder. “i knew i’d have you dumb on my dick.”

you whimpered at the low timbre of his voice, nearing the precipice of your desire for a fourth time that night as his other hand snaked around to your front to rub tight circles on your clit. the overwhelming sensation makes your eyes roll back, your thighs shaking and pussy clenching as he continued to fuck you raw.

“shit,” he hissed, “you’re so fucking tight.”

he trembles behind you, groaning in your ear with each new thrust into your wet heat. a breathless giggle escaped your lips - you couldn’t help but feel a bit prideful at the thought of bringing such pleasure to a man whose body and stature were akin to a fucking god. that feeling was short-lived, though.

without any warning, he pulls out before manhandling you onto your back, towering above you with a feral glint in his eyes. he licked his lips at the sight of you - faux locs falling from your loose bun, bare breasts jiggling with each heaving breath, and shaky inner thighs glistening with your wet, creamy arousal.

you were absolutely breathtaking.

“so fucking pretty,” he hums, pushing your thighs to your chest to give himself a better view of your pussy. and without missing a beat he gripped his dick, pumping it a few times before slapping it against your clit.

you cry out, your eyes soon widening as he then teased your entrance with his tip, the slight stretch of his dick from this angle dangerous enough to make you delirious with both pain and pleasure.

“w-wait, wait!” you gasped, pressing against his abdomen the moment he sank a few inches deeper. “s’too much!”

“nah, move your hands,” he challenged. “you said you wanted to be full of my dick, right? let me fill you then.”

he bottoms out in one swift thrust before you can react, knocking the air from your lungs but still giving you a moment to adjust. it’s ridiculous how deep you could feel him - he was practically in your tummy.

“can’t believe you kept this pussy from me for seven months,” he seethes, but you hardly registered his words, or his tightened grip on your thighs. that blissful numbness in your brain had increased tenfold - nothing else mattered except how amazingly full you felt in that moment.

and then he started moving.

you screamed as the head of his dick attacked that spot within you once more - hard, heavy, and with timely precision - your voice reaching octaves neither of you were used to. the sensation had you quivering, your arousal suddenly squirting around his dick as your fourth orgasm hit you like a freight train.

“fuuuck,” your boyfriend groaned as he fucked you through it, shuddering at the feel of your cunt spasming around him. it nearly triggered his own release, but he managed to hold off, craving to have you completely and utterly pliant before finally giving into his primal urges.

“i hope you know we’re not done here, sweetheart.”

gojo, eren, toji, zeke, geto, reiner, choso, jean, and any of your faves <3

#smut #eren jeager #eren smut #gojo smut #jjk #aot #gojo satoru #toji smut #toji fushiguro #anime smut #zeke jeager #zeke jaeger smut #geto suguru #geto smut #reiner smut #reiner braun #reiner brainrot #choso smut #choso x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirsten x reader #eren x reader #gojo x reader #toji x reader #geto x reader #zeke x reader #reiner x reader

[marvellous1917]

Icarus Falling Far.

(Part 3)

Pairing: mob!bucky x tattoo artist!female!reader

Summary: it’s the day after giving the dangerous mobster his first tattoo, and he hasn’t contacted you yet. What a dick.

Warnings: cursing, crime, mentions of guns, stalking/harassment (brief), think that’s it.

Word count: 3.6k ish

A/N: i had no plan to make this story into a mini-series, so if this seems a little unplanned… it is. Anyway, hope you like it my loves 😘

(This is not beta’s so any mistakes are my own)

Part 2 ⬇️:

———————

Bold is readers thoughts

Italics is Bucky's thoughts

This starts in Bucky’s POV.

———————

His home office was always the place he went to feel at peace. Ironic really, considering the dealings done within the room. The walls had seen him order his men to assassinate his rivals, to eliminate anybody that got in their way. The desk had felt the tip of the pen write extortionate contracts, sent silently to some of the cities most powerful people, the non-explicit threat sent with photos of their family’s, to reminds them what they were risking if they refused to comply. The window that felt the full strength of his prosthetic too many times to count. The hole in the floor after one of his employees managed to literally shoot himself in the foot. {guess who}

But his peace was teetering on a cliffs edge. His hands were woven into his hair, pulling to try and alleviate the headache forming. Elbows resting on his desk as his eyes stayed staring at one specific groove in the wood.

A knock at the door broke his trance and he sighed. It was a rule in the Compound that if the boss was in his office and the door was closed, you do not interrupt or enter unless there was an emergency. Only one man was brave enough to completely disregard Bucky’s rule, which had led to some… interesting situations when Bucky had girls in there with him.

“Come in,” he called, knowing the longer he waited to respond, the louder and more incessant the knocking would become.

The door opened and there was Bucky’s very own personal dumbass: Steve Rogers. The man had been a part of Bucky’s life since as long as he could remember, if-fact some of his earliest memories were with Steve; young boys playing cops and robbers together, attempting to protect Steve when he picked a fight he had no business being in- which had led to Bucky getting his ass beat as well, and scheming together about how to make sure that Simon Justin never played baseball again after pulling his sisters hair on the playground.

“Fuck me Buck, I’m not sure if today could have been anymore fucked,” Steve stated as he collapsed on to the couch, flinging his legs over one arm and resting his head in the other.

Today was a stressful fucking day.

It was the day that Bucky was making all necessary moves. Why all the problems had to pop up now, he wasn’t sure. And the kicker to this awful day? He had no time to talk to you, the girl he could not get out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. You’d managed to flood his mind, memories of the kiss you shared playing over and over again.

“Did you close the door?” Bucky asked, not moving an inch.

“Yeah.”

“Good because I do not need anyone else talking to me right now,” Bucky said, his voice low and quiet, an air of danger ever-present in his tone.

“C’mon Buck, y’know you love them,” Steve responds with a dopey little smirk on his face, and he tilts his head to make eye contact with the man he calls his brother.

I hate that fuckin smile.

He softly hums his agreement and returns to inspecting the groove on his desk.

“We just gotta talk it out, figure out what the fuck is going on, then plan our next moves accordingly,” Steve says, swinging his legs back to the floor, hands clasped together, his arms leaning on his knees.

“Yeah thanks man, I didn’t think about figuring everything out, maybe I’ll give that a go now” Bucky retorts with weak sarcasm, mind too busy, replaying the events of the day.

“I can leave you alone to get lost in your head, or we can figure this shit out together. It’s your call jerk.” Steve says, tilting his head down to catch Bucky’s eye.

“Alright.”

“Stop pulling your hair jackass.” He adds.

I hate it when you do that.

Bucky drops his hands to the desk and says, “Ok let’s start this debrief with Walker.”

“Nat’s got his ass tied up in the basement for ya, he’s ready when you are.”

“Anybody looking for him?”

“One frustratingly loyal friend, but he has no idea that Johnny-boy is with us. The rest of his little fan club have no idea he’s even missing.”

“Ok, one problem down. Rumlow?” It’s the question he doesn’t want the answer to. He’d much rather spend his time thinking about you. His history with Brock Rumlow was bloody and painful, for both of them. There was only one person from his past that Bucky hadn’t dealt with, and here he was, coming back to ruin the name Bucky had made for himself.

Rumlow knew things about Bucky’s past that made him a a high security threat, but after he failed to blow himself up in an attempt to kill Bucky, he had disappeared. Bucky thought it was finally over, but the asshole popped back up about a year ago, with more power than before, making himself seemingly untouchable by Bucky’s hand.

“Currently moving like he has been, not causing too much trouble for us, though his crew are getting closer and closer to our dealings at the port.” Steve said, a slight look of digits on his face.

“Put extra hands down there for the next couple weeks, see if we can’t scare them off a little.”

“Yes boss. I’ll let them know after this.”

“The commissioner’s dealt with?” Buck asks, remembering the deviation the man had decided to make.

“Yep, send him that gift basket. He called Sam this morning and agreed to our terms.”

“Good. How’s Barton?” He asks, moving into what they class as ‘personal business’.

“Pissed, man. He wants blood for what happened, we all do.” Steve answers, the memory of seeing Clint covered in blood and bruised made his blood simmer.

“We sure it wasn’t Rumlows’ lot, or fuck even Walker?

“Walkers’ fanclub do not have the brain cells, the power, or the information to organise an attack like that, and Parker tracked Rumlow and his men, all are accounted for and have alibis. This is someone new.”

Oh for fuck’s sake. Isn’t two power hungry assholes enough.

“We haven’t found anything? No security cameras, no cell tower pings?” Bucky asks, leaning back in his chair, resting his head on the back.

“Actually, I sent Scott there this morning to check out if there was anything left there and he found something.” Steve responds, some apprehension creeping into his voice.

That got Bucky’s attention. His head snapped back up and locked eyes with Steve who now stood in-front of his desk, pacing back and forth slightly.

“Care to share with the class Rogers?” His voice was hard now, his extreme dislike of not knowing all the information shining through.

Steve exhales sharply, biting his tongue to not retort and piss Bucky off more.

“He found a package tucked behind a dumpster addressed to ‘Bucky Barnes’ that had a memory stick-“

“Like a USB?” Bucky interrupted.

“- Yeah a USB-“ he gets cut off again.

“Then just say USB, calling it a ‘memory stick’ makes you sound 100 years old.”

“-oh dear god, you gonna let me finish?” Steve responds.

Bucky waved his hand at him, a sign for him to continue.

“Scott found a package addressed to you with a USB inside, we gave it to Stark ‘cos Parker was busy tracking down Rumlows crew, and he checked it out and told us it was completely normal, no virus or anything bad in it.”

“Was there anything on it?” Bucky asks, his brow furrowed.

“It..uh..has two pictures on it.” Steve said lowly.

“…of?”

“It’s probably better if I just show you.” Steve said, his tone of voice made Bucky a little nervous.

Steve took out his phone, tapped a couple of time before turning it around to give to Bucky. As soon as the latter had ahold of the phone, Steve took a full step back, which caused Bucky to raise his eyebrows in question.

“Just look.” He says in response to Bucky’s unasked question.

He looked down at the screen and almost immediately removed his left hand as to not break the phone.

Fuck. Shit.

The first picture was of the night he met you. It was taken through the window for you apartment, and clearly showed both you and Bucky, stood side by side, looking through your flash book.

“What the fuck is this?” He pushes out through gritted teeth.

“I assuming that’s the tattoo artist you told me about, the one you got a thing for?” Steve says.

The one I’m obsessed with.

When Bucky gives him a sharp nod, Steve just drops his head, suddenly fascinated with his shoes.

“Shit.” He says under his breath.

“What?” Bucky’s voice was louder now.

“Look at the next picture.” Steve says while avoiding eye contact.

Bucky looks down, his finger swiping to the next picture before he can think about it.

No. No no fuck. Not her.

The next photo was taken from inside the apartment. Inside your bedroom. It’s of you. Asleep. Completely unaware of the danger stood at the foot of your bed.

Bucky couldn’t look away, he was frozen staring at the picture. Your shorts and oversized tee had both ridden up slightly, showing how truly vulnerable you are. The clock on your table showed the time as 3:54 and showed the date.

“…this was taken this morning.”

“..yeah.”

fuck.

———————

Fuck Bucky Barnes.

The bastard hadn’t contacted you since the shop.

Bitch ass told me to keep my phone on so I wouldn’t miss his message, kept me glued to my phone like a weirdo waiting for him to call… and he didn’t. Dick.

Despite the annoyance at the very very attractive mobster, you couldn’t help wonder how he was, what he was doing, if he was thinking about you too.

You’re overthinking about Bucky was interrupted by a knock at your door.

“One sec!” You shout to whoever’s there, getting up and walking to the door. The second you undo the lock, the door is being pushed into your face with a chorus of greetings.

“Come in I guess,” you say to the three who just walked in.

“Well thanks darlin, you got food?” Billy responds, already making his way to the fridge.

“Don’t fucking eat my pizza Bill, I swear I’ll kill you,” you answer, giving both Frank and Curtis a hug, letting the door close behind them.

He laughs off your threat as the others take a seat on your couch.

“Not that I don’t love you guys, but why the fuck are you here?” You ask, moving back to the arm chair in the corner and taking a seat, your phone pinging in the back ground.

“What, we can’t pop in on you whenever we want?” Frank says, leaning back in the arm of the couch, moving to put his feet in the coffee table.

“Frankie if you put your feet on my table, I’m gonna beat you with a spoon.” You call at him.

He freezes and slowly lowers his feet back to the floor.

“We just wanted to come see how you were…Frank told us about Barnes.” Curtis says, cutting into the conversation and completely dampening the mood.

God-fucking-dammit Frank.

Oh fuck do I tell them that he’s not an issue and I actually quite like him.

“Yeah are you ok sweetheart?” Billy asks and he collapses on the couch in the middle of the other boys.

“I’m fine guys, I swear, like I told Frank he’s actually not bad,” you answer, shifting uncomfortable lay in your seat due to the indecision of how much to tell them, “He was nice, polite and kind of…charming, I guess-”

“Is that why you kissed him?” Frank interrupts.

Shit, how does he know?

“-what?”

“You kissed him. Or rather he kissed you but you seemed to enjoy it.” Billy says with an annoying smirk on his face.

“How do you know that?” You ask, shock still written all over your face.

“..the security cameras, kid. You forget about those?”

Ahh fuck.

“Ahh fuck,” you say out loud.

“What the hell are you doing making out with a mobster, Y/N?” Curtis responds, looking at you with those eyes of his that show he’s not judging, just trying to understand.

“I..uh..I wasn’t-really-thinking.” You put you hands on your head, even though Curtis wasn’t judging you, the other two definitely were.

“Obviously you weren’t, he’s a goddam mobster Y/N-” Billy starts, anger in his voice, but you cut him off.

“I know that Bill, ok, I do,” you say, shifting to place your feet on the floor, “but he’s not the animal you think he is, he’s kind and considerate and he makes me feel…” happy. you cut off before the last word, wanting to keep that realisation to yourself for a little longer.

“Plus you bastards can’t be judging me for meeting the guy twice, only yourselves and the devil knows what fucked shit you three have been up to.” You almost shout.

“The fuck does that mean?” Frank answers.

“C’mon Frank I’m not stupid, you three have some shady shit in your pasts. I mean you were goddam military for fucks sake, and don’t think I don’t see the fake payments on the books at the shop-“

“Stop Y/N.” Billy cuts you off. “Stop it now.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, eyes never leaving yours.

You were about to respond to his demand, when a knock sounded at the door.

“Told you to keep you phone on.” A dark voice calls through the door.

Oh shit. No no no not now please not now.

“Who the fuck is that?” Frank asks, suddenly sitting up straight, eyes pinned on the door. Both Billy and Curtis stand, facing the door as if waiting for it to bust off it’s hinges.

“Please all of you, shut the fuck up and don’t do anything dumb,” you answer, moving towards the door.

“Is that him?” Curtis asks.

“Didn’t I just say shut the fuck up,” you retort a little snappier, opening the door slightly.

He cut his hair, it’s looks good on him.

Bucky lowers his arm from his thwarted attempt at a second knock and says, “Is your phone broken or are you ignoring me?” The smirk on his face made your heart beat a little faster.

“Neither, I just missed your text because I have some friends over right now,” you say.

“Is that why you’re not opening the door properly? I can barley see you,” he says with a grin.

“…kinda? Ok wait..” you exit your apartment, pulling the door closed fully behind you, “long story short, they know about the k.. uh about what happened at the shop, and they know who you are and they are not happy about it.”

His eyes darken and his smirk grows wider at the almost mention of the kiss. He shifts until he’s leaning his shoulder on the wall by your door.

“Oh yeah? Doesn’t really matter what they think though, does it doll? Both you and I know how much you enjoyed it.” He says, mouth forming a cheeky grin.

Oh my god.

“Me? You’re the one who started it Bucky, seemed you enjoyed it more,” you respond, having no idea where the confidence came from.

He hums at your statement and says “Well I can admit that I did enjoy our kiss sweetheart, but I may need a little reminder of how it went, it’s been a long day you see.”

“Bucky-” you’re cut of by him stepping closer until your chests are barley touching, the new position making you tilt your head back to see him better.

“What darlin? You ok with this?” He asks slowly, tilting his head to the side slightly, looking into your eyes for any sign of discomfort.

Why does he have to be so sweet.

You nod in answer to his question and he smiles. Not the terrifying grin or the cheeky smirk, but a genuine smile - one that makes him even more beautiful. Bucky raises his right arm, dragging his thumb over your lips and cupping your cheek while you stare up at him, his other hand sneaks around your back, pulling you flush to him.

“You have no idea what to do to me, do ya?” He mumbles, probably not intending for you to respond as he’s closing the gap between you. The kiss is harsh and a little messy, shocking you slightly with his apparent desperation, hands holding you tightly. He takes advantage of your shock, tracing your lips with his tongue and pushing past to deepen the kiss.

His hand drops from you face to your waist, gripping so tightly, you’re sure he’ll have left a bruise. That thought got you’re heart pumping faster, the idea that an imprint of his hands, his fingers would be left on your skin. It felt right. Bucky pushes you until your back hits the wall, hips fitting against yours almost perfectly, one leg sneaking between yours as you let a light whimper escape.

You break the kiss to get some air, leaning your forehead against his, both of you catching your breath.

“Bucky, I mis-”, you didn’t get to finish the sentence before your door opens and you’re suddenly faced with three pissed off ex-marines.

-(Bucky’s P.O.V)

Bucky immediately steps back, releasing you, and straightens his posture. He looks at the men, quietly analysing them. He can tell that they either are or were military, and definitely care immensely about you, probably to the point of beating the crap out of anyone that hurt you.

The one in the middle is a frightening creature , he thinks, but the wedding band means he has something to loose, he should be less quick to anger, in theory.

The one on the right with the short buzz cut and the tense muscles reminds him of Clint, he’s ready to fight at the drop of a hat, and by the look on his face, I’m gonna be his next target.

The man on the left intrigued Bucky the most. His face is blank, showing nothing. He’s favouring one of his legs, and the other shows a bulky piece of metal at the bottom. Wonder if that’s an old military injury.

“Guys, what are you doing?” You ask, apprehension in your voice. Bucky wonders if you’re scared for them or for him.

“Oh we are gonna head out, let you have some time to really think about what we talked about.” The man in the middle says, putting emphasis on the word really.

“Frank please-”

“No it’s ok sweetheart,” Bucky bristles at the pet name the Clint wannabe says, “we’ll see you later.”

“Billy-”

“Shit, I left my phone on your table, could you get it for me?” The other says to you, cutting off your words, smiling at you to calm the stressed look on your face.

“Of course Cutis, one sec,” you respond, Turing to Bucky at the end of your sentence with a look at says please don’t make this worse.

You pass by the men and let the door fall closed behind you.

The silence is tense as the men all stare at each-other.

“So…how’s your man doing? Y’know the one that got jumped,” Billy says, smirking at Bucky.

“How do you know that?” Bucky asks as his muscles tense.

“…Y/N told us, obviously,” Billy says.

The pause was intentional, she didn’t tell them that.

“He’s fine, thanks.” Bucky responds shortly, all to aware of the lie he was just told.

The door opens just before Billy can respond, all four men going silent again.

“Here it is Curtis, guess I’ll see you guys later then,” you say, before hugging each man.

The three shoulder past Bucky as if he was just a man on the street, no care in the world that he could have them killed for that disrespect. But he lets this one slide, for her, as they’re her friends.

“Did you tell them about Clint?” He knows it was a lie but he needs to make sure his cynical brain isn’t marking it up.

“No? Why?” You answer, unaware of the turmoil occurring in Bucky’s head.

Then how the fuck do they know.

“Give me one minute doll, I forgot something at the car,” he says, “go on inside I’ll be back soon.”

“Uh.. okay.” You answer, walking back into the apartment.

He watches the door and as soon as it closes he is moving back down the stairs, hoping to catch and ask the men how they knew about Clint. Bucky normally has an reasonable explanation for everything, but this time he was stumped. He catches them outside the front door to the building, the three of them stood leaning against their car, watching the door, waiting for him to come out.

“How do you know?” He repeats his question from before, voice lower and more dangerous now.

“Y’know…that bastard has a solid right hook.” Billy says. The sentence sends red hot anger through Bucky’s blood.

It was them. But that means…

“Did you get our package?” The big one in the middle asks, Frank, she called him.

Fuck. The anger that has been burning in his veins since the second he saw those photos of you pours out of him and he immediately pulls a gun on Frank.

“Hey now that’s not smart, is it?” Curtis asks in a placating tone.

“Don’t forget about our girl up there. What’s she gonna think if you shoot me for no reason?” Frank says, unflinching staring down the barrel of Bucky’s gun.

Fuck. Fuck. These bastard are the ones threatening everything, they jumped Clint and are using you to get to him. They’re your friends and you? You have absolutely no idea.

————

Yo this took so long to do!! Hope you like my lil twisty turn at the end there 😈.

Lemme know what u think 😘

Tagged :

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[fictioninmyblood]

I Meant That Shit

Summary: N’Jadaka gets tired of waiting for Y/N to forgive him and come home, so he decides to let Killmonger bring her back, kicking and screaming if necessary.

Warnings: 18+, noncon/con, smut, D/s themes, Entitled and pissed Erik being devious. Shouldthere be a warning for angst?

A/N: This was supposed to be short, but here we are. Enjoy my sexually starved thoughts.

A/N: Also, idk if this needs to be said, but I write for my demographic - black females. This has been my disclaimer/notice.

A/N: My work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than this) without my explicit consent and recognition.

After his reluctant rehabilitation, there weren't many things that brought out his killer instinct anymore. However, it seemed that lately, despite all the sparring, therapy, and meditation sessions, Erik couldn’t shake the urge to knock some sense into his girl Y/N. 

A few weeks prior when she told him she needed space and couldn’t stay in Wakanda and ignore her life anymore, he said some things. She took it the wrong way and told him they were over, as if.

When she first left, Erik was sure she’d break down and FaceTime him or use the kimoyo beads he taught her to use. She was always more vocal about missing him, so he just assumed she’d break down and restart their communication. Imagine his surprise when a whole two weeks rolled by without so much as a text, call, or video chat. He was desperate for anything from her, even a verbal lashing, but by the time a month came and went, he felt like a fiend going through withdrawal.

During week six, his excitement to finally lay his eyes on Y/N was quickly cut short when he realized she was still talking to his family even though he had been getting the silent treatment. That displeasing information lit him like a powder keg when he saw another man in Y/N’s background, getting dressed no less. T’Challa dragged him from Shuri’s lab ready to bust a gasket when his babygirl asked Shuri to go into a different room and his little cousin actually listened! His whole family was against him again it would seem.

When T’Challa got him back to his room, all he did was pace. It was ten full minutes of the king warily watching his cousin stew when M’Baku walked right into the line of fire as Erik turned to beat the shit out of his cousin. T’Challa easily dodged the current threat on his life as the giant grabbed Erik’s hands in one of his, quickly disarming him and making the pouting man even more enraged. 

“You all have been talking to her this whole time?” N’Jadaka roared.

“Just Shuri and I. She made us promise to let you figure it out for yourself, but you’ve been failing miserably cousin! Absolutely clueless!” T’Challa replied.

Erik struggled against M’Baku’s vice grip to no avail.

“No shit Sherlock. I’m gonna whoop yawls asses. M’Baku let me go.”

“Not until you promise to have a conversation with your mouth instead of your hands. I am not prepared to get involved in another war between you two.”

Erik took a few deep breaths. “Fine, I’m good.”

Once M’Baku was sure there would be no immediate violence he let go.

“You better start explaining real fucking soon T,” Erik spat, pointing an accusatory finger at T’Challa.

“Okay! Okay! Y/N is struggling to accept that you actually want her around long term!” T’Challa word-vomited.

If the prince wasn’t already enraged, the king and tribal chief would’ve laid out in hysterics at how N’Jadaka’s face screwed up. “How sway! How?!”

“From what Shuri has explained and I’ve gathered in my eavesdropping is that she thinks you only want to claim her without actually growing with her. Everything is on your terms, your way, in  your time. She’s been far more  patient than most would be with you so I can’t say she’s wrong.”

Erik jumped at T’Challa, scaring him and the big gorilla chief. “I oughta beat you up for keeping your mouth shut.”

“She and Shuri threatened me within an inch of my life and they scare me more than you. Besides, according to them, you can’t keep relying on us to figure out what’s going on in your relationship and I couldn’t find a valid disagreement.”

Erik nearly did slap T’Challa at the last sentiment.

“Aye aye!” M’Baku shouted, getting between the two yet again, “He is being truthful now. That counts eh? And if I may interject, I think you’re aiming your anger at the wrong person.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Erik said, deflating under the weight of that truth, “but his ass still bout to pay me back and I know just how.”

————-

A few hours later…

“You know, when I told you that you could pay me back with The Royal Talon Fighter, I didn’t expect you to tag along.”

“Who else was going to keep an eye on our Wakandan technology or keep you from murdering anyone in the vicinity of Y/N, especially any man?”

Erik rolled his eyes and huffed. “I guess.”

“Or Y/N from killing you for just showing up jealous despite being radio silent since long before she left Wakanda.”

“Alright alright! You made your point. Damn! Just drive the fancy metal.”

—

Erik was all confidence until the second they landed in Atlanta. Yeah, Killmonger was out for blood and was ready to bring their girl back kicking and screaming if necessary, but Erik N’Jadaka Stevens? He was a nervous fucking wreck.

T’Challa and M’Baku’s words really struck a nerve and he had nothing but time to stew over them on the ride to your family’s hometown ranch. Before he met you, Killmonger made all the decisions, kept him alive and ahead of the game, whatever game he was surviving at the moment. He lived like that for well over a decade when he met you, but you didn’t bat an eyelash at his swift mood swings, his bloodthirst, or his possessiveness, often putting him in place. You handled him with love and care, showing him how to become the softer version of himself without sacrificing your boundaries too much. He was quickly realizing that he sometimes pushed too hard, took too much, neglected your requirements. It was your stern patience, however, that was enough to allow you to become the first person to get him the person instead of him the killer to come out and communicate, interact, and live rather than survive. 

You did it for him a second time around when he came out of cryo too. He hadn’t told you anything about how he would go about his goals, opting just to disappear and execute so it was a surprise of a lifetime to wake up to your beautiful Y/E/C. After getting over his initial anger over you seeing the worst of him, you were the first person he responded to or let touch him during his recovery. Even going so far as not allowing the medical staff to redress his wounds if he was awake.

Only your touch soothed him, only your voice gave him peace. You made him less of a killing machine and more human again, made him want to address the tsunami of emotions and trauma that he lugged around. He didn’t want to jeopardize your willingness to be that for him but he recognized how you were always giving all you had just to receive an inch of progress from him. If that.

Unfortunately, all of his introspection and nervousness flew right out of the truck T’Challa had them in when he saw you walking up to your personal guesthouse with a man in tow. Killmonger immediately took the reins pushing him and his feelings down into the abyss, and leaping out of the car before T’Challa could come to a complete stop with his cousin calling after him.

“Y/N!” Killmonger shouted from the end of the long-ass driveway, rage evident in his voice.

Y/N was haphazardly trying to get her drunk cousin up the stairs while nervously dropping her keys when she heard Killmonger. She’s only encountered him a few times since meeting Erik, after the first time she brought him back to himself, he did his best to keep that part from her. It didn’t always work since any repressed feeling or issue the man had was poured into his alter ego, feeding his desire to be wild and untamed in his decision-making. So she knew he was out for blood with just the sound of her name.

She got the key in just as Killmonger got to the beginning of her walkway up to the house. As quickly as she could, she pulled her cousin in, slamming and locking the door in her partner’s face, leaving the beast to bang on her door and demand entrance.

“I’m not dealing with your bulldozing tactics Kill! You can come back when Erik is ready to face his fucking feelings and have an adult conversation!”

“If you know what’s good for you and that nigga in there, you better open this ghatdamn door Y/N!” He roared in response.

Y/N’s cousin couldn’t stop laughing, no matter how much she waved him off. Getting trashed 3 nights in a row after a bad breakup and crashing with his favorite cousin after hearing how she was hiding from both the world and the love of her life as well didn’t prepare him for seeing her so out of character. One second she was fleeing from the man, the next she was big and bad from behind a locked door in all her 5’5” glory. It was comical as hell to him.

“You know you look constipated when you cuss? Like that stick in your ass is fighting every syllable.” He said, immediately dying in another fit of laughter at his analogy.

“Who the fuck is that in there with you, Y/N, and don’t fucking lie!”

“The next man. Nice to meet you. You must be the ex.” her cousin shouted out in a drunken slur to Y/N’s horror.

Yeah, she knew she wasn’t in the wrong, and there was no reason to defend herself against this man, but she knew not to press certain buttons once Kill made an appearance. Her cousin, unfortunately, had no discernment to see that he had just pressed the biggest red button Kill had when it came to her.

Y/N watched the myriad of emotions that crossed Erik’s face through the peephole, praying to every ancestor and display of the creator she could think of that this man wasn’t going to go full psycho-killer on them both. The last thing she needed was him taking several steps back in his healing just to unnecessarily add another scar, maybe 2 with how pissed he looked. 

Y/N turned back to her cousin, ready to kill him for putting her in even hotter water, only to find that nigga was sleep, leaving Y/N to deal with the consequences on her own. 

As soon as she had that thought her ears piqued, taking in how silent it had gotten. All she could hear was the crunch of gravel as T’Challa finally pulled in and got out. When she peeked outside the peephole again, she was met with a confused T’Challa looking for Erik.

A chill ran up her spine and her blood ran cold as she slowly turned to her current worst fear; Killmonger pissed as hell, staring her down with a knife to her cousin’s throat.

“Give me one good reason not to paint your brand new carpet with this nigga’s blood Y/F/N then fuck you on the new color.”

Putting her hands up in a placating manner, Y/N slowly inched towards Kill, stopping when he dug the knife just slightly deeper, exposing a thin line of blood, as her cousin slept unawares.

Donning a submissive voice as if she was talking to a wild animal, “Erik, baby calm down.”

“Don’t baby calm down me! You out here giving other niggas what’s mine? Mine Y/N!”

“That’s not–”

“Don’t tell me that’s not what’s going on when you’ve been M.I.Fucking.A. for weeks! And the first thing I see both on video chat and in person is you with some random?! I’ll murder every nigga to ever touch you, keep tryna play me.”

“Nobody’s playing you Daka, look closer, you know him. I promise I haven’t been stepping out on you.” Y/N continued on, internally rolling her eyes at the toddler temper tantrum she had to placate this nigga out of. “My stupidly in love, trying to escape his own heartache, and loves drama when drunk cousin that you have met several times was just egging you on.”

Kill looked closer to the man’s face and released the filter of rage clouding his judgment, upon closer inspection he realized they’d met at several of the many family gatherings he’d attended with Y/N/N. Slowly easing the knife from her cousin’s throat, Erik struggled to fight back tears at his behavior. He was proving he wasn’t good enough for her, he hadn’t actually changed all that much. Kill took the reins once again, unwilling to let him process his feelings of abandonment and betrayal just yet. Rushing towards Y/N, he laid the knife flat on the side of her face, taking up residence on the other side.

Biting a huge hickey along her jawline, before grasping her earlobe in between his teeth, Killmonger growled, “So if you ain’t been fucking him, who you been fucking?”

Although Y/N knew she logically had nothing to feel guilty about, how he was questioning her made her want to lie down and worship him as an apology regardless. She took a deep breath to center herself, understanding that any sign of nervousness would be taken as an omission of guilt.

Y/N ran her hands up his arms and over his shoulder blades to hold his face in her palms. He reluctantly released her earlobe to allow her to face him, naturally allowing the blade to rest against her neck ever so gently.

“N’Jadaka. Erik, baby? Look at me, I have been trying to live without you miserably for the last few weeks. I’ve only been going out since Y/C/N got here and I have to beg for breaks because I’m basically his chaperone. You believe me don’t you?”

Erik looked at her with suspicion clouding his eyes. He dropped the knife and held her throat in his hands, squeezing just tight enough to hint to either pleasure or pain, pushing her against the front door.

“Ion know. Why should I?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Y/N took a chance and palmed his face, caressing his cheekbone with her thumb. “Cause you know that no matter how much you stress me out, isolate yourself from me, or threaten anyone who seems to have more access to me than you, that I love your crazy ass.”

Erik squeezed a little tighter, not enough to hurt her but enough to reassert his dominance. Y/N put a hand over his, doing her best to ground herself in the feeling of his hands rather than how much she wanted to cum from the pressure of them.”

“Sorry,” Y/N squeaked out, “I love every version of you, no matter how threatening any of them may be and I physically can’t stand to have anyone else touch me the way I let you touch me.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you?”

“Nah, princess, the other part.”

“No matter how threatening-” she started, but was cut off by the growl emanating from Erik’s chest and the pulsing release and pressure of him allowing her small gasps of air. “You know what I mean Y/N, don’t test me lil mama.”

Erik held his squeeze on her neck, tilting it ever so slightly to lick the side of her face and hold her earlobe between his teeth, tugging.

Y/N couldn’t hold back the guttural moan if she tried. Just barely keeping her eyes from rolling back and donning her sweetest sub voice, she said, “I physically can’t stand to have anyone else touch me the way I let you touch me big daddy. It literally makes me nauseous.”

Erik released her ear with a wet snap against her face, “It does?”

Y/N hummed and nodded her head as best she could in her current predicament.

Killmonger covered the forgiving face Erik started to make, replacing it with one of his stern, unyielding looks. “Then why you leave me and give me the silent treatment for weeks?”

Y/N whined at the tightening of his hands, closing her eyes to savor the pleasure only he could illicit lighting her body on fire.

Erik bit her bottom lip roughly, nearly drawing blood. “That’s not an answer.”

Losing the battle against her libido and subspace, Y/N whined again.

In a faux sweet voice Erik said, “Awww, is little mama already too far gone in her head thinking about all the ways imma mark you.”

Y/N nodded again, lost in the many images she’d acquired from her sexual experiences with Erik and Kill over the years.

“Good.” And with those words, Y/N was suddenly looking at Erik’s ass and the floor as he stomped upstairs to her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

He tossed her on the bed and roughly stripped her of her clothes, halter top first, bottoms and panties all in one fell swoop last, leaving her heels on.

He positioned her over his knee and popped her cheeks until her bottom was flushed with his favorite shade of reddish purple and warmed his hands with the heat she emanated.

By the time he was done, Y/N wanted to be a ball of tears, but could only sniffle, her voice too shy to make an appearance when Kill took the reins of their scenes like this for fear of upsetting him further.

Erik used his knee to spread her legs open far enough to see her flower drenching her thighs in her nectar for him. He took two fingers to swipe some of it onto them for him to put in his mouth and savor, groaning at how much sweeter she seemed to have gotten since last he held her.

He laid her onto the bed and got up to undress himself, slapping her already sore ass when she didn’t move a muscle.

“You know what’s up. Face down, ass up lil mama.”

Y/N groaned but slowly inched her way into position. Already feeling like jello, she barely put an arch in her back, struggling not to lay back down and pass out.

Killmonger was not happy with that. After he’d removed everything except his grills and chain he let both his palms come down on her cheeks simultaneously.

Sounding more animal than human, “If you don’t assume the position like you got some sense, I swear to the gods Y/N.”

She was still lethargic, but was eager to experience less of his painful assaults and more of the pleasurable ones that she knew were around the corner. It took all of her strength but she was able to inch herself into position, deepening her arch just the way he demanded with her arms by her side and her cheek resting against the comforter.

“Good girl.”

With how pliant she was to his commands and the evidence of how much she trusted and wanted him dripping down her thighs, it took all of his restraint not to plunge himself into her until he felt her cervix try to push him back out.

Y/N smiled faintly at the praise, humming and wiggling her ass in response.

Killmonger grasped her wrists as he knelt to get up close and personal with his pussy. He spread her lips so he could get an eyeful of her throbbing clit and blew on it, eliciting a guttural moan from Y/N, before replacing his hand back on her wrist.

“Just you wait mamas, you gonna be screaming and crying by the time I’m done with you.”

He licked her juices on both thighs, leaving hickies all over them both before he finally put his whole face in her pussy and ate. If it wasn’t for the grasp he had on her wrists, she would have collapsed immediately.

Erik was a good kisser in general, but Killmonger was a master at french kissing, especially her pussy, until she was questioning whether or not she still wanted the pleasure. Those deep soul sucking kisses always made her question her sanity.

He slurped up and suctioned her clit into his mouth like that’s where it belonged, flicking it with the tip of his tongue until she came with a silent scream, without ever releasing her tiny bud. Then he released it with a pop only to hold her lips open and spit directly onto her hole, watching his saliva drip down onto her clit. He flattened his tongue and licked like the dog he could be until she was a whining, moaning mess, tears streaming down her face just as promised. 

Once the first sound hit his ears, she couldn’t stop the noises he was pulling from her if she was mute, let alone at the mercy of his insatiable thirst for her most animalistic responses.

Kill continued his assault with his tongue, moving through her folds in a rhythm only he knew. After he’d gotten two more orgasms from her that way, Y/N alternating between screaming and crying, he latched his plush lips back around her clit, assaulting the sensitive bundle of nerves, and plunged his two most trustworthy fingers into her, immediately finding her gspot and caressing it with an incessant ‘come hither’ motion until she was squirting and creaming uncontrollably. Not willing to let go just yet he dragged it out for what seemed like forever since she briefly lost consciousness and came to, lips still parted in the O of her silent screams, with his mouth still eagerly slurping up the waterfall his fingers were responsible for. All Y/N could do was turn her head the other way to watch what she could see of him, whining and moaning.

When she could barely release any more spurts he released her, licking his hand, fingers, and forearm clean as he slowly stroked his hard as steel member. 

In the great deep of her sex haze, Y/N mumbled, “He brought dick too? How are we gonna survive dick too when he almost killed us with just his mouth and fingers.”

Erik chuckled at her ramblings, proud that he was, as usual, responsible for her senseless words.

When his precum made an appearance, he swiped it up with his thumb and rubbed it into her pussy, almost immediately replacing his thumb with the tip of his dick. Wanting to savor this moment of finally being able to reconnect with his pussy, he played with her, just like that. Rubbing the tip of his dick in both of their juices, up and down her pussy lips, circling her clit, and coming to apply just enough pressure to her desperately clenching hole, only to rinse and repeat. On and on he went, teasing them both until his quietly whimpering babygirl was back to guttural whines.

He knew she was right where he wanted her mentally when she started begging.

“Please big daddy, I’m so sorry. Please baba E, please baba, please. Please please please please please pleaaaaaasssssseeeeee.”

When he was good and ready, he pulled her up by her throat until she was flush against him, licked her tears from her cheek, and forced her to look him in the eyes.

“You don’t do that disappearing and silent treatment shit ever again Y/N. You hear me?”

Y/N nodded and blinked at him with a puppy eyed look that damn near melted the ice caps of his attitude, but he was quick to remind her who’s big daddy in their relationship.

“When I told you, you were mine, I meant that shit mama.”

“Yes, baba,” Y/N squeaked out.

He tongued her down with one of his sloppy french kisses and as soon as he felt her body relax in his hold, he did exactly what his body had been begging for since the second he saw her. He pushed himself into her until he felt the tip of her cervix try to push him all the way back out, savoring the fucked out look she wore as her body spasmed with the unexpected orgasm, he held them there letting her ride it out. 

In this moment he was grateful for the years of curated discipline since the way her pussy clamped onto him almost triggered his own mind numbing orgasm. Although he successfully staved off his nut, he couldn’t stop the way all of his fight was knocked right out of him.  Finally rid of the aggression that his Killmonger personality oozed, Erik was able to finally take in his queen, his Y/N, in all her sex hazed glory.

When she finally came down from her high he started moving, giving her slow and deep strokes as he showered her face and neck with kisses, hoping his attempt at lovemaking showed her just how priceless she was to him, how desperate he’d been without her.

Kiss, “I’m sorry too mamas,” kiss “I know how much you love me and I don't understand why,” kiss, “you,” kiss, “insist,” kiss, “on pouring all of the best parts of yourself into me.” He couldn’t help but shed a tear at the relief he felt, having her in his arms again. “I promise to do better,” kiss, “to listen and pay attention more,” kiss, “to treat you like the empress you are,” kiss, “just say you’ll come home with me,” kiss, “promise you’ll take your rightful place by my side mamas,” kiss, “claim your right as my queen.”

Y/N was a moaning, whining mess, barely holding onto consciousness and shedding her favorite kind of tears, just as promised.

Erik tucked his face into her neck, struggling to keep himself from cumming too soon since her pussy was gripping him like a boa constrictor, indicating that yet another orgasm wasn’t too far.

He held himself in the deepest parts of her and put a little whine in his hips. “Please mama, come home with me.”

Just when he thought he could hold out no longer she arched into him and screamed yes over and over, overwhelmed with her orgasm, and squirted all over them both. Erik came in her almost at the exact same time, his orgasm nearly knocking him out with how it overcame him from head to toe. Both of them slumped into the bed.

—

By the time he finally started to get up, her screams had quieted back to whimpers.

Erik slowly and gently removed her heels from her feet, massaging the soles with just the right amount of pressure.

He cleaned both of them with a warm washcloth and ran the tub, placing some bubble bath soap, epsom salt, essential oils, and dried rose petals in the water. Wanting to balance out the intrusive way he barged back into her life, he lit some candles and incense as well, and placed his favorite body oil of hers on the counter.

When he came back to get her in the tub, she was silently staring into space in the same place and position he left her. After he got her to turn over and sit up, he scooped her into his arms bridal and brought her to the tub, gently placing her into the suds.

Once he saw her relax he went back to the bedroom to strip and change the sheets, wanting their transition back into the room to be seamless. When he came back into the bathroom her head was leaned against the edge of the tub, eyes closed, and tears were streaming down her face, alarming him to the fact that although he’d won the battle, he was still losing the war with treating his girl with the care she really was looking for from him.

Choking up himself, he kneeled next the tub and leaned over her face, kissing the droplets left behind.

“I’m so sorry mamas. You know that right?” His voice cracked at the end.

Although she started nodding yes, she ended up shaking her head no.

“Can you open your eyes for me please?”

Y/N shook her head no again.

“Pretty please?”

Again she shook her head no. She was too scared to look him in his eyes, anytime he touched her or they made eye contact she folded to his desires and needs, abandoning her own.

A little defeated, but determined to win all of her back, not just her body, Erik switched tactics.

“May I get into the tub with you and hold you?”

Y/N hesitated a few moments before she nodded yes. As soon as she heard the rustle of him standing back up she scooted forward allowing him to sit behind her.

Once he was seated, Erik gently pulled her into him, urging her body to use him as she did the edge of the tub. The moment she relaxed in his embrace, head lolling slightly to the left, he started kissing up and down her neck from where her ear met her face to her collarbone.

When he felt enough time had passed, he tried to get her to open up to him again.

“Lil mama?”

Y/N hummed.

“Tell me what’s on your mind please, I promise to listen.”

Y/N held up her pinky and asked, “Pinky promise?”

Erik locked his pinky with hers and brought her hand to his lips, softly talking against it, “Pinky Promise.”

She pulled her hand away, putting it back in her lap to join the other one, under the water.

Taking a deep breath she started.

“Am I a toy to be played with Daka?” Erik was ready to answer but kept silent, knowing she needed to get all of her thoughts out before he interrupted her. “To be taken out of storage to be used and then tossed aside when you’re not getting the desired result anymore?”

Rubbing the sides of her thighs and suddenly very scared, he said, “ no mamas.”

“Then why do you get to demand time and attention and energy from me, but when I ask for a sliver of honest communication, the smallest amount of all three resources you have to offer me, you shut me out? Why is it only okay for you to communicate what’s going on with you and us when you feel like it, when it's convenient? Why do I always have to beg for you to lean on me, to use me softly? Why do I have to beg you to let me hold you. Why don’t you ever just ask? Why do I have to grovel at your feet to be held by you? Why is the only time you make love to me when you’re trying to win me back? Why?” 

By the end of her list, Y/N was sobbing. Erik wrapped his arms around her body and tucked his chin in the curve of her neck and let a few tears drop himself before he answered.

“I don’t know mamas. I guess…,” he wiped the tears from his face and gulped down the rising tsunami of emotion that she so easily created with just a few sentences before he wrapped his arm back around her, “...I guess I’m just terrified.”

“Of what baby? Haven’t I been here? Haven’t I done the best to support you with all that I am, to remain honest with you and show you that I am loyal to our future?”

He kissed her shoulder and said, “you have. I just-”

Y/N pulled out of his arms to finally look him in the eye, “You just what? Aren’t my efforts to build a life with you enough?”

Erik palmed her face and gave her a deep kiss, hoping to transfer all of his emotion into it.

He put his forehead against hers and said, “I’m just so fucking terrified of losing you. To have the warmth of your love snatched away at a moment's notice. I’m terrified in a way I haven’t been in so fucking long that I just convince myself that its better to pull away and show you how unworthy I am of the full magnitude of your love.”

He pulled away and kissed her forehead, grateful she was finally looking him in the eyes again. “But this time of separation showed me I am nothing without you, just a hollow shell, no love to warm my soul and bones. Even the care and concern of my family isn’t enough to fill the abyss that’s created in your absence.”

Y/N swiped away the stray tears from his face, “that’s-”

“I know. Super intense.”

“Yes. But I was gonna say a relief to hear. You never really give me any verbal confirmation that you feel as deeply for me as I do for you unless I say I love you first.”

“I know mamas, but I promise to do better, be better, for you.”

Y/N pecked his lips. “No Baba. For you. You need to talk your feelings out loud so you can hear it too. You need to know that the only reason you’re able to love me so deeply is because you love yourself that deep, if not deeper, first. Understand?”

Erik smirked, yet again grateful that he had such a wise and loving partner who always held up the pieces of mirror he’d sworn he’d broken to pieces.

“Yea lil mama, I understand.”

“Good…,” Y/N kissed him again, deepening the kiss but teasing him slightly with how lightly she moved her lips against his. When she pulled away, she almost regretted bursting his bubble. “...cause I’m not going back with you until I’m ready.”

Erik’s face instantly fixed itself into a scowl. “But-”

Y/N held a finger to his lips. “I said when I’m ready, not never. I came home to get back to taking care of me, love me, and understanding what my needs are.”

His pout deepened.

“And I learned that I need to stop jumping when you say jump. So I go back when I feel that I’m ready, not because you showed up and demanded it of me. Okay?”

He was a little deflated, but still holding onto the hope of her eventually coming back with him.

“Okay, but I’m staying with you until you’re ready.”

“But-.” 

It was Erik’s turn to hush her with a finger. “I already know what you’re going to say and my duties will be waiting for me when we go back together. Now that you’re back in my arms I’m in no hurry to lose the privilege again.”

“You’re not!”

“You’re right, cause I’m staying.”

All Y/N could do was chuckle, understanding that she’d lost this battle and relishing in the fact that she won the war. It seemed he was finally starting to understand what she needed because although she was indeed going to complain about him having responsibilities to return to, she really did need him to stay. That abyss he had was mirrored in her heart and only time with him would close it back up.

Both satisfied that they worked through the root issue, they went back to enjoying the bath, Y/N comfortably resting her head against Erik.

When they were all pruney and the water was verging on cold, Erik stood them up to drain the tub and turned on the shower to rinse them both. After he dried them both, he quickly lotioned his body with shea butter, grabbed the body oil and guided Y/N hand in hand, back into the bedroom.

He laid her on her back first to moisturize and massage her front, kneading out all of the tension she held. When he was working his way back up from her feet, he couldn’t help but get stuck between her thighs, using his thumbs to massage circles up them until he reached her pussy again.

Y/N slightly parted her legs, letting one bend and fall open for easy access. He immediately used one hand to part her lips so he could see her clit clearly.

Erik leaned down to softly kiss her clit a few times before he pulled away and used the thumb on his other hand to rub slow circles. He admired her form as he brought her to orgasm leisurely. 

He went back to massaging her thighs until she returned from the heights of her pleasure.

His voice was more gruff than he wanted when he told her, “turn over.”

She easily compiled and continued his massage, paying extra attention to her sore ass.

When Y/N was 2 more seconds away from sleep and he was satisfied with his work he urged her under the covers and joined her. She tried to grab his hardened member to return the favor but he grabbed up her hands, kissing them to soften the blow.

“No, I needed to show you how softly I can treat you, I don’t need to cum right now. Sleep.”

Y/N pouted and whined, wanting to feel him connected to her again.

She lifted her leg over his as they faced each other and inched as close as she could with her hands in his, feeling his dick graze her pussy lips.

Putting a little more base in his voice, “Ay! What I just say lil mama?”

She whined out, “I don’t care, I just need to feel you in me Baba.”

Erik grunted. 

Y/N donned her best puppy dog pout and begged with her words and body, wiggling in his hold and being able to feel the lightest brush of his hot skin. “Pleeeeeeaaaaassssseeee?”

“Fine, but careful what you asked for…” he said, sheathing himself in one stroke and stilled her hips before she could start moving. “...you just might get it.”

He released her hands and tongued her down, palming her face.

“Sleep Y/N.”

“But,” she said, her face scrunching in confusion.

“You can keep me warm, but that’s it for now, okay?”

She started to whine again but was cut short when he wrapped the hand palming her face around her throat.

“Sleep mamas. You’re going to need all of your energy in the morning.”

She wasn’t necessarily happy, but she also wasn’t necessarily dissatisfied. She did get her wish after all.

“Ok.”

Y/N tucked her head under his chin and started to drift before she sleepily said, “thank you for showing me how much you care Baba E. I’m really happy you’re here.”

Erik kissed her forehead and squeezed his arms a little tighter around her.

“Thank you for letting me.”

He was answered with her cute snores and let the sound lull him into the best sleep he’d had in too long of a while.

#erik killmonger #erik kilmonger x reader #Erik killmonger x black!reader #black panther fanfiction #black panther #erik stevens #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut #erik stevens x reader #fictioninmybloodworks #fictioninmyblood #erik stevens x black!reader

[icyg4l]

PAC: What Upgrades are Coming Into Your Life?

Hello beautiful people, so sorry for the delay on readings. I've been really distracted lol. But tonight marked the end of the $5 4/20 weekend sale. I am grateful for those who have purchased a reading. Now, if you would like to purchase a reading, please read my guidelines and let me know! (They will be regularly priced until another sale comes along). Now, this weekend’s PAC will be all about the upgrades that are coming in your life! Whether that’s in your career, home, family, finances, love, etc. We’ll find together! So without further ado, please pick your Megan baby. 🤭

Top Left-to-Bottom Right (1-4):

PIle One, I feel like things have been getting hectic in your life. I think that this is a group of people who can get easily distracted by the small things. A lot of you are going through a breakup/separation from someone that betrayed you or love bombed you. I can feel my throat tightening as I’m typing this. I’m sorry, Pile One but this is a blessing in disguise. I think that this will be a death/rebirth period for you. I am seeing snippets of the Hiss video, specifically when Megan is dressed in all silver. I think you will come out stronger than ever. When I say stronger, I mean you will be less tolerant with other people’s bullshit and having better boundaries. I feel like someone tried to dominate you and as a result, it ruined your self-esteem. I see you taking some time to yourself and realizing who the fuck you are. You need to know that things will get better. Anything that happens over the course of the next seven days is meant to happen, Pile One. 

Cards Used: The Empress (RX), Prince of Cups, 7 of Swords, Strength, The Hermit, 3 of Swords (RX), The Magician, Temperance (RX), The Lovers (RX). 

extras: “bovine”. playing the dozens. hbcu bound. 1H lilith. a full shopping cart. laughter.

Pile Two: If you suffer from insomnia, you will absolutely start to get better sleep. Pile Two, you’re such a smart worker. I know you don’t like to work hard, and you will be getting a reward for that. I see a promotion coming your way. If you have a boss that has an explosive temper, I see that this will happen within the next three weeks. Your life also seems chaotic like Pile Two. You also seem like the obsessive type. I feel like this is a pile full of nightowls as well. Part of your upgrade process will mean embracing your shadow side. I think that you have some trouble with other women (if you’re a woman), or having trouble embracing your soft side. It is okay to be vulnerable. I also see if you’re on the search for a new car, then a woman will co-sign a loan for you. It seems like you will be changing from the inside out. The longer it takes for you to address the issues that you have going on internally, the longer the results will come. I am seeing that when you finally decide to open up and be vulnerable, the physical changes will manifest. For example, if you want longer hair, your hair will grow two inches. If you want to change your life, change your mind Pile Two. And I’d recommend you look up the term ‘limerence’. Start making changes to become more grounded and less clouded by delusions, fantasies and looping thoughts about stuff that does not exist in your reality. It’s time to let them go, Pile Two.

Cards Used: 4 of Cups, Queen of Cups, The Chariot, Ace of Discs, 3 of Discs, The Devil, King of Cups (RX), The Tower, 9 of Swords

extras: listening to nightcore. “egoic”. meat market. fresh beat band. beauty shop (2005). picker-upper.

Pile Three: Your hard work is finally going to pay off. You’ve been obsessing over your work and dedicating so much of your time to it. It is finally going to receive some recognition because you decided to not give up on your dreams. As a result, I see that your dream lifestyle will be well-funded. If you’re an artist or a clothing designer, this will especially resonate with you. The amount of time that you spent on your passion will be appreciated by many eyes, Pile Three. If you’ve been having a hard time accepting someone for who they are, or if you have been struggling with your emotions in general, I see that you will get a handle on it. And also, if you’re looking for a vendor, you will find one! You are being called to continue to focus on your craft. I am channeling this interview of GloRilla where she says that she abstained from relations with men, partying and alcohol for sixty days before she blew up. Then FNF was released, and that marked the start of her mainstream journey. So, keep going baby!!

Cards Used: Wheel of Fortune, Strength (RX), 5 of Cups, Queen of Cups, 7 of Cups, Princess of Discs, The Devil, 3 of Discs, Temperance, The Star

extras: christina aguilera. spiders. a series of unfortunate events. award shows.

Pile Four: The only way that you can learn from your mistakes is if you actually implement the lesson into your life, Pile Four. I can tell that you’re stubborn. Once you really understand that nothing can change if YOU don’t move things around, you will know how powerful you are. Some of you may have a really thick (and attractive) accent. I think that you can use this to your advantage to make things shake for you. Pile Four, do you really know yourself? Like outside of the things that you do and have, who are you? It is time for you to do some soul searching, my love. It feels like I am talking to a shell of you. I think that the upgrades that are coming in will involve other people. You will find someone who helps you embrace your rawest, natural self. I also think that you will be interested in fitness and will find a workout partner. Investing in yourself physically will impact you emotionally. You do not need to go back to your old self because they’re gone. Take pride in this new you. I feel that your spirituality will strengthen as well. Your boundaries will grow stronger, and as this happens, you will lose more friends unfortunately. But I don’t think you’ll be affected by it. Overall, I feel like this pile will gain a lot of clarity and mental strength to start breaking generational curses and shedding old skin. You got this, Pile Four!

Cards Used: 8 of Cups, The Star, Death, 9 of Swords, 7 of Wands, The Fool, Temperance, Page of Wands, The Lovers

extras: “you smell good.” “be you.” jump by tyla. maison margiela. kick-ass. wwe.

#law of assumption #manifesting #neville goddard #tarot #tarotreading #hoodoo #astro notes #pick a card #pick a pile #divination #black tarot readers #tarot pull #tarot community #tarot tumblr #free tarot #daily tarot #tarot deck #tarot reading #tarot cards #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #tarot witch #kpop tarot #pick a reading #pick an image #tarot pick a card #pac reading #tarot pac #spirituality

[no-droids]

Another Rough Day

gif credit @chrishemsworht

Part Twenty of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.7K

Warnings: Angst, violence, canon-typical blood and gore, language, hurt/comfort

A/N: i wanna thank yall for sticking around during my hermit era, in the time ive been gone i am now officially a junior at a university majoring in aerospace and it’s a fuckin nightmare and i hate everything and god help us all literally kill me and I will be posting INCREDIBLY slowly because of that (I’m talkin weeks or months in between updates yall, im sorry I can’t dedicate more time to this but I am going to finish this fic within the next handful of chapters idk maybe 5 or 6 so you shouldn’t have to wait too too long).  As a heads up there will be hard angst as we enter the final arc, there will be hurt and it’ll get dark but everything is gonna turn out alright so thanks for sticking with me and continuing to stick with me. im sorry if you dont like it or your expectations were subverted or if this isn’t what you’d hoped it would be after following and waiting around for so long but this was planned a long time ago and it took me a good year or two to recognize that I started writing this fic for me and now I’m going to end it writing for me and I hope yall can respect that

ALSO I asked my best BEST FRIEND in the entire world @cptnbvcks to collaborate with me for this after we both took a very long break from creating and she drew some GORGEOUS artwork for this chapter so it will be posted at the end, everyone please go follow her and say hello

ps brittany girl you’re a fuckin menace i had to use my own two ears and listen to ethan literally say the words “the mandalorian cums, hard” what the fuck was that im actually suing

anyways chapter below the cut lets get serious yall

---

You take two of them down before they even realize they’re being attacked.

Your aim is as swift and steady as if Din were behind your shoulder right now, calmly pointing out which stationary tree to hit next in rapid succession.  You’re positioned perfectly at the bottom of the ramp to take full advantage of the ambush, the only thing running through your mind is strategy and the constant calculating of angles and ricochets.  The other three troopers are trapped inside the open Crest and you’re right next to a large boulder that you can step behind for cover, but it proves unnecessary as the rumors were apparently true.

They’re… awful.

Not a single blaster is even fired in your direction—you think you see maybe one panicked red shot bounce around in the hull, but that’s it.  The troopers fumble for their guns and trip over each other at the unexpected attack—a few scream like children through the modulators, but you’re temporarily deaf to anything besides the screech of your weapon hitting its target and the crumpling of armored bodies.

Later on, if someone were to ask you to describe exactly what happened—who died first, who ran for cover, who cried out for help—you don’t think you’d be able to.  You don’t even really feel like a person right now.  The entire thing is cold, robotic survival instinct, pure ruthlessness rising in your soul for the first time in your life.  It feels sick.  Wrong in your bones.  Born from preemptive defense in fear of your life, but that doesn’t mean you stop.  Not until all of them stop moving.

You empty the entire fucking canister for a handful of stormtroopers, firing plasma and char marks across every square inch of the pristine hull even after the last one drops.  Your heart is beating too fast, your finger keeps pulling the trigger multiple times even after the blaster clicks uselessly, completely empty and beeping a warning that it must’ve begun emitting ages ago.  Being out of ammo scares you—you suddenly feel vulnerable, even though the very far away logical part of your mind reminds you that they have to all be dead at this point and no physical threat was ever able to graze you.

Regardless, you quickly spin behind the boulder and grab another canister from your belt, giving it a spare check for leaks while the empty one slides and drops to the rocky ground.  It’s the first time you’ve ever had to reload this weapon instead of just pointing and shooting, but the mechanics are relatively simple and your brain makes up for your lack of coherent thoughts with lightning fast perception.  What's difficult is that your hands are starting to shake now that you’re not aiming, you’re not breathing correctly because you’re not really breathing at all.  You can’t tell the difference between the adrenaline-fueled dissociative silence that muffles everything around you or if it really is just that quiet now.  No more clatter of armor, no modulated voices or terrified screams.  No blasters, no footsteps along the ramp, no birds singing.

You quickly pause to lift your elbow and check the enormous eyes blinking up at you, tiny claws still holding tight to the fabric of your tunic and completely unharmed, and then you force yourself to move.  The blaster is held out in front of you while you walk forward and your finger rests on the trigger, begging to be pulled again.  It’s suspenseful and terrifying in a different way than before—now it’s less about psyching yourself up for confrontation and more about the fact that any sudden movement could mean your very swift end.

Silence.  Silence.  You’re numb and raw at the same time, walking up the ramp as your eyes fly everywhere, not even registering the blood or gore, just searching for movement.  You don’t know if you feel like a predator or prey, you’re that much more brutal and inhuman because of how fucking terrified you are.  You count four stormtroopers in the hull laying crumpled and still on the metal floor, but the one in the far corner only has blood on his shoulder.  You quickly swing the blaster around to remedy that, but then—

“P-Please don’t kill me!”

His words remind you of something.  Reality, maybe.  A world outside yourself and the kid’s survival, the living beings behind the bloody armor your enemies wear.

It’s a miracle your finger stays hovering over the trigger, and you watch him throw the blaster at your feet with a clang and scramble to show you his empty hands.  “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me—I’m not loyal to the Empire, I don’t want to be here, please, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die—”

Behind the mask, your expression furrows.  Stormtroopers are loyal to the bitter end, what is he saying?  They embrace their expendiality, it’s the only thing that makes them any sort of a real threat.  Kuiil told you horror stories about them during your childhood, the cloning facilities and the propaganda they’re force fed since infancy.  It’s nearly impossible to find one who hasn’t been raised from birth to serve the Empire, no matter how crumbled and trace its remaining authority may be.

No, this is a trap, it has to be.  Your expression twists with dread after hearing him speak, readjusting your aim with the blaster and preparing yourself for the years of nightmares that’ll follow—but then he cries out, “Wait!” and then removes his helmet with trembling hands.

You pause, staring down at him in shock.

It’s him, you recognize him immediately.  It’s the same face from a hologram puck you bore into your memory, spent multiple days staring at so you’d be able to spot him under any disguise or circumstances.  Oshua Ryler.  Your quarry, the fifth puck, the one Din was out Maker knows where searching for before this entire mess happened.  A stormtrooper?  His puck said nothing about the Empire, this doesn’t make any sense.  What is he doing here?  Stormtroopers don’t have pucks, they don’t have bounties or relatives or loved ones searching for them.  They’re brainwashed, replaceable, faceless soldiers in suits of armor and they don’t even have names.

“Please don’t kill me,” he begs again, staring at you with wide eyes even as he cowers.  “I have a family, I-I just want to go home, please—”

“Shut up.”  You can’t think straight with him crying like that and you’re wasting so much time just standing here trying to process when your brain had to literally shut itself down to even do the things you’ve already done.  You have to kill him and escape, you have to—you can’t trust this complication, not with the tiny claws currently digging into your back and reminding you of your purpose, but it was so much easier when he had on a helmet.  You hate looking at his face.  It’s going to haunt your dreams now, just like the man you stabbed on Corellia.

“Please don’t kill me—please don’t kill me,” he screws his eyes up and breathes over and over instead, and your stomach wrenches with disgust.  His posture and expression are so fucking pitiful, you can barely keep your eyes on him through the overwhelming nausea and aversion that climbs up your throat.  He’s with the Empire, and they’re looking for the baby.  You know what needs to be done.  Pull the trigger, just one small movement from you and it’ll be all over.  It would be the easiest thing in the world, it would be so easy.

But then instead, you ask, “Why are you a stormtrooper?”

“I’m n-not—I hate the Empire—”

“The Empire is ashes.”  You don’t know if you’re yelling or whispering with how much blood is roaring through your ears.  “They hold no power anymore.  Why are you with them?”

“Because the one thing they have left is money!”  The quarry shrills the words at you, ghostly pale to the point of turning green.  “Th-They buy troopers now—they opened up a whole new market for the smugglers, there’s a base nearby that’s used for training and…”  He stares wide eyed at you and gulps.  “C-Conditioning.”

Your brain is already going a trillion lightyears an hour and it doesn’t have the capacity to empathize or understand anything beyond the child’s survival and the relevant details right now.  “Were they expecting the baby?”

“W-What?”  He squeaks up at you.

“Was the bounty put out on you a trap set by the Empire?”  You ask him, lifting your free arm just enough to flash him the tiny child clinging to your side.  “He said they’re coming after the baby, so tell me if this was planned from the beginning.”

“Who is ‘he’?”  The stormtrooper asks, furrowing his eyebrows and looking around.  “What are you talki—”

“Tell me if the bounty on you was a trap to take this baby!”  You roar, your blaster shaking as you aim it down at him.  Your mind is acutely focused on the tiny claws hanging onto your tunic, the continued safety of the kid and the life or death situation facing him that you were given absolutely no information about.  “Now—”

“If it was I didn’t know!”  He quickly cries out, pleading with you and clamping his eyes shut in terror under the barrel sight.  “I don’t know anything about a b-baby, or a bounty!  They just put blasters in our hands and told us to search for a ship and to bring back anyone we find alive, I swear!”

You’re silent for a moment, biting your lip under the mask and caught halfway between discerning and stalling.  You could still kill him.  You should still kill him, time is ticking down and more troopers could be heading this way any second.

Shit.  “Who put the bounty out on you?”  You ask sharply.  It might not be a completely fair question, but he can’t exactly blame you for not feeling completely fair right now.

“I—I don’t know,” he gasps, clutching his bleeding shoulder.  “Could’ve been anyone—my mother, Cyra, o-or my dad, Obediah, or Thia, or Benja, or S—”

“Thia,” you interrupt his rambling, catching the slurred word and repeating it back to him.

“Yes!”  Oshua jerks his head up, tears and hope immediately filling his eyes at the sound of her name, “Yes, Thiadura Celi Ryler, that’s my sister!”

Maker, if he’s lying, then he’s fucking brilliant at it.  You look towards the cockpit of the ship, biting your lip under the mask.  Get to Nevarro, tell Karga and he’ll… something.  Din was cut off before he finished.  Help?  Know what to do?  You’re lost, but you have a clear directive and the precious seconds are sliding by.  The controls are right up there, two steps to the ladder and less than a minute until you’re rising into the atmosphere.

But then you think back to the terror in Din’s voice.  The blistering panic that made him speak faster and with more urgency than you’ve ever heard from him.  Get to Nevarro.  Tell Karga.  Get to Nevarro.  Tell Karga.

You look back at the quarry.  “How many of you are there?”

“At the base?  Around three hundred,” he immediately spills.  “Half of us are in the hole right now getting brainwashed, they do it in shifts, but they can be mobilized in a few hours.  There were a lot of bodies outside when we were ordered to split off, maybe a third of our squadron, but the rest were still shooting at whatever was—”

“So around a hundred left,”  You finish breathlessly, almost wanting him to speak faster and cut to the chase so you can calculate quicker.  “How many were dispatched on the search?”

“Uh, there were eight groups of five sent in each major direction,” he informs you, still trembling on the ground.  “Told us not to come back until we covered the entire sector.”

Of which, four you’ve already taken care of.  In other circumstances, you’d be nauseated at the thought, but right now, it’s just another number to subtract, just more panicked math in Din’s frightening absence.  That leaves at least sixty troopers left wherever the base is, minimum, and likely a couple more hours before they’ve combed the sector.  If this wasn’t a preconceived trap purposefully set for the kid, then that means reinforcements haven’t arrived yet but likely will soon.  And if this is a base meant for training and conditioning, then that also means there’s a chance not all of them will be loyal yet.

You make the decision immediately.

“Okay,” you announce, clicking the blaster’s safety switch and holstering it, sounding lightyears more certain than you feel.  “Then you’re going to help me carry out a rescue mission, and I’ll take you back to your sister.”

“You…”  He looks uncertain, blinking at your blaster and slowly lowering his hands.  “You want to rescue the men?”

Ideally?  Sure.  Realistically?  You don’t say anything in response.  Instead, you kick his regulation firearm at your feet further away from the quarry just in case your judgment is flawed, and then turn around and grab one of the bodies behind you.

Your adrenaline is still blaring so fast that you only just barely note the severity of what you’ve just done and what you’re continuing to do.  The corpses aren’t real to you right now, they’re inanimate things that you need out of your ship before you can close the doors to it.  They are, however, heavy as fuck, but the only other adult here has a wound in his arm from the gun on your hip.  Regardless, you have experience with lifting dead weight without a big, strong, capable man to do it for you.

“Help me out here, kid,” you mutter over your shoulder, and in response, you feel his claws dig in and climb up just a little bit until he can peek out in front of you.  Thankfully, the burden is suddenly lifted and you can quickly slide the dead troopers down the ramp with ease.  It takes hardly any time at all—you just yank and haul and release and all four of them tumble the rest of the way all by themselves.

When you stand back up, Oshua hasn’t moved and he’s looking at you with a pale, queasy expression.  Glancing down, you see that your white robe is now stained with streaks and patches of rusty blood.  Instead of swallowing back bile at the sight and bolting to the shower to scrub off every last remaining trace, you breeze past it, noting nothing more than a change of color.  Dirtying your white, pristine clothing with the consequences of protecting this baby—you’d rather have blood-soaked fabric with an unharmed kid clinging to you than any other combination of those things.

“Can you make it up to the cockpit?”  You ask the quarry, kicking his rifle off the ship before closing the ramp and then gesturing up the ladder.  Your voice is calm and steady but your hands are beginning to shake again.  “I need as much information as possible about the base.”  You know that’s where Din is, judging from the wall of blaster screeches that drowned him out through the comm.  Logically, you know you could be headed right into a trap, and every instinct inside you wants to find safety, but… you just cannot imagine flying the ship away from this planet without Din onboard.  It isn’t fucking happening, you’ve made your choice.

Without waiting for a response, you climb the ladder and plop down in the pilot’s seat of the Crest.  While Oshua finds some way to clamber up the steps behind you in bulky stormtrooper armor with one good arm, you hold the kid closer on your lap and begin flight checking.  Din will be fucking furious, but the scolding you’ll be sure to get is the least of your worries right now.  Following his instructions and going back to Nevarro is just making shit infinitely more dangerous for him, turning what could be a potential rescue mission into an undeniable suicide mission.  Even if Karga somehow decides to send a few guild members along to infiltrate the base, it’ll be a war you want to avoid.

Besides.  What did you always tell him about running away from him, even when he instructs you to?

It’s just… not really your thing.

---

They’re everywhere.

They crawl like flies out of the base, and for every single body that falls, three more spill from the open doors.  Rapid fire plasma beams launch from the end of Din’s blaster, melting white armor with every twitch of his gloved finger.  Their aim is terrible, as is to be expected, but the sheer number of them more than makes up for it, as is by design.

Din’s heart pounds with exertion, his breath comes in ragged huffs through the modulator as his helmet identifies and isolates which body is closest to him, which body he needs to bring down next.  His blaster is so hot it nearly burns his hand, even through the thick gloves he wears.  When he runs out of ammo, he holsters the pistol and swings his rifle from around his shoulder, spinning to catch a handful of troopers behind him in the obliterating blast.

He’s not thinking much.  He can’t think, even though your safety and that of his son is currently dangling by a thread.  If he focuses on that, he’ll be dead before he can even picture your faces.  He just reacts, he maims and kills without a single thought in his mind.  Blood splatters, screams and sirens blare as he becomes surrounded by more and more troopers.  Din can hear the sound of plasma colliding and ricocheting off his armor; every single one of them is a potential injury he could currently have but might not even be able to feel right now.

His helmet starts beeping rapidly and he turns just enough to see, highlighted in bright red on the screen, two enormous artillery turrets slowly rising up out of the roof of the imperial base.  He feels a fierce flash of anger burn in his chest, it’s like a lightning strike to his veins.

Din needs to go.

And yet… if he was another man.  If he wasn’t a father, or a husband, if he had no family and no attachments like the creed declared he should, he would go.  With just a twitch of his fingers, he could be launching into the sky and retreating as far away from this battlefield as he could reasonably get.  He’s never been the type to run from a threat, but this isn’t just a threat.  Dozens of troopers are gaining on him, they’re trampling their own dead to get within range.  Plasma pings off his shoulder, another one hits his back as they flank from behind.  He can feel the heat through the sizzling beskar, he can see them surrounding him on all sides, and the propulsion trigger for his jetpack is right there under his wrist.

Din holds his ground and continues firing, he plants his feet firmly to the dirt with only one thought in his mind.

Run, sweet girl.  Run.

---

You type in commands to scan for Din’s signal, quickly locating it through the Crest’s computer onboard.  Not far from here, three minutes or less.  The ship rumbles to life beneath you, slowly lifting off the rocky ground and rotating in place as it hovers.  It’s not on autopilot but you feel like you are, you can barely feel your hands as they move the yoke forward and the Crest takes off in the direction of Din’s blinking frequency.

“Tell me about defenses,” you instruct Oshua, restlessly bouncing your leg while the baby coos.

“Two plasma turrets on top of the base,” the quarry quickly answers.  “There’s usually guards stationed around the perimeter, but everyone who’s capable will be outside right now.”

Your mouth twists downwards under the mask.  Blasters don’t scare you much from this high up, but Din’s armor doesn’t cover every inch of his body, he’s not completely invincible.  Doubt churns in your stomach, but you have to stay focused on one task at a time so you don’t get overwhelmed.  The turrets, then.  “Are they automatic?”

“Manual,” he corrects with a shake of his head.

“Radar?”

“Old.  Only engages above fifty meters.”

You eye your altitude and dip the Crest considerably, beginning to weave through the rocky canyons and dodging crumbling cliffs while you travel.  “What about ships?”

“None,” Oshua says, “except for a passenger shuttle used for transport.  TIEs are flown in the Vesta sector, this base is remote and used for basic training only.”

“Anything else?”  You ask, stomach twisting with the knowledge that barely four questions is all you’ve got.  You’re planning to drop into an imperial base to save the man you love and you can’t think of a single other question?  

The quarry shrugs, and your heart slams, does somersaults in your chest at the mere notion that you could fucking die here.  Today, in two minutes or less, you could die here.  The child in your lap looking over the ship’s front panel with a quiet determination in his eyes could die here.  Din could already be dead—that signal broadcasts his location to this computer regardless of whether he’s still breathing or not.  He could already be gone and you’d be flying the baby right into a trap without knowing any differently.

Whelp, you think while taking a deep breath, some strangely calm existential acceptance beginning to flood your soul.  If he isn’t dead, he will be soon if you don’t make it to him on time.

You immediately lift your wrist and speak into the communicator.  “Mando?”  You have no idea if he can hear you, but you need to try anyway.  Your voice is still firm, there’s a strength to it you don’t feel in your chest, but it certainly sounds convincing.  “I’m coming to get you.  Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside.  If you can’t, I’ll just… uh.  Try to figure something else out.”

That’s it.  That’s it, improvise until you don’t have to.  Even if you’re lacking confidence, you can at least scrounge up some conviction.  Your arms gain feeling again while you veer the Crest through the stony terrain, the familiar reverberations under your feet begin to fill your body with a powerful sense of purpose.  Your breaths begin to come steady, every falling rock you see through the transparisteel feels like it drops in slow motion, allowing you to evade them easily.  It would normally be stupidly dangerous to fly this low with so many unexpected obstacles and hazards narrowly missing the ship, but considering what you’re flying into, a few boulders seems comical.

“Where’s your helmet?”  Oshua asks out of nowhere, and for a second, you don’t think you heard him correctly.

But then it strikes you all at once what he’s attempting to imply, and the sheer lunacy of the thought is enough to make you laugh while you clutch the controls.  “I’m not a Mandalorian.”

“You wear the armor of one,” he points out… rather fairly, you have to admit.  “You cover your face like one.  You have a blaster that fires Philithiorium, a rare and expensive gas native to Mandalore’s stratosphere, and you’re a bounty hunter—”

“I’m not a Mandalorian.”  Your words are short and cutting, you have a daunting task to focus on and don’t feel like having small talk right now.  “I’m not a bounty hunter, either.”

But then again, Karga made you a member of the Guild, didn’t he?  He handed you Oshua’s puck and said this one is for you to find, and you are technically part of a Mandalorian clan.  All of this seems like it happened without your knowledge.  You may be marrying a Mandalorian, you may wear his armor and mother his child and shoot a blaster with his signet branded into it, but war isn’t in your blood.  This robe was a costume when you first made it, this armor was a relic that was restored as a hobby.  In a sense, it still feels that way.  The mask covering your face lended itself to a temporary surge of bravery earlier, but beyond that, the only thing that’s keeping you moving forward now is your family.  The man you love that may or may not be alive right now, the baby holding tight to your leg while the ship sways and weaves through the stony landscape.

Your eyes quickly flick down to the child in your lap, both of his three fingered hands clutching onto the stained fabric of your knee without moving a single inch.  He’d know, you tell yourself.  If his father is gone, he’d already know somehow.  Din is still alive, and he’s counting on you.

---

There’s too many for Din to handle.

They swarmed him, overpowered his endless artillery with massive numbers and there’s nothing he can do anymore.  The backs of his knees are kicked from behind and he slams down to the ground with a clatter, his sizzling hot blasters are ripped from him, and Din folds his hands calmly behind his back even as one of the stormtroopers barks out, “Binders,” to another one, who disappears quickly in response.  In the meantime, a few of them apparently decide to just attempt holding his arms in place, and their measly combined grip is almost enough to make him roll his eyes under the helmet.  These imperial soldiers are even more pitiful than they usually are, but his silent resolve to stall to ensure your escape is enough to keep him stationary and compliant for the time being.

Eventually, a few voices call out from beyond the crowd and there’s some movement from the back.  Dozens of troopers with their blasters all pointed at him begin to shuffle to make way, careful to keep their barrels aimed at him while a path slowly forms.  The crowd of white parts and a stormtrooper with a singular red pauldron on his right shoulder saunters confidently towards Din as he kneels on the ground.

An officer, he assumes.  Conveniently missing from the firefight, the scanner inside his helmet would’ve caught the change in color and Din would’ve made sure to kill him first.

“Well now, what do we have here?”  Comes his thin metallic voice through the tinny filter.  The officer studies him curiously for a few moments, before slowly looking down by his feet, reaching out one cheap, plastic covered foot to gently nudge the body of a dead trooper on the ground with a sigh.  “What a shame.”

Coward, he thinks, his lip curling with disgust under the helmet.

“This is an imperial training base,” he turns his attention back to Din to inform him when he doesn’t immediately respond, rather stupidly he might add.  “How were you able to find us?”

Silence.  The grip on hands held behind his back is even looser now.  He just tilts his chin up slightly in defiance, the scanner inside his helmet locating each weapon strapped to the man’s body and highlighting it red.  Small text boxes blink into existence under each one with a manufacturer and classification—a BlasTech E-11 rifle, a Merr-Sonn thermal detonator, a Kolvo vibroblade—and Din is severely unimpressed with the quality.  The detonator is the only weapon that even catches his eye, and that’s only because the chamber inside that houses the explosive baradium has a release mechanism that’s completely dead.  Useless, then.  Good to know.

After a long moment of quiet tension where Din refuses to speak and the officer continues to confidently scrutinize him, in some strange sort of silent battle of egos that only one seems to have a genuine interest in, another stormtrooper makes his way to the front, shoving past his fellow soldiers to address the superior in charge.

“Commander, we’ve sent out an alert for an intruder,” he tells him, slightly out of breath from running through the crowd in the lightweight armor.  Din wants to roll his eyes, but what he says next makes him snap to immediate attention.  “The fleet informed us that Moff Gideon is currently on route.”

Gideon.  The last time someone spoke that name, it was a quarry on Coruscant and you just barely managed to stop Din from suffocating the bastard for even saying it aloud before freezing him in carbonite.  It would’ve meant half the return on a hunt that lasted nearly a month but he saw red and his hand was crushing his windpipe before he realized what happened.  But he’s dead, Din thinks with a clenched jaw and fists tightening behind his back, he watched that TIE fighter explode and slam into the ground, crushing the man inside it.  The wreck was unsurvivable, he can’t be alive.

“For what?  This Mandalorian?”  The trooper in charge scoffs in response, and Din remains completely mute.

“Yes, sir,” the other one confirms.  “Orders were to capture him, alive.”

“Hm.”  The officer turns his attention back to him, less analyzing and more musing while he tilts his head.  “I see,” he eventually says, and he sounds like he’s grinning, before strolling slightly closer as Din stays completely still on his knees.  “He must want the beskar.  I’m sure it’s worth more than this entire battalion combined.”

All of a sudden, a gloved hand carelessly catches the rim of his helmet and tugs, and Din’s movement is explosive.  He launches off the ground, arms easily slipping from the pathetic grip they were being held in and his fist colliding with the side of the officer’s flimsy white helmet, the plastic making a deafening crack against his face.

Multiple hands immediately rush forward to grab him and yank him back down again while the commanding trooper stumbles backwards in shock, and Din amicably drops to his knees and folds his hands behind his back once more like nothing happened at all.

“Binders!”  A trooper behind him roars loudly once more, and a few men surrounding him begin trotting away this time.

The officer in red stands a few feet away from him now, grabbing his helmet and twisting it back to its proper position on his head where it was skewed.  There’s a shattered hole near his jaw where the material splintered and busted like the cheap piece of banthashit it is, and while he might normally feel pleased with himself for being able to see his skin peeking through, it just fills him with more righteous fury.  It’s such a punchable jaw.

After a few awkward moments of silence, the other one clears his throat and continues.  “He… has inquired about the location and status of a child that should be accompanying him.”

Din inhales deeply through his nose and grinds his teeth.  He wants to snap their necks one by one for even just mentioning his son, but there are just too many, more than even his whistling birds can neutralize.  Still, he gave you as much of a head start as physically possible.  You should be rising into the atmosphere right now, making the jump into hyperspace towards safety.  Karga will know what to do—he’ll protect his family, separate you and the boy so the threat is evenly dispersed instead of collected all in one place, and arm dozens of trained hunters to keep watch over you both individually.  It’s the best Din can do, and it’s the only thing keeping his knees planted on the ground and his body completely motionless while they continue speaking.

“We are combing the sector for a ship with as many men as we can afford to lose,” the trooper in red says, but his voice filter is shattered and now sounds like a puny little droid with a broken voice box, “but our numbers are unimpressive.  Assistance may be required.”

It’s too late, Din thinks, mouth twitching under the beskar with a satisfied smirk.  They’re wasting their time, looking for a ghost.  You’re both long gone by now.  They’ve got no idea you even exist—

“He also spoke of a girl.”

And then he feels his heart stop in his chest.  Every single cell in his body turns to fire, it’s a fucking miracle he doesn’t move a muscle in response.  His sweet girl, the one so far removed from the nightmare of the Empire that she made best friends with the orphans of it.  How the fuck did he know?  He shouldn’t even be breathing, let alone gathering information about you, how did he know?

But then Din thinks back, remembering your makeshift bed on the floor, your panicked eyes and heaving chest as the quarry taunted him with a sick little smile.  Who’s this, Mando?  She’s just darling, isn’t she?  Does Gideon know your crew has a lovely new addition?

“A girl?”

The trooper nods.  “Moff Gideon insisted that if the Mandalorian did not have a child with him, then a girl would likely be protecting him instead.”

He’s going to kill them, Din decides.  Every single one of these imperial pigs, every single soldier standing right now is a dead fucking man.  The blood pumping through his body suddenly turns to acid, deadly black hate poisoning his soul.  His heartbeat morphs into a war drum, the armor strapped to his limbs is the barrel of a gun.  He’s going to fucking kill them and leave an imperial base full of bodies to greet his old nemesis upon his return, and he’s going to enjoy every single second of it.

Except, then—

“Mando?”  The sweetest voice in existence suddenly crackles through the earpiece under his helmet.  “I’m coming to get you.  Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside.  If you can’t, I’ll just… uh.  Figure something else out.”

And, as Din kneels there in surrender, surrounded by a crowd of enemies he thought he destroyed long ago, all the anger—all the fury and defiance and murder surging through his veins—suddenly morphs to fear.

The emotion is so foreign and old to him, it feels like a face he barely recognizes and a name he can’t remember.  He’s panicked before.  He’s been in situations where a threat has made him blind with rage, he knows what it’s like to look death straight in the eyes and say that he’s busy and to come back another time.  This is different.  This is ice cold that freezes over beskar.

He can’t speak out loud to warn you—he can’t move his hands to press the button on the back of his helmet and allow him to talk without detection.  There’s plasma turrets on the roof of the base, he can see them right now.  The helmet’s scanners say they’re manned and engaged, and though he is outside and this is how you retrieved him before whenever he needed a quick escape, he has fifty fucking imperial blasters trained on him and you know absolutely nothing about this threat.  You’re flying right into a war zone and if either you or his son dies, he won’t ever be able to forgive himself.

Behind the helmet, his eyes fly to each and every trooper, wondering which blaster will be the one to do it.  Which weapon is going to be the one he can’t block in time when you descend, the one that’ll kill him right in front of you.  Which turret will be the one to obliterate the Crest with you and his son inside of it.

“Maker, where are those fucking binders—” he hears someone behind him snarl, but the white noise of pure terror roaring through his ears drowns them out.  His chest starts heaving against his will, sheer panic begins to blur his vision.  For the first time in his life, his armor feels too heavy, his lungs feel like one of these boulders are sitting on them instead of beskar.

All too soon, his helmet starts making a familiar sound that signals quietly in his ear, alerting him of an incoming ship, and the only thing he can physically do is count down the seconds to prepare himself for what is to come.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…

Like lightning, Din breaks the grip of multiple troopers and surges up, tackling the officer in red to the ground.  There’s a clatter as they both slam into the rocky floor, but in the ensuing scuffle, he easily snatches the thermal detonator from his side holster and holds it up for everyone to see, before pressing the red button on the front and hearing it begin to beep rapidly.

---

You’re right on time.

The Crest rises up through the rocky cliffs surrounding the base and you spot the turrets you were warned about.  Weapons controls are already engaged and you’re too low to be detected by radar—you fire once, twice, and blast both of them to smithereens from behind before they can even rotate around to target you.

Alarms start wailing but the guns are destroyed.  It’s not comforting, though; blasters won’t touch you up here, but that doesn’t mean they can’t fire at Din on the ground.  Your eyes dart across the sea of white, looking for a flash of silver anywhere, and then you spot him instantly in the chaos.

For some reason, the troopers in his vicinity all seem to be bolting away from him.  Their rifles are down, clutched in their hands while they nearly fall over each other to run away as fast as possible, and your heart soars when you spot his jetpack firing up.  Din launches into the sky while another trooper is revealed underneath him, seeming to juggle something in his hands and then throw it into the crowd of retreating soldiers, but the sight of the man you love rising into the air while a flurry of blaster shots from the far edges of the imperial structure follow him gives you the confidence to immediately turn the guns down towards the horde of troopers.

“Which ones are in charge?”  You ask Oshua breathlessly, who leans forward and points out the transparisteel.

“Red pauldrons—” he barely has time to say it before you aim and fire at one of the troopers wearing red that was closest to Din, the plasma beam launching from the Crest so powerful and devastating that it outright obliterates the surface he’s laying on.  Pieces of shattered armor fly and a smoking crater of rubble is all that’s left behind, but your mind is whirling and you’re already onto someone else wearing red at the edges of the complex, and then two more near the doors, and then another—

To their credit, you think the sixty or so soldiers in training seem to figure out that you’re not aiming into the enormous collection of them.  If you were, the damage would be catastrophic and spraying everywhere, but you’re precise and meticulous with your shots, and the only ones who are loyal enough to the cause to hold still and raise their blasters at the incoming threat tend to be the ones you need to mow down anyways.  The rest of them scatter in all directions, scrambling over each other to escape and then disappearing into the distant boulders surrounding the base—but you notice that not a single one of them runs back inside the safety of its open doors.

The hull dips with the weight of Din dropping in, and relief floods your soul even as you continue raining hell down on the superiors in charge.  Any flash of color you see is a target, your eyes lose focus of everything, your vision blurs and turns monochrome as you just search for red.

“Lift up!”  You hear Din’s voice roar from the hull.  You can hear his rifle unloading through the open door.  “Now!  We have to go now!”

You press the button to shut the hull door with Din inside and punch it, rising so fast that the shove of gravity makes it difficult to keep your head up.  Through the sudden surge of downward force, you just barely manage to raise your incredibly heavy arm to push the button that pressurizes the Crest and ignites the launch boosters, preparing the vessel for space travel.  Outside the transparisteel, the gray sky begins darkening as the atmosphere eventually disappears.  The ship’s engines roar, burning so much fuel at once that you’re actually accelerating through the climb, you’re boosting through the gradual ease of gravity as the planet’s curvature and glow becomes softer and softer below you.

As soon as the blackness of space begins to fill the windows, the slight subsiding of force allows you to plug in the coordinates for Nevarro with less difficulty, but you’re still moving, still rising, still escaping.  You can’t find it within yourself to slow down, but then something catches your attention.

Claws suddenly dig sharp into your thigh, sharp enough to sting and cause you to wince, and you look down to see that the kid has gone incredibly tense.  Deadly tense.  Your heart is still pounding even though you’re away from danger, you’ve got Din in the hull, everyone is safe, and yet—

It flickers into existence all at once.  One second it’s just space, just the endless depths of nothingness spread out for light years in front of you, and within the blink of an eye it’s suddenly there.

A star destroyer.

Your body freezes in horrified awe, having never seen a ship so fucking big in your entire life.  It looks like a massive satellite, the size of an enormous asteroid instantly appearing in your vision and dwarfing the vastness of space around it.  All the stars you used to dream about are suddenly blotted out within a fraction of a second, terror so immense seizes your soul that you stop thinking.  You stop calculating, you stop being yourself for a split second that lasts an entire lifetime.

Before you can move a single muscle, the computer beeps quickly and lurches the Crest into hyperspace.

---

The stars streak across the transparisteel like so many times before.  Utter silence nearly deafens you with how abrupt it is after so much noise, but the peace it used to bring does nothing to quell your fear.  Everything is the same as it always was, same bursts of light as you hurdle faster than it towards Nevarro, same quiet, same rumbling hum of the ship.  But now, everything has changed.

You hear the quarry next to you suddenly inhale and exhale loudly, and it shocks you a little bit, reminds you that there’s a person next to you and another is on your lap.  Other people exist outside of the vision of death that just flickered out of existence just as quickly as it appeared.  They’re breathing, Oshua is shakily unbuckling his seatbelt, life is continuing on in the quiet cockpit but you can’t seem to move like he is.  You can’t seem to breathe like he is.  It’s only when the baby slowly maneuvers himself around on your thigh and blinks up at you, placing a tiny hand on your stomach that you finally feel air enter your lungs.

After a moment, you reach down and click open your seatbelt with trembling fingers, scooping the kid up in your arms and slowly attempting to stand.  Everything feels wobbly and dreamlike, you have to brace yourself on the headrest to prevent yourself from falling back into the chair again.

“That was…” Ryler mutters, his voice sounding foggy and distant, “uh.  A close one.”

You look over at him, recognizing that he’s speaking but not quite able to understand the words right now.  Red catches in your vision, and you blink down at the way he’s clutching his left shoulder, the smear of blood darkening the white armor he’s wearing.  You blink a few more times at the sight of it, and though it feels like you normally would be sickened at the wound, somehow shocked out of your state of shock, it does nothing to you.  When you look back up at his face, his expression seems strangely grateful, even when it’s screwed up in what you know must be excruciating pain.    You did that, a quiet voice whispers in your mind, even though the rest of it seems incredibly blank.

Instead of responding, you stumble a few steps over to the ladder, spinning around and hesitating for a moment.  You’re severely lacking in coherent thought, but one thing seems to break through.  You’re not sure if you have enough coordination to do this safely right now.  However, when there’s movement in your peripheral and you look to see Oshua gently offering his right arm to you, seeming to understand you’d like to use both hands for this, you snap back to your senses just the slightest bit and hug the baby tighter to your chest.  Carefully, you begin making the slow climb down the ladder with the kid, still trembling with the aftershocks of adrenaline.  Your limbs feel extra heavy, but eventually the floor meets your feet.

Din is standing there when you slowly turn around, armor gleaming and still as a statue, but he has his back to you.  His helmet is tilted down at the ground, and when you follow his gaze, you’re met with the sight of the bloodstains of dragged bodies that leave dark red streaks all the way up the ramp.

You feel something this time.  It’s… cold.  A burning, searing cold that creeps into your skin.  Like your heart decides to pump nitrogen through your chest instead of warm blood.  You did that.

There’s a sudden urge inside of you to speak, to address him and inform him of your presence, tell him everything is okay, everything worked out, but you can’t find it in yourself to say a single word.  You can’t find a single word to say.  The kid twists as best he can in your clutch, his ears drag against your chest to greet his father, but for some reason, there’s still a strange sense of fear in your bones.  It’s enough to wake you up slightly, it’s enough to tell you it’s not over yet.  There’s a terror in your heart that hasn’t left since he first called over the comm and begged you to run, a crippling dread that you thought climaxed after seeing that star destroyer appear, but it’s somehow only increased after laying eyes on him like this.

You watch as his helmet turns, slowly meeting the pauldron on his shoulder, and for some reason, you feel yourself harden.  Your feet brace against the metal floor like this is another threat you have to face, you let its unyielding metallic strength transfer up through the souls of your boots to your heart in your chest.

But the second you hear cheap white armor clatter as the quarry steps down the ladder behind you, Din bursts into movement.  He suddenly spins and storms up to you in one single step while catching your holstered blaster on your hip.  It’s out and aimed in the blink of an eye, and it’s a miracle you remember how to speak before he remembers how to kill.

“Mando—” you warn, just in time for the quarry to land on the floor of the hull and turn around to reveal his face.

Din holds there for a second, his helmet locked on Oshua’s features.  His gloved fingers twitch wildly on the trigger of your gun held over your shoulder, like he has to remind himself multiple times not to.  You hear Oshua’s armor clack while he likely raises one good arm in surrender, but then Din’s helmet moves a fraction of a millimeter to your face and holds there.  He just stares down at you, and the air feels heavy, your body feels heavy, the feather light child in your arms feels heavy.

Slowly, he lowers his arm, lets it fall while he continues looking at you from behind the visor.  You look back at him, unblinking, unfeeling, and there’s a few seconds that last an utter eternity where nobody moves.  Nobody speaks, nothing happens, but then a soft coo comes from your arms before you can finally break eye contact, knowing there are still some things that need to be done.

You eventually turn around and lift your chin to address Oshua.

“You have to go into carbonite,” you inform him quietly.  Your voice sounds strange, like it’s coming from outside of yourself.  “We’re taking you to Nevarro, and then you’ll be transported to your home planet. When they unfreeze you, your sister will be there to collect you.”

He looks uncertain, one hand still raised while the other hangs uselessly at his side, and you don’t blame him.

But you also don’t feel like saying anymore, not unless he decides he doesn’t want to go in willingly.  Normally you might’ve tried to empathize, offer him further reassurance beyond just a couple short sentences, but you don’t.  Speaking feels difficult, thinking feels difficult.  You’re still in survival mode, not active but reactive.  There’s also no reason for you to lie to him about this, and you can see him glance at Din standing silently behind you, who hasn’t moved a muscle.

He eventually nods and you walk him over to the chamber without another word, watch him turn to face you as he backs into the opening while you reach up towards the control panel.

But then there’s a moment.  One where you hesitate slightly, one where your vision flashes back to the sight of those bloodstains on the floor, and that burning cold fills you again, so cold it feels completely numb.

“I’m… sorry,” you whisper quietly to him, though your voice sounds so empty.  There’s so much emotion that should be there but isn’t, so much regret and pain that should break through but can’t.  “I’m sorry I… killed your friends.”

Later, you’ll think about how you felt absolutely nothing saying it.  Your heart doesn’t constrict with remorse at the mere words leaving your mouth, guilt doesn’t flood into your soul, pain doesn’t wrack through your bones.  You could’ve been saying anything at all and nobody would be able to tell the difference.

He blinks at you, flicking his eyes between yours for a second or two, but then you press the proper button and watch the gas quickly freeze him where he stands.  He’ll be conscious the entire time, but Karga will send him to the correct location and you have no doubt that this elemental purgatory is leagues better than where he just escaped from.  It’s a benefit being the last quarry to be retrieved—he’ll only have to spend a few days trapped in here before being reunited with his family.

When that’s done and Oshua is a complete statue in front of you, bulky white armor now colored a dull metallic gray and frozen in time, you will yourself to finally turn around to face the enormous mountain of a presence behind you.  The baby gently reaches out for him, but Din doesn’t move from where he’s stood.  Your blaster is still clutched tightly in his hand, and he isn’t looking at you.

Slowly, you walk over and stop directly in front of him in the middle of the hull, blinking at him while the helmet subtly moves to lock onto your face.  The kid begins wiggling in your arms, making soft impatient noises while you both stand in complete silence across from each other.

After a few moments, you hear him flick your blaster’s safety on by his side and then toss it carelessly to the ground.  It skids along the floor, light enough to be mostly quiet.  Gloves reach out as he carefully takes the kid from you and settles him in the crook of one arm, and then he looks you up and down, still not saying anything.

Your eyes follow his movement, watching his arm slowly reaching out to you, and you think he’s going to cup your jaw, or brush your hair back.  Give you some sort of physical reassurance since he hasn’t spoken a single word of it.

Instead, Din suddenly grabs the armor clinging to your chest and starts ripping it off you with one hand.  It clangs to the floor so loudly in the silence of hyperspace, the kid’s ears twitch and flutter with each shattering bang.  You hold still while he does it, you barely respond except the unavoidable movement your body experiences as the pauldron is yanked from your shoulder and thrown against the ground.  The ammo belt is tugged over your head and hurled away, the thigh braces are snatched from your legs and they clang to the floor, and the pearly, opalescent fabric revealed underneath is stained in dead man’s blood, rusty and in such great quantities that it shows up as brown instead of red.

“Are you hurt?”

He sounds… dead.  So monotonic that you can’t possibly gauge his emotional state.  He doesn’t move.   His fists don’t clench, he says every single word like it means the same exact thing as the last.  If nothing at all was a person who could speak, they’d use his tone of voice.

“No,” you eventually whisper.

The helmet nods once, and then he spins around and walks away without anything else.  Without saying anything, without touching you, or double checking you for injuries in case you were lying.  You stand utterly still while Din climbs the ladder with the kid cradled in one arm, and you don’t even flinch when the door to the cockpit slides shut behind him.  You have no idea how long you stand there in the splitting silence afterwards, numb and unmoving.

You feel… nothing.  Absolutely nothing.

The hard defenses you strapped to yourself today to reconcile the things you had to do are still high and strong, guarding your soul even if he stripped away your physical armor.  Self preservation is still animating your body, and your facial expression barely changes.  Your first thought, as soon as you remember that you can have one, is that there are things that still need to be done.  Tasks to complete.

Alone, you shower the lingering traces of blood off your body, the normally clear and refreshing water running a sickly, toxic brown.  Alone, your stomach rolls and suddenly decides to empty itself of the very little that was in it as the scalding drops rain down over you—mostly liquid and bile that easily rinses down the drain.  The water is too warm, it beats down on you like blazing hot sand pelting your skin in the desert.  You feel like you did those first few months with Din, where the silence was suffocating, where you’d only interact with the baby if he was on a hunt or if you could tell he didn’t know how to calm him when he was fussy.  If you were in hyperspace, you usually spent time by yourself in the hull while he lived in the cockpit, and if he decided he needed to be in the hull for whatever reason, then you’d trade places with him.  It was… isolating.  Lonely by yourself.  The quiet used to haunt you before it became your cherished friend, but now it’s a betrayer, a ghost that whispers memories and nightmares in your ears.

When you finally finish rinsing the blood from your skin and get dressed, you see the sheets that used to make up your bed now have fried holes in them from your charred plasma marks, the inside of the hull is covered in them and the trails of dried blood where you dragged the bodies down the ramp.  Your armor is still strewn about the hull, the kid’s hovering shield lays dead in the corner.  Everything you meticulously cleaned and organized and collected and created, now the scene of a bloodbath.  One committed by your hand, your blaster still laying uselessly on the floor forever linked to this atrocity.

You spare a glance towards the ladder, but you don’t want to come face to face with Din yet.  You already knew he’d be furious, but… you had hoped that he’d at least…

What?  At least what?  Comfort you?  Coddle you after you deliberately ignored his instructions?  What exactly, in the past year or so of learning Din’s inner workings and intricacies, would ever give you the impression that he’d come give you a big hug after you purposefully defied him?  You flew the kid directly into an imperial base after being told to protect him, you ignored every order he gave to you in the moments he thought would be his last, and though you did it to save his life, you have a feeling that Din has never valued his life even a fraction of what you do.

The misery stabs at your soul, but your mind is finally beginning to process things logically.  He’s alive, the kid is alive, the quarry is secure, and you’re all onboard the safety of this ship hurtling through hyperspace where nobody, not even the Empire, can touch you.  You weighed the consequences before making your decision, you did what you had to do.  If he wants to be mad, then he can fucking well be mad and you’ll find some way to comfort yourself.  At least he’s here being mad, at least he’s alive and safe and breathing and mad, and your rare act of disobedience is to thank for that.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s probably easier than it should be to reconcile the punishment.  Right now, you welcome the exclusion, the negativity and sorrow beating itself into your soul.  Four innocent people died today on this ship, gunned down under your blaster while they panicked and ran for cover.  You keep hearing their screams.

So you start to clean up the hull, needing another task to focus your thoughts on.  You work to erase every inch of the evidence of your deeds, make it disappear like the pool of blood Din once cleaned up while you were sleeping and never acknowledged again.  You only allow the bloodstains to fuck with your head for a single moment, and then you swallow back the nausea until you’re a blank slate again and sink to your knees with a rag in your hand.  After that, your vision stops focusing and it just becomes red contrasting against gunmetal gray, and you work tirelessly to get rid of all remaining traces of it.

Then you start on the blaster marks, you need them gone.  After a few informed attempts at mixing cleaning chemicals, you find one concoction that allows you to wipe them away like they’re nothing more than dirt that got tracked in.  The Crest’s oxygen recycling system works overdrive to constantly purify the air so you don’t get high or pass out, but your nose still stings.  It’s fine, it’s sterile, it burns a bit but it smells sharp and metallic and keeps you hyper focused on the task at hand.

After that’s done, you pick up the charred blankets and ball them up to throw into the trash vent.  You don’t feel anything as you do it.  You don’t think about how long it took you to collect these over months and months of being stuck on this ship, how comfortable they were when everything else was industrial and rigid, how many nights you spent with Din curled up in their softness while he breathed easy and warm.  Sheets are just luxuries, they can afford to be lost.

Next, you gather your armor and wipe it down with the rag, put it away along with your blaster.  The stained robe goes in the trash, along with the sheets and the blood soaked cloth you used to clean everything.  They’re all ruined, you’ll never be able to make them right again.

The hull is sparkling clean when you decide to take another shower.  Nothing on you is dirty except your hands, but you feel filthy.  Wrong, cold, numb, cold, stained, cold.

After scrubbing your skin raw under the water and changing clothes again, since you don’t really know what to do with yourself anymore, you slowly climb the ladder to the cockpit, keeping perfectly silent.  When you reach the upper platform and come face to face with the closed door, you can just barely hear Din’s whispered voice speaking quietly to the baby beyond it.

You raise your hand for a moment, hovering your knuckles over the metal, but then it eventually falls.  Instead, you look over and spot the corner, the same corner Din bunched himself into when he snapped at you for even suggesting going on a hunt with him, blew up at you for the mere notion of something happening like what happened today.  You back yourself into it in defeat and slowly sink down on the floor, resting your head against the metal and hugging your knees to your chest since you don’t have a tiny baby to take their place.

You can’t sleep.  You don’t even try, it’s pointless.  The concept feels foreign the longer you sit here by yourself.  You don’t hear Din or the baby anymore, but you feel… so fucking awful that it’s fitting that you don’t knock or go looking.  You don’t want to hold that sweet child with hands that were covered in blood just a few hours ago.  You killed more people than you can count on your fingers today, and of the ones who had done nothing wrong…  They screamed like younglings, ducked for cover and were able to fire off one single useless shot in the mayhem before you closed their eyes forever and left their bodies to rot in armor that wasn’t ever their choice to wear.

You didn’t know they were kidnapped and smuggled and forced into that situation.  You couldn’t have known, but that isn’t the point.  In this case, knowing doesn’t make one bit of difference.

You also can’t face Din yet, not like this.  You don’t want him to see you cowering, shattered with guilt over the decisions you made under pressure.  How will you ever get him to forgive you for not listening to him when you can’t even forgive yourself for the result of your choices?  Din is a hardened man who grew up in blasterfire and bloodshed, just because you love him doesn’t mean he’s going to magically become someone he isn’t.  You’re here letting guilt sink sharp claws into your chest over four dead men when he had a good fifty or more corpses scattered on the battlefield around him.  You decided to wear that armor, you decided to fly into an imperial base with the kid on your lap, and this is now your penance.  You’ll accept it with your back straight and your chin held high.

Figuratively, of course.  Physically, you’re smaller than you’ve ever been.  Crumpled up into a ball, taking up as little space as possible, curling up as tight as you can like an animal protecting all your vulnerable parts during a brutal attack.

So, since he isn’t here to comfort you himself, you just try to think about what he would tell you.  A long time ago, what would he tell you?

Din would tell you… that you killed someone.  Multiple people, this time.  He’d also tell you that it doesn’t matter what he tells you, what you could have reasonably foreseen or what you should have done.  The end result won’t change.  You own this now.  You’ll carry their deaths with you.

You take a few deep breaths, self-soothing with the undeniable truth that would be murmured matter of factly from his quiet voice.  He wouldn’t argue with you.  He wouldn’t deny the decisions you made or the consequences of them.  It happened, and at the end of the day, you either learn how to handle that, or you don’t.

And, for the four you did shoot, you were responsible for freeing ten times that amount.  You’re responsible for reuniting Oshua Ryler with his family, even if your place in yours is momentarily shunned.  You’d rather be out here alone than in there with the kid, wondering where his dad is or if he’s even still alive.  You rescued Din and now he gets to be here to shut this door on you, hold his son, and whisper calm reassurances to him.  If you listen really hard and imagine, you can pretend they’re for you, too.

That’s it.  Focus on them both, alive and well together.  Focus on the bodies wearing white armor that were moving, the ones that were bolting away from the imperial training base as fast as they could, free from the torture of imprisonment and conditioning.

Finally, you close your eyes and slip into unconsciousness.  It’s not a testament to your exhaustion, but rather just how long you’ve been left to sit here by yourself.  Hours, maybe.  Time is strange in hyperspace.

You dream of a faceless man ringing bells.

---

When you wake up, a small baby has been placed in your arms, and you’re being dragged into a strong, secure beskar hold on the floor.

“Din,” you suddenly lift your head as soon as you’re conscious and nearly bonk it into solid metal, apologies rising in your throat before you even remember where you are.  You did what needed to be done to keep your family alive and together and you’d do it a thousand times again if necessary, but that doesn’t mean you won’t apologize anyways.  After the deeds you’ve committed today, regret feels as natural on your lips as speaking your own name.  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know you’re mad at me but I—”

“Shh,” he whispers, running his gloves through your hair.  He’s still wearing his helmet, he hasn’t taken anything off yet.  “Don’t say anything.  Just… stay here, stay right here with me.”

“I tried to save you,” you croak, tears instantly flooding your eyes.  You did save him.  You saved him and the baby and yourself but you’re so physically and emotionally exhausted that all you can recall is your intent.  “I tried.  Wasn’t gonna leave you there by yourself.  I tried to be brave, like you—y-you wouldn’t have left without me.”

His arms tighten around you, cradling you in such a strong embrace that you burrow into him, you find a place for your head on the hard metal strapped to him and bury yourself there, wishing that you had shovels of dirt being piled on you to justify the death you still feel staining your soul.  Your heart is starting to pound now that you’re remembering, your body is starting to shake with tremors of shock now that you’re aware of your own skin again.

“I was so sc-scared, Din, I didn’t—didn’t know what was happening,” you lament through watery eyes, gasping it out in hopes that it’ll relieve the slightest bit of the gut wrenching guilt just mercilessly crushing you.  It caught you before you could protect yourself against it, that armor you built around yourself isn’t on when you first wake up.  “I-I didn’t want to kill them, but they were already on the ship and y-you said—you said they were coming after the kid s-so I had to, I had to—”

“Stop,” Din whispers, voice so quiet that you can barely hear him.

“I-I cleaned up the blood,” you turn your face against the cold beskar to let all the positives you listed for yourself before scrape across your throat.  They don’t sound comforting anymore, they just sound like excuses.  “It’s gone, it’s like it never happened, everything is okay now, I got the quarry, I protected the baby, I saved a bunch of people, you’re both safe—”

“Stop,” he chokes out.  The modulator cuts off before you can hear his next breath, but you feel it shudder under your body.  “St-Stop it, please.”

Your eyes clench shut so tightly you feel like the streaking stars outside are behind them, tears drop down against his pauldron and you press your face tighter to it like it’s a wound, like the pressure will somehow ease the bleeding.

“Listen to me,” he says very quietly, and you instantly brace yourself.  The walls you just let down shoot right back up, your body physically tightens in preparation for another pain, another trauma, another scar you’ll carry, and you stop shaking.  You stop breathing, even when his hand comes up to ease your face away from his armor.

“You,” he whispers, holding your chin so you’re staring right at him, and your eyes flick fearfully in between his behind the visor, “are a sweet girl.”  Din’s leather thumb brushes along your skin, dragging over the tears below your puffy eyes.  “Not,” his voice catches, “a Mandalorian.”

Your heart goes cold.  Again, everything turns numb.  It doesn’t matter that you already said this yourself out loud earlier today.  It doesn’t matter that you acknowledged this fact, verbally insisted it more than once to hammer home the truth and felt some sense of comfort in it.  For some reason, hearing the words from his mouth is a fucking knife to your chest.

“I taught you how to fight, how to shoot a blaster,” he murmurs, thumb catching every single tear that continues to fall as he speaks.  “I taught you everything I know, everything that’s been taught to me.  I taught you how to defend yourself, how to protect yourself when you’re in danger.  I gave you your blaster, I gave you my armor, I gave you everything I could give you to keep you safe.  And when I thought you were ready, I let you loose on Sanctuary II.  Do you know why I did that?”  The helmet tips forward the slightest bit at the question, probing deep into the most shattered part of your heart.  “After all those months of fighting, and shooting, and training, do you know why I told you to run?”

You blink silently at him, a shaky breath quaking through you, and your expression wants to crumple under the reprimand.  You’re so fragile right now, taking hit after hit after hit to the softest parts inside you, and you want to just give up.  Let the guilt and remorse take you, let it wash you away.  But then, instead…

There’s a flicker of something inside you.  Something strong, endlessly strong, and it makes you want to revolt against what he’s saying.  It replaces the hurt and fear and desperation for comfort with a strange sense of insurgence, like it did earlier when you were hiding behind a boulder, cowering and trembling and not wanting to die.  You’re filled with a quiet urge to defend yourself in the face of this, stand up for yourself and refuse to be beaten down any longer.

“Because you needed to know how to escape danger,” he answers himself when you don’t.  “You needed to know how to disappear, how to outsmart any pursuer and find safety, even the trained ones.  Especially the trained ones.  Anything else was meant to be your last resort.  Not your choice.  Not something you chose.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” you admit to him quietly, voice shaky and tears still coming even as you try to speak up for yourself.  The regret you carry has nothing to do with this, and you decide right now that you won’t feel bad for saving him.  Your hurt comes from the meaningless things, the ones without any need whatsoever, not the necessary ones, and you tried.  You repeated his words to yourself over and over again, told yourself to run, told yourself to get to Nevarro, and it wasn’t going to happen.  “I couldn’t do it.  It wasn’t a choice.”

“It was,” he tells you.  He says it softly, whispers it like it’s the gentlest thing in the world, but the power and inherent distance of the armor strapped to his body finds its way into the words.  “And it was the wrong one.”

“What was I supposed to do?”  You ask, just a hint of that rebellion swimming to the surface now, rising out of the waves of self doubt, the one that feels like a spine growing in your back, an energy coursing through your veins that makes your heart start to beat faster.  Din’s hand slowly drops from your cheek but you don’t care.  “Was I supposed to run away and just let you die?”

“Yes.”  It’s quick and blunt and completely emotionless.  Delivered like a punch to the vulnerable parts of yourself he taught you how to protect, and the utter silence following this single word is comparable to the physical pain you learned to defend against.  It jabs hard against everything good and sweet and tender inside of you, and you’re left speechless even as he continues impassively.  “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.”

It takes a second, but then that unfamiliar feeling suddenly surges up, breaches with the power of an entire ocean.  Your voices may be nothing more than whispers in the dark, you may be clinging to each other, holding each other with the softest, gentlest love in your hearts, but the strength of your conviction on this would rip metal apart.

“No.”  The word holds the might of your entire being, and it stands alone and defiant in the face of everything you fear, everything that threatens you, him, and this child.  Never.  You’ll die before that happens.  “I love you, and there’s nothing in this galaxy that would ever make me do that.  Not fear, not danger, not the Empire, nothing.  Not even you.”

Din stares at you.  His visor reflects your hardened expression back to you, the force in your soul and the purpose in your eyes, and you don’t even realize the gravity of what you just said because like your love for him, gravity is a constant.  It’s a fundamental truth cemented into the rules that govern your actions and it stays true no matter where you are, no matter what terror you face, or how scared you become.  You have him, you have this little boy in your arms, and if that’s all you have, then you have everything.

After an eternity of this, of feeling his eyes pierce deep into you from behind the helmet while you refuse to wither under his stare, you watch him slowly turn and look down, landing on the sleepy child tucked between you both.  He holds there for a long time, before finally whispering, so quiet that the modulator barely picks it up, “It was the wrong choice.”

You stay quiet.  It happened.  What’s done is done, you can’t change the past.  He can scold and reprimand you about this as much as he wants, but you did the right thing and that decision is the only reason he’s even here to be able to do so.  This exhausted child was reunited with his father because of your choices, and this exhausted father was reunited with his child.  You won’t argue anymore, but it’s a certitude that lives deep in your heart now, builds a home there right alongside the both of them.  Din eventually looks up, his eyes find yours again behind the visor, and his hand rises once more to gently cup your jaw.

“I… thought I’d enjoy seeing you in my armor,” Din finally whispers.  It’s not what you expected, but his voice sounds… weak.  Broken.  “You wore mine once before, and it was…”  He brushes his thumb along your cheek, and then his head shakes slightly, pushing the thought away.  “It wasn’t real.  It didn’t fit.  It dwarfed you, it made you look out of place, it made everything soft and innocent about you stand out.  I liked it because it wasn’t real.”

“Was it… really that bad?”  You whisper back, partially to ease the tension just slightly but quickly breaking eye contact with him when you realize it doesn’t land correctly, it just sounds self conscious and sad.  You try to find that conviction again, that strength and assurance that propped you up so sturdily before, but…  Not a Mandalorian, he’d said.  Of course not.  Of course not.

“It wasn’t the armor.”  Din gently tugs up on your face so that you look at him again.  “It was you covered in blood.  It was you purposefully putting yourself in danger.  You killed multiple armed soldiers of the Empire, you dragged their bodies off the ship.  And then you flew into an imperial base, where you killed the officers, too.  You…”  He shakes his head slowly at you while speaking, and although you can’t see his face, you don’t need to in order to hear the horror in his voice.   “You… collected a quarry… in the middle of a massacre, sweet girl.”

Not a Mandalorian.

“You don’t chase down bounties,” he tells you.  “You don’t fly into war zones.  You don’t kill imperials, you don’t collect quarries, you don’t sacrifice yourself, or our son, to save me.  You said you tried to be brave… like me.”  His fingers tighten against your cheek, he dips his helmet to make sure you understand.  “I’ll never ask you to be brave.  I’ll ask you to survive.”

“I’m… sorry,” you finally whisper, and his arm drops from your cheek to join the other in wrapping around you and holding tight.  They hug you and squeeze, encasing you and the baby in a beskar shield and staying there for a long time.  Long enough for you to tuck your head back into its proper place under his helmet, long enough to start to feel okay with the silence again.  It brutalized you the last time you were surrounded by it, it made you feel alone and desolate and barren inside.  You greet it warily now, settling into it for an unknown amount of time until it’s forgiven once more.

After a while, Din quietly breaks it.

“How many?”  He murmurs to you.  You already know exactly what he’s asking, there's no more clarification necessary on his behalf.

You slowly close your eyes and think back to the smoldering craters, the blood soaked ramp, the fear in Oshua Ryler’s eyes as he begged you not to kill him.

“That didn’t deserve it?”  You ask, clenching your eyes tighter at the memory.  “Four.”

And maybe, maybe six or eight months ago, you would’ve begged for some guidance on how to reconcile that.  Hell, maybe a few hours ago, you could’ve used his arms around you exactly like this, his low voice repeating the same things he’s already told you before, over and over again, if only for some semblance of stability when everything feels turbulent and uncertain.  You’ll never be able to change it, though.  This belongs to you now.

This time, all Din says is, “I’m sorry, too.”

And that covers everything.

The silence envelops you both again, but… there’s something else.  Something that still sits deep in your worries, an image that isn’t a scar of what’s happened but a dread of what’s to come.  You need to tell him.  You don’t feel like saying it, you don’t want to speak it aloud for fear of bringing it into existence, but you need to tell him.

“Din?”  You breathe out, and he makes a soft noise in his throat while cuddling you on the floor.  “I saw…,” you whisper, every word sitting tight and reluctant in your throat.  “Right when we made the jump, I was looking through the window and I-I saw…”

“A star destroyer.”  He says it like… like it’s the worst thing in the world and also completely expected at the same time.  He says it like he already knew, yet can’t even imagine.  You lean every bit of your weight against him since you can’t hold him in return, squish him as best you can against the small corner and curl up even tighter in his arms for comfort.

He takes a deep breath, a shuddery sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard him make before.  It holds untold anxiety, unsaid conflict, uncertain action, an unknown path forward.

“I don’t know what to do,” Din eventually whispers to himself, to you, to the baby in your arms.  His voice is barely a breath through the modulator, his fingers digging into your skin with how many emotions he’s repressing.  “What do I do?”

He sounds so distressed that you automatically feel your soul find the floor—instantly, you become steady and calm and you locate all that rationality that kept you going today.  All your worries still twist deep down, all the guilt and the turmoil wrestles with your soft, easy nature until you can only find bits and pieces of it in the most vulnerable places inside you, but if he’s struggling this terribly, then the least you can do is offer some good, true, unwavering faith in times of uncertainty.  You’re in hyperspace, everything worked out, and it’s going to stay that way for right now.  If he doesn’t know how to talk about it yet, then you trust him enough to wait for him.

“It’ll be okay,” you tell him with a newfound confidence and purpose, carefully easing the baby into one arm so that the other can find its way to the other side of his helmet and pull him closer.  Din tucks his head and allows you to brush your lips against the metal, whisper the words soft and steady to him.  “We’ll figure it out together.”

---

@cptnbvcks thank you so much for the incredible art!

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #reader insert #fanfic #star wars #rough day #no-droids

[sugar-coat-it]

hiii how are u??

slutty slutty slutty request over here bc that’s the mood

I can’t stop thinking about matty fucking reader rafter a night out with the boys, both a little tipsy and he extremely jealous after another man gave her free drinks.

Spitting FOR SURE, fucking her dumb, def cumplay and restraining orgasm, a bit of pleasure crying? you get the vibes

xoxo

Hiii!! I’m good, I’m so sorry this took so long to get out! <3

YEPPP YES YEAH ABSOLUTELY LOVE LOVE LOVE 

This is NASTYY

CW for alcohol consumption (they’re tipsy, not drunk) and sex, in case anyone considers that dubcon.

Contains: reader being a little bratty, begging for forgiveness, Matty being grumpy and jealous and mean (degradation), unprotected sex, riding into Matty using her like a toy, pleasure crying, orgasm denial, dumbification, pleasure crying, cum play (post-sex fingering), spit play 

WC: ~3k

Matty stares down at the scrap of paper napkin in his hand, roughly pinched between two calloused fingers. His eyes are swimming with coldness, with disdain. It was bad enough that the man at the pub had given you a free drink, but the fact that he’d slipped you his number scrawled on a napkin had him absolutely fuming. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? He was seeing just as red as the wine he’d drank that night.  

“You didn’t take this from him, right?” he asks, his voice low, eerily steady. “No, no, he slipped it in my purse when my back was to him,” you clarify, shaking your head almost frantically.

Your knees are starting to ache from the way you were practically groveling for him, kneeling before him while he was sitting on the couch with his legs unabashedly spread. You knew how pitiful you must look, reaching to smooth your hands over his clothed thighs, tentatively, like you half expect him to bat you away. But he doesn’t, he graciously lets you touch him. His chill-inducing gaze snaps down to you now as he drinks you in, slightly inebriated and begging for penance. Danger is pulsing in your veins.

“Did you want him?” Matty questions, just to see your reaction, to watch the panic seep into your features.

“No, fuck no. Only want you, ’m sorry,” you mumble hurriedly, your cheek smushed into his knee as you look up at him through your mascaraed lashes. 

A low hum of acknowledgment rumbled through Matty’s chest at that, continuing to let you hang all over him while he just stared. After a few beats more of piercing silence, he lowers one of his hands to your chin, splaying his fingers out across your jaw possessively. As pissed off as he was, he was starting to have a little too much fun with this. You were making it too easy.

“Then show me,” he says simply, slightly constricting his fingers around your face, his fingers digging into your skin.

You don’t have to be told twice. You scramble to get up onto the couch, draping your back over the arm of pricy leather. Your breath is hot, uneven as you wait for him to make a move, enticingly inching your legs apart in anticipation of being fucked within an inch of your life. Matty raises his eyebrows at you, not moving a muscle. Embarrassment flushes through your body with uncomfortable warmth as he just chuckles meanly, ripping the napkin in his hand into two and tossing it over his shoulder.

“No, babe. I said show me. Take what you want,” he smirks, casually placing his hands behind his head with a purposeful glace at his lap. 

You whine softly as you realize what he wants. He wants a show as his “apology”, and he’s not going to touch you properly until you give him one. You crawl your way over to him, your head swimming from both the drinks and the way Matty is watching your every movement like he could tear you to pieces, much like the flimsy napkin. You straddle his spread legs, the fabric of your dress riding up your thighs, much to his viewing pleasure. He doesn’t have to ask to know how much you actually love being treated this way, he can tell just from a glance at your soaked panties. 

“Go on,” he urges, his voice gravelly, “get me hard.” 

The command sends a pang of desire ricocheting through you, a flutter shooting straight between your legs. You chew at your bottom lip, noting the way his hands stay put behind his head nonchalantly. It only confirms to you that you’ll be doing all of the work tonight. 

 You eye the slight protrusion running down the length of his thigh as you reach for his belt, finding that your exchange has already gotten him semi-hard. Your hands fumble slightly with the buckle, making Matty impatiently click his tongue.

When you finally manage to get his belt undone and his pants unzipped, you slide the palm of your hand over his clothed erection, blinking up at him like you’re begging for approval, but you’re only met with cold, almost unimpressed eyes. He doesn’t offer you the satisfaction of the usual groan you earn when you first touch his dick. He’s being silent on purpose, quietly brewing in his own jealousy. It only makes you more determined to regain his affection as you take him out of the confines of his briefs, Matty watching your every move. You spit into the palm of your hand before starting to stroke him, twisting your wrist just the way he likes it, 

“Y’know, maybe you should call him, babe. Let him come over and watch. He’d love that, wouldn’t he? Fucking wanker…” Matty broods, his jaw clenched tightly.

You just pout your glossed lips at him, doubling your efforts as you go faster, pumping up and down his shaft until he’s rock hard and weeping beads of pearly precum. Matty grunts, his hips jumping slightly as you squeeze your fist around the head of his twitching cock. You feel a spark of pride inside you that you’d managed to draw a sound out of him, only craving more.

“That’s enough,” he says, stopping you while he can still maintain the facade that he’s hardly enjoying himself.

You smile at him with faux innocence, earning you a warning look from your boyfriend who reaches to pinch your thigh in retaliation, murmuring “You’re in no position to be a fuckin’ brat”. You know you’re only winding him up further, and you can’t say you care, because you know what it gets you: bruises in the shapes of Matty’s fingers and not being able to sit down without being sore. But, you oblige, lifting your hips up as you slide your panties to the side, feeling how damp the fabric has grown as you hook your finger into them. 

Eager to prove your loyalty, and just how badly you want him, you waste no time in sinking down onto his cock, grasping one of his shoulders for support while the other holds him at his base. You sigh out, your eyes rolling back as you feel that familiar burn of being split open by him, your mind clouded with sensation. You feel so full of him by the time you’re totally flush with his lap that you can’t help the few pathetic whimpers that spill past your pretty lips. Matty’s breath shudders as you envelope him snugly, gritting his teeth slightly to bite back a growl. He keeps his hands folded stubbornly behind his head, even as you start to bounce on his lap, riding him with vigor. You feel almost dizzy as your eyes squeeze shut, drops of carnal need reverberating through you, licking up your spine like flames.

It isn’t long before you’re getting too spent too quickly, your mind hazy and your thighs burning as your pace becomes more haphazard, stuttered. You whine bitterly, trying to find your rhythm again, but it’s all too much, it feels like your whole body is aching. The tipsy pillow princess in you doesn’t want to do the work anymore, you want to be laid down and railed on his expensive leather couch, damn it.

You restlessly buck your hips through your frustration, your lip caught between your teeth as you try to silently entice Matty into helping you along. He can tell you’re struggling, but his darkened stare says he’ll be doing no such thing until you beg. Any trace of pride has been wiped clean off of your face.

“Matty, please,” you babble breathlessly, gripping his shoulders tightly, “I can’t… need your help.”

Matty scoffs, only now taking his hands out from where he was resting his head to cruely grip your hips, sneering at you like he finds the whole scene pitiful. His blunt nails dig into your skin through your dress, forcing you up and down his shaft harder.

“Can’t follow simple instructions, huh? I swear, you’re drunker on my cock than you are on the drink. It’s pathetic,” he spits, looking you up and down before his gaze settles on where he’s disappearing inside of you. 

You whimper, your walls clamping down on him as you hang onto his every vicious word. Your chest heaves with heavy breaths, tits threatening to spill from your dress with every harsh drop of your hips. He’s losing his patience, not that he has much to begin with when he’s brimming with jealousy. 

“I know you can keep up with me, little minx,” he grumbles before beginning to snap his hips up into you with fervor.

A wail rips from your throat as he hits deep inside you, the tip of his cock dragging against spots that have stars crackling behind your eyelids. The obscene sound of skin on skin fills the room as you do your best to meet his thrusts, your moans echoing off of the walls. He keeps pounding up into you, using your hips for leverage as you hold onto him for dear life. Your head doesn’t feel attached to your body, it’s like you’re floating and Matty’s shoulders are the only thing keeping you on Earth’s solid ground. 

“Yeah, fuckin’ take it, that’s right,” Matty grunts, his pace nearing animalistic. 

Your head lolls back as you do just that: take it. Every upstroke of his hips has you feeling dizzier than the last, the white-hot pleasure coiling in your belly tighter. This version of your Matty is a force to be reckoned with, a force that will bring you to your knees every time.

“I’ve ruined you for anyone else, yeah? Tell me. Tell me I’ve spoiled you,” he drawls as he grabs hold of your jaw.

You do the best you can to respond as he eases your mouth open, his lidded eyes falling to your lips as you mumble.

“Yes, yes. You’ve spoiled me.”

Matty starts to lean in. You know what to do without him even telling you, pliantly sticking out your tongue, a bit of drool spilling past the corners of your mouth. You see a flash of satisfaction cross his expression at how obedient you’re being. He gathers his saliva before pointedly spitting onto your tongue. Involuntarily, you let out a guttural moan, your hips bucking forward as fizzling heat explodes under your skin. Matty grunts as you clench around him, your velvety walls clamping down on him while you mewl. You’re a fucking mess, and that’s just how he likes you.

 You eagerly swallow his spit without missing a beat while Matty’s hips continue to piston up into you relentlessly. You’re teetering on the edge and Matty knows it, he can feel it with every flutter around his cock. He glances at you with narrowed eyes, like he’s daring you to cum without permission, just to see what happens. All he says is a curt:

“Don’t.”

You let out a dejected whimper, weakly bucking in his lap as you can no longer even feign having the coherence to match his pace. Your thoughts are scrambled, only Matty could fuck you so good that you might just forget your own name. It’s all useless information anyway, the only clear thing in your hazy head is Matty. A rough pinch to your nipple through your dress and a whistling sound makes your eyes refocus.

“Oi,” he says between shallow breaths, “stay with me. Want you to look at me when I fill you up.” 

Matty knows how good you’re feeling and how dumb he’s rendering you, but he has a damn point to prove, and that’s that you belong to him. His pace becomes more like harsh jerks as he nears his edge, his thighs flexing hard with the effort of fucking you through his orgasm. He murmurs hurriedly that he’s about to cum before he groans, spilling his load inside of you while maintaining intense eye contact. You feel the flood of warmth as his fingers leave purplish bruises on your hips, his head tilting back against the couch with his jaw slack. A few loose curls stick to his forehead with the glowing sheen of sweat across his body. Your expression twists with lust as you watch him, your cunt throbbing like a second heartbeat at the sight of him. It’s almost painful how badly you want to finish, he hardly ever cums before you when you fuck and the feeling has you squirming with impatience. Maybe you really are spoiled… 

His hips slow to a stop as he sighs out, his cock twitching inside of you before he slowly starts to pull out, lifting you up off of his lap and onto your knees. You whimper at the loss, immediately feeling much too empty. Your eyes snap to his with desperation, your hips rocking into the air as his cum slowly dribbles out down your thighs. His eyes are lazily lidded, a smirk etched on his lips as he watches you, his large hands firmly holding you in place. Your face feels all hot, prickling at the bridge of your nose as frustration bubbles up, threatening to pour from you. You’re tripping over your words as you start to speak, your mouth spewing off faster than your brain as tears brim your eyes.

“Please, please- I’m sorry, Matty. Please? I-I need it,” you hiccup, trembling hands sliding up to the back of his neck.

“Are you fucking crying?” he laughs, yet he still reaches to wipe your tears away tenderly with his thumb. 

You can’t manage to say anything, your legs are still trembling from the force that he’d railed you with. Matty coos at you with pity as you sniffle, it all felt so good but it wasn’t enough. His eyes hold less of a condescending glint now, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the bruises on your hips as if to kiss them better. 

“My poor girl,” he whispers, “such a needy little thing.” 

It’s then that he lets his gaze rake down your body, your dress disheveled and gathered around your waist. He does you the favor of reaching around your back, deft fingers unzipping the fabric and lifting it over your head. It doesn’t do much to satiate the fire under your skin, you still feel as though you’re burning up from the inside. As he’s placing your dress to the side carefully, he catches sight of the way his cum is streaking down your inner thighs. His tongue slides across his plush bottom lip, his eyes twinkling as he’s struck with an idea. 

“Shame. Going to waste like that,” he mentions, his voice low, dripping with implication. 

His hand starts at your knee, skimming upward until he’s collecting the drops of his release on his fingertips. Your eyebrows furrow with confusion as he looks up at you with a smirk, having revealed nothing of the thoughts racing through his dirty mind. He nudges your knees to open wider with his legs before reaching between your thighs, dragging his soiled fingers through your folds. You sigh out at even the slightest contact, his touch sending sparks flying as he brushes against your clit. He spreads his cum across your core, gathering an obscene combination of your arousal on his digits before he sinks two fingers into your sopping cunt. You gasp, your hands curling into the dark tresses at the base of his neck. Matty lets out a satisfied hum, beginning to pump his thick fingers in and out of you, crooking them forward skillfully. 

“Please… please, Matty,” you breathe, as if they’re the only two words you know.

Matty shushes you softly, guiding his thumb toward your clit to trace tight circles over it while continuing to push his cum deeper inside of you. He leans in and presses his lips to your pulse point, feeling your heartbeat thrum faster and faster. He mouths over your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin in a way that makes your whole being buzz. Your hips rock into his hand wantonly, desperate for any ounce of pleasure and dizzying friction you can chase. Matty whispers into your skin about how gorgeous you are for him, how perfect you are.

That familiar tightening feeling only heightens as you hurtle towards your climax, your back arching further as you let out a high-pitched cry. You manage to stutter through warning Matty that you’re about to cum, only for him to cut you off mid-word by crushing his lips to yours. You whine into his mouth as he rubs your clit in quicker succession, his fingers thrusting harder, deeper. He’s shoving his tongue into your mouth hungrily the moment your orgasm crashes over you in a euphoric wave, your body writhing and your cunt fluttering. Pornographic wet sounds fill the room along with your muffled sobs being swallowed greedily by his lips. His fingers guide you through the raging storm of your climax as tears of pure relief stream down your cheeks. 

As your orgasm tapers off, he withdraws his digits from within you, holding up a perfect, sticky mixture of you both that’s drenched him to his knuckles. You collapse onto his lap with a dazed moan as he tenderly rubs your lower back, the both of your eyes glued to his hand. You can hardly believe your misty vision as Matty opens his mouth, shamelessly sliding his fingers past his lip as he sucks them clean of your combined essence. Your jaw drops, you’re blushing to your roots by the time he pulls them out with a soft popping sound.

“Shit,” he groans, “we taste heavenly.” 

He just smirks at the astonished look on your face, inching his face close enough to yours that you can feel his hot breath fanning across your lips. He knows exactly how crazy he’s driving you.

“You want to try?” he asks, tempting you with a raise of his eyebrow.

Wordlessly, you press your lips to his, your eyes fluttering shut as you push your tongue into his mouth to taste the muskiness. You both let out mirrored, shuddering sighs as your tongues meld together in a searing kiss. You’re both panting by the time you pull away, mutually stealing the others breath straight from their lungs. He’s right, you’ve never tasted anything so luscious. 

“... I might need another taste… just to be sure,” you giggle dreamily, your head tilting enticingly. 

And who is he to deny you?

#FILTH. i need to take a cold shower. #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #the 1975 smut #the 1975 x reader #matty healy fic

[femsolid]

A french policeman is currently investigated because a woman called for help as her ex was outside her building threatening to kill her and the officer on the phone made fun of her and insulted her instead of helping. She told the officer “he said he’s going to kill me” and the officer replied “no :)” with a smile, she said “yes he is!” and the officer condescendly said “oh! :)”. Then the woman yelled at her ex through the window: “stop screaming in front of my building you’re fucking annoying!” and the officer said “and you’re cursing you piece of shit no wonder he’s threatening you. Don’t call again and sort this shit out yourself” and he hung up on her. So she called again and talked to someone who seemed a lot nicer... except it was the same police officer pretending to be another one who didn’t know her situation, making her repeat herself again. She complained to him about the previous phone call, that she was insulted and hung up on, and in a perfect exercice of gaslighting the officer faked disbelief  “really? He insulted you? He said “sort this shit yourself you piece of shit”? That seems unlikely.” The next day she walked out of her building and her ex was waiting for her with a baseball bat. He beat her within an inch of her life, punched her, kicked her and tried to drive over her. Her daughter called the police in a panic and he was arrested, he’s currently serving a 4 years sentence for attempted murder. The daughter is deeply traumatised as one could expect. The police officer is 48 years old and has been working for the police for 20 years. He’s only suspended from answering emergency calls, otherwise he’s still working despite those facts. He said he didn’t believe the woman was in real danger, that she sounded like “a fantasist” and that “a woman who is in danger is not agressive against the individual threatening her.” He said he had no reason to send a patrol car for this woman. During his audition with the police inspection he was still using the same ironic and dismissive tone and when asked if he had been trained about violence against women he replied “we aren’t obliged to read those memos”.

#france #mp #police #justice #domestic violence #domestic abuse

[elsweetheart]

♡ ellie williams headcanons ♡

• if you drop something and bend over to pick it up, best believe ellie is swooping in behind you to pretend to lightly fuck u from the back 🙄 hands on your hips and sometimes she’ll do some dramatic grunts and fake spanks with sound effects just to get a reaction out of you (usually “ellieeeeeeugghh” when she makes you lose your balance completely …) she then proceeds to chuckle to herself and continue on with her business, of course.

• she stares. like shamelessly. sometimes you’ll just be sitting there, reading your book looking extra pretty or something — and she’ll be sat across from you, leaning back in her seat with that glazed over smirk just watching you until you furrow your brows at her and ask “what?” meekly. she’ll shake her head slowly, but the loved up smile won’t leave her face. “what, can’t look at my girl now?” she’d falsely accuse making you blush.

• will lay beside you after fucking you within an inch of your life and mock your moans. and laugh. it’s not mean spirited at all, she just loves to tease you by nature and honestly the humiliation of it kinda gets you off. you’ll be burying your face into her as she laughs, mimicking your girlish whines. “h-uh, uh, ellie i’m gunna cum!” she imitates. you eventually roll over away from her with an angry pout, which is performative of course — as she’s right up behind you kissing your cheek and squeezing your waist. “you know i’m just playing with you.” she reassures, tickling you lightly until you smile. “i like your pretty noises.” she adds in a lower voice making you flush all over once more.

• has a real temper with anyone who tries it on with you, or is mean to you. if a guy stares at you for too long, or makes a comment under his breath about you — within the next few seconds ellie is up in his face with a “say one more thing about her. one more thing i’ll beat your fuckin’ face in!”

• one time, on a patrol with her you were super energetic and wouldn’t stop talking — and she thought she heard something in the distance. when you didn’t hear her first shush, she was quick to shove a hand over your mouth briefly as she listened out, her other hand cupping the back of your head gently. you stare up at her with big gooey eyes, which she doesn’t even notice — checking your surroundings before letting go, giving you a soft nudge by the waist to signal to keep walking close to her. for some reason, the whole ordeal turned you on and you spent the rest of the evening following her around like a lil lost puppy with cartoon hearts for eyes. she caught on eventually, when you practically had to spell it out for her and she of course delivered, fucking you with a hand over your mouth so she could hear the muffled whimpers and the amplified sound of her strap leaving and entering you.

• she’s able to make you cum crazy fast. like, she knows your body inside out and she doesn’t hold back. everytime the two of you get done, she’s got that ellie smirk plastered on her face, leaning back with a hand behind her head whilst you’re panting and recovering before gazing up at her with big watery eyes. “how’d you— you always make me… you get me there so fast.” you’re a little whiney and lost for words, and she just effortlessly pulls you closer. “what can i say, bout my business.” she jokes with a shrug making you giggle, love struck.

• honestly, she’s pretty soft with you. she doesn’t like to be super impatient or temperamental with you because she doesn’t want you to receive that side of her which she knows she has (rightfully so after all she’s been through, of course.) and it’s not hard to hold back, if she’s ever irritated or mad all it takes is a look at your sweet face and she’ll feel bad for nearly snapping at you. however, this doesn’t mean she won’t gently put you in your place. if you’re mouthing off, she’ll usually just shake her head at you and ignore it but sometimes you’ll get a cheek grab and a “hey, just behave. yeah?” in a soft voice which makes you feel dumb for ever having an attitude to begin with. it takes a lot for her to really blow up at you.

• loves when you wear her jackets. she loves when you wear any of her clothes down to her boxers but she especially loves it when you pop up beside her wrapped in one of her warm jackets. something about the image of you wanting to wear something of hers that’ll keep you warm and comfortable and safe just totally melts her heart !! :((

• tbh i think she occasionally likes to be called daddy during sex idk. i feel like it puts her on a major power trip and let’s her tap more into her masc energy <33333 heart eyes

• she can be a huge baby sometimes. like if you choose to sit next to someone that’s not her you’ll be hearing about it aaaaall day. her face will literally be like

from across the room, and most of the time she’ll just get up and drag you back to the chair she pulled out for you but if not she’s huffing and puffing with her arms crossed. “guess you don’t like hanging out with your poor lonely girlfriend anymore.” and she’s mostly joking… but she’s kinda not.

• always making you laugh with the dumbest jokes. ellie has such toilet humour so sometimes she will literally just say “fart.” out of nowhere as a replacement for “oh shit” or something and it’ll just send you into a giggle fit, which then also makes her chuckle.

#ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams smut #ellie williams prompts #tlou2 smut #ellie tlou2

[claymorexpunisher]

Behind Closed Doors (18+ One-Shot)

Pairing(s): Cody Rhodes/Fem. Reader

Summary: Fem. Reader is a member of The Bloodline, and her job is to cause distractions. It's her mouth that lands her in hot water... and in the enemy's hotel room...

Tag(s)/TW(s): 18+, oral sex (male receiving), enemies to... nope, still enemies, pain kink, pain slut!Cody.

Word Count: 1,030

Flirting in the name of distraction brought me to this very moment…  as a member of The Bloodline, my job was to distract opponents any way that I could. Even if that meant wearing the skimpiest outfit that I could find, smiling flirtatiously, kissing said opponents, etc.

But there was one opponent Roman currently had that made my blood boil like no other.

Cody fucking Rhodes.

He walked around in his immaculate tailored suits, dimpled grin, and perfectly styled hair… it was like nothing could shake him. Hell, he didn’t even seem to be brought down by Brock Lesnar beating him within an inch of his life damn near every week.

Nothing fazed him and that pissed me off to no end and he fucking knew it. If it wasn’t in the ring, it was in the halls of whatever arena we were at, or during press tours, Cody would flash his usual insufferable smirk that said, “you can’t get me, and I love how much it pisses you off.”

I wanted to kis- I mean, wipe that smirk clean off his face. So, in the middle of one of our usual bickering sessions, I foolishly said- “Oh, please, Wonder Bread. I bet this “”””” loudmouth”””””” would have you cumming within two minutes. Five at most. Don’t sit here and act like you haven’t thought about it.”  

For a moment I was proud of myself. And then my heart plummeted. The smirk on Cody’s face clearly told me that I had said too much and that he was more than willing to test that theory.

I stopped breathing as he sauntered closer to me, pressing me against a hallway away from any prying eyes.

“Is that so?” Cody whispered. “Five minutes… alright. Why don’t you- “His eyes flittered over mine and flickered down to my lips and his gaze penetrated mine again. That action alone had my breasts arching into his chest reflexively until I caught myself, but it was too late, that stupid self-satisfied smirk was back on his face and my own face burned hot.

“-come to my hotel room tonight and prove it. You can ride on my tour bus if you’d like. After all, I am a gentleman.” Cody murmured, his eye lighting up with amusement over my obviously conflicted thoughts. My body continued to betray me the second his hand came to rest at my hip, giving it a firm squeeze before his hand relaxed.

And of course, I wasn’t one to back down from a challenge so, I looked him in the eye with defiance and said, “It’s the least you can do.” ….

Cody’s smile got insufferably wider, and the absolute asshole leaned in and brushed our lips together- barely touching- and once again my body had a mind of its own. I instinctively leaned in further but was sorely disappointed when my lips suddenly met with nothing but empty air.

I no longer met Cody’s gaze, feeling that relentless shit-eating smirk penetrate every part of my being from my peripheral.

Tonight, I was determined to win. What was the prize exactly? I had no fucking idea…

~~

“If I hear anyone in the locker room even hinting at what’s about to happen, I will come back and I will bite it off. Do you understand me?” I hissed at Cody, midway between stroking his hard length and lapping at a bead of precum already forming at the tip. I emphasized my words of warning by gripping his cock harder, until Cody hissed in pain.

But the little pain slut’s eyes darkened right after… figures he’d be into that shit.

I had smirked to myself from the moment I noticed that I wasn’t the only one affected by our little moment in the hallway earlier. I knew I had this in the bag.

“I mean I don’t usually go around talking about my sexual escapades with anyone. Even the guys. I’ve never seen the appeal-“Cody’s words cut off into stifled groan of pleasure as my mouth went down on him again, the head of his cock comfortably resting at the back of my throat. Lewd sucking and slurping noises coming from my own mouth filled my ears and for the second time that night my face- and my entire body- grew hot.

I wasn’t expecting to enjoy his pleasure this much, but I wasn’t gonna think about that for too long. Nah… this wasn’t about him (I told myself). This was about proving a point.

I went to work like a champ, my hands twisting and stroking as my mouth worked at the reddened tip before it covered the entire length once again. I could hear his breaths speeding up and I couldn’t help but smile around his cock, anticipating his imminent orgasm.

“Ah, fuck! Shit, wait-“ Cody grunted as my throat squeezed his cock as I sucked, practically milking him for all he’s worth. My glossy lips stretched a smile as he pulled me off of his cock by hair and I watched his toned chest heave.

“Whatsa matter, baby? Almost there?” I cooed mockingly, my hand never stopping its strokes. I was on a fucking mission, and I was going to see it through.

Without thinking, the nails on my other hand grazed along his lower stomach, sinking into firm flesh in response to his increasingly moans. Instead of answering me, the bite of my nails against his skin apparently only heightened Cody’s pleasure and my mocking laughter was cut off by him practically feed his cock to me again, which I took gladly.

For shits and giggles, Cody had set up a timer on his phone and a quick glance at it through watery eyes told me a minute left.

Testing the waters, I allowed my nails to sink into his flesh again, and I heard Cody hiss before ribbon after ribbon of the salty taste of his release hit my tongue and the roof of my mouth.

Cody let out another curse as I let his release sit on my tongue, only swallowing when his eyes met mine again.

Just as I swallowed, the timer went off.

“…I win.”

#cody rhodes one shot #cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes #cody rhodes smut #cody rhodes x female reader #cody rhodes fanfic #wwe fic #wwe smut #gigis wrestling fics

[sminiac]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WHINY RIWOO WITH DRY HUMPING I BEG. IT CAN START WITH THEM LIKE PLAY FIGHTING BEING CUTE BUT THEN. YEAH. I read one with riize sohee and.. It was LIFE changing 👁

⋆ Lee Sanghyeok + Reader

Contains! — Smut focused, dry humping, MDNI.

Note — As soon as you mentioned Sohee w this I was like “Thea!!!😧☝️” bc IT REALLY WAS LIFE CHANGING, ugh I love my mutuals, I <3 @kissohee. But I gotchu! Although, I will switch it up so it doesn’t seem very copy paste, it wouldn’t feel right to me, here’s the fic w Sohee that was mentioned <3

You knew they’d do good, they always did, and Riwoo was one out of the six who certainly knew that they had executed their performance quite perfectly.

The adrenaline rush still buzzes within him as he comes bursting back into the waiting room, walking like the sun had found its place of eternal peace under the thick of his skin. His confidence glowed from within, beaming in contentment as he falls into your chest with an eruption of happy giggles, basking you in his warmth, saying breathlessly against you that he had fun, so much fun, and that it didn’t even feel like he was running on merely a few hours of sleep as your fingers scratched against the nape of his neck, sweat dripping from his hair and down the surface of his skin, it reminded you of the way water shakes off of pine trees after a long shower from the clouds above.

You couldn’t deny how pretty he looks like this despite the cemented fact that the two of you were strictly platonic, only best friends, but something foreign stirred up inside of you seeing the way he still struggles to catch his breath, his heart beating so fast that you can feel it through the layers of clothing between the two of you.

“You looked really hot on stage.” you say simply, watching the way your fingers thread through the few inches of his blonde hair. “Yeah, it was really warm, I don’t think I’ve ever produced this much sweat from performing before.”

You struggle to bite back a laugh at his clueless response, a little warm in the face from his unknowingness to the existing layers of your words. “I bet, I can feel it soaking through your clothes, how’re you on top of me if you’re so warm?” Your finger pokes gently into his cheek.

“Shhh!” He musters as he lets his hands out from bearing his weight, his cheek smushed against your shoulder as he settles further into you. “I’d prefer for my pillows not to yap in my ear when I’m trying to sleep, thanks.”

Your palm gently pats against the back of his head, imitating a smack that makes him jump, you’re too busy whining about how he needs to get off of you that the fact his semi-hard cock just dug into your thigh goes unnoticed. “You’re lucky I’m so nice to you, y’know? Bratty boy.”

He makes a small ‘Mmmph’ sound in disagreement, his hips lifting and then falling back into you. Right now it seems that you’re the clueless one after dismissing the movement as a way to annoy you, and not that he’s secretly rolling his own high into play.

“I’m so nice to you, Riwoo. Sometimes I think I show you a little too much leniency, even when you do deserve it.” There’s an airy laugh to your tone, “No matter how rare that is.” and his ears know that you’re merely just joking around, you know- like you always do, it’s how you you are, but something about it is simultaneously making his hips shift against your leg, his breaths so heavy that they start exiting through his mouth in quiet pants.

“Please-” he squeaks, his hands fisting at your top desperately, he tries to keep himself from grinding into you fully with the heft and longevity that has his mouth watering, it’s not right, but fuck does it already feel so good.

“What? What’re you doing?”

“Hhngh- why d’you, fuck-! Have t’be so soft.” He’s taken under by the slightest lick of pleasure, so much so that his own embarrassment is far from the surface, and he’s not willing to pull himself out of it anytime soon. “Riwoo, can you…” the pre that sinks into his briefs coaxes him to keep going, rocking faster, harder against your leg, but the pleasure only comes to a certain point before fizzling out again, he doesn’t have enough firmness to make him breach the minor setback but he’s too stupid to come up with a solution for himself. “Honey please, I just need to you-”

He isn’t listening, his hips are frantic, eager, a little too much for your liking. “slow down.” You pull your leg away, out from under him.

He looks up at you with a quivering lip, such a sweet docile thing, his wide glossy eyes blinking up at you, the fear starting to sink in once he’s able to focus back on the actuality of the moment. He was just pathetically humping your leg. You, his bestfriend, his awfully pretty bestfriend who has a habit of calling him ‘honey’.

“Sorry, s-sorry. Fuck! Oh my god, Y/n I’m really sorry.” His head starts shaking side-to-side, a look of pure disbelief on his face as tears start swelling against the bottom lid of his eye, they fall heavy with every blink, the smoked out mix of warm browns around his aegyosal smearing down his face, leaving an existing trail that makes the entire act so much more lucid.

“You need to chill out,” you chuckle whilst leaning into him, he’s frighteningly still as you press a tender kiss against the mole under his eye. “I just wanted to move, make it feel better for you, you probably won’t be able to cum like this, hm?”

You look so beautiful, he swears you’re an angel, especially with that damn proclivity for being so concerned about others before yourself. He nods his head, agreeing, you’re right- how are you so right all of the time? The words, the way you use them, he’s never heard such explicit language come from your mouth before in any amount of sincerity that they’re soaked in now, but god does he want to kiss you because of it. “Tell me,” you beckon, your eyelashes are so pretty, has he told you that before? Especially the way your head tilts to the side, the angle makes them look more wispy as you blink around at his features, your fingers gently moving the ends of his hair out of the way.

You touch him like he’s always been yours to touch, and right now he’s never been more sure of wanting to always be just yours.

“Can’t- you’re right, you are. I-I bet I could, make do with what I have, don’t need anything else- whatever you give me, ‘s more than good enough.” His sniffles break through his words, the sound of his voice so quiet, shy, hiding in the back of his throat that it makes it crack.

“Trade spots with me, will you?”

He nods quickly, he will, of course he will, he’ll do anything you ask of him. He wastes no time pushing himself back onto his calves, watching as you stand up from the couch and instruct him to lay on his back, claiming your spot.

“Comfy?” You ask, leaning over him, pushing his hair back from his forehead, it pokes out between the crack of your fingers as he nods, eyes closing as you place a warm kiss against his forehead. “Good. Sweet boy, bein’ so good for me.”

Sweet boy, he’s never heard that one before, it has the exact same effect that your usual pet name has on him, he knows because it makes his shoulder ache. A whimper bubbles from his lips, you can feel the way he squirms under you, it has your hips moving to rest directly over his dick that’s straining heavy, wet in his pants. The sensation is warm, really warm, and… damp? Your hand drags down, thumb swiping over the area a few times as Riwoo’s fighting back a long pitchy moan from escaping so bad that it hurts, curiously you inch back, seeing a darker patch of black along the seam of his slacks, his pre had enough time to completely soak through, added the copious amount it was enough to breach through the thick of your pants.

The moisture makes the fabric feel almost thinner, or maybe it’s the way it’s conformed to the shape of his head that makes the drag of your pussy over it feel even more distinct as you move back, unwilling to waste time, to let even a second of seeing him like this slip from your grasp you resume grinding against him.

“Please- fuck! Y/n- pleasepleaseplease!” He whimpers quickly, unabashedly rocking his hips up in time with yours, his left hand has a firm grip on your thigh that keeps you close, his other rests against his cheek, index finger caught between his teeth as he rocks into you. “Wanna cum, jus’ wanna cum- make a mess f’you, only you- shit! Plea-”

His legs help him punch up into you, unexpectedly spilling in his pants, you watch whilst catching your breath at the way he shudders back down into the cushions under him, his mouth wide open, drool pooling behind his teeth and leaking out of the corners of his lips, a long drawn out whine pulling from his chest, a fuzzy dazed expression on his face, filling out his brain.

“You really do know how to make a mess.” You tease, hands running soothingly up and down his chest.

“I don’t think I’ve ever came like that before… are we- are we still only friends if you made me cum that hard that fast?”

#bndbysai #not proofread #I usually do that the following day neway #I’ll make this more coherent tmr #THIS WAS FUN #I hope it’s alright at least #boynextdoor riwoo #boynextdoor smut #boynextdoor x reader #lee sanghyeok #lee sanghyeok x reader #lee sanghyeok smut #bnd riwoo #bnd riwoo x reader #bnd hard hours #bnd x reader #bnd smut #bnd imagines #bnd #riwoo #riwoo x reader #lee riwoo #riwoo smut

[nescence]

Tame

Toji fushiguro X Fem!Reader

Summery ↓

You feel like experimenting, Toji immediately regrets it.

Warnings: Restriction, degrading, Rough sex, hair pulling, edging, slight food play, masturbation

"Are you kidding me?" Toji glares at you, eyes on you as you come walking forward to face him. His nose twitches at the sight of your smirk. "Get this shit off me" he spits, tugging at the chains. You chuckle mockingly, which only angered him more. but what can he do?.

"why? you agreed to it" you act clueless, as if the terms you both agreed on completely passed over your mind.

"i didn't agree to my hands being tied" his, full of anger, bore into yours, calm and collected. "Would you prefer your legs being tied?" you take a step forward "or both?" your face was inches away from his, a grin on your face when he stays silent. your eyes shift to see his hands squirming within those chains. "Besides" you take a step back, sitting on the table with legs crossed as you stare him down. taking in how good he looks with his arms chained behind his back. "You look good like this" Your voice seductive and low, eyes scanning his body. Taking in all the muscles, his upper body bare for you to enjoy - veins leading to his cock which was left to your imagination. Your eyes undressed and degraded him as he stood there helpless. “Cute little dog…” you grin.

"[name]" He growls, bringing your attention back to your conversation.

"What?"

"Let me--"

"No" You deadpan, getting off the table. he opens his mouth to argue but you beat him to it "say it then." Your hands go to trails your nails down the side of his face, brining it to the tip of his chin. "If you want this off, you know what to say" you lean into his ear, your hand caressing his face as you mumbled into it "But you won't. because that bulge tells us otherwise". You give him a kiss before backing off, the playful tone returning “so” you cup his face “be a good boy and listen, because you’ve been getting really brave for a guard dog” you grin, noticing how his brows furrow at your taunting. He hated it. He hated how you’d speak to him so condescendingly, as if he was below you. As if he couldn’t crush you if he wanted. Yes. You’re his boss and he’s your bodyguard. But he couldn’t help but get pissed every time you spoke to him like that.

No one else would dare. But you.

You knew his past, his affliliations with the wrong crowd, crimes, way of life, temper. How he’d kill a man for money without any second thoughts. And yet here he is at your mercy being treated like a lowly rat.

He fucking hates it.

“You better watch how you look at me, you know you love it” you spoke from the bar across the room, pouring a glass of red wine. Bringing it up to your lips, you keep eye contact with the big man. Anger all over his face but you knew otherwise. You scoff, taking steps forward.

“And he’s still glaring” you tilt your head to the side, brows now furrowed. “Sometimes I’m too nice to you” your hand creeps to the back of his head , caressing his locks before gripping them, pulling his head back with a hard and aggressive tug. He groans, caught off guard by sudden roughness cursing at you as a response to the stinging. “Maybe I should be more a bitch to you. Hmm?” Your nails goes to Adam’s apple, tracing down to his pecs. He flinches, feeling his nipple being squeezes between your fingers and your lips on his other leaving kisses in his slightly tanned skin. Shivers spread all over his body feeling you creep closer to his bulge, tracing, kissing and running your fingers over the smooth curves of his muscles as you did, prolonging the time it takes you to reach his aching boner. His eyes close, waiting patiently for your delicate touch. Hearing the zip of his pants go down his dick springs free.

“Fucking hell Toji…you’re rock hard” you spoke in awe, watching as his cock curved slightly to the right. His tip blushed red leaking with precum, and veins swollen and clear for you to see. The sight turned you on immediately, you could feel yourself dripping as you carefully felt his dick in your fingers. The warmth and small throbbing in your hold. Toji’s chest rises, the slightest touch from you acting as a stimulant.

You reach for the wine glass, the cool liquid coating Toji’s cock - red painting the floor and going well with his blushed tip. You stick your tongue out, licking the dripping liquid off his dick before swirling your tongue around him. You feel him shudder underneath you, the warmth from your mouth encasing his tip rushes all over his dick. It doesn’t take long for his hip to rock back and forth attempting to gain more friction and speed from you. But you’re quick to back off. Instead, using your hand to rub him off. But it wasn’t enough, his eyes go down to meet yours, staring right up at him with a cheeky look. He would curse you but seeing you on your knees, wearing his shirt, knowing underneath there’s nothing but your naked body did something to him. It was getting hard to put yo a front, he needed to cum so fucking bad. But the speed at which your rubbing him off was agitatingly slow.

He knows what you want. But he’s not giving it you. He won’t give you that pleasure of seeing him beg again, seeing as you thrived and got off him being in such a vulnerable position.

“You’re getting really swollen.” You spoke as if just noticing his condition, how his cock looked angry. How precum remained leaking from his tip as you rubbed him, spreading the liquid all over his tip. “And you’re being really slow” he speaks as if he’s out of breath, glancing up at him you notice his eyes. Full of desperation. As full of lust as yours is. “You tryna tell me something?…Toji?” You stare at him expectantly, as his mouth open to speak you were ready to jump in joy at the words that were coming out of his mouth. I’m sorr��- “Go fuck yourself” he lets out, your eyes close caught off guard. Of course…

“I forgot how stubborn you are” Your hand withdraw from his dick, you stood up only to walk towards the table. With both hands clutching the table you pull it forward, screeched echo around the room whilst you bring the table closer to Toji. He watches, confused as you say comfortably. “But that is a good idea”

“I finger myself, right here at such a close distance. What can you do?”

His jaw clenches, refusing to answer once again. But stays silent. And watches. Your hand goes inbetween your legs, face contorting into one of pleasure as you rub your clit. The silence between the both of you now filled with your moaning and fingering of your cunt. “Oh…fuck. Toji~” you moan purposely, making sure his name comes out in a dirty whimper as you fucked yourself with your fingers. Slightly opening your eyes your notice his eyes on your hands, the want and lust in his orbs as he stares intently at your covered cunt. So you spread your legs wider. Now the light shines on your pussy, showing him how glossed full of juice you were, hour you rubbed and fingered your clit and hole like a whore. “Baby…” you call out to him “baby I need you…” the soft smile on your face hides the smirk you’ve been holding back and without hesitation Toji falls for your facade. Bucking his hips forward to have you take his dick in hand, his tip goes to your hole. But doesn’t go in. Instead you rubbed it up and down your cunt, covering him with your slick as you moaned. Not forgetting to tease him each time you ‘accidentally’ slipped him in.

“…me put it in” the low mumble from him catches your attention. “What?” You say, a sign for him to speak louder.

“Let me put it in” he speaks clearly, avoiding eye contact when you raise your brows. “What?” You taunt. He knows what you want to hear. “Fuck it. Please [name] please let me—” he groans feeling himself slip inside you with ease, your slick mixed with his acting as lube.

“See? If you did this from the beginning-” you huff out a moan as Toji freely fucks himself into you “we would’ve had zero problems- fuck-” your head goes back, enjoying the feeling of his cock pounding at your core. All you could was him, every inch of his dick plunging into you. Every time. Every time you forget how big this man is, how his dick would be visible through your lower belly. His tip poking through you every time he goes back into you. As for Toji, the thrill he seeks knowing that you loved his cock whole was pure ecstasy for him. Seeing how your body reacts to him, clenching and squeezing his seed from him every time you reached climax. If only he could hold you. Feel your soft skin under his strong grip, only to see it later marked and bruised with his name written all over it.

Your back touches the table, allowing Toji to do the work. His hips contacting yours with full power, inching you closer and closer to climax with every thrust. Your whimpering and moaning now uncontrollable, a drunken smile in your face contrasting Toji’s: brows knitted together, and jaw clenched. Him too feeling all the tension in his body coming to a release. Your eyes sight becomes blurred, feeling the steam about to come out of you. And Toji watches as his dick disappears into your pussy, dirty sight. Both of you mixing perfectly.

He feels his release coming, one he’s been itching for since the start and now he’s going to get it.

But suddenly he feels everything go away, as if left on a cliffhanger. Toji opens his eyes in a moment of frustration, not knowing whether to insult you or the chains restricting him but either way now he’s simply pissed off.

“What’re you doing?” He speaks through gritted teeth, your back was now turned to him.

“Switching” before he knows it you laid on the table, ass hanging off with one leg up whilst the other keeps you standing. Now you felt exposed more than ever, your cunt presented for him in full view. And as if a dog chasing its treat, you didn’t utter a word for Toji to take the bait. You’re immediately being pushed into the table with full force, your lips hurting from how hard you were biting them and fingers attempting to grip nothing. Simply slipping on the smooth surface of the table. Now you felt as though he was deeper, as if he reached lengths in pussy no one could ever reach.

“Shit you’re fucking me like a bitch in heat— ah- fu..” you voice stayed wavering. He was fucking you too good that you can’t even get full sentences out. Every time he drives into you, you felt as through his dick was about to rip through your lower stomach.

“Thought that’s what you wanted” he replies, and you could hear the smirk in his voice when he did, his heavy breathing sounded so hot.

“Shut up you mutt…ah..” you huff out another moan, Toji’s grin simply getting bigger. It’s as if the roles reversed. “You know you love it” he taunts “you’re taking me like a desperate whore” he pants, fucking you surprisingly harder than before.

“Yes! Fuck fuck fuck!” Your brows curve, if Toji was to see the expression you were making he’d probably cum just from that alone. You were enjoying this more than you expected, he had you stuffed full of his cock, and his length in you and width stretching you each time he slaps in you. You hum attempting to suppress your moans, feeling as if you’re being too loud. The knot in your stomach so tight you feel as though it’s about to snap any minute.

“Shit I’m about to cum” he warns, dick twitching inside you.

“Not inside” you demand, making his brows furrow. Since when?…. “What?” He asks as though he didn’t hear it right.

“Not” you groan, feeling your climax finally come “inside.” And with that you came, Toji following along coming out before ropes and ropes of his come butter your back.

A few minutes of catching your breath, Toji opens his mouth.

“Why didn’t you let me?…” he asks, following your movement. You stay silent as you went behind him. Finally setting him free from the chains.

“You think I’d let a dog with as much attitude as you cum in me?” Your hands wrap around his waist. “I’ve been too nice, so it’s time I humble you a bit. Don’t you think?” You place a kiss on his back, right now not only was he covered in sweat but also red lipstick marks all over his body. “If up till now is you being nice then I’m a bit concerned with your logic princess—” he groans at the sudden pull of his hair. A chuckle leaving him as you walk away rolling your eyes.

“I’m not your princess” you shout from the bathroom.

Got lazy towards the end. Literally half asleep 💀.

#jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #toji smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader