#DONT HAVE SEX WHEN YOU ARE COVERED IN DIRT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrdixon · 8 months

Text

Shut it

pairing: established daryl dixon x f!reader

wc: 5.9k

summary: pretty much trying to make Daryl jealous GONE WRONG !!!!

warnings: 18+ content, swearing duh, hair pulling, fingering, rough sex, p-in-v, unprotected sex, squirting, little bit degrading, some spanking,,,,

A/N: GOD this took way longer than it shouldve but writers block makes me want to shove my fingers in my eyes. anyway i hope this was worth the wait because i do not enjoy this as much as i should. BEWARE not fully proofread so i may come back to edit things im just so fucking tired and wanna get this out asap. also i personally dont believe that daryl would be the type to be this rough during sex but a guy can dream…

masterlist!

Daryl was never the jealous type, he trusted you and your decisions so there was no point in getting jealous. He had you, you both knew it. So when a certain man in Alexandria started pursuing you, he didn't pay much attention.

It sort of bothered you, feeling kind of guilty that you wanted your boyfriend to be jealous. You guessed it was just cause you wanted him to be possessive, but he wasn't like that. He cherished you, held you carefully. Sure he liked people knowing he was your boyfriend, but he wouldn't go as far as to mark you up or do something rash in public. That didn't mean he didn't care about you, hell he loved taking care of you and loving you. He just preferred to keep your intimate life private.

You were outside in the front yard tending to some flowers when the guy pursuing you, William, walked up.

“Hey, (Y/N).” He grinned down at you, making you have to look up at him. Squinting from the sun in your eyes, smiling.

“Oh hey, what brings you here?” You replying in a friendly tone, wiping the dirt off your knees before standing up and taking your gloves off. You could feel William’s eyes trail down your body and you mentally eye rolled.

“Just… y’know. Hanging around, taking a walk… Whatcha’ up to?” He murmured, clearly distracted.

You laughed sarcastically, “just fixin’ up these flowers. Couple of kids ran over them yesterday.” William nodded absentmindedly, staring at everything but your eyes.

“Uhuh… poor dog…” He mumbled, clearly not paying attention to anything you just said and it took everything in you to not just flip and slap him across his stupid face.

The front door opened, Daryl walking out with his crossbow on his back, covering those angel wings on the fabric of his vest. You looked up at the sky as if thanking some kind of god for sending Daryl to save you. Though to your misfortune, he wasn’t staying for long.

“Jus’ goin’ out huntin’,” he murmured gruffly and kissed your cheek briefly, nodding towards William before walking down the street towards the gates. Your eyes trailed after him sadly while your shoulders slumped, nibbling your lip to stop yourself from calling him back.

“Uh (Y/N)? I was wondering if you wanted to accompany me to pick some berries later, I could even make you a pie with them if you’d like…” William broke through your thoughts and you thought for a bit. One half of you was telling you to say no, but the other half sort of wanted to make Daryl jealous. Or at least try. Ultimately you decided on the second option, this could be fun…. right?

“Sure, later then?” You smiled at William, watching as he looked down towards your chest again, a slight scowl appearing on your face.

“Mhm… I’ll pick you up later then,” he mumbled. You immediately broke out into a smile once he looked up at you again, you just nodded before turning towards your home. Your smile dropping once you entered the house.

The hard part was getting through the afternoon with William, the aftermath with Daryl would surely be the best part.

You sat in the kitchen, doodling in your notebook as you waited for William to come pick you up. Around this time Daryl came home, removing his muddy boots knowing how much you hated when he made a mess in the house before walking into the kitchen to find you with your back to him. You could feel his gaze trail down your body, keeping still particularly around your legs, which were shown off by the shorts you were wearing. Unlike William, you quite liked when Daryl stared at you like this.

You giggled once he came up behind you and wrapped you up in his big, strong arms. Planting soft kisses along your neck and exposed shoulders. “Mmmh… ma girl dress up fer me?” He grumbled, turning your chair around to get a closer look at you. You felt a sense of pride as he bit his lip, admiring your legs, more specifically your thighs which he squeezed affectionately. You weren’t wearing anything extremely extraordinary per se, but it was new to him. You usually covered yourself up for no particular reason, maybe it was your subconscious teasing Daryl since you knew how much he loved seeing you, every part of you. You were just simply wearing a lower cut tank top along with some jean shorts you pulled up in the back of the closet.

He grunted, moving his lips underneath your jaw and planting teasing kisses there, causing you to giggle, “I didn’t dress up for you… I’m going out.” You smiled, rubbing the stubble at his jaw with your thumb.

He jerked his head back slightly, furrowing his brows. “Goin’ out without me?” He snorted jokingly, running his fingers through your hair, gently massaging your scalp which elicited a soft moan from you. “Sounds like you wanna stay home wit’ me…” He huffed, kissing your neck again more forcefully. His hands squeezing at your sides as if trying to convince you to stay home.

You groaned, pushing him back, his hands sliding down to your hips. As much as you’d like to stay home and continue this with him… You were on a mission. And it was to make this man in front of you get jealous. It was like your one fantasy about him, treating you like you were nothing but his. Using you to satisfy his needs, fucking you roughly…

“Sorry baby, I promised to help…” He narrowed his eyes at the nickname but shrugged it off, instead frowning. Rubbing circles into your hips.

“Who ya goin’ with?” He mumbled, burying his face into your neck. Gently pecking any skin he could get his lips on. Your shoulders shook softly as you chuckled, your fingers in his hair.

“William, he asked to help pick berries so he can bake us a pie.” You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant about it.

“Err William, the guy you were talkin’ to earlier? The guy who has a painfully obvious crush on ya?” He furrowed his brows questioningly, was it finally working?

You rolled your eyes, “well yeah. That doesn’t mean I can’t be friends with him though, right?” He narrowed his eyes, moving his hands down to your thighs and shrugging.

“Guess so, wha’s the harm in that?” He murmured, rubbing his thumb against the flesh of your thigh. A spark of warmth pooling into your stomach at the gesture, “jus’ be careful. I trust ya, I don’ trust him though. I see the way he looks at ya.”

You sighed, slightly disappointed you couldn’t wring out a bigger reaction from him. Nodding in understanding you responded, “yeah I know. But don’t worry he’s a good guy, I can see it.” You lied smiling, hoping he wouldn’t see through you. He squinted at your defending of William, but again he shrugged it off.

“Well alrigh’, have fun then.” He kissed your cheek, removing his hands from your thighs. The warm feeling leaving you with his hands. You stood up, closing your notebook and wrapping your arms around his neck. Kissing him tenderly, his arms wrapping around your waist as he kissed you back happily. His arms held you in place as his kisses moved down to your chin and onto your neck, softly suckling at the skin causing you to giggle and squeeze him back.

The knock at the door catches you both off guard, Daryl letting you go reluctantly after kissing your lips briefly. You sighed not wanting to leave him but you knew you had to if you wanted to see a jealous counterpart to your boyfriend. As you walked towards the door he gave you a small pat on your ass, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

You grinned at him before opening the door, William’s eyes immediately blazing down your figure. You could hear Daryl snort behind you causing a smirk tug at the corners of your lips. Deciding to tease Daryl a bit you chuckled at William, “like what you see?”

William was caught off guard by your comment, obviously never hearing you give in to his advances, “oh yeah very much…” You smirked, nudging William playfully.

Daryl stood still behind you, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed. “Yeah you bring ‘er back before 7 pm. An’ don’ try anything’,” he said jokingly, but there was a hint of seriousness in his tone.

William straightened up, he was well aware of your relationship with Daryl but it never stopped him. “Of course… I’ll make sure she’s well… taken care off.” He hovered his hand onto the small of your back, you took the opportunity and placed his hand firmly on the area. Smirking at Daryl.

“I’ll see you later then…” You grinned, placing an arm around William’s shoulder. You cringed in your head, doing all this with William was probably fueling his desire for you. The thought sickening. But by the look on Daryl’s face, it was working. His eyes narrowed, nodding slowly while he nibbled the inside of his lip. He waved to you, keeping an eye on William’s hand on the small of your back while he shut the door to your house.

You sighed deeply now that you were alone with William, slowly moving out of his grasp discreetly. The man grinned at you which you returned with an awkward smile. Now for the hard part, actually hanging out with this guy.

After an agonizing 3 hours of picking berries while flirting with this guy he finally brought you home, after 7 pm, just so Daryl can get a bit more angry about that. You knocked on the door, hearing heavy footsteps come closer before Daryl opens the door.

“Hey… it’s like 8pm,” he murmured, kissing your cheek. You smiled, turning to William.

“Oh well I just had soooo much fun with William, he is such a great guy!” You exclaimed over enthusiastically which Daryl found odd but he shrugged it off, eyeing the man behind you. Who was licking his lips while looking down your back.

“Is that so…” Daryl mumbled skeptical of you two. The other day you were just complaining about how creepy this dude was, and now you’re talking him up like he’s the best person in this fucked up world?

Your eyes twinkled once you realized your teasing was getting to him, deciding to push it and hug William, reluctantly giving him a kiss on the cheek. He of course, hugged you back happily, his hand trailing lower down your back….

You gasped as Daryl grabbed you before William could touch you further. “Okay tha’s enough, goodbye William.” He grunted and slammed the door in his face.

You bit your lip in anticipation, looking up at Daryl who was fuming. “Hun…?”

“What the hell was that about?” He grumbled, pulling away from you. You tilted your head innocently, walking up to him.

“What do you mean?” You asked gently, running a hand down his chest. Which he grabbed forcefully, throwing it back.

“You think tha’s funny?” He growled lowly, his eyes glaring at you enraged. You chuckled, not taking this seriously because it was what you wanted. Stepping towards him with a seductive look on your face.

“Aww is my Daryl jealous?” You hummed playfully. He stared at you in disbelief, running his hand through his hair, a loud grunt escaping him as he paced the room. Your face dropped immediately, definitely not the reaction you expected.

“Tha’s what that was about? You tryna get me jealous? Yer fuckin’ kiddin’ me girl,” he spat agitated. You just stood there looking down at your fingers, not expecting this to backfire so badly. “Shoulda jus’ fucked him at that point. The asshole was practically fucking ya with his eyes.” He growled lowly, pacing around you.

“I didn’t mean to—” You started softly.

“Didn’t what?!” He yelled causing you to flinch, he rarely raised his voice at you. Just by this action alone you knew he really was angry, not just frustrated, pissed. Off.

“I just wanted to… get you angry,” you mumbled, refusing to look him in the eye.

“Well ya did, happy?” He grunted, standing in front of you with his hands on his hips. A stern look on his face, “I didn’ even care if ya wanted to hang out with the guy. But goin’ as far as to kiss and touch up on ‘im. Not fuckin’ funny. Especially when ya’ve been complainin’ about him all week, wha’s wrong with you?”

“I didn’t… actually kiss him y’know…” you argued softly, looking down ashamed of yourself.

“Not the point. It’s the fact that you, flirted, acted invitingly, and even kissed a guy on the cheek who’s been tryna get wit’ ya, invitin’ him fer more. Hence the way he almost grabbed your ass. You led him on, purposefully to get a rise outta me.” He said through gritted teeth, his gaze piercing.

You sighed, realizing how out of line you’ve been acting. Your own lustful desires leading you to act out stupidly. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean for this to go this far.” You whispered, looking down embarrassed.

He took your chin, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. Fury flashing through his blue eyes, his breathing heavy. “I bet,” he grumbled, harshly letting you go before walking upstairs to your shared bedroom. You stood downstairs, beating yourself up mentally for acting like an idiot. The door to your bedroom slamming shut as Daryl locked himself up upstairs.

You groaned, digging your palms into your eyes frustratingly. Not liking the outcome of this at all, instead you were left needy, ashamed, and with your boyfriend angry at you.

A few days passed and Daryl was still rightfully so angry at you, ignoring you and giving you the cold shoulder. Still, you couldn’t help but feel annoyed. Was he really that angry?

You found your boyfriend outside on the front porch sharpening his knife, his muscles flexing slightly by the force he used. The longer he stayed angry at you the more desperate you got. You were practically aching for his touch, to feel him against you.

“Dar?” You said quietly, stepping out onto the porch. He didn’t turn his head but you could see his eyes shift up towards you, grumbling something you couldn’t quite make out before returning his gaze on his knife. You frowned once you realized he was ignoring you again, moving to sit down next to him, to which he immediately stood up and holstered his knife. “Can you just talk to me?” You sighed exasperated.

“Dun’ wan’ ‘ta talk.” He mumbled, stepping into the house. You followed him in, slamming the door behind you. Daryl spun around, glaring at you. “The fuck do you wan’?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Can we just talk and be fucking mature about this?”

“Yer one ‘ta talk,” he grumbled under his breath to which you rolled your eyes at.

“I said I was sorry, I really am Daryl! But you’re being so unfair, you won’t even kiss me.” You threw your arms up before running your hands through your hair, all he did was roll his eyes and shake his head.

“Whatever, you pull tha’ shit on me then you get what you get,” he grunted before turning to head into the living room. You watched your boyfriend’s back angrily as he exited from the conversation.

“Fine,” you grumbled to yourself, stomping upstairs. If he wanted to play this game then you were too, wanting to see how long it’d take for him to snap. Rummaging through your closet you decided to put on a very, very short skirt. Wondering to yourself as to why you even have this in the first place, well first time for everything. You made sure to put on a pair of panties that you knew for sure would drive Daryl crazy, finally finishing the outfit with a tight fitting tanktop. After looking at yourself in the mirror you snorted, you looked ridiculous for sure but maybe it’d work.

You made your way down the stairs quietly, walking with a little sway in your step. Daryl wasn’t shy about his attraction to your body, he loved having his hands on you so you were curious to see what he would do seeing you like this. Especially having not touched you for days now. You moved swiftly into the living room where he was sitting on the couch smoking, you felt his eyes immediately shift over to your body, a shift from where he was sitting.

“Wha’ are ya wearin’?” He grunted, his voice a slight rasp while he looked you up and down. You turned to him, a small smirk playing at the corner of your lips.

“It’s a little hot today… s’all.” You chuckled, moving towards the disc rack. It held a lot of cds for music, the two of you never played anything because of how outdated it was but you went over to look at it anyway. Hearing the way he choked once you bent over to check out the bottom of the rack. You moved onto your knees, reaching under the rack to grab, nothing. There was nothing under the rack, but his breathing was getting heavier and you knew he would give in soon.

You sat on your knees, turning your head over your shoulder to look at him. Smiling once you met his eyes, he was already looking at you with parted lips. His cigarette sat between his index and middle finger, nothing but a mere object as he already forgotten about it. His leg crossed over the other while his eyes started at your own, slowly moving down to your lips. Then the swell of your neck, down your back, and of course over to your ass which was peaking out from under your skirt. He swallowed thickly when he noticed the lace fabric of your panties, contrasting beautifully with the colour of your skin. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, from the look in his eyes you knew he was aroused. You just had to push him further to get him to actually act on it…

You stood up slowly, making sure to flash him a little of your panties. He coughed, putting out the cigarette as you walked up to him. Slow and seductive. However he kept his eyes ahead, you would’ve scoffed if you were still in a mood but you were far too aroused to do all that. He was stubborn and you praised him for it, after all you were both the same. You lightly traced your fingers up his forearm, towards his bicep, and then over his shoulder. Standing behind him as you leaned down next to his ear, “what’s that look for?” You whispered low and sultry.

“Wha’ do you think yer doin’?” He murmured quietly, his breathing shortening. You smirked, placing a soft kiss under his ear, his breath hitching as you do that. “(Y/N).” He said lowly, your hands moving from his shoulders and down the front of his chest, slowly making your way down to his belt. Looking over his shoulder and noticing the huge bulge in his pants, a sense of pride flowing through your body at the effect you had on him. He uncrossed his legs due to the tightness in his pants, groaning softly as your hands moved down towards his thighs, teasingly avoiding his erection.

“I’m not doing anything,” you whispered in his ear, causing him to shudder back onto the couch. His breathing shallow and hot while one of your hands moved towards the erection.

“Don’t.” He muttered, grabbing your wrist. He flicked your hand back away from his crotch, suddenly getting up and turning to face you. His eyes were narrowed and full of fury, but most importantly. Lust.

His piercing blue eyes looked at you with a hungry gaze, stepping around the couch to stand closer to you. Nibbling the inside of his lip as he stared at you, especially your exposed thighs. He abruptly picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder carelessly, causing you to shout out in protest. “Daryl! Put me down!”

”Shut it.” He growled lowly which for sure shut you up quickly. He moved through the house with ease, walking up the stairs and making his way towards your shared bedroom. His fingers dug into your thighs possessively which drew out your excitement even more, wondering what he would do to you. He walked into the bedroom with you over his shoulders, shutting the door with his foot and throwing you onto the bed, eliciting a small yelp from you. Your eyes were wide when you met his own, his jaw clenched at the sight of you laying on the bed in the provocative outfit. He grunted, crawling onto the bed and up to you. Rough and calloused hands gripping onto your thighs as he pushed them apart, a raspy groan leaving his mouth as he saw your soaked panties. “This whatcha’ want?” He murmured with a hint of amusement, running a finger over your slick covered panties.

“Daryl,” you gasped, closing your eyes. His free hand shot up to grab your face harshly, your eyes opening in shock.

“You look at me, ya ain’t gettin’ outta this one easily girl.” He drawled, letting go of your face as he removed his finger from your panties, “and I don’ wanna hear a word from tha’ pretty little mouth of yours unless I say so, ya hear me?” You nodded slowly as you met his intense gaze.

“Good girl,” he murmured which had you throbbing around nothing. His hands grabbed at the collar of your tanktop, ripping it off your body easily. You gasped, wanting to scold him for ripping it but you kept quiet as to not anger him even more. His eyes rolled back in arousal when he saw you weren’t wearing a bra underneath the top, “such a fuckin’ tease.” His hands groped at your breasts, your nipples hardening under his touch as you let out a quiet moan. He leaned down to place a soft kiss on one of them, licking around the bud before biting down harshly. A loud groan left your lips, causing him to growl and pull away.

Your eyes searched for his while you panted softly from the loss, his hands gripping your waist and flipping you over onto your stomach before grabbing your hips and lifting them up so your ass hung up in the air. “Hold yerself up baby,” he grunted. You did as you were told, placing your hands underneath you and onto the bed while pushing yourself up so you were on your hands and knees. Blushing profusely from the position you were in, trying to turn your head to look back at him. He slapped your ass once, a groan escaping you at the contact before his hands started pulling off your skirt, tossing it onto the floor haphazardly leaving you in your lace panties.

He sat up on his knees, teasingly running two fingers over the waistband, lifting it off your skin only to let it go and have it snap against your hips. You jolted slightly, one of his hands rubbing your ass softly before slapping it again. He leaned closer towards your ear, biting your earlobe before whispering gruffly, “don’ think ‘m gonna be gentle tonight. No, you got yerself into this.”

You whimpered as he pulled away, a big hand grabbing at the crotch of your panties and ripping them apart. The same hand running its fingers through your slick causing you to moan, your arms shaking momentarily. It didn’t take long before two thick fingers plunged themselves into your tight entrance, the sudden intrusion causing you to cry out, “Daryl! Wait!”

“Shut up,” he grunted. Forcing his fingers in and out of you roughly, the pain mixed with pleasure only made you wetter, groaning softly. The obscene noises of his fingers thrusting into you at that speed echoed through the small space of your bedroom, your moans getting louder as you got closer to your orgasm.

But just as you were about to reach that sweet release he yanked his fingers out of you, bringing them up to you and shoving them into your mouth. Immediately your tastebuds were met with the taste of your own arousal, “suck.” He growled lowly to which you obliged, sucking on his fingers that were covered in your juices. He groaned as your tongue slithered between his two fingers in your mouth, reaching down to adjust himself in his pants.

He removed his fingers, moving behind you once more and giving you a little tap on your bum. While you kept your head straight forward, looking at the wooden headboard. You heard the clink of his belt being undone, soon pulled out of his belt loops. You breathed heavily out of your nose once you heard the sound of the belt being tossed aside, hitting the floor with a slight thud. The heat pooling between your legs was getting hotter, throbbing with need as you waited patiently. Your arms were burning from holding yourself up while your stomach swirled with anxiety and excitement.

You heard him shuffle behind you, his pants soon joining the rest of the garments on the floor. His eyes were on you the entire time, though you couldn't see it, you could feel it. By the way his breathing deepened seeing your pussy clench at nothing, the way a low purr sounded from the back of his throat, and the way your skin burned from his lustful gaze. When it got a little too silent you turned your head back, you eyes immediately meeting his. He peered at you through his eyebrows, unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves and rolling them up over his elbows. Biting your lip when you saw his forearms, sprinkled with random tattoos here and there. Ones you’d kiss over when he'd make gentle love to you, but it would be different this time.

You couldn't look any lower from the position you were in, settling to look back at the headboard. Which had definitely seen better days. A small gasp left your lips when his large hands suddenly grabbed at your hips, engulfing them completely. His touch wasn't gentle. His calloused hands rubbed at your hips harshly, squeezing and pinching your sides resulting in you mewling softly from the tinge of pain. Suddenly, a slap sounded through the room as his thick cock landed on your ass. A low groan escaping him as he slowly rocked himself against you, rubbing his length between your asscheeks.

“Daryl….” You whined, moving your hips back against his cock. His hand made contact with your ass again, the slap echoing through the room as he pulled his cock away from your ass.

“Wha’ did I say?” He drawled lowly, rubbing the area he just smacked, spanking you once more causing you to jolt. “Answer me.”

You whimpered at the sting, your skin turning a bright red. “No speaking unless asked…”

He spanked you again on the same buttock, eliciting a moan from you this time. “See? Ya know the rules so why do ya not listen?” He tutted you, hitting your other buttock. He sighed, placing his thumbs on the folds of your pussy, spreading them and teasing a finger at your entrance. Just circling it around, not entering you. “Yer such a bad girl.”

You whined, trying to push back on his fingers, desperate for something to ease the ache in your core. He pulled back once again, slapping your pussy. The action sending a wave of pleasure through your body though it was harsh, a quiet mewl slipping out your mouth. Your arms were slowly getting tired of holding yourself up, moving down to your elbows which made your back arch. He grunted, running a hand down your back and into your hair before suddenly gripping it, pulling you up harshly against his chest. You cried out in pain, his lips against your ear while his fingers remained gripped in your hair. “Yer not listening again. I told ya to hold yerself up, so do it.”

He threw you back down, your eyes teary as you placed your hands down again to hold yourself up. His hands found place on your hips again, the rough feel of his palm against your skin made you shiver. One hand left you to grab his cock, teasing it around your clit. “Ya wan’ me to fuck ya, don’cha?” He murmured teasingly after hearing your impatient whines. He chuckled, finding your desperation amusing. “This is wha’ ya wanted, isn’ it?” He slapped the tip of his cock upwards against your clit, your wetness only fueling the sensation further.

“So fuckin’ wet,” he murmured, circling his tip around your entrance. The longer he teased you, the more you were willing to speak up. You moved back on him, his cock slipping into you slightly before he hissed and pulled out.

“Jesus fucking christ can you just fuck me already?” You snapped, earning a spank from him once again. You groaned, already sick of his teasing. “Daryl if you don’t—”

He suddenly shoved his whole length into you, the stretch painful as he started thrusting in and out of you hard. Not giving you any time to adjust to his size, crying out. “If I don’? Yer just gonna find someone else to fuck ya?” He growled gruffly, his hips snapping against yours.

Pleasure soon overpowered the pain, a loud moan ripping itself out of you. He groaned in response, squeezing your hips as he pushed himself deeper and deeper inside you. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, making an erotic symphony that heightened the both of your arousals. “Not gonna answer me? You’d jus’ let anyone fuck ya huh?” He grunted, the tip of his dick hitting closer towards your sweet spot.

You cried out once again, tears of pleasure brimming at your waterline, shaking your head at his question. Your fingers gripped onto the bedsheets below you, your biceps burning which made you just want to drop down onto the bed while he fucked you senseless. His fingers found themselves in your hair again, tugging you upwards so your back was against his chest, growling into your ear.

“Wha’ was tha’? You’d let anyone fuck ya, righ’?” He grunted, thrusting up into your sweet spot, eliciting a loud whine out of you. “Yer such a filthy slut, ya know tha’?” He bit at your neck, leaving a mark that was going to be hard to cover.

You clenched around his cock at his words, shaking your head slightly while he tugged your head back further against his shoulder. “No…” You moaned weakly, the pain from him pulling your hair was even more arousing than you thought. The tears in your eyes spilling over and down your cheeks.

“Yeah yer mine… This pussy?” He mumbled, reaching down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, your back arching as you cried out in ecstasy. “This pussy is mine, only mine ya hear me?” He let out a primal growl, tugging your hair once more.

“Yes! Yes Daryl only yours!” You cried out pathetically, your walls clamping down on his cock as it moved in and out of you at a punishing speed. He grunted approvingly, releasing his grip on your hair which caused you to fall over, landing straight onto your face into the pillows. His hands then gripping at your ribcage, just under your breasts as he pounded deep into you, hitting that same spot over and over again. “Fuck… Oh shit, Daryl..” You whined into the pillows, the bed creaking under the movements.

He pulled you up again, his hands still under your breasts while he whispered in your ear. “Ya gonna be a good slut for me now?” He grunted lowly, you nodded vigorously as moans continued to escape your mouth. “No one can fuck you like I can.” And with that he held you just enough to push himself deeper into you, making sure you feel every inch of his cock invading your tight heat.

The small space of your bedroom soon shifted into a safe, intimate haven in which you two created. Full of your moans and his grunts, skin slapping against skin, while the bed rocked under your movements. You felt a familiar feeling building up and you knew you were close, clenching around him as your moans got whinier and breathy.

He groaned, feeling your walls tighten around him, thrusting deeper into you. You whined at the feeling, anticipating the soreness you’d feel in the morning. “Daryl…” You whined, “I’m gonna cum.”

He growled, pulling you up against his chest again, a hand near your throat while the other moved between your thighs. “Ya really think ya deserve to cum?” He groaned, his breathing a little ragged from his own orgasm building up. His fingers moved to play at your clit again, tugging it as he thrusted sloppily into you. “Go on.”

You mewled softly, turning your head to his. He grunted, his lips meeting yours messily. Shoving his tongue into your mouth and exploring the depths of it while bringing you both closer to the edge. You bit his lip, earning a whimper from him as your walls clenched around his cock, reaching your climax. His hands jumped up to your breasts while you screamed in ecstasy, pulling your nipples while speeding up his pace.

Your back arched, the pleasure getting overwhelming as he continued to delve deeper, abusing that sweet spot inside of you. “Fuck! Daryl too much!” You cried, reaching back and grabbing his hips. But it didn’t stop him.

“I told ya, ya aren’ gettin’ out of this easily,” he grunted, his hips maintaining his pace while you felt something else squirt out of you. The slippery liquid slipped out of your pussy, slithering down the base of his cock and onto the bedsheets. A rough moan tearing through your throat before collapsing down onto the bed, feeling him pump his cum into you.

“Holy shit,” he murmured, stilling inside of you as he emptied out inside your cunt. He chuckled, pulling out of you and letting the rest of your body fall onto the now wet sheets. “Haven’t seen ya do that before,” he sighed, patting your ass before falling down next to you. “Ya got wha’cha wanted?”

You looked at him tiredly, the tears on your face dried, your voice too hoarse to even respond. Settling for a gentle nod and a small, “I win.” He chuckled, shaking his head before leaning back and closing his eyes. He was also extremely exhausted.

You lay there, unable to move and felt his cum slowly drip out of you. It almost felt uncomfortable but you couldn’t be bothered to get up and clean yourself, wanting to lay there and sink into the sheets. You sighed contently, scooting closer to him and burying your face into his chest. He grumbled, his arm wrapping itself lazily over your waist. You smiled to yourself, closing your eyes as you felt the rush of satisfaction. Sure you were going to feel absolute pain once you woke up, and maybe you wouldn’t be able to walk or speak for a while. Nevertheless you had finally got yourself fucked rough by a jealous Daryl, who was no longer mad and pushing you away. The issues led up to something amazing for the both of you. Maybe you should get him angry more often.

#divider by cafekitsune #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl #norman reedus #daryl x y/n #daryl smut #daryl dixon smut #twd smut #smut with some plot....#mrdixonposts

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lexpupz · 5 months

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warnings: pure filth, dom!bada, G!P BADA (sorry to all the g!p haters), facefucking, sweaty sex, very very lowkey dubcon, spitting (also just a tiny bit), facials, bdsm, slapping, bruises and overall marking, dacryphilia, bondage,

wordcount: 1.2k

a/n; just a little drabble to start out maybe? many people wont probably like it and if so, its okay. we all have our tastes. also i think ive gotten enough of these brainrotting and perverted ideas so maybe sweet little soft service top!bada next time.

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i dont care how smiley she always gets i did NOT come here to fuck around. may not be the girthiest cock ever but its soooo veiny and sosososoosooooo longgggg ARGHGHRHR. cant get enough of her clean-shaven balls like im ready to take it all at once no joke. bada is literally the epitome of a kink explorer. any new fetish she sees online or hears about from her friends can keep her awake all night thinking about all the ways she could use it. its hard to surprise her with your tastes cause shes seriously done it all.

when it comes to her favourites, ugghghhsh facefucking immediately comes to mind. coming home, absolutely drenched in sweat — im talking wet tshirt, bangs sticking to forehead, sweat slowly rolling down the side of her face, leaving a wet handprint on anything she touches, ugghsj you can quite literally smell her presence, all of the dirt mixing with her perfume and salty liquid all over her body. 😵‍💫😵‍💫 — dropping the duffel bag full of more dirty clothes somewhere in the middle of the room, she immediately sets off to find you. igdhh and when the smell hits your nose you already know whats up. and when i tell you bada stops caring about your wellbeing and makes you strip yourself off of all your self-respect when she gets horny... 😮‍💨. grabs the back of your neck and just pulls you off the couch, your knees hitting the ground rather roughly. no time for belts, just unzips her jeans and pulls it right out, and LORD the sound of the slap it makes when it hits your face. your brain wouldve probably blocked it all out if it wasnt for the precum oozing everywhere already and the smell of her sweaty cock thats been smothered by the thick fabric of her pants for hours on end now. both of your hazy gazes meeting eachother and oohhhhhdjd the way she squints while looking down at your lips before gently placing her thumb between your lips to spread them wide open, her length now resting somewhere on your chin. you really gotta appreciate how delicately shes treating you, knowing whats about to come. her sweaty palms lightly pressing into your jaw line, she pulls your head closer, planting the very tip of her cock right next to her thumb, which is now covered with the drool thats been mixing with her precum on your chin, slowly dripping down into your lap. no need to explain further, her sticky palms now forcing you by the back of your head, sliding her length down your throat. and when your nose hits her lower stomach, the groan that leaves her throat makes you impossibly wet. you know that trying to resist her wont help your situation so you just let it all happen, placing your own hands on the back of her knees purely for support. her thrusts are slow and short at first, hitting the back of your throat rather softly while she groans some inaudible mumbling from above (not that you would understand if she was talking clearly, already drowning in the sounds your mouth makes around her cock). and when she does finally speed up and her soft groans become rougher youre not even present anymore, lost in the sensation of the constant pounding in your throat. and when i said throatfucking i meant throatFUCKING — straight up using that mouth as a fleshlight. and instead of feeding you all that delicious cum, she insists on pulling out and sprays your whole face with the white liquid; ranging from the very base of your nose, running down your cheeks, also leaving a humble trail on your tongue just to continue more on your already wet chin. if it wasnt for you closing your eyes, you might have gone blind too with the thin coat painting your eyelids. all of her pretty liquids mixing with her sweat thats been occasionally dripping down on your face from her own chin. and finally, to finish it off, she blesses you with a few drops of her saliva, spitting them down your fucked out throat. she runs her slender fingers through your messed up hair leaning in to peck your forehead — the only part of your face left bare. she smiles fondly, giving both your face and her own length a few last strokes before leaving to finally wash up her sweaty body. making me think hard about toxic bada, leaving her poor baby all alone, dumbed down from all the dicking down, with no aftercare ://

and thats not where toxic bada ends because... 🙃. gotta go crazy for (maybe more than) slightly violent bada esjsjwonfrj. or maybe im just heavily deranged. but i mean... shes sooooo tall and soooooo strongggg. so maybe while the two of you are fucking she just, idk, accidentally knocks you down onto the ground. DBSJJSKAKFK seriously listen like the tight grip she has on your face while youre leaned over the kitchen island getting your guts rearranged. her other hand constantly traveling up and down your waist, while shes trying not to lose her own mind because of all the sweet sounds that are slipping past your lips —because of her baby is so so pretty being vocal and telling her just how good shes making her feel —, and then... oops 🫢 her hand leaves your cheek just to come back with a stinging sensation, leaving a pretty handprint in the process too 😵‍💫. youre barely realising what happened at first, too caught up in the pleasure, but when bada notices youre not protesting, or crying or looking up at her in pure bewilderment, she just does it again and again until... her last slap makes you yelp out loud, the strength of it forcing a few tears to glide down your red cheeks. i mean... she would probably cum just from the sight of that but... 😒. she ALWAYS has to have you marked up, whether its the stinging feeling on your ass whenever you sit down, the perplexed looks earned by all the love bites and hickeys, the purple bruises all over your knees also occasionally appearing on your back and thighs 🤩🤩,or ofcourse, as mentioned before, the red traces of her fingers and palms left on your cheeks.

bada is most definitely also a freak for bondage 😵‍💫😵‍💫. and im like straight up biting my hand rn ehshwhsgs. im talking ropes, tapes, handcuffs and all sorts of chains and stuff like that. sooooo into shibari its crazyyyyy hdjsjs. she would learn all these different patterns and styles just so you can look all pretty and tied up for her. it honestly makes her tummy twist and turn when she hears your mewls when shes kissing all over your chest, — her nose occasionally scratching the red bondage rope that she took so long tying around you because she just couldnt stop letting go of the rope in her hands to grab your hips grind them against her lap a few times more. — you cant do anything else but just quiver under her touch and hot breath. she cant stop calling you her 'pretty tight slut' making you twitch under her touch even more. AAARGRGHRH and when she sits you on her lap, holding both of your hands which are tied up at your back, as you grind against her length, riding her.

#bada lee x reader #bada lee #bada x reader #bada lee imagine #drabble #bada lee smut #bada smut #girl penis #g!p #bada lee swf #fem reader

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htchnr · 7 months

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★ thrill of the hunt ❥ A. HOTCHNER.

➻❥ masterlist. ➻❥ patreon. ➻❥ kinktober masterlist.

🎃 KINKTOBER PROMPT ➥ hunting kink + unsub!hotch.

CW ➥ outdoor sex ⋆ unprotected sex ⋆ piv sex ⋆ semi public sex ⋆ creampie ⋆ slight knifeplay ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

WC ➥ 1,8k. SONG ➥ tear you apart , she wants revenge.

SUMMARY ➥ he’s restless. he hasn’t been on a hunt in a while, in fact, since you’ve been together. you’ve never told him to stop, but you can sense he doesn’t want you to see that side of him, coming home late at night covered in blood that isn’t his. so you help him in your own way.

he’s restless. he hasn’t been on a hunt in a while, in fact, since you’ve been together. you’ve never told him to stop, but you can sense he doesn’t want you to see that side of him, coming home late at night covered in blood that isn’t his. the novelty of domestic life suits him, he likes cuddling with you, lazy mornings.

tonight though, you watch his side profile as he reads, watch his eyes flick over the same page several times, unseeing. he fidgets his knee up and down and slides his hand over his jaw, tapping a finger against his top lip. he’s so handsome, warm looking, alluring, and you realize with a rush that goes from your head to your cunt that you want him.

“hey.” you say, breaking the taut silence of the room, he looks up from his book, blue eyes focussed on yours. “i want us to play a game.” he stares at you while you explain your idea, smirking first with amused adoration, then slightly patronizing as he tilts his head.

“hide and seek? with me that wouldn’t be much of a game honey.”

“no.” shaking your head you stand and stretch your limbs, reveling in the way his dark eyes track your movements.

“i want you to hunt me.”

he pauses, thinking it through for a second. “since you interrupted my reading you better run extra fast.” he almost growls then, his usually sweet eyes gone impossibly dark.

“get to running sweetheart.” his voice low and threatening almost.

“fuck fuck fuck” you mutter out loud, almost forgetting that the whole point of the game is for him to find you. suddenly it feels very real. after all, he’s a killer, using both stealth and skill. one girl is nothing to him, a speck of dirt that is easily rubbed out.

reminding yourself that this man loves you and would never kill you doesn’t stop the pounding in your heart as you pause at a fallen tree, wondering if you can fit inside. you realize the game is exciting you just as much, even though you’ve done this for him, to help his boredom, you feel simultaneously afraid and aroused— it’s confusing as hell.

when people hide on tv or in films it’s never so messy. you cringe as dirt slides over your skin from the tree, matted leaves catch in your hair and your legs are awkwardly twisted. still, you’re inside the rotted trunk, and you’re hidden, at least to regular human eyes. you don’t have to lay still for long before you hear him coming. he’s not attempting to be quiet, but is humming under his breath, almost taunting you.

“i’m coming to get you sweetheart..” he sing-songs and you bite your lip not to whimper.

his footsteps pause, and you imagine him, scanning the trees for any sign of you. the urge to see him in his hunter pose is too much and you peek out through a crack in the tree trunk, you can’t resist a look, even if it costs you the game. he stood, the darkness of the night swallowing him along with the darkness of the forest.

his attitude has changed, and he looks nothing like the soft, charming man you’re used to seeing everyday. his shoulders are tight, his hands twitching by his sides— his left hand hovering above his knife that sits in it’s sheath. he’s grinning, his eyes are two black focused orbs, sweeping the scene.

it is amazing to see him like this, and as he moves towards you in one smooth, animalistic movement fear combines with desire, licking up the bottom of your spine. almost ripping the tree apart he unearths you, pulling you out from your hiding place, his hands under your armpits, lifting you as if you’re a child, or a rag doll— the ice cold blade of the knife pressed against your throat.

“i told you to run” he murmurs, the look in his eyes is dangerous, his chest is heaving with panting breaths, his voice is rough and low and betrays his arousal even if you couldn’t see the outline of his cock pressing hard against the fly of his jeans.

“i did” you whimper as he glares and bends his head to kiss you unrelentingly, nipping your bottom lip viciously.

“not far enough, not fast enough.”

“i tried Aaron, let me up…” you struggle intentionally weak against him and he holds you easily with a snide look in his eyes.

“i won the game.. i should get my prize.”

“your prize? oh… “ you words dissolve into a shameless moan as he simultaneously bites your neck and the cold knife tears through your shirt, his rough hands groping your breasts and pinching your nipples. You moan as you move your fingers to his zipper, yanking it down and pull his aching cock out, hot and throbbing against your palm as you stroke him. his mouth falls open as he lets out a strained breath, moving his larger hand on top of yours to force you to speed up your strokes. he seems to want it rough, and you feel exactly the same way.

his hands hold you easily, cupping your spine as he shoves you down on a patch of dry leaves. he crawls on top of you, his hips jerking a little as if of their own accord. “put your hands above your head.” he commands with a raspy voice and you nod, following the direction, twisting them together as if bound, and looking up at him imploringly.

pinning you with a glare he kisses you again moving his hand inside your underwear— swearing when he finds you soaking, pushing two fingers inside you desperate to feel your heat, before he regains control of himself and moves them teasingly in and out, never quite hard or deep enough. “i see.. you like this, you like the chase?” he asks. you moan pathetically, eyes rolling back.

“i like being caught.” you pant, trying to grind down against his hand hard enough to get yourself off.

“turn over.” he groans. “if you like being hunted like an animal i’m going to fuck you like one.”

thrilled, you scramble on all fours, glad to be off the hard ground— you wonder somewhere in the back of your mind if he’s doing this for your comfort. he hovers over you and you hear the clink of metal as he undoes his belt, the sound sending an unexpected bolt of arousal through you, he pulls back on your hips so your ass is cushioned against him and pushes inside you with one smooth stroke, not waiting to let you adjust before starting to move. you cry out as he sinks in and out over and over.

you clench your eyes shut as you shamelessly moan. he grins darkly, moving his fingers between your legs and rubbing your clit as he plows deeper inside you. you scramble for something to hold but he just holds you, fucking into you and you have no choice just to let him bounce you on his cock, let him touch you until you feel as if you were about to explode.

“Aaron! fuck.. please..” you plead, not even sure what you’re begging for as he slides one hand up your throat, pressing the cold blade flat against the hot skin of your throat. your thighs pressing together make you feel even tighter to him, and the sounds leaving his lips against your ear, the filth spilling from his usually smooth and composed self even during sex gives you a clue he’s just as lost as you are.

“scream all you want, no one can hear you out here.." he mutters in your ear. His lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he urges you towards your climax both with his filthy words and the never ending stroke of his fingers against your sensitive bundle of nerves. bucking back against him you let yourself go, clenching around him and riding out the pleasure as you cry out, tears trickling down your cheeks. he holds you as you fall apart, pausing just to revel in the sensations before he picks up his brutal pace again, the knife being thrown down into the dirt as his arm reaches around your throat, resting against your shoulders.

he thrusts a few more times, his balls slapping against your cunt so deliciously as he finally comes inside you with a loud guttural moan, his warm cum painting your walls as he fucks it into you.

He pulls out, his sticky cum pouring out of your abused hole— dropping onto the leaves with obscene splats. he hovers above you on the forest floor for a few moments before he comes back to himself, realizing you’re both outside at night on damp leaves amongst bugs and god knows what else. he let’s out a shuddered groan as pulls you up. your knees shake shamefully and you lean into his solid side with a grateful sigh.

he helps you back to the house, shoving you in front of the fireplace, not speaking while he fusses round you, washing the dirt off your face with a warm washcloth, picking the leaves out of your hair and frowning at the scratches on your arms as if they personally offended him.

“i’m okay..” you reassure him, your eyes heavy with post-sex bliss. you wonder how you can convince him that you enjoyed the game and that you are not so breakable as he thinks. he knows you well though, and as he lifts you up to bed and pulls you on top of him, your head resting on his hot chest. he nips at your ear, sending a wave of lust through your exhausted body.

“we are definitely doing that again..” squealing quietly with glee you hug him tighter to you and slowly fall asleep, happy knowing you have a man who is willing to take such good care of you, but also fuck you into the ground with a knife against your throat if you ask for it.

TAGLIST ➥ @toastbrot8410 @mrs-ssa-hotch @fictionallifestuff @weirdothatwritess @crystalflwr @stella95827 @taintedstranger @mija-novella @gffesegjoiegj @bubbly-parker @mediocremalachor15 @goldenangelwingsandcandy @0nex-is-dead0 @2hiigh2cry @the-1n0nly @hotchsdharma @tgskitten @crystlroses @notforeverlong @emmeilyy @whatisthereality

#⋆୨🩷©2023 htchnr #⋆୨⭐️aaron hotchner #⋆୨🎃2023 kinktober #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotch hotchner x reader #hotch smut #hotch imagine #hotch x reader

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 months

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⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SHARPEN YOUR TEETH (AND BITE AS HARD AS YOU WANT) | WYLL RAVENGARD

☾ tags ; SPOILERS FOR ACT ONE AND TWO OF BG3, gn + afab!reader, werewolf!reader, selunite cleric!reader developing relationship, canon typical violence, mild gore / blood, mutual pining, heat cycles, scent kink, oral (f + m!recieving), unprotected sex, praise kink, petnames (starlight, my love, my heart), lots of referring to reader as a dog / mutt / puppy, messy sex, reader has body hair / pubic hair, soft top wyll, a single pregnancy joke, 18+ MDNI

☾ wc ; 21.8k (????)

☾ a/n ; h...hello wyll nation. local deranged man here to offer this politely and run away. i dont really know what happened here. this was really just meant to be porn about a scent kink and uhm. well

i dont know if i wrote this fic as much as it used my physical vessel as a way to escape. it just sort of occured. im rarely nervous to post fic for a character but this is my first time doing a real wyll fic and bg3 fandom as many people i respect. so please be kind.

anyways. the embracing of monstrosity vs the rejection of it. so on and so forth. hope u enjoy. also banner is from slime isekai anime.

☾ synopsis ; there's a werewolf at camp. nothing new. wyll is growing increasingly fond of them. very new.

ao3 link for reading | spotify playlist.

The violent tearing sounds of teeth ripping through the flesh pulse and echo through the night air.

Blood sprays onto the furred creature responsible for it. All else grinds to a halt, the gnats and fireflies silent in awe as sharp claws crush through bone. Wyll can hear the sound of his own blood pumping as his eyes watch the massacre, hand drawn on his rapier. He looks over through the rest of his party

They remain just as awestruck. Astarion stands breathlessly. Shadowheart slinks into her namesake, eyes closed and trembling in the dark.

But Wyll watches, eyes fixed on the bloodshed. On the violence. The realization dawns on him too late that one of his party members is missing. You’re missing. He stares back at the creature, underneath the moon - silently slaughtering every last of their opposition until the battle field is left in a field of crimson. Death plagues every inch of dirt to the naked eye.

A whimper sounds. Followed by the sound of skin and bones retracting and moving back into place.

Where a werewolf once was is your naked form. Sat on your knees and bent over your body with tears at the corners of your eyes. Just your ears and tail remain, your mouth and hands covered in a thick layer of blood. You sniffle, the only light left to illuminate you ritual candles and moon as you turn your head back to your party.

“Uhm,” Your voice is coarse, thick with exhaustion and tears. Wyll stares at you in awestruck silence “We should probably talk.”

“So,” Gale’s voice and the obvious exasperation in it is enough to make Wyll feel sorry for you. You’re sitting at the campfire, finally clothed - with a blanket around your shoulder and Astarion tending to your wounds. “We have a Sharran, a vampire spawn, a werewolf, and a githyanki. Anything else we need to check off before we apply for a tent at the circus?”

Karlach takes the empty seat next to you, wanting to wrap her hand around the fluffy base of your tail and frowning when she realizes she can’t. Your ears are folded down, the corners of your eyes still wet with tears. You lean into Karlach’s heat, just enough to feel it.

The air is cool, thick with the scent of dirt and smoke. The campfire licks with light flames, surrounded by half cut logs for extra seating. You, Astarion, and Karlach crowd on a single half - draped with an extra bedroll for cushion.

“Don’t be so harsh on them, Gale,” Karlach says, glancing over at you “It’s hardly like they’re a threat to us. I mean.. look at them.”

Your frown deepens as you hang your head in shame.

“I thought we were past this, no? I mean we’ve all already been honest with each other so far. It’s a little late to be keeping something like this a secret is it not?”

“That’s true,” Wyll interjects, standing next to Gale across from the three of you - staring at your curled up form with sympathy. “I really don’t understand why you hid it for this long. Surely, you could’ve told us earlier?”

Your voice is weak and unusually frail. “The opportunity never presented itself.”

“You could have mentioned it when Astarion told us he was a vampire?” Wyll suggests.

“I didn’t want to steal his thunder, you know? Felt a bit rude, really.”

Astarion laughs, clearly wanting to laugh himself into hysterics but having enough tact not to do so. “Not a thing in that head of yours aside from our parasite, is there darling? But you know, I’m quite delighted by this revelation.

“Really?”

“Now we’ve got two monsters at our camp as opposed to just one! Evens out the playing field, in case things go south.”

“I’m not a monster,” You murmur, pouting. “And I don’t think you are either, for the record. I’m just a shifter. And my goddess is kind.”

“Oh? And who would that be?” Gale asks somewhat bitterly.

“Selune,” Shadowheart pipes up this time, for the first time since your arrival back to camp. Emerges from her own tent in the corner like a ghost. Her arms are crossed, brows pinched into a tight face of displeasure “She has a network of werewolves in her ranks. You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

You look up at her saddened, like a kicked puppy for lack of a better word, casting your gaze away from hers. Shadowheart looks ferocious, her appearance locked onto your pitiful form with a familiar angry smolder. Wyll can’t decide if you’ve done anything so grand as to earn her ire, even if you’re a Selunite werewolf. Though, given all that Wyll knows about her, that may as well be the greatest sin of all.

Your voice is tiny and high-pitched as you play with your hands in your lap “I didn’t intend to hide it from you but y-yes. I don’t bear any hatred towards you or other Shar followers, but uhm, well, I didn’t think you’d be very happy about it. A-and then, well you know, back in the grove you mentioned you hated wolves so, I just… planned on never shifting.”

“You have control over something like that?” Wyll inquires. You nod, not looking up at him.

“I was born as a werewolf, not turned. So the moon doesn’t affect me in the same way it would someone who was turned and I have more control over when it happens. I can shift in and out. Usually no problem but when I’m caught off guard like that,” You lift your tail and swing it from side to side as if to emphasize the point “Sometimes I mess it up.”

“Chk. What a waste of ability. Think of how many we would’ve slaughtered had we known from the start.”

Wyll looks around. Everyone has gathered now, standing around the fire.

“A werewolf… I know little of them. Wild shape magic is vastly different. I hope your condition does not cause you too much trouble. Or us, for that matter.” Halsin adds apologetically.

“I didn’t intend for it to come out this way,,” You mumble pitifully. Shit, he really can’t help but feel bad. “I really did fully plan on keeping it to myself until the end. But, well, we were desperate. And I didn’t want to see anyone die,”

“Given our circumstances, I think it would be amiss to scold you for your bravery,” Wyll supplements, trying to ease your worries. He does mean it. Regardless of what happened, you did save everyone. “Plus, we’ve all kept secrets here.”

“Exactly right, soldier. Don’t beat yourself up about it,”

“Wow, what sort of double standard is this? When I came out as a vampire, you people couldn’t stop talking about how afraid you were I was going to bite you!” Astarion says with an exaggerated frown. You smile at him weakly.

Wyll gives him a disbelieving look. “Well you’re not exactly subtle about wanting to suck our blood, are you Astarion?”

Astarion huffs. “Everyone here is so unfair.”

Wyll laughs goodnaturedly, his eyes turning back onto you. He examines you in silent thought, his mind sifting over your last few months together.

After Gale gets over his initial frustration, his curiosity gets the better of him. He rejoins everyone—across from you on an empty log and Wyll joins along with them. Shadowheart and Lae-zel come too, as does Halsin.

Around the campfire, Gale pulls a book and quill from his tent before making himself comfortable.

“Well since we’ve all made up, I am a little curious about your condition.” He admits. A very Gale thing to do, Wyll thinks.

“I don’t mind any questions.” You reply gently. “It’s the least I can do.”

The whole camp softens at your display. Surprisingly, Shadowheart is the first to ask a question.

“Is it more comfortable for you…in your wolf form?”

You seem taken aback.. Though it dawns on you quickly why she would be asking that specifically.

“Ah, kind of? My humanoid form is also me but it feels… limiting at times.”

“Limiting?”

“Eating meat without my canines is a pain in my ass. Same with not being able to express myself with my ears or tail. I like traveling on my paws depending on the terrain.” You say, shaking your head. “It doesn’t bother me though mostly,”

Gale’s quill hitting the paper makes a loud scratching sound. Astarion has a snarky comment about it that Wyll misses. He’s too preoccupied with other things.

Hoping that you don't feel too badly about all this, for example.

“Does it affect your daily life in any way?”

“I don’t think so? I don’t know. It’s always been like this, so there’s nothing that different to me. I do notice how different I am around humans maybe,” You say, before perking up. You’ve just remembered something important. “Oh, but there is one thing.”

“What is it?” Wyll asks.

“My senses are much much sharper than other peoples. My sense of smell, especially.”

___

You remain together. Despite the mess. Somehow.

With this parasite in mind, and nothing left to lose - it’s better to stay together. Now that there are no important secrets kept hidden, the vibe is much more relaxed. The impending doom adds a layer of familiarity too. Wyll has often traveled with bands of strangers, but never for so long and with so many.

It gives him a sense of familiarity. Home. What a foreign word.

He thinks a lot of it is your contribution. They’re your pack, as you say so often. A special one with lots of different sorts of people. And you - you’re loyal to a fault. It helps. You and Karlach are a lot alike, but Wyll would venture to call you a little more tender. It helps fill in the gaps.

Wyll knows you’re a werewolf but it’s hard not to think of you as a dog in that sense. A different dog to Scratch, maybe. But a dog all the same - with folded ears and a softail and propensity for drooling depending on the way you sleep.

He’s only really reminded of the fact that you’re part wolf when you use your abilities in battles. It’s your failsafe. You only do it when you think it’s dire, and before that you air on the side of diplomacy. You’re a hunter should the need arise though. Sometimes you don’t transform completely. Where your usual canines are meant to linger in your mouth are a set of teeth too big for it. Instead of hands, sometimes there are soft paws with sharpened nails.

There are three ways you can transform for that matter. Human, werewolf, or just wolf. Wyll finds these little distinctions fascinating, and more fascinating that you tend to opt for one end of the spectrum or the other.

Wyll quickly learns some of your physical attributes are the same irregardless of what you look like. The fact you are agile and quick and strong, or the fact you can travel fast on all fours. The fact you like meat, and the fact you whine rather loudly when you’re upset.

When you’re using your abilities, many would think you a ruthless killer.

But after everyones cleared from harm, you’ll transform back into your usual human self - naked and covered in blood and frowning. You spit up meat that tastes bad and whine loudly if no one tells you good job.

(That job often falls on Wyll or Shadowheart. Gale or Karlach if they’re traveling with you. Astarion is only kind enough to do it in a semi-mocking way, but Wyll is keenly aware of how sincere his praise can be.)

In moments like that, you’re just a dog again. A puppy, sometimes. Loyal. And novel, and interesting for many reasons.

Wyll should expect your loyalty by now. He sees it so often, how unyielding and faithful you always are. To your goddess and to your pack and to whatever else you’ve deemed important to you.

He should’ve known that you’d probably try to seek him out tonight, after everything that’s happened among all of you.

He did watch you for a bit at the start. You worked clockwise through all of your companions, stopped in between for stories and gossip. Some of the tiefling kids wanted to see your tail and you’re too good a spirit to tell them no.

Wyll wouldn’t dare hope for you finding him, but he is a little relieved when you do.

“Wyll! There you are,”

Wyll’s eyes snap up.

“Ah, Hells. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice I was gone,” He says regretfully.

“Of course I noticed! How could I not notice our very own warlock disappear? It was no party without you.”

Wyll wonders if you’re being sincere. He hopes you are. The night air is cool as the two of you share space. Away from the party, only sand and rubble between your feet. And a body of water that looks like it could go on forever.

It’s a full moon tonight.

“Really? I’m honored,” He peers out into the lake. Suddenly aware of his body, Wyll recoils into himself. The movement is subtle enough to be overlooked. The horns on the top of his head feel especially heavy. The skin pulled around the base of them throbs. It’s not painful, but it is unpleasant. “In truth, I don’t feel a festive mood and I didn’t want to cast a gray cloud over the night.”

“Is it too intrusive for me to ask?”

“Not at all,” Wyll assures. Your words are comfortable and soft, concerned without being pitiful. “I’m a devil. I love the people of the grove, but I unsettle them deep down. As I seem to unsettle everyone nowadays.”

Wyll can hear his own somber. He doesn’t wince, but it's impossible to ignore. Even explaining himself only adds to his melancholy. He’s quiet for a while, his voice touched with a destitution and irony. And bitterness, maybe.

You remain still and steady beside him. He can’t tear his gaze away from the endless water, comforted by its vastness. How it generally disregards him and distorts his reflection.

“You don’t want a devil at your party. Horns this sharp will pop the balloons you see. And the guests won’t take kindly to scars quite so monstrous.” He jokes, trying to keep his voice light.

He doesn’t think he succeeds at it.

Silence once more. Wyll can see you, but your expression is unchanged. Your eyes are clear underneath the ever changing moon.

“You don’t unsettle me. You never have.” There’s conviction behind your words. They comfort him.

“If only half the world had half the heart you do.” Wyll tells you, and means every word. He tries to brighten up, waving you off. “Don’t let my introspection spoil your night. Off with you. This is your day! Have a dance. Enjoy the music.”

He hopes it’s enough to get you to forget about him for tonight.

When you walk off, Wyll is expecting you to disappear. It’s enough that you’ve checked on him. He would’ve been content with it, left to reflect on his troubles alone. You’ve done something significant with your reassurance. He isn’t so tactless to keep you from celebrating. even when he would maybe want more time with you.

You return to him though. With a bottle of wine, and a bedroll you spread in the empty sand next to him. You give him an unreadable look followed by a cheeky smile, making yourself comfortable on the ground.

“Come on. Sit.”

Confused, Wyll sits. You open the bottle of wine with your teeth as a cork and drink from the top before passing it over to him. He takes it from you and stares at the place you’ve just drank from. You start to talk while he debates mimicking you.

“You don’t have to pretend it’s less difficult than it is,” You say almost thoughtlessly. Almost. “You’ve lost your body. Yourself. That must be hard.”

Wyll looks at you, then back at the colored glass of the bottle. He clears his throat. “It is. More than I imagined it to be.”

“You know, I was born a werewolf. And I had just about the best circumstances a person could have with that in mind. Selune accepts me and my clergy was mostly kind. Still, I heard the word monster a lot from people outside my circle. I could feel the distrust that I incited in outsiders. So, I won’t pretend to know exactly what you’re going through,” You say, your legs stretched out far into the sand, past the confinement of a tiny square bedroll “But I do know what it’s like to feel accused when you’ve done nothing wrong. You especially, Blade of Frontiers. I think you’re allowed to grieve the trust it feels like you’ve lost, or might lose. If it’s worth anything, though, I know you’re not a monster.”

Wyll barely gets a chance to process the words as they come. He wonders if this is what people mean by feeling seen by someone else. “You know?”

“Damn right I know,” Your response comes without hesitation. The night air blows along his skin, a soft and tender caress. Wyll frowns when you don't elaborate.

“How could you know something like that?” He asks.

“Lotsa reasons. You’re still nice and thoughtful and caring and charming. But, hm, well the most obvious reason is a little more primitive.” You take a deep inhale. “Your scent,”

“...I’m sorry?”

Your laugh is bright, and bubbly.

“Your scent,” You repeat calmly, taking a deep sigh after saying it. “Everyone at camp has a scent. It’s a little abstract, but they change when people change. Shadowheart smells the leaves of black currant and uh, Halsin smells like sequoia wood. Lae’zel smells like black tea and metal. Gale smells like licorice. Astarion smells a lot like applemint. Karlach smells like smoke and star anise,”

Wyll finds himself both awestruck and amused.

“These are all rather specific,”

“I’ve always been a bit of a bloodhound so I’ve developed a talent at identifying specifics. It was shitty when I was a runt. Even a trip outside could give me the worst fuckin’ headache, but it got better the more I got used to it.” You give Wyll a glance “Anyways. Scent changes. When someone changes, their scent does too. Moods and days and everything affect it too.”

“And mine hasn’t changed, is what you’re saying?”

“No. Not in the way that’d make you different. It’s stronger, but it hasn’t changed. You haven’t changed.” You say quietly, and take a deep breath. “Not to me at least.”

“You’ve conveniently left out my scent from your description.” Wyll says with fond amusement. He feels reassured. It’s absurd, yet Wyll is so inclined to believe you. “Is it something so awful?”

You flush, suddenly becoming timid.

“Yours is… good,” You say simply, and softly. You seem embarrassed to continue. He can’t help but find it so incredibly endearing. “It’s just harder for me to describe. But it’s good. It’s personally my favorite. “

You add the last part a little quieter.

“And it hasn’t changed,” Wyll says more than asks this time.

“No. Stronger, but the same.” You curl in on yourself, crossing your legs as you turn your head to face him, head tilted towards one side with a smile. “You’re not a devil to me. Just Wyll. And I like just Wyll.”

Wyll feels his chest tight as you lean your head on your shoulder contentedly. He tries not to read it into, hoping you can’t hear how loudly his heart is pounding. He takes a drink from the wine bottle straight, the same place your lips touched moments ago.

He likes you, too. The words don’t come out right.

“Yes…I’m,” He’s speechless, hands folded in his lap as he stares at you. “Me too. Our journey together has proved important to me. Thank you.”

You smile but don’t say anything more.

___

With the goblin camp clear, the journey towards the Shadowfell lands becomes increasingly pervasive. You’ve done more traveling and less resting in the last few weeks than you have thus far in your journey.

Smoke clouds in the horizon are what draw you to Waukeens rest.

On your way to the mountain pass, for easy access to the city, lay a massacre of bodies and fire. The distress has far from subsided. The thick smog continues to build, folds into itself like massive heaps of wool - suffocating everything on every path in its surroundings. The smell of ash is invasive, even from a fair distance away.

Blood trails from one end of the path towards the main entrance. As your party’s distance begins to close in, Wyll feels his lungs fill up with a familiar tightness. The burning air makes his eyes and lungs sting.

“Shit, the fire is still burning. There must still be people in need of aid. We should,” You cough hard as you look at what's in front of you. Eyes squinted trying to make out the horizon. “We should get there and see if we can aid them,”

Astarion groans “For just one day, could we rest? Leave this nonsense up to the other wandering travelers desperate for recognition? Is that asking so much?”

“As long as I’m pinning down bodies for you to feed off, you’ve got to listen to me, you know? You laugh warmly at his sarcasm. “Now, If you don’t stop complaining you’ll fall behind, pretty boy, and there’ll be not a thing left for you to suck dry.”

“I should report you for that, you know. Threats of starvation against the imprisoned violate the law,”

You laugh a little as you start to make your way forward. The four of you jog towards the entrance of Waukeens rest with urgency, more yours and Wyll’s than Astarion’s and Shadowheart’s.

Among the scenery at the front entrance of Waukeens rest - what concerns Wyll most is not the death. Not the bodies ashen among flame or the flames themselves that continue to widen and encompass. It is that, among those bodies, are members of the Flaming Fist. Past the sour memory of his life comes the worry, the fear.

What in the Hells are the Flaming Fist doing around this area?

Away from the woman praying over a body, are a small number of Fist’s pushing on the doorway of a locked and burning building. You’re quick to run to it. Wyll barely keeps up.

Before you can ask about the situation at hand, a Flaming Fist member addresses you and your party.

“Grand Duke Ravengard could be inside, don’t just stand there - push!”

Wyll’s voice betrays him, speaking before he has a minute to think. “Ravengard? He’s here?”

“Yes, now make yourself useful- push, damn it, push!”

Wordlessly from next to him, you gear yourself up and push kick the door in. Strong enough that the wood crumbles to nothing, Wyll watches the doors open wide and the flames that lick at the inside of the building. A cloud of smoke billows out as the Flaming Fist pour in, your party quick to follow in alongside them.

Through the thickets of smoke and up stairs half-broken, sounds Counselor Florrick's voice from behind the broken door. Maneuvering through ember and broken floorboard, you proceed the same as you did before. Pushing through the crowd of people surrounding the door - you use your foot and kick the door in again, causing it to break nearly instantly.

Counselor Florrick coughs as she makes her way outside.

“Come. I’m afraid proper thanks must wait,” She says with a heaved breath. It’s too clouded with smoke for Wyll to make anything of her face and Wyll can only assume that is the case both ways.

Back down through the way you came, you take a deep inhale of smoke and cough. The scent must be nauseating, far too much for you - but you don’t let it show through your face.

Once everyone has been accounted for outside, Counselor Florrick approaches your party in the broad daylight of the courtyard. It’s there she recognizes Wyll.

“Hold on,” Wyll says, reaching into his pack. He hands you a sachet of herbs he’d purchased alongside you from a merchant in the goblin camp. “For your nose,”

You give him a look of surprise, your ears perking up and tails swishing as you take it from him gratefully, holding it up to your nose for a deep breath.

“Fuck, thank you.” You reply gratefully. Wyll nods in reply.

“Counsellor Florrick - are you alright?” Wyll says first, concern pouring through. Regardless of all else.

It’s clear right away, the horror in his face once she’s seen what’s become of him. Wyll lets it roll off of his back, the momentary sting not enough to make him flinch. It’s a reminder to start adjusting to what will be one of many.

Her sympathy is tangible, though it doesn’t make Wyll feel better.

“Wyll - by the Maimed God, what’s become of you?”

He shakes his head to dismiss the thought. “A story best left for calmer days. Now breathe deeply, are you in pain?”

“A scorched throat, a few hairs singed off. Nothing a bit of time and fresh air can’t cure.”

Wyll’s shoulder sag with relief. She turns to address the Flaming Fist accompanying her.

“Gauntlet, a new duty calls. Drow have taken Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard - westward if my eyes and ears can be believed.” She pauses, thinking before giving further instruction “Report to the manip and send for reinforcements. We must find the Grand Duke.”

“On your command, Counsellor.” The head of the Gauntlet affirms, bowing their head before taking off.

It’s there that Wyll feels panic. Uncertainty like nothing he’s felt in the last seven years. Maybe longer. No longer a passing thought or a sour memory, concern for his father washes out what might’ve been grief.

“No. It can’t be. You mean, they’ve taken -”

Counselor Florrick's expression darkens. “Yes, Wyll. The drow have your father.”

“Shit, what? Wyll, you’re a noble?” You interject for the first time in the conversation. When Wyll turns to you, above all else is concern. He shakes his head.

“The circumstances of my birth are no matter of pride for neither me nor my father. But pride is no reason to refuse help to my own flesh and blood. How can we help?.”

“Rescue Ravengard from his drow captors. Baldur's Gate needs him, now more than ever,” She says, addressing you primarily and Wyll after. She pauses to examine Wyll a second time, like now that she’s out of the smoke she is really looking.

A passing glance of her brings back memories of a childhood long forgotten. Days spent in courtyards training the sword and waiting for father to finish his duties. An ache starts to form in the cavity of his chest, but Wyll swallows it.

Where duty calls, it is only common sense the Blade will answer. He holds a fist over his heart and bows.

“Trust us to see it through, Counsellor.”

“Who is this Duke Ravengard?” You ask, finally - though it’s not to him. Rather it’s to the Counselor. Wyll wonders if that’s a choice you’ve made on purpose.

“The invisible force holding Baldur’s Gate together. Without him, the city’s collapse is certain.” She pauses, looking troubled “I fear that may have been the intention of those who abducted him.”

“Shit. Then, not to be rude, but why entrust this to me? You have others at your command. More well equipped, I’d imagine,” You ask, bearing no hostility. A fair enough question for you, head of pack, with concerns for everyone else.

“Isn’t it clear? You travel with the Blade of Frontiers. Who might I trust, if not a legend? Who might rise to the moment, if not Ravengard’s own son?”

You pause to mull over her reply. Your brow is furrowed in concentration, before your focus returns to the Counselor.

“I don’t think the drow have taken him back to Menzoberranzan. More likely they’ve taken the Duke to Moonrise Towers.” You say tentatively. “Though Hells, I can’t be sure. Goblin’s bein’ here is weird and their affairs are tied together somehow. Plus, the drow we’ve met in this area so far have relations to other cultist bullshit,”

“I was thinking the same,” Wyll adds.

“Moonrise Towers? Along the old road? That place is cursed, few could survive there…unless darker forces are at work,” She pauses, taking a moment to assess the situation “This was no random attack, then. The Grand Duke was their target.”

After more deliberating, you look firmly at the Counselor and nod - a serious promise.

“Moonmaiden guide us - we’ll head to Moonrise towers and find Duke Ravengard. Though for now, I won’t promise anything.”

“Thank you. When the Grand Duke returns to the city, he’ll hail his only son a hero.” She says with a deep breath “Approach the towers with care. The land itself has been swallowed in shadow.”

She turns to address him this time “Remember Wyll. ‘Courage is found in the battle against fear, not in the defeat of it.’”

“So father said. I won’t soon forget it.”

“We’ll be heading off now, towards the towers. Take care of yourself.”

“You too, Counselor Florrick.”

With that, the Florrick disappears back out into the smoke and open road. Left in the aftermath is the rest of the party, not barring you - and Wyll with nothing but worry.

Your eyes find Wyll’s with ease, filled to the brim with concern. Wyll casts his gaze away instinctively.

“Shit,” Wyll swears, unsure of what the reaction from you will be.

“Wyll,” Your voice calls and soothes. Before his response forms in his mouth, he feels a hand on the nape of his neck. In a sudden movement, you lean into him. Even amongst the swallowing heat of fire and ember - Wyll is conscious of your skin. The scrapes and cuts on your fingers raised press against his own. You inhale a long breath and Wyll realizes what you’re doing. It’s confirmation when you pull away and glance at him seriously. “Can I trust you to tell me what’s going on?”

The question itself is exposing. It’s a raw nerve, split open, tender and unhealed. There’s no shame in it. Or maybe there is, always has been - and Wyll has spent nearly seven years outrunning it. This much he knows - he never intended to show you this part of himself.

And he knows that this is not the first time he’s betrayed your trust. You ask Wyll to trust you, and Wyll wants to explain he always has.

There is no betrayal in your face, no disappointment.

You come to him ready to receive anything. Crystal clear eyes and a sincerity in your heart - there is so much said in so little.

“I’m sorry. It was never,” He’s struck by grief in a sudden moment. You’re kind, but it goes well beyond just that. “I had no intent to hide it.”

“But you had no intent to share it either,” You say, your voice soft-spoken and tender. Forgiving, though you don’t make Wyll feel like there’s something he needs forgiveness for. “It’s okay. We’re damn similar sometimes aren't we?”

When you let go of Wyll, he stares at you. Wide-mouthed and unsure of himself. For a brief moment, his surroundings become blurry. There’s no one else in the party. There’s no smoke. There’s no fire. No ash. For a brief moment, there’s just you - and you’re smiling. You feel like forgiveness.

“Florrick spoke true,” Wyll affirms, unsure of what to do with himself. “I am a Grand Duke’s son.”

“Not just a grand duke - Ravengard has more power and influence than anyone.” Astarion adds.

“My father and I were close. Once upon a time. Until he disowned me and cast me out of Baldur’s Gate,” Wyll says with a hardened heart. He’s forgiven his father. He’s spent years rationalizing the choice he made. But he’s reminded in an instant that the wound is still tender. “I can’t tell you more - the pact forbids it. My lips are quite literally sealed.”

“Okay,” You give Wyll a look, clear and bright. “Then, Wyll - do you want to save your father?”

He wasn’t expecting that to be your only question. It must show that he’s taken aback, but you remain where you are unflinching.

“Yes, I—yes. Regardless of our relationship, he remains my flesh and blood.” You press your lips together, an encouraging half smile, prompting him. “And I don’t want him to fall into the hands of Absolutists for any reason. He made me an exile, but I’m not about to let him suffer at the hands of his captors.”

“Alright. Then we’ll save him,” You brush over the weight of that sentence, addressing your other companions. “The only lead we’ve got so far is Moonrise towers, so we’ll stick to our original plans. Visiting the creche and then traveling through the Underdark.”

Wyll stares at you as you continue to talk, the words feeling like little more than noise. Lost in thought, you let him remain undisturbed. When your eyes meet, you don’t do anything more than grin - fang poking out form underneath your lip.

And it’s the second time in his life, Wyll feels like you’re seeing something he can’t. Himself, maybe.

A confrontation with the githyanki and a red dragon later, you return to camp the night of visiting Waukeen’s rest.

When night falls, you join Wyll in his tent. The gesture is innocent. You ask about having a sleepover. Wyll tries to remember there’s nothing but friendship between you. Eventually helets you into the cramped space of his tent. There’s barely enough space for you both, but you manage.

Before bed, you ask Wyll to tell you about himself. Anything he can afford to tell you. For a long while, he talks about being the Blade of Frontiers. But then, when it’s late enough and the gap between you continues to shrink - he talks about his life in the city. It doesn’t happen on purpose. Wyll is hardly so ungentlemanly. It’s unlike him to cluelessly go on and on about himself.

You just happen to know exactly the right questions. Before Wyll knows it, he’s telling you about all of his escapades. His life as a nobleman's son and escaping to fraternize with lower city youth.

Wyll can’t disclose his pact to you, but he can tell you about the kiss he had at fifteen. He can tell you about the first time he lost a tooth, or describe the well-worn picture of his late mother in his fathers wallet. For a while, Wyll recounts tales of a life he’d thought he’d abandoned. When the words come out, they don’t feel like violence. Don’t coat his mouth with the bitter taste of iron. Instead they taste light like memories, and come out just as soft.

He doesn’t remember when either of you drift off to sleep.

When morning comes and Wyll finds you still in his tent, he feels the ability to claim plausible deniability drift away from him.

You mean more to him than he thought. The moment passes to tell you.

___

The journey to the Underdark is never an easy one.

Underneath the desecrated Selune temple was the beaten path. A long ladder down through a broken Selunite outpost. Not only have you all fought a spectator, a bullete, several hook horrors and an entire beach of duegars - you’ve just slaughtered an Absolutist leader with your bare hands.

The remaining duegar have fled the scene after a night to recover, leaving Nere’s body for the lot of you to loot. The gnomes have gone too. Wyll tries to hold confidence all of them will make it in one piece.

The Sovereign had made his request clear, slaughter Nere and bring his head. Wyll has watched you kill and devour several bodies in your time together, but there’s something novel about watching you do it now. A knife, pulled out from your sheath - sharp as it cuts and saws through the flesh. It’s a clean, precise slice. Nothing like you, Wyll thinks fondly.

He can surmise that it’s because you’re rather fond of the myconid colony. They’re kind to you and you are always fond of those who are kind. In that way you’re easy to appease. But he didn’t know you were capable of this level of care. You tend to be matted and ruddy. Generally messy.

Wyll likes you that way.

The head comes off the body unceremoniously. You wrap a cloth underneath the bottom, and tuck it in your pack along some cubes of ice you had Gale make you with magic that morning.

Wyll only sees the outline of your back. He watches as you stretch your palms out and examine them for blood. When you find none, you turn around with a little tired sigh.

Promptly, you prop yourself onto Shadowheart. Your ear and tails have made a reappearance, your chin resting on her shoulder.

“I'm tiiiiiiiiired,” You whine, long and drawn out. Your teeth stick out from your lips when you pout, Wyll notices. The heat of the forge and all of the surrounding lava have your skin sticky with sweat. The deep purple of the destroyed Sharran enclave feels out of place among the fires “I don’t want to go to the Shadowfell lands. I won’t. You can’t make me,”

You’ve picked up a habit of being touchy. You tend to cling to Shadowheart, which Wyll finds ironic. Even with her cold exterior, the half-elf doesn’t push you off when you hug or pester her. You make promises to Karlach you’ll join her for it once her engines all fixed. Lae’zel finds it pointless. Halsin doesn’t mind, and likes to turn into a bear so all the furry creatures at camp can turn into big pile.

Gale also doesn’t mind, but the wizard usually airs on the side of embarrassment - a faint blush crawling over him whenever you wrap yourself thoughtlessly about him. Astarion pretends to reject it, but willingly pets and scratches you when he feels less combative. Something you happily recieve.

And Wyll… well, it doesn’t bother him. You approach him often enough, and he’d be hard-pressed on a reason to reject you.

(He ignores the way your touch seems to linger, unsure if he’s seeing things that don’t belong. Wyll is fond of you. Your heart is good - he thinks of you often but he isn’t so sure that means something. Well it means plenty to him, but what of you?

You like the sensation of physical affection, he reminds himself Nevermind the times you’ve fallen asleep as a wolf in his lap. Nevermind the occasional naps in his tent, or whines when he’s too busy to pay you mind.)

“You’re not ferocious at all, do you know? More like a drooling mutt than a werewolf,” Shadowheart huffs sarcastically.

“What I lack in ferocity I make up for in vigor.” You reply with a hum, rubbing your cheek against Shadowheart’s shoulder. “And the situation doesn’t spark any vigor in me. We’ve already been underground this long and next we’re going somewhere even darker.”

Astarion pipes up, sitting criss-cross onto the marbled floor in one of the few spots free of blood, sorting through his varied belongings and trinkets. “I would figure werewolves and vampires share their love for the darkness, no?”

“We can’t see the moon well from either place. I need to see the moon to track some things related to my form. I count the phases in my head but if I don’t see it for too long - I start getting homesick like a man at sea.” You whine and huff again, this time peeling yourself off of Shadowheart and throwing yourself onto Wyll.

He steadies himself enough not to topple over by your strength and weight as you drape yourself across his back. You nuzzle your cheek against him tenderly. It’s different to how you do it to Shadowheart or Astarion (when he’s not adamantly pushing you away.) It’s more tender, closer. Your nose brushes against the nape of his neck. Wyll doesn’t flinch, even at the warmth of your breath. You inhale again and Wyll can hear the swish of your tail.

He pretends to be ignorant of it and doesn’t push you away - instead laughing lightly.

“Oh, Moonmaiden - let your moon be my light, and I shall let my sword be your shining symbol.” You recite with a sigh. The words reverberate along his skin. “Moon my love, you are terribly missed.”

“Keep your Selunite prayer out of my ears, would you?”

“Don’t be so moody, my cold blooded Sharran. Our Lady of SIlver is a kind and accepting goddess, so her blessing will extend even to you.”

Shadowheart crinkles her nose. You laugh noisily next to Wyll’s ear. He smiles softly.

“After we’ve delivered the head to the Sovereign, we can travel back overhead before going into the Shadowfell. That way, you’ve had some time with the moon and we’re able to get in more rest before taking it on,”

You pull away from him now, grabbing his shoulder to turn him around with a laugh. Wyll looks at you wide-eyed as you grin at him, knocking your foreheads together innocently.

“Ah, what a great idea! If everyone else is on board, then let’s make our way to the Sovereign now and recoup on the surface. We’ll return to Grymforge come mornin’ and head off that way. Is everyone on board with that?”

You look around for affirmation before resting your gaze on Wyll with a smile.

Wyll feels his heart tug slightly, returning your smile before averting his eyes. You scamper off to Astarion, attention easily pulled in every which way. Shadowheart saunters towards him.

“You’re rather obvious, Blade of Frontiers. I thought a folk hero would have a little more suave about these matters.”

Wyll clears his throat.

“...I don’t know what you’re referring too.”

Shadowheart laughs good-naturedly.

“Sure you don’t.”

___

There are few times you take your proper werewolf form.

It’s an accommodation thing from Wyll’s understanding. People are frightened less of full wolves or your humanoid forms. The hybridized version of yourself is what people find the most monstrous, and so - you’ve gotten used to putting on the shelf.

The only time you take that form is when you hunt for meat. It’s easy enough to get ahold of other camp supplies - like liquor or vegetables if they’re lucky. But meat is hard to find, especially hard to find where it hasn’t got spoiled. Astarion hunts only out of necessity, so he’s not really any help.

You hunt because it’s natural to you. A life of pilgrimage and spent in a Selunite enclave has gifted you the knowledge of preserving meats, too. When you’re camped out near enough forest - you’ll hunt. Most often before a long stretch of travel, you’ll go into the woods alone and disappear - returning with a feast. No one goes with you. In the forest, among fallen trees and soil - you’ll gut and skin the prey. You’ll bring back the final products, clean hides and things to turn to leather and meat ready for curing. It’s to prevent any more unusual bloodshed from occurring at camp. More sanitary, you always say.

Wyll has no intention of following you tonight while he knows you’re hunting. His interest in the woods is to scope them out one last time before you leave this place for good, keep it in his memory and prepare for the road ahead.

When he hears the sound of a faint growling, he thinks for a minute you’ve been injured or are in some kind of danger.

The moon is shining just enough to cast light on your form. He figures out quickly you’re safe.

There’s nothing new to see. Thick, crimson blood makes a mess of your appearance - dripping down your fangs. It sticks and matts in your fur, covering your face in messy splatters. Your werewolf form is your most monstrous. Unnatural limbs and features - a form like a human but the face and ferocity of a wolf.

In front of you are corpses of animals, bled out and laid in a pile. The scent of blood is so strong Wyll can smell it from a distance away. It’s a distance you’d usually be able to smell Wyll from, but it must be masked by the smell of copper and flesh.

The moon has waned, nearly to its fullest. You turn yourself towards the black sky of midnight, towards the moon - and you howl. It is a loud, tremendous sound.

Wyll has never heard you howl before. It’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard in his life. An elongated melody, deep from your chest - high and throaty. You howl to the sky. You howl to the moon. To your goddess, most certainly. You howl in the version of yourself everyone finds most disgusting. The monster in you is alive and bare-chested to the world. Stood on your two feet, all matted fur and eyes like beams of light - you howl towards the sky.

And Wyll watches. Listens. Commits the sound to memory.

In the version of yourself that is so embraced by monstrosity, you howl like a song to the moon you so adore.

He’s never found you so beautiful.

___

Time moves differently in the Shadowfell lands.

Slower. In every other part of Fae’run, the nights and days don’t blur into each other. But here, in the abandoned and unyielding darkness - everything feels thick. Muddy. The soil that does not dampen, the trees that do not grow leaves. Instead of preserved amber, there is only shadow. It swallows everything, every place in the land.

The upward battle of survival persists. The Harpers have (barely) welcomed you into the Last Light Inn. Flaming Fist Marcus is dead, and the Moon Maiden has given her her blessing. You’ve even been able to give Karlach her first upgrade.

The air speaks for itself though, that you’re nearing something important. The beginning of something. Or the end, though Wyll sways towards hope and optimism.

In the presence of darkness and solace, -Wyll finds that you remain yourself. Bright and clear and comforting, even in the face of impending doom.

Your camp in the Shadowfell lands is brightened by artificial lights. It spans over more land now. The main area which hosts all of your companions lies at the foot of an abandoned building. An abandoned house, torn by vines of shadowfell and roots. The base of camp is spread over dusty ashen floors, everything colored gray.

When it’s time to rest, most lights remain on. He finds it’s easier to sleep with Selune’s blessing.

Tonight, Wyll can't get any rest at all. He’s still awake while his companions have fallen asleep. He opens his eyes to the skies. They lack the deep shades of purple of a normal night sky, unmistakably dark.

His eyes remain lidded as he takes a look at his surroundings. Shadowheart is asleep, and Astarion is deep enough in meditation that Wyll doubts he’d noticed if he walked off. Among his companions, you’re missing from your bedroll.

Wyll sits up as quietly as he can. He looks towards your tent, to see if you’ve woken up to sleep inside - but doesn’t find you there either. His brow tightens, shoulders tense as he blinks rapidly trying to wake himself up.

There aren’t many places in this camp to go, despite the terrain being wider. The other tent occupants remain in place. From where Wyll stands you’re not with anyone else like Karlach or Halsin.

There’s only one more place that would leave you.

Through a curve and another straight path are wood stairs. At the top is a skeleton of an old house. One that stood long before the curse, and remains long after.

Wyll has never gone there on his own. He only saw it once while they’d settled in for the first time. There’s nothing inside of it. A fireplace, a broken cupboard and cabinet. A table and chair, and two old beds that have gone rickety overtime.

He ducks his head as he enters through what must’ve once been a door.

It occurs to him he’s never really seen you pray. Not fully at least. Though you utter it on occasion, the words of your goddess - you tend to speak them lightly. Wyll gathers its out of respect for Shadowheart.

He finds you on the edge of a large bed in the center of the room. You’re in your humanoid form, with only your ears and tail and teeth - your hands are clasped tightly around a necklace. The fireplace is burning, but it’s not what illuminates you.

All around you though is a pale blue glow, like the moon itself has surrounded you with all of its might. You’re quiet in incantation - the warmth of a smile lighting up your features. You’re not in your usual nightwear of a loose shirt and pants. Instead you wear the silk of a slip and something like a Selunite robe, open. Wyll has seen so much of your skin before, everything past your knees barren. But its a new feeling. Your neck and shoulders are just the same, your hand on your chest ducking from view.

You breathe deeply, before your eyes flutter open and see him at the door. You smile at him.

“You’re awake,” You say first, letting go of the necklace chain. “Hope everything’s alright?”

“Sorry. And yes, everything is fine - I had just woken up and couldn’t find you,” Wyll feels flush as he adds the rest to the conversation “And I uhm. Well I was worried something might have happened.”

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry. I figured everyone would be asleep so I didn’t bother telling anyone,” You say apologetically “Our Silver Lady called to me so I felt I ought to answer.”

You pause before laughing. “Wait, sit first. Unless you’re going back to sleep right away.”

Wyll shakes his head as your grin widens making his heart feel rather funny.

He sits next to you, fond as you bring your leg up and face him. Your back rests on the broken wood at the foot of the bed. You’ve tidied the room a bit, and these sheets don’t have as much dust as they did when you first got here.

Wyll mirrors your actions, sitting with a leg up - bent at the knee as he stares at you.

“You said your goddess called to you?”

“Ah, yes,” Your voice is uncharacteristically shy. Wyll can’t help but stare at the bare crook of your knees. “Shadowheart had mentioned it. There’s something in these lands. And well, wherever Shar goes, Selune will follow and all. Don’t really know what it means, though. Bit of mystery.”

“You’re a cleric, right?” Wyll asks, taking a brief moment to assess and remember all the little details about yourself you’ve told him.

When he thinks of it, there’s so much about you he doesn’t know. Though he feels you know everything there is to know about him. It’s not that you’re secretive, but it’s rare to get a moment alone. Harder to find a moment appropriate to air out your past.

Alone with you in this shadowy, dimly lit room - Wyll hopes time will slow. Long enough to know something more about you, at least.

“Right. I try not to crutch too much on my magic so I tend to stick to fighting,” You say with a laugh “I also had to learn physical combat and martial arts. It feels like a waste not to use.”

“I see,” Wyll says with a thoughtful hum “But you are a cleric, all the same. Quite an impressive title to bestow on someone, I’d imagine.”

“Ah, truthfully - I find it a bit difficult,” You reply sheepishly, surprising Wyll.“I’m sort of simple, all things considered. I thought I’d be my Lady’s sword or just part of her clergy, but I never imagined I’d do anything so important. Or have powers so great.”

The sound of your voice feels especially pleasant to Wyll like this, murmurs just between you with no threat of doom. Like between these broken wooden planks, is a peace impenetrable. He likes being with you.

“Before your capture, were you? Set out to do something important, I mean,”

“Importance is relative. But, it was a mission I was proud taking,” You reply thoughtfully. A confirmation of the sanctity in your character for you to make such a distinction. “I had been sent by my clergy to wander Faerun - to aid other lycanthropes and those touched by madness or ailment.

“You alone had been sent?

You nod, staring down at your hands folded in your lap.

“Aye, me alone. I’d wandered around for several years when I was sent away before the ship had captured me. I was on my way to Baldur’s Gate as part of it,”

“Where do you hail from?”

“Amn. There’s a few small Selunite enclaves there. Mama was a Silverstar, which is mostly a pretty word for a very powerful priestess. My fate was divined when I was seventeen and the rest is history.”

“Seventeen is young. What was your final destination then? Or was it more of a wandering practice.”

“After some years, I was hoping to get to Waterdeep actually. Big church for Selune over there, very beautiful.” Your voice teeters on wistful, blooming with longing and nostalgia. You peek at Wyll through your lashes. “In that way, we have a lot in common.”

“A lot in common. Do you really think so?”

“Mm, I do. Banished at seventeen, a monster inside us, some sort of tragic background. We make a fun pair.”

“I didn’t know there was a tragic story in yours. To the extent you could call it one,” Wyll says quietly. You give Wyll a look. Though he doesn’t pressure you to expand on it, you seem relaxed enough to talk about it.

You close your eyes briefly, letting them flutter open.

“It was a year into my pilgrimage, I think,” You explore, a soft sadness tender in your expression. Wyll sits up a little straighter, readying himself to receive whatever you wish to tell him. “A small village in the Dalelands. Young girl, about seven. Her village had ostracized her. By the time I arrived, she was emaciated. Clever little thing had survived on her own but barely,”

Wyll waits patiently for you to continue, not wanting to interrupt you even briefly. He softens his gaze.

“Anyway. When I go anywhere new, the basic practice is meeting locals. Depending on the circumstances, I won’t always disclose my wolven ways. Some people - they need guidance, others they need protection. In her case, she needed both,” You look far away somehow. Wyll feels empathy as much as he feels warmth. Your care for the human condition, he always finds, touches him. “She was much smarter than me, you know. Her lycanthropy was inherited like mine, but because she was so young - she had a difficult time controlling it.”

You pause to take a long, deep, steadying breath. “She was my little genius. I cared for her an awful lot. Still do. She beat me at lanceboard all the time, despite being seven and I wasn’t even letting her win you know.”

“She must’ve been even more brilliant than I could imagine.” Wyll offers. You nod.

“Despite my efforts, the relationship between her and her village wasn’t getting better. One day, I’d left her in my chambers for a while - to bring something back from a market nearby. Less than a few hours, and she’d been uhm,” Your voice starts to close. Wyll follows his instinct, squeezing your hand where it rests on your knee. It’s shaking when he reaches for it. He thinks briefly about kissing it. “She’d been killed,”

Wyll pauses, lets you collect yourself. But he wants to know as much as you’ll tell him.

“It was easy enough to figure out who’d done it. And in small villages like that, the hivemind bullshit and paranoia really gets to people,” Your voice intones on bitterness. Angry and heartbroken, you continue “Grown men raising an ax to kill a little girl. I almost lost my mind. I should’ve.”

“But you didnt…? Or did you? In a situation like that, well,” Wyll looks at you sympathetically. “Any choice you made I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

“I only punished the one who killed her. I didn’t kill him no matter how much I wanted to. I don’t think she would’ve wanted that. Not her or my goddess,” You say with a deep sigh. “I used my magic and blinded him. Made an example out of him and reprimanded the rest of those fucking idiots.”

“And after?”

You clear your throat, but smile at him. Like you’re grateful he hasn’t recoiled from it.

“After, I buried her body in the soft earth, in the place where the moon shone most brightly - and mourned. Her death was so severe I couldn’t revive or heal her, I just buried…her. I thought about doing plenty of other shit. To kill, to chase, to defend - but ultimately, it felt more…meaningful just to… bury her.”

Wyll frowns, pausing. He squeezes your hand, eyes closed. Brows furrowed as he looks down.

“I’m sorry,”

You smile at him. Noticing the hand in yours finally, you even flush - though the moment passes quickly. Wyll stares at you in quiet, wondering if his eyes alone could tell you all he’s thinking. With you, his silver tongue is absent. His mouth is weighed too heavily with feelings sincere, with words meaningful.

Wyll cannot offer you cleverness or comfort where he wishes to offer you honesty.

“That night, the Moonmaiden had called to me. Just like today. It’s hard to explain what it feels like? Like a cool hand on feverish skin. It was a revelation for me. I had suddenly felt so empty. And, after some sobbing, I’d realized something,” You say whimsically, drawing circles into the back of Wyll’s hand.

“What did you realize?” He prompts.

“Our Lady of Silver believes in the carving and following of our own path. But, what had I done but what was told of me? All my life I’d spent in the temple, in the monastery - among people of my own faith and beliefs. In the moment in which I felt so much anger, I didn’t know what to do. I was lost. I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel. Not on purpose, but that was the truth. I swore myself too soon to duty rather than the convictions of my heart—I’d lacked real purpose.”

Wyll smiles at you, brightened by the gusto in which you speak. He’s endeared by you all too easily.

“And the convictions of your heart? Have you found them?” He asks, head tilted.

“Not all of them. But you know I figured out one thing. I want to make the world a less lonely place. Her death will never not bear weight on my mind, but her tiny hand thanking me for staying with her. That was something, I’m damn sure. Maybe all of it,”

He stares at you, speaking in quiet murmurs. You’re glowing, he thinks. You must be.

“It’s a noble thing to want. At least to me.”

“I’m glad you think so. My goddess has given me these divine powers, so my duty will always be to help people. But more than that - I want to guide the sick and afraid like the Moonmaiden guides me. I want to make it less difficult for people.”

“You’re awfully wise at times like this.”

“Wise?” You laugh lightly. “I’ve never heard that for me before. More used to hearing stuff like hard-headed, pack runt, cry baby. So on and so forth. But I’ll cherish it before you change your mind.”

“Do you feel fulfilled here? Becoming a hero of a city, saving so many people - surely that too aligns with your convictions”

“Asking an awful lot about me,” You tease finally. Wyll is hard-pressed to deny it. It’s so obvious. “But I do. I’d say managing to become Astarion’s friend is a high enough accomplishment with regards to you know, my convictions and all. It’s honestly like my life’s work. He even pets me now. Willingly!”

Wyll laughs loudly at the sudden excitement in your voice. You haven’t let go of his hand, he notices.

He hopes you don’t.

“Quite an impressive feat, certainly. But I am a little hurt. Does our bond not incite a similar sense of accomplishments and vigor in you?” He teases.

You pretend to consider it.

“The Blade of Frontiers, my most important companion.” You respond, with just as much cheekiness. “Calling it an accomplishment might be too egotistical.”

“What else do you suppose you’d call it?”

“Fate, maybe,” You say, though your voice is hardly above a murmur now. “Somehow, the fact we’ve met feels more like a very lucky chance, I reckon.”

“You feel so strongly about it?” Wyll says, more than asks. Because somehow it feels too much like a dream.

“Of course. I feel strongly about you in general,” You respond, and still don’t let go of his hand. You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world “I feel strongly about us. And all we’ve seen, together. I feel strongly that regardless of all the darkness, the moon waits for me and that I’m very lucky to have met you.”

Wyll feels his heart jump into his throat. Hardly a confession, yet his heart pounds. The longing is ceaseless.

In all the time you’ve spent together, Wyll has had all the time in the world to witness you. In your bravery and in your cowardice. At the best of yourself, and at the worst. Wyll has seen you lie when you’d rather be honest. He’s seen you cry countlessly for the deaths of people you’ve never known. He’s seen you tear through flesh and bone. He’s seen you as a furred creature laid on your back so Halsin would rub your stomach. He’s seen you as tenderly, achingly human.

Wyll has seen so much of you. And perhaps more than that - you have seen so much of him. Parts of himself even he has no access to. A passing comment of how dashing his horns look, a pat on the shoulder when you pass a father and son. You see Wyll even when he forgets to see himself.

Between you, there is no question that he is lucky. The luckiest man on Toril.

“You know, when everything is through. Not if, but when,” Wyll says slowly and carefully. “I want to remain by your side. Wherever that road leads. I want us to be together or travel together. Though I don’t know what that would look like,”

You give him a look of surprise, then a teasing smile - titling your head to one side.

“I might go somewhere you don’t want to follow, Ravengard. I’m a wanderer at heart.”

“Impossible. I’ve already followed you here, remember?” Wyll says with a smile, eyes meeting yours “As long as we’re together, no place is too dark nor too treacherous.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“There’d be no greater honor.”

When Myrkul falls, the world is silent.

For a first time, in a long time - the Shadowfell lands do not whisper the regrets of the dead. Instead, the remaining shadow swallowing the world begins to finally clear. In gradual steps, life returns to the land at Moonrise.

And this is in no small part thanks to you.

Though, Wyll watches you as you insist the glory is split between your party equally. You’re all heroes, and you couldn’t have done it without them by your side. Wyll knows you mean that.

It was you who took down the foes at Moonrise towers in slow increments, that planned and slaughtered until there was nothing left of it. It was you who destroyed the Thorms one by one. You who allowed Wyll to break Mizora’s pact. You who completed the gauntlet of Shar, who saved the Nightsong with your own two hands. That helped Astarion with the letters on his back, and that prevented Gale from using his orb - because you were so certain you all could win without it.

It was your touch and kindness that gave Shadowheart grace enough to throw away her Sharran roots, to throw away her past and embrace her own convictions just like you had promised to embrace yours.

The world has not been saved. The journey to the end has only become more perilous. But in the palm of your hand is the Netherstone of the fallen general - and an entire allegiance waiting to follow you into battle. The world has not been saved, and it is only bound to get more treacherous.

But for now, you’ve accomplished something great - and Wyll is proud to be alongside you for all of the rest, as you move onto things even greater.

For now, all of you remain at camp. A two day extended break before venturing towards the city. Among your camp now is the famed harper Jaehira and more importantly - Dame Aylin, the chosen of your goddess. And the cleric Isobel, her lover, of course.

Dame Aylin’s arrival at your camp has sparked plenty of interesting conversations. Revelations of Shadowheart’s identity aside (something you’ve been helping her through), Dame Aylin is not just a fellow Selunite - but the daughter of your beloved goddess. Not only have you just saved her life, you’ve freed her from thousands of years of torment.

Wyll doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so utterly awe-struck in your adventure together, even once. You’re a hard person to shake in many ways, and you’re excitable - but nearly never truly awestruck like the way you have been for the last two days.

Wyll is listening in on the interaction from afar, only taking small peeks at you as you, Shadowheart, Dame Aylin and Isobel crowd around in your tent. Your tail is swishing so helplessly behind you Wyll can’t help but laugh.

“God. You’ve been staring like a dumb puppy for two days now,” Shadowheart teases, rubbing your head with her hand “You’re going to catch flies with your jaw like that.”

“Ah, I’m sorry,” You say, a little embarrassed. Wyll smiles to himself as he pretends to read, thankful to be in earshot “I’m sorry, I’m just… It was already nice meeting another Selunite but…I could live a thousand lives and not meet you Miss Aylin.”

“Your formality is misplaced. Aylin is just fine. We are comrades in all regards, both in our faith and in arms. I’m thankful you’ve given us a place to stay for the time being,”

“Camp welcomes all as policy. It helps to have allies and in lands like these, seems a little cruel to leave people to the wilds. Though soon that won’t be an issue,”

“You’ve accomplished something incredible,” Isobel praises. Wyll glances at you, a warmth settling in his chest at the surprise you seem to feel. “Lifting the curse from these lands, it was no small task.”

“It was all of our contribution! I’m just glad we’re a little bit closer to getting rid of these pests.” You lament with a dramatic sigh “And I’m excited to be in a place where I can feel the presence of the moon again.”

“It must be hard on you,” Isobel says sympathetically. You smile.

“I can hardly imagine,” Aylin adds, shaking her head. “There is perhaps some small blessing in the fact you’re gifted with control, but the effects that these lands must have on your body. May She ease your burden.”

Shadowheart gives you a look of confusion. “You know, you’ve mentioned this to me before - but I don’t actually know how it affects your conditions,” Her frown deepens. “A little hypocritical given how much you know about me at this point, I think.”

You look surprised then flattered. “It was never worth mentioning. My body has certain cycles that are affected by the moon. Similar to the tide. After 6 tendays, I go through something like.. a fever as a result of a full moon. Though I’ve been suppressing it with medication, my body at a certain point needs to expel it.”

“A fever?”

This catches Wyll’s attention. You’ve mentioned your condition in passing and always left the details vague (something Wyll is extra aware of given your love of being open in most everything) so this is the most he’s ever heard about it. He stops turning pages and tunes in completely.

“Sort of. The details aren’t important, really. I’ve gone through it for years, so I’m more than used to it. Especially on the road,” You explain, waving your hand. “Silver Lady bless me, I don’t think it’ll begin until we’re in the city at least. Near civilization and all.”

“Do you need anything from us?” Shadowheart probes with obv. Lately when it comes to you, she doesn’t bother feigning indifference.

“No, it’s okay. I’m used to it! I was going to mention it though soon, so I guess it’s a good thing it came up,” You lean back on your palms, legs crossed as you close your eyes. “I’ll be gone for about a tenday. I’ll leave my tent here and just pack some essentials and fuck off to the woods. Like I said, I’ve been doing it for years.”

Shadowhearts frown deepens, as does Wylls.

“That was then and this is now. You’re a rather wanted individual, will that be safe? A tenday of solo travel?”

You give Shadowheart a delighted look before tackling her with a hug. She almost topples over but manages to keep herself upright as you hug and nuzzle her. She doesn’t push you off in any case. You laugh warmly, resting your chin on her shoulder.

“You’re really worried about me? Little old me? Have you opened your heart to me after all?” You say through a giggle, earning a few laughs from Dame Aylin and Isobel. You finally pull away to look at her. “I promise I will be completely fine. My senses around that time are extremely heightened. I’m feverish but it’s very difficult to catch me off-guard enough for some kind of ambush. Worst case scenario, I shift and run away.”

Shadowheart does not seem comforted by this. Wyll feels the same, thankful she’s being so adamant about it.

“I don’t like those odds,” She says with her arms crossed. “Is there no one you can bring with you?”

When she says that, you turn to Wyll. Your eyes lock briefly. You look a little startled, but relax once you realize that it’s him. Wyll is a little startled too, embarrassed by his own staring. He can only hope you didn’t notice how obviously he was moments prior. You take a minute to consider him, your gaze raking over him. It’s a split second, barely noticeable - but afterwards you flush. It happens so quickly that Wyll wonders if he’s imagined the entire thing.

You laugh and Wyll swears it sounds nervous.

“I get a little…aggressive during that time.” You say dismissively. “It’s best to leave me to my own devices. I promise you I will be perfectly fine.”

“I don’t know how much I believe that, but I’ll try to put my faith in you. Don’t make me worry while these damn parasites are still in our heads.”

You throw your head back and laugh brilliantly.

“I’ll make it back to you in one piece,” You say, holding your pinky out. Shadowheart hooks her own into yours with a blush. “I promise on the Moonmaiden herself.”

Shadowheart sighs, resting her head on your shoulder. Your smile grows ten sizes.

“You better.”

The journey, of course, does not get any easier.

You’ve barely made it to Rivington. Barely. Not only have you had to fight off a camp of hateful githyanki and earned the ire of an alien goddess - you’ve just found out the person protecting you is a mindflayer.

After a tremendous amount of difficult information launched at the lot of you, you’ve managed to regain your bearings (some kind of miracle, Wyll thinks). You’ve made it to Rivington. Finally.

Hells. What a troublesome situation.

You’ve been in Rivington for a few days now, though you haven’t made it far. After being at the circus and a somewhat harrowing fight with a shapeshifting clown, you decide to put up for the night. Before nightfall, you announced to everyone at camp that you’d be disappearing for your supposed fever. You can feel it coming on, and by the time it starts - traveling will be difficult.

Everyone has had their own way of fussing over you. Gale has given you some scrolls of his own curation. Astarion silently handed you one of his favorite daggers and a pack of expensive arrows. Lae’zel has given you some potions, testing your reflexes with you before your disappearance. Shadowheart gives you as many healing potions as she can, and her blessing with the help of Dame Aylin. Karlach has little to offer you in terms of things, instead knocking your heads together and telling you to scream as loud as you can if anything happens - and she’ll come running no matter what happens. Halsin has dried some food for you ahead of time, ever the planning kind.

Wyll only gives you a long look of concern. Most of the conversation between you is had with eyes, a soft glance meeting a concerned one. With Wyll, you hold his hand and assure him that you’ll be fine - and to take care of them in your short absence. You hug him extra tight before you leave.Wyll is forced to let you disappear.

It’s really not like Wyll to be so invasive on another person's business. He knows he can be a busybody when it comes to helping someone but for the most part - he’ll respect a person's wishes. If someone doesn’t want intervention, it’s not Wyll’s place to force it on them. He's learned from experience that sometimes it makes the situation worse.

But shit, the worry has been eating Wyll alive. He could hardly sit still in the brief two hours you had disappeared. The rest of the party have regrouped in your absence. Gale, Astarion, Shadowheart and Lae’zel - while Karlach and Wyll planned to stay behind. Wyll had wanted to go but Astarion wouldn’t allow him. Said his pining would get in the way of everything. He’s off his game, and it’s best to wait till you return.

It’s getting closer to evening, the sun beginning to set. Wyll just can’t sit still. There’s no way a tenday is going to pass like this without Wyll effectively losing his mind.

Just as the sky begins to be painted orange, Wyll troubles Shadowheart in the middle of her meditations.

One of her eyes opens as she breaks her concentration, an amused smile showing on her face.

“That was quick,” She says first, looking up at Wyll from where she’s kneeled. “I thought you’d wait at least a day,”

“Pardon?”

Shadowheart laughs. “Oh, to chase them down I mean. I knew it was going to happen eventually, but this is a little fast even for you, Ravengard.”

Wyll doesn’t know how to feel about that.

“My apologies for being predictable,” Wyll says with a sigh. “But since you were anticipating it, I have to ask if you know anything. Where they’d be. Anything.”

“This is exactly why they didn’t tell you, you know? Not that I’m not worried about them too,” Shadowheart says with a sigh. “But they were clear. They need a tenday alone.”

Wyll looks at her. “I’ve never been like this before, either. I don’t understand it, but I haven’t been able to take my mind off it despite my efforts. Regardless of what you tell me, it seems like I’m going to follow them,”

“Oh, please,” Shadowheart says, standing up and dusting herself off as she looks at him directly “You don’t know why? Don’t you think it’s time to be a little more honest with yourself, Wyll? I mean really.”

Wyll widens his eyes, a little taken aback by it. He flushes, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm. He scrunches his brow a bit, unsure of what to say to defend himself.

“Well, I am aware of why, I suppose. But it’s,” He fumbles in the process of trying to say anything sensible. “It’s new.. I didn’t think I was this sort of person. Something along those lines. It’s not that I don’t have confidence in them, but this isn’t something they need to endure alone.”

“Not when you’re there for them, I’m guessing,”

Wyll smiles a little sheepishly. “Yes. I respect their privacy. I’ll turn back if they ask me too,”

“Oh, don’t worry, that was easy enough to figure out.” Shadowheart teases. Wyll covers his face. Is he a schoolboy, being teased about his crush like this? How ridiculous. “At least you know.”

He sighs.

“Will you at least tell me what you know?”

“I’m still thinking about it.” Shadowheart says thoughtfully. She makes an exaggerated gesture of contemplating the situation before shrugging. “Hm. You know, I’ve entered a totally new chapter of my life - so, out of the kindness of my heart I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Thank you.” Wyll says truly grateful. Shadowheart gives him what Wyll thinks of as a semi-fond smile. He hopes this means she approves of whatever is going on. You two are close as ever, so it does matter to Wyll how she feels about it.

“They were rather vague about the situation,” Shadowheart says honestly. “But they did tell me the direction they were going to travel. There’ll be marks in the trees so they can make their way back if something happens. If you can find where they started, it should be easy enough to find where they end up. That’s all I know. Good luck.”

“Thank you, Shadowheart.”

“Oh and, go pack some things of your own before you go. Just in case you end up staying.”

“Right. I’ll do that now.”

“I’ll let everyone know so leave as soon as you can.”

“It looks like I'll be owing you quite a few favors.” Wyll offers. Shadowheart smiles.

“Of course. Nothing in life is free. But go, shoo. You should go before it gets too dark.”

Wyll gives her one last look of gratitude before hurrying to prepare a pack.

Wyll barely makes it before the darkness settles in.

There’s enough moonlight to guide him through the tricky paths of the forest. Let the record show, Wyll has no idea how you’ve navigated through here. Like Shadowheart had promised him - the trees began to be marked once Wyll found your paw prints on the ground. On each tree was a the slashing of a sharp dagger.

Despite the clear path you laid out, the terrain is utterly unforgiving for the longest time. Had the signs of you not been in front of him, Wyll would’ve given up on the affair. This is saying something, because his time as the Blade of Frontiers was far from a life of luxury.

It’s difficult but the promise of Wyll’s good eye laying its gaze on you is enough to push him through to the end of the journey.

Eventually, eventually - the path clears. The trees start to become sparse and the area starts to flatten to something walkable. The dirt hardens underneath his feet and his muscles no longer drag.

Before Wyll lays eyes on you, he hears you.

There’s a campfire, and the shelter of a borrowed tent. You’ve laid out plenty of old rags and bedsheets - layers and layers of dusty fabric and old pillows giving you a cushion from where you’re curled up on a tree.

Before Wyll can see you in the faint glow of fire, the only thing his mind can pay attention to is the sound of your voice.

A pained whimper, so loud and high pitched - Wyll is shocked he didn’t hear it some distance ago. You’re practically shaking, short snarls and desperate yowls between hard pants.You sound like you’re suffering something grave. It’s nothing he’s ever heard in your time together, despite the horrific injuries you’ve endured. Even at near death, Wyll has never heard more than labored breathing and groans.

It’s pure distress, so broken it rings in his ears. His concern grows ten sizes.

He decides then that no matter what you tell him, he won’t be able to go back to camp to leave you alone.

He fights the urge with his body to run towards you, remembering the state you’re in. Prone to aggression and high-alert, Wyll forces himself to approach you slowly.

As soon as he’s within range of you, your entire body lurches forward to sit up. Your eyes open, wide and nearly feral - searching erratically. Wyll pauses, no longer in a soft crouch. He stands to full attention. When you finally look at him, your chest shakes with an exhale. You lean back against the tree behind you where you’re curled, shaking.

“Fuck,” You cover your nose first, pressing your arm against it as you curl away from him instinctively. Wyll feels a mix of guilt and worry. “Fuck, what in the Hells are you doing here? Was it Shadowheart? Even—even though I told her,”

He moves in just a step closer. “I asked her. But I intended to find you even if you didn’t tell me. I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop thinking about what might happen,”

“Shit, don’t get any closer. I-I’m already, shit,” You hold up a hand, though your entire body is fragile. Weak, even from this distance. “Don’t move. You,” Another labored breath “Go back.”

Wyll stills, but doesn’t budge. His frown deepens. “You don’t have to endure this alone,” He steps closer. “I’m here for you,”

“It’s not about—fuck,” You curl into yourself, turning your face away from him. “It’s n-not about that. Not personal. You need to get out of here, Wyll, please. Please listen to me and, and go.”

Wyll wants to ask how he could leave you in this condition, but the desperation in your voice stops him. He feels uncertain, but his body - his mind, won’t listen to him.

“Tell me what’s happening to you,” Wyll pleads. He wants to run to you. He hates seeing you in this much pain. He wants to hold you, his heart is practically pounding. “Are you in pain?”

Your expression strains, but you force your gaze towards him. Your eyes are wide. They shine with water and wetness, your tearstained expression landing on his face.

“Fuck, Wyll, you - I’m in heat. So d-don’t come any closer. Go, go—please, I’m begging.”

Heat. Wyll knows little about the cycles of werewolves. But he knows about wolves, and other animals at least. Heat. A period of heightened sexual reception during mating season. Wyll pauses, then blinks. His stomach drops, heart quickening.

Shit. Shit.

“You’re in…heat.”

“Y-yes. And it lasts for a tenday, so you need to listen to me and get out of here. Now.”

Wyll doesn’t move.

“Would,” Wyll swallows the thick feeling in his throat. “If someone else had come. Would you have,”

He hardly knows what he’s asking. But it seems you do, because you open your eyes - in utter distress and shake your head.

“No,” You shake your head and hold your breath, trying to calm yourself as you breathe. You focus on breathing only out of your mouth. “Just you.” You close your eyes again and continue to tremble. “Please. Please go, Wyll.”

He comes closer. Your voice croaks as you try to shout at him, though the words are too faint to be called that. Nonthreatening and utterly desperate.

“No, no, no—please,” Your words become a sob, and Wyll feels his heart start to crack a little. “You don’t understand. It h-hurts. If you get too close, if you—”

“What is it?” He gets close enough to be within real range of you. There’s only a few feet of distance between you. Wyll kneels so he’s not looming over you, looking over you with concern. “What’s wrong?”

You shake and shake and shake, closing your eyes - tearing your gaze away from him. Your lower lips waver, both hands covering your face as you cry.

“Your s-scent,” You heave, trying to push back against the tree. “It’ll make me want to t-touch you. And I can’t. I can’t and—I want too. So badly, you’re so close, please stay away. It’s cruel, so cruel to me,”

Wyll feels his own voice almost give out. Seeing you like this. So desperate. Needy. The guilt is outweighed by another feeling he chooses not to name.

“You can touch me,” He assures.

You sob.

“Not just touch. Wyll, please, go.”

“Hells,” He comes closer towards you and you flinch. “I’m not so clueless. I know what you meant. It’s alright.”

Your eyes flicker open in disbelief.

“You,” You look at him through teary eyes. “I-it’s important to you to... With someone you love. Not like this.”

“Gods, who else but you? I love you,” Wyll says with his own voice nearly shot. Your eyes widen in disbelief. “Of course I love you. I want to be with you for the rest of our lives.”

“Wyll,” You sob for a different reason this time. “I love you. I w-want you, I want you.”

“Tell me. Can I touch you?”

“Please,” You’re so tender like this. Wyll has never seen it in his life. It’d be unimaginable, had he not witnessed.

Strong and capable and brave and rowdy - reduced to a fragile, pleading mess.

Wyll doesn’t know how to touch you. If he were more honest with himself in the moment - more sensible, he’d admit this to you in a quiet secret. He doesn’t have room for doubt now, so Wyll is gentle when he reaches for you. He pulls your wrists from where they’re glued to you, unfurls your form slowly and looks closely at your face. He guides your hands around his neck and brings you towards him. With slow, careful maneuvering - he sits down with you.

Holding you in his embrace, he brings you into his lap - sitting where you once were. Until you’re over his own, resting your full weight against his. Your knees rest on either side of his thighs, straddling him. You look at Wyll from above, your lower lip still quivering.

“It’s alright,” He says, hands on your waist but not moving “Take what you need,”

With a wordless whimper, you grab the fabric of Wyll’s clothing, light armor that he changed into before leaving - tight enough he can feel the tension in fabric. You lean in, your eyes shut tightly and press your nose along the side of his neck. Wyll can feel you bump against this jaw. He tilts his head back to give you more access to him. His body is hot with your sudden proximity, your own skin completely feverish from need. You inhale, so deeply and so wantonly Wyll doesn’t know what else to do other than sit and let you.

The thought passes. Like a mutt. Like a puppy. You breathe Wyll in like it’s the only thing keeping you alive, grinding instinctively on his lap. Something that he overlooks for the sake of being the sane one between you.

“You,” Your voice has calmed down a fair bit, though it's just as thick as it was before. “Shit, it’s so good.”

Your grip on his clothes tighten. Wyll rubs a soothing hand on your waist, still over your clothes. You continue it, taking deep breaths of him like a life-line until your grip starts to loosen. You’re no longer shaking at least. You pull away from him with wet pleading eyes, butting your forehead with his. Wyll winces, but bites back a smile at you once he realizes you’re a tad bit more sobered up.

“What in the hells are you doing here?” You interrogate.

“Are you alright?” Wyll says, ignoring your first question. “Has it gone down?”

“It comes in waves. The first wave has passed, but the second one will hit soon enough. Five minutes if I had to guess,” You say, shaking your head. You fix your gaze on him. Wyll suddenly becomes aware of your proximity (or lack thereof). “Why are you here, Wyll?”

“Why? A better question is how could I not be here?” Wyll says carefully, examining your every expression. “An ominous sickness, traveling alone for an entire tenday when we’ve all spent our entire journey together. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, but I couldn’t sit back quietly while I was so worried for your safety.”

“Like I told you and everyone else, I’m fine. I’ve been handling heats alone since I started puberty. It’s not a very pretty sight,” You pout shyly. Wyll finds it utterly adorable. “And well, it’s not like I can announce to everyone I’m in literal heat. Fever is easier.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve invaded your privacy. If I had known,” He clears his throat, looking away from you “If I had known it was something like this, I would’ve approached it more delicately.”

“My brain is too heat-addled to be properly embarrassed, which is lucky - because I’m definitely going to be pissed when this is over.” You say, clutching the front of his shirt again. “Everything is all out of order now.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You’re the one going on about keeping things old school, you know.”

“Well yes. But it’s not for any reason so rigid,” Wyll reaches his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing underneath your eyes. “These sorts of affairs are more enchanting when the love is there. That’s the part that matters.”

“You’re not disappointed that the first time we’re touching each other is because I’m this desperate to touch you?”

“I just like being able to hold you. For any reason at all,” Wyll says honestly, then adds. “And well, if I were to be frank, seeing you in this state is… rousing. In its own right.”

You flush, and mumble. “Pervert.”

He forgives the comment just as you’ve forgiven him for his intrusion. He looks at you tenderly, heart swelling so much it’s almost overflowing.

“Will you allow me to stay by your side?”

“This goes on for a tenday. And it doesn’t get any easier. Do you really know what you’re asking? Do you have that kind of stamina?”

Wyll smiles at you. He wants to kiss you.

“Around something as enticing as you, stamina should pose no issue.” He flirts.

“Gods, Wyll - where’d you learn to talk like that?”

He smiles cheekily. “Esoteric erotica novels from my fathers chambers, mostly. Overhearing things at Sharesses Caress helped too.”

You giggle a little bit. This time you’re the one leaning into him.

“The waves will get longer and more intense. They peak around the fourth day and begin to mellow out at the start of the fifth,” You give him a look before looking away, profusely embarrassed. “Uhm. The only thing that soothes it is, well, you know. I mean I get really… I cry a lot.”

Wyll doesn’t communicate to you the fact he knows. He did just see after all, and it’s not like he particularly enjoys seeing you suffer. He’s not that sort of man, but. He likes taking care of you, in all aspects. You’ve had to take care of yourself for so long. It feels good that he’s allowed into something that you’ve kept private all this time.

It’s fair if he’s a little cocky about it, he thinks.

“You can show me everything about yourself and I won’t turn my gaze away from you. Nothing could make me look away,”

You pout again. Wyll notices you do it when you’re feeling especially embarrassed. He opts not to say anything, just smiles.

You take a deep, shaky breath. “It’s going to start again soon. Everything is fine with me, just—stay close. Close enough that I can tuck into you.”

“Something to do with my scent, I suppose? I am curious to know what.”

“Well I like you. And it’s comforting. But it turns me on, too. Especially like this.”

“And that’s why you were pushing me away earlier?”

You nod, taking a deep breath. Your voice regains that sweet, thick quality that Wyll is beginning to recognize as desire.

“Mm. I’m a lot stronger than you a-and my heads not very clear,” You shake your head as you explain this to him. “It would’ve..haah..been painful. Really.”

“So it has that kind of effect on you,” Wyll concludes. Your eyes are lidded. You’re overwhelmed. It’s an interesting position. As far as Wyll’s concerned, he probably only smells like forest right now. He looks at the way you’re shaking like a leaf, then continues “I have that kind of effect on you,”

“Yes,” You huff, leaning against him again. Your head on his shoulder, nose brushing against his skin. He’s sweating from the journey up. He can’t really wrap his mind around what it could be that you like so much about him or how he smells. “Fuck, yes - you do.”

It’s an odd position to be in. Wyll is a righteous man but the thoughts that swarm him now are anything but. There’s nothing foreign about being wanted. His time as the Blade of Frontiers has had him propositioned for such affairs more times than he can remember.

No ones ever been desperate for him, though. You’ve never been desperate about anything. You’re emotional and light-hearted and wise and kind. Not desperate. Never that.

Except right now, you’re looking up at him with your pupils blown wide and your lower lip shaking. There’s sweat dripping down the crown of your head. Your ears are perked up, your whole body tense with need. You’re practically intoxicated above him, and Wyll can’t help but feel something less than heroic about it.

“I’m hardly half the man I claim to be,” Wyll says, a little dazed. “You make me forget myself. My virtue.”

“What’s virtue to love, Ravengard?” You lean in closer to him, your noses brushing. It must be coming again, the next wave. “You’re just Wyll to me, remember? Not a paragon of decency.” Your face is close. Your lips are close. Tempting. “Touch me. Or make love to me, if you’d prefer to call it that.”

It feels like there’s no air in Wyll’s lungs. Not enough to take a breath. He cups the nape of your neck with his hand, and your skin is so hot it nearly burns. You’re feverish, and sweaty - when Wyll touches you, you react right away. He stares at you. Everything feels distant, far-away. How many times have the two of you been like this? How many times have you nearly crossed this threshold before retreating back into each other?

Wyll can think of one hundred times he’s thought of kissing you. When you’re covered in blood and gore, when you smile, when the sun through the trees makes your fur look shiny and beautiful, when Astarion pets you, when you hug Karlach for the first time. He can compile every time the urge has come over him.

It feels unreal to kiss you now, after all that.

You open your mouth slightly, a choked moan passing through your lips as Wyll presses his own to yours. Yours are soft. The first thing he notices is the shape of your teeth, the sharp edge of your fangs - protruding and clumsy. None of it matters. Nothing matters except you and this.

You’re huffy and eager when Wyll kisses you. A slow peck at first before he pulls away, delighted by the way you chase his mouth. Then again with your mouth open a little wider, panting hotly as you urge Wyll to give you a little more. Your hands are gripping his armor again, tight enough to rip the material. You’re too drunk on your own need, to notice anything about anything.

It’s something about you - something about you Wyll has known since forever. You get lost in things, in fights or in books that Gale reads. Sometimes you just give up thinking entirely and let your instinct guide you. And it makes enough sense, you’re a werewolf - part hungry animal by blood. Of course your baser instinct feels more natural.

It’s not very kind to think, but Wyll isn’t saying it to be unkind. He likes it. He likes that you think with your heart less than your head. He likes when you give into the most animal parts of you.

Wyll is not in the same place as you. His head is meant to be clear. He’s seemingly sober for this affair.

But his body betrays his mind so quickly it’s laughable.

He doesn’t really know what to do with himself. All of the blood in his body is running hot, and all of it floods south more quickly than he can control it. Before he knows what he’s doing, his hands are clasping around your waist and he’s kissing you deeper. He lets his tongue brush yours, lets his teeth sink into the plush of your lower lips. He sucks and bites and licks as you breathe each other in.

You kiss Wyll until your lips are swollen, chest heaving as you pull away from each other. There’s something juvenile about the affair, enough to make you laugh even in the state you’re in. And Wyll laughs too, stares at your expression only illuminated by moonlight.

“I love you,” Wyll repeats. You’re startled by it this time. “Gods, I love you.”

Your voice is thick. “I love you too. Touch me, please.”

“How should I touch you my love?”

“However you want. As long as you touch me.”

“However I want,” Wyll says contemplatively. He’s quick to maneuver you both to the ground when he says this. A little closer to the warmth of the fire, on the sheets and pillows you’ve set up underneath you both. You look up at him wide-eyed as your back touches the ground. “You should choose your words carefully. I may take you up on making love.”

You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him down to you.

“Do it before I lose my mind anymore,”

Wyll laughs playfully against your skin.

The act of undressing each other is unceremonious. Wyll peels the padded armor off his body, leaving him in trousers. He helps you out of your own clothes. He’s seen you naked more than once, but never for this. For him. He studies the way your muscles fall, the hair on your skin. Various scars. Everything for him to gaze on.

Your own hand reaches up to his neck, on his shoulder as your mouth falls open. “You’re so attractive. Do you know?”

He laughs. “It doesn’t hurt to hear you tell me.”

You seem eager to admire his body. Wyll doesn’t stop you. Your palms are much smoother than he’d think of them to be, as they plane over the expanse of his muscled chest. You let your fingers drift over raised scars on abdomen, over his nipples and down his abdomen. Wyll feels his cock twitch unhelpfully. You must notice the same because your eyes light up. Your hand reaches even further, even lower - cupping the hard outline of his length. He hisses through his teeth.

“You’re…” You mumble, squeezing again. “For me,”

“You’re beautiful,” Wyll says. You flush.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Your voice is almost petulant.

“And I’ve longed for you since that very moment”

Your pout deepens before you brush Wyll’s hand with yours.

“You can do the same for me.”

Wyll stares at you before leaning back down to kiss you. He doesn’t linger at your mouth, chaste pecks that pave the path for Wyll to worship the rest of you. He wants to worship every inch. He lets his lips leave kisses all over your face. He kisses the scars along your skin, the corner of your mouth, your eyelids.

His tongue laves down your jaw until he’s at your neck. You breathe unsteadily as he continues down to the column of your throat. Wyll is gentle. He doesn’t bite. He steadies his hands at your waist and only kisses. Presses his face to your skin and pricks you with his want. It’s slower than you want, he can tell from how your legs are wrapped helplessly around his waist.

Your lower-half is grinding against him, against air - anything you can find. Little shameless mewls and so much squirming. Wyll knows you’re needy, and he is too - but this is your first time together.

He couldn’t do anything but savor it no matter how much you whined. Right now you are his, hidden from the moon. From the camp.

You are his and he will take you apart as he pleases.

“Please,” You whine, taking a deep breath of him again. You inhale, nudging the parts of him available to him. “Please.”

A little mercifully, he gives you a little more. He grabs your hips and positions you better over his cock. He moves his hands from your waist to squeeze the soft flesh of your breasts. He licks the salt of your skin, meeting your movements.

“I know, I know. Endure it,” He says, pressing a kiss to your sternum. “Indulge me.”

You bite back your complaint. You’re forgiving as always.

His mouth closes around your nipples, hard under his tongue. Your spine arches, but Wyll pushes you down and steadies you. His other hand squeezes the one he isn’t servicing, thumb drawing over your nipples. He gauges your breathing as he tries different motions until settling on rolling it with his thumb. The right thing to do, if your reaction is anything to go by.

He feels something against the seam of his pants when he goes between them, pleasuring you. A wetness where his cock meets your clothed sex. One that soaks underneath two layers of clothes. He looks up at you, wide-eyed.

You’re unaware of anything. Too busy in the chase of pleasure.

He wonders if it’s a result of your heat. He doesn’t know anything about them aside from the fact it happens and it makes you like this - but what it does to your body is still foreign to him. His cock is throbbing hard enough to make him light-headed. He tries to approach this with a light hand and patience.

But shit, the way you’re searching for it is too arousing. You’re seeking an orgasm so desperately, all little rutting twitches and uneven movements. The first of the tears start to form on your lower lashes. Your eyelashes are wet. Fat tears drip down your cheeks, falling down the side of your face. Wyll is less concerned than you would be if you hadn’t told him that you would cry - but gods.

“You’re a mess,” He says with an absent fondness. You whine and nod in agreement. Wyll is lucky to witness this, he realizes too late. “Is it painful?”

Your voice is scratchy from crying. “Aches. Aches so much, need more, please. Trying to be patient but it aches.”

He hums to himself, undoes the death grip your legs have on his waist before starting to kiss a path down to your navel. It’s clear you make an attempt to ask him what he’s doing, but the words cut off when you realize he’s getting closer to where you need.

You’re holding your breath, your hands curled at your sides like you don’t know what to do with them. You’ve never been so uncertain in front of him. You help slide your bottoms off - everything in one go. Your knees are bent in the air, covering where Wyll is most keen to see you. He kisses your calves.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, remember?”

You take a deep breath and lay your feet flat on the ground, spreading your legs enough to give Wyll a perfect view. He’s always tried not to look, but now he can’t stop staring. A thick layer of hair covers your cunt. His hands shake as he pulls you forward to look closer, and your own hands go to cover your face.

“I can feel you breathe,” You whisper, and Wyll laughs. He’s still looking, examining you closely. He uses his fingers to pull you apart, awestruck by you. You’re so wet it’s dripping, pulsing helplessly without Wyll touching you at all. The sheet underneath you darkens with arousal. Your clit is throbbing with need, all fluttery. “Stop looking,”

Wyll does what any gentleman would do. He pulls away, his hands settling on your thighs - and starts to kiss all the way up from the inside of your knee. He does it on both sides, before finally kissing your clit tucked away underneath everything. Your breath hitches, stomach tensing.

“Tell me where you feel it. Let me learn you.”

“Hicc,” You nod soft and sweet. “Okay,”

Wyll smiles against you.

For as much as Wyll puts on a show, the first time he actually tastes you exceed all expectations. The loss of composure is nearly instant. His fingers dig into the plush of your thighs as he lets the weight of his tongue drag through your folds, arousal collecting on the tip. Your reaction comes just as quick.

“Fuck,” You cry out. Wyll feels your hands reach for him, a pleasant noise escaping him as you grip onto his horns. He’s never thought to touch them before. A feeling of electricity creeps up his back as your hands hold tight around the base of them.“Wyll, fuck - there,”

He gets the message quick enough, laying his tongue flat on the hardened bundle of nerves. Your clit pulses for him. You taste heady and sweet, coating his entire mouth as he continues to eat. You guide him here and there - soft whispers of lower and higher until he ends up in the place you need.

“That,” Your grip on his horns gets tighter as you grind yourself down on his tongue. Wyll feels his cock stiff against his stomach from where he lays. “Like that,”

He gives you more pressure as he licks your clit, sorting out a rhythm as he focuses his attention on one part of you. He wants to make you cum like this. You’re sensitive enough to do it. Your clit thrums as your mind goes muddy. Your body movements change as he continues to push you closer and closer to your high. He’s starting to understand what makes you tick.

Wyll is a quick learner after all, dexterous and clever.

Muscles clenching, your mouth falls open - eyes barely open as you moan. “Oh, oh, oh,”

Wyll laps you up like ambrosia. He pulls away when you start to get close, ignoring your complaints. He wants to savor it now that he knows how to get you to the edge, so he does. He buries himself deeper into you, his nose bumping against your mound with every pass he makes over your slit. Your body is unbelievably sensitive. He dips his tongue into your tight hole and you nearly lurch forward with need.

He starts a back and forth, going from licking long stripes along your slit determined not to let anything go to waste - back to focusing on where you need him most. He doesn’t mean to put you on edge so many times, no longer thinking clearly.

You beg Wyll to make you cum by the time he’s back to reality, grabbing his horns hard enough to make him look at you.

“Make me cum, please - can’t take it anymore, Wyll, please, fuck,”

He hums against your sex before refocusing his attention. One last time he takes your throbbing clit into his mouth, lets it slide against his tongue and sucks on it. This time he relents to your need, and doesn't stop for any reason. He lets it build and build and build until he hears your voice break.

Your back starts to arch, body going taut like a bowstring. Wyll hums against you, he wants to praise you but his mouth is busy.

Then the thought occurs to him. It takes a little focus to reach your mind, and this is by all means - a terrible reason to use your shared connection.

‘You’re doing so well, starlight,’ Wyll praises. Your eyes widen as you realize just how he’s doing it, a debauched and shocked moan tearing itself from your mouth ‘Beautiful. Sorry for teasing you. Can you cum for me? I want you to feel good,’

You hiccup, another loud sob as Wyll keeps steady.

“C-cumming,” You choke on the words, on your spit. “I’m—fuck!”

Wyll lets you ride your orgasm out as you cum for the first time in the night. Your body goes arching, gripping on his horns hard trying to pull him away as you push through to the other side. You’re pulsing in his mouth, tightening around nothing as you cum for him. It feels like it goes on forever, long waves and tremors until the feeling dies down.

He pulls away once you’ve finally laid back down, exhausted and out of breath. You stare at him a little blankly, an arm covering your face.

“Up here,” You say tiredly, gesturing him up. “I need to kiss you.”

Wyll laughs good naturedly as you wrap an arm around Wyll’s neck, dragging him down towards you and kissing him hard - drunk off pleasure. You kiss him in chaste pecks, hugging him. Nudging your nose along his neck, you whisper in his ear.

“Take your pants off, dammit.”

Wyll can’t help his laughter.

“I suppose it’s only fair,”

You hook your fingers into Wyll’s trousers, helping him pull them down until his cock springs free. Your eyes go lidded as soon as you see it, hands cupping the now bare skin. Wyll hisses slightly at the sudden touch, unused to the friction. You look up at him, a hand between your bodies - closing your fist around the base of his cock.

“Bumps and prongs, huh,”

Wyll flushes immediately, making you laugh.

“I hope you’re not making fun of me.”

“How could I when I’m this turned on?” You offer sincerely. He shudders at the touch. “I like it. Can I blow you?”

“I’m sorry?”

Your turn to laugh. “I’m good at it. And I want to. It’s a little sensitive for you to fuck me, anyway.”

Wyll swallows thickly. “I guess I have no reason to deny you.”

“No you don’t. Now come on and stand up,”

He gives you a hesitant look before peeling himself off of you. He stands to his feet, his pants still rolled down just past his thighs. He slides them off so the two of you are naked, and laments a little in his mind about the fact you’re doing this deep in the outdoors. You’re quick to follow Wyll, walking on your knees towards him until you’re eye-level with his cock.

He’s never gotten this far. He’s a romantic in all the ways it matters, so save for some grinding and kissing - it’s a new experience. You look like you know what you’re doing though. You kiss his hips, hands on his thighs and an expression that he finds remarkably innocent for what you’re about to do. All Wyll can do is watch, and feel increasingly fidgety about the sight in front of him.

You crane your head down and place pecks from the base of his shaft all the way to the tip. You let his cock rest against your face, taking a sharp inhale of the skin - perverse and desperate. Wyll groans, deep from his chest as you smile. You’re not unsettled by it at all, as reverent as you always are.

His body has grown especially sensitive because of Mizora’s interference. He can feel the heat in his blood starting to swell as blood rushes to his cock, making him grow bigger. The way you’re looking at him isn’t helping.

You poke your tongue out from your mouth and leave long licks along his cock - from base to tip. Like you sense he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, you guide them to hold your head. He feels a weird sense of guilt about it, but the pleasure outweighs the shame - he doesn’t force you down. Just keeps you painfully steady as you do all of the world.

Fuck, he’s sensitive. Every little wet lick and stroke is enough to make his spine prick with need. The tip of his cock leaks pre-cum. You press it against your lips as your hand wraps around his shaft in full, your tongue dipping into the slit making Wyll hiss.

“Shit,” He huffs, hands gripping tighter but not moving you “That feels good,”

You give him a little smile that makes Wyll’s stomach flip. Like you know it’s going to catch him off guard, you finally open your mouth to take the tip of his cock into your mouth. It’s lighter and more sensitive than the rest of his cock. You wrap your tongue around it with expertise and Wyll finds himself nearly bedding on the knee, legs starting to feel weak.

You use one hand to steady yourself on his thigh, the other slipping between your legs.

He can only watch on in awe, the impressive way you sink around the hot, hard length. Your tongue is soft, the cavern of your mouth wet and inviting. Wyll nearly breaks - almost fucks into your throat by bucking up. He restrains himself as you go lower and lower, eyes going increasingly wide as his cock disappears in the column of your throat. Just when he thinks you can’t get any further, you do. He can feel the tip disappear in the narrowness of your throat, awestruck as drool starts to drip from the sides of your mouth.

You make a sound, muffled as you hit the base of Wyll’s cock like it’s nothing. You sink in further, nose pressing against his navel as you glance up at him. It’s too lewd, damn near - seeing you deepthroat him with such ease. You inhale again, and Wyll flushes at the realization of what you’re doing exactly.

You pull off in one go, saliva dripping down your chin and neck as you open your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks and wrapping a free hand around whatever your mouth can’t easily reach, you start to set a pace. It’s fast and slick and messy, pre-cum mixed with saliva making your face grow sticky - taking deep breaths of Wyll’s scent and musk every time you manage to swallow it all. It’s depraved seeing you suck his cock with such obvious lust and desire, eager to swallow him and show him pleasure.

Wyll feels the pleasure. His entire body feels like it’s being wrapped in something slick and warm, little sparks of electricity traveling from his fingertips to his spine. His head feels especially light, filled with fluff and devoid of conscious consideration.

“Your mouth feels incredible,” Wyll groans, shuddering, holding your head as you let his cock bottom out in your mouth again “Hells,”

You sound pleased, a pleasant reverb going through his body as you set a pace - bobbing your head and swallowing every inch of him without flinching. The sound of your throat constricting around him and your own hands fill the surroundings. He’s glad you’re so lost in the movements because his own voice is punched out of him each time you go down. He didn’t know he was capable of making this much noise, such deep groans and heavy breaths every time you so much as move.

You pull him out completely, letting spit and saliva rub against your mouth as you tap against your face. Wyll feels a restless embarrassment at the pit of his stomach as you make eye-contact with him. He feels his cock twitch hard, something starting to come undone in his gut as he pulls you away.

“Stop,” He wheezes, and you do with a pleased laugh “Shit that’s dangerous. You’re…talented.”

You pause before breaking out into more giggles, kissing his cock one last time. Wyll covers his face with his hands.

“Is that a compliment?”

“...It’s meant to be one.”

“Glad you’re impressed,” You say with a wicked little grin - all sharp teeth and delight. “I wanted to go longer.”

“We have days together. Another time, my love.”

Your smile grows a little. You are bad for his heart in more ways than one, Wyll thinks.

“Mm. Okay. I can’t really wait much longer, anyway. Another wave is gonna hit soon and I feel antsy.”

“Get comfortable and lay down. And, I hate to ask so late - but should I be worrying…? About protection?”

You blink at him as you set up on the ground, moving around pillows for you to lay on. You shake your head. “Mm. Should be fine. Getting contraceptives should be easier since we’re closer to the city. Unless you don’t want to take that risk?”

Your expression is uncharacteristically innocent. Wyll weighs his desire against reason, a feeling of guilt washing over him at the clear winner. His cock is throbbing to the extent it’s near painful.

(He doesn’t hate the thought of giving you a child, either. Though he thinks it’s much too early to say something like that, and he’d prefer to plan something so important. Still, it isn’t the worst outcome. It’d be a precious little thing, half-werewolf and beautiful.

He brushes over the thought just as quickly as he has it, a little taken aback by his own desires. It’s like everything is being bled from him, no thought too precious to strike his mind. It’s too early to think about, no less mention.

He should marry you before that. The thought of it makes him harder.)

“As I had suspected, I’m only half the man I consider myself to be.”

“Are you reflecting on your failings?” You tease. Wyll lets out a breath of air.

“On my hypocrisy, if I were to put a name to it. I didn’t realize desire could be so debilitating.” Wyll explains, joining you where you lay. You giggle lightly as Wyll positions himself between your legs, leaning in to kiss you shortly. “Seems you’ve uncovered something I wasn’t aware of.”

“Really?”

Wyll laughs against your lips as he kisses you again. “You often do.”

He brushes it aside as he pulls back. You lock eyes with him. Wyll is mesmerized. Your features start to round out again, eyes becoming glassy with need in the same familiar way as before. Wyll knows it now. He reaches over to cup your face with his palm, smile breaking his composure as you instinctively rub your cheek against the rough skin. He lets his thumb press against your lips, indulging your desire for affection.

“Are you still all there?”

“Hf. Yes. Not for long,” You say, urging him down towards you. Once again the proximity between you disappears. This time bare skinned, chest to chest. Wyll can feel the erratic thump of your heart, the unsteady quality in your breathing. You sink back into the same heat drunk place, a slow descent. Your pupils open wide enough for him to lose his senses. “Don’t keep me waiting, please.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You fall into a synchronicity this time around. Your legs spread wide, open and wanting. Wyll feels his throat start to close. His stomach flutters restlessly as he pushes his cock through your folds once, then twice - his head thrown back at the feeling of your bare skin. He reminds himself this isn’t something to get used to, but the pleasure is easy to indulge in.

It’s worsened by the fact you’re beautiful.

Wyll finds you so beautiful it’s ridiculous, even to him. The plush of your lips, the way your lashes fall along as your cheek, the shape of your eyes. All of you, bathed in moonlight and blessed by the higher powers. You’re a culmination, the very pinnacle of Wyll’s every last mad desire. If everything around him faded to nothing, Wyll would have no clue. No sense, no rational, no righteousness. With nothing but himself to offer you, he’s moonstruck. Hung up on your affection and the feeling of warmth of mutual love.

The order is all out of sorts, and everything is complicated. But Gods. Gods. You’re more beautiful than every dream he’s ever seen you in. Even the magic of his mind couldn’t form something so perfect.

“You’re really the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Your eyes widen, blinking rapidly before breaking out into a flush. “What are you saying?”

“When I was a boy, I often imagined getting married,” Wyll says, drawing little circles along your hip. Your mouth opens, but falls shut as you feel the head of his cock push against you. You shudder as Wyll moves so slowly, with no intent of pushing in. “I had high hopes for love. The magic of fairy tale romance always spoke to me. I was fond of beautiful sights too, to boot.”

Your breath hitches. Wyll feels you start to stretch around the tip of his cock. He swears under his breath, slowing even more. You let out a soft mewl as Wyll breathes through the sensation.

“But you know,” He presses deeper, just slightly. A suggestion of a thrust. Your hand shoots out to grab Wyll’s wrist where he’s gripping you at the waist. His vision strains as he moves slowly, another terrible inch. “You’ve, haah, exceeded my every expectation. There was no need for daydreaming.”

You make a choked sound as Wyll goes even deeper. Your hands grip tight, that same drunken look returning to you. The parts of you that are still there are teary eyed, sniffling. Your cunt pulses around him, sucking him deeper. You feel good, but Wyll is more focused on you. Imprinting you into his memory, like tonight is the last time he’d ever get to see you.

“If I could go back, to any time - I think I’d go back to being seventeen,” Wyll says with a smile, dropping himself closer to you. He leans up on his arm, noses brushing tenderly as you hiccup “I would tell Wyll from then to be strong. Become a Blade that can defend for the one who will become your shield.”

You look up at him teary and frustrated. Your arms wrap around his neck as you cry, and Wyll laughs a little. Everything is so warm. He loves you.

“If you’re any kinder to me, I don’t know what’ll become of me. Ugh, my eyes sting.”

Wyll can’t help his smile. “We’ll have to see it through, then.”

“Stop being so romantic and fuck me.”

He kisses your hairline. “As you wish.”

Wyll puts his hands up under your knees, folding you underneath him as he finally bottoms out. You both moan as you feel Wyll fill you up. You kiss him in that position, all desperation - tongue and teeth. Wyll is startled but indulges, a grinding thrust making you mewl into his mouth. He swallows the noise.

“Fuck me,” You huff, your eyes bleary. “I can—can feel you in my stomach,”

Wyll groans.

You feel incredible. Wyll has to stop moving to steady his mind. He wants to last a little longer than a few seconds if he can help it. Your cunt wraps around his cock like silk. Sticky walls clinging to him like a vice, pulsing with need at the slightest movement. Wyll is connected to you in such an intimate way, it makes him feel visceral. Almost possessive. You hold on like you want to milk him for all he’s worth.

He takes another long breath, steadying himself as he pulls out and slams himself back in. You cry out in response to the first thrust, but you don’t ask him to slow down. Wyll focuses on keeping his thrusts weighted and steady, something constant enough that your focus doesn’t break. He wants to make you cum again, and he knows better what you need now. He keeps you pinned underneath the weight of him as he finds a pace to move to.

Once he finds it, Wyll fucks you without abandon. You hold onto him tight, nose nudged against his neck as you let out the tiniest whimpers he’s ever heard you make. The pleasure debases you completely, makes you all wild. Wyll likes seeing you fall apart with each movement. Every time he pistons the right spot your eyes go wide and flutter back closed as if it’s too much.

The two of you make a mess. Wyll can hear his cock pull and push the arousal out of you - each thrust wet. It’s messy enough to make your skin stick together.

“Wyll,” You say his name like it’s a prayer of your goddess. Something to save you. Some kind of sacrilege that Wyll feels no guilt for. “I love you, I love you. Fuck—fuck me,”

“You’re my whole life,” Wyll grunts. “I’ll give you everything. Everything, my love.”

“I’m close,” Your voice is hoarse as you say it. “I’m so close, just a little—”

Wyll knows what you’re asking for. His hand sneaks between your bodies, palm resting on your tummy as his thumb messy circles on your puffy clit. You choke on your words, a broken thank you among the mess as Wyll keeps fucking you. Determined to make you cum one more time, he goes and goes and goes.

Wyll can feel you cum before you can tell him. You try to announce it, but the words don’t come out. He can feel your hesitance, feeling something in you as your teeth graze his necks.

“You can bite me. I can withstand it, love”

A pained whine is followed by the sharp feeling of your teeth in Wyll’s shoulder, as your voice breaks out into a howl. When you cum, you cum hard. Harder than before like you’re trying to latch onto him, your whole body going rigid before the tension breaks. Your orgasm crashes into you. You gasp as Wyll fucks you through it. He keeps fucking you through it until he feels you’ve calmed down.

“Cum, Wyll. For me, please.”

It’s enough to drive Wyll to the very edge. His desire reaches an impressive high. His thrusts become shallow, sloppy - the wet sound of him fucking you open finally reaching his ears as he gives into his own needs. Wyll cums hard. He bottoms out as he does, thick white ropes painting your insides as the two of you lay with each other.

When Wyll finally catches his breath and starts to go soft, he pulls away to look at you. You’re frowning at him.

“Is something—”

“Being sweet to me like that in the middle of that is unfair. I’m going to hold it against you.”

Wyll pauses before breaking out into a giggle.

“I was worried for a minute.”

“I love you.” You add, a little softer time. “Thank you for coming to find me.”

“Always.” Wyll replies, hugging you to him. “I adore you, you know.”

EPILOGUE:

You return to camp together at the end of your tenday.

Wyll is covered in all sorts of marks by the time you’ve arrived, and so are you. There’s not really anything to do to hide that. Or to hide the fact he’s utterly exhausted by the whole thing. He’s drained, though he thinks he could do it again if he timed it better.

It was nice to spend an entire tenday together, though. In between having sex or Wyll meeting your needs - you ate and slept and bathed together. Despite your circumstances the entire situation was domestic - and Wyll enjoyed being with you.

You are absolutely chipper and uncaring about the situation. Wyll wishes he could be a little more like you in this case.

The first person to see you at camp is Karlach.

“Well, look who it is!” Karlach chirps, absolutely delighted. “The lovebirds are back,”

The whole camp stirs at the announcement. It’s early enough that everyone is still at camp. Wyll feels his skin prick with heat as you leave his side, prancing over to Karlach to chat with her. Back to your usual self, Wyll feels a specific fondness about having seen a new side of you and remaining so unchanged.

“Oh, you’ve returned?” Astarion says. Wyll looks up, surprised.

“Ah, uhm, yes.”

Astarion stands next to Wyll with his arms crossed.

“Have you finally done it or do I have to endure more of your incessant pining?”

Wyll chokes on his spit.

“You’re losing your touch Astarion,” Shadowheart says, shuffling into camp from behind Wyll with a towel that needs to be dried. “That one over there is chipper and this one can barely look at them. Shouldn’t that tell you all you need to know?”

“Tsk. You’re right. Congratulations are in order, I suppose. Or some celebration. At least I won’t have to see you two eye-fucking each other every day. It was getting dire..”

“I wouldn’t be so confident,” Shadowheart says. “He’s doing it right now even after they spent a tenday wrapped in each other's arms.”

Astarion sighs. “Gods. Can’t have anything these days.”

Wyll opts not to say anything, handling them with usual grace.

“Thanks for the congratulations,” Wyll says, staring at you idly. “Hope it wasn’t too difficult without us.”

“Hardly.”

Wyll smiles at that. He watches you as you talk to Karlach animatedly, smiling a little harder. He can take as much teasing as they dish out.

He could endure it ten times over, as long as he gets to be with you.

☾ a/n ; whew… we've made it to the end. i wrote this fic in a whopping 12 days. it was a crazy experience especially since i havent written anything i'd personally consider substantial since like.. idk april 2023. i also mostly write for anime so its a little nervewracking specifically writing for bg3. THAT BEING SAID. i love wyll. i started playing the game for him and he has bewitched me mind body and soul. it is rather disheartening to see how much larian dgaf about him so i guess part of me writing this is also trying to convince people to see what i see in wyll. something something that joan didion quote about writing as a form of violence bc of imposing views something something.

wyll is a really moving character to me. i like characters who are categorically so righteous it drives them to the destruction of themselves.

but the specific dichotomy of wyll - a man who has lost every ounce of agency time and time again with this tav was especially consuming. tav too is considered a monster, but they embrace and love this part of themselves. i think witnessing that, and the reframing monstrosity in wylls case is really helpful for him. tav doesnt know what losing their agency is like, but they're able to restructure wylls belief of what this new body of his is worth. that he is worthy all the same, and that he exists outside of being the blade. these sorts of things haunted me during this. but also… i just wanted to see wyll bang a desperate heat addled werewolf shorty. lol.

ANYWAYS. sorry for this MASSIVE wall of text. i just really love wyll so much and i hope this iteration of him felt in line with who he is. and if you're not a wyll fan and just a fic consume well… i hope i was able to compel you towards him a bit. in any case, thanks for reading! and please do leave a comment if you liked it! all feedback appreciated.

also i dont normally ask but if you could rb this fic if you liked it'd be appreciated </3 im trying to find wyll likers ehdjksjf

#wyll x reader #wyll ravengard x reader #bg3 x reader #wyll smut #bg3 smut #writing tag #cant wait to post this so i may be free from whatever demon possessed me while writing this.

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peterparkersnose · 1 year

Text

You Over Anyone

pairing: Din Djarin x reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: jealousy, angst, relationship awkwardness, assault (physical), reader gets cut by a knife, description of assault and defense, blood, din takes care of you, allusions to sex

a/n 97 days until the mandalorian returns !!!! somewhat angsty. there isnt quite enough angst on tumblr that doesnt end up with sex. dont get me wrong, i love a good smut, but sometimes i just need some yelling and frustration. longer fic woohoo!!! wrote it in one night too. i missed din djarin.

bonus at the end for you guys :)

summary Y/N gets upset when another girl comes around and questions where her relationship stands with Din

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read time: 9 mins 29 seconds

3 days, 12 hours, and 30 ish minutes. That was the last time Din kissed you, but you totally weren’t counting. How long has it been since he’s touched you? Hugged you? Acknowledged you for anything other than the bare minimum? Your anxious thoughts flew through your mind as you tied up your boots. He had become more and more distant each day since you had found Natalie.

About a week ago you were in the forest looking for a frog to sneak to Grogu. He had listened to you all day and deserved a treat for being a good boy. That is when you came upon a girl, no older than 20. She was almost nude, shivering, and covered in dirt. And drop dead gorgeous.

Against your better judgement you took her back to the crest. Din had basically done the same for you when he found you, why not return the favor?

Natalie showed up in the middle of an awkward time in you and Din’s relationship. Sure, flirty banter has been there ever since you’ve known him. But the last few months you two have been together- sort of. It was confirmed by mutual feelings but never said out loud. You two were everything but girlfriend and boyfriend. I mean, you could have sworn Grogu said ‘mama’ last week. You were raising a child as well as taking the risk of making a new one. He had shown you his face. You had to be something. There was no way you weren’t- right?

Shaking your head and grabbing your weapon, you followed the sound of giggling from outside.

“He does tricks?” Natalie asked, head cocked perfectly in Din’s direction. Her ponytail flew perfectly in the breeze.

“Well, sometimes. Grogu- where’s your ball? Did you leave it on the crest?” Din playfully asked his son, tickling his stomach. All he got and expected as a response was a ‘coo’ from the child.

Taking in the sight of your… Din and Grogu and her made you sick. I mean, she was even wearing your clothes. How much more sick could this get?

“Ready?” you asked, approaching the two hanging your blaster from your belt.

“Actually, I think Natalie and I are going to stay back. I promised her I would teach her how to shoot and…” Din said, the tone in his voice weary.

He saw the way your face dropped, but it flew completely over his head. Your mouth was slightly agape. You stared at him. Then her. Then him.

“Y/N?” Din coughed, breaking you from your haze. “Yeah sure. I’ll take Grogu into town with me.” you said flatly. Without hesitating, you reached for Grogu sitting in his pouch on Din’s waist (god that tiny waste drove you nuts) and secured him in your scarves.

Walking to the speeder, you watched as Din brought Natalie over to the hill the crest was parked on, letting her aim his blaster. His blaster, the one you were forbidden to touch. The pit in your stomach kept growing larger and larger and falling deeper and deeper.

Grogu cooed, noticing his mother was upset. “I’m alright, kid.” you said, smiling putting on a strong face for him. Of course, he could sense everything that was wrong and your phony smile couldn’t fool him. A sad sigh exhaled from the child as he placed his forehead and a tiny green hand on your chest where he sat tightly.

At least someone still wanted you.

Jiggling through the lanyard that was attached to your waist looking for the speeder key, you heard a shout from behind you.

“Y/N!” Din yelled, waving his hand with a slight run towards you.

Your face perked up. A slight smile came on your lips. He was coming back to give you a goodbye kiss, you just knew it.

“Hey,” he said, slightly out of breathe as he reached the speeder. You were ready. Leaning over the speeder towards him, your eyes met through his viser.

“Don’t forget those to buy those special nuts I like. The ones with dragon berry? Remember?”

Your perfect moment was crushed.

“Yup,” is all you could manage out. Your hand had grasped the right key and you sped off, leaving a trail of dust behind you.

***

It was now midday. The hot sun beat down on the two of you. Your scarves were draped over your head, shielding the sun from your eyes.

You felt a tiny scratch on your chest. “Yes, yes. Calm down, we’re going to the Cantina for some food.”

One more sale and it was lunch. The bag of credits in your sleeve pocket was still heavy. You were skimming the blaster modifications when you heard a squeal.

“Is that her, Din?” you heard Natalie say from feet away. “Shh!” he hushed her.

He told her his name. Not Mando anymore. Din.

“Y/N!” Natalie yelled from across the market. You grinded your teeth and took a deep breathe, abandoning any interest in the parts.

“Hi!” you said with the fakest smile you had ever had on your face. “How did you two get here without a speeder?” you asked, a pissed tone silently rode off your lips as your eyes stabbed into his beskar helmet.

“We walked! It was such a nice time in the forest. An hour goes by really fast when your having fun.” Natalie smiled aimlessly at you.

As you couldn’t see, Din was behind his mask with the most tired eyes and annoyed face known to man.

You swallowed.

“I’m starving. Could you get me some food Din?” she said again using his name. “Mando.” he corrected her. “Oh right. We’re using our made up names.” she whispered, giggling heading towards the Cantina.

He stood there for a second, looking you up and down. You knew him well enough behind the mask to notice what he was doing. “Don’t fucking even,” you scoffed, following the bubbly girl into the Cantina. “Don’t what?” he asked, following you confused into the loud bar.

You felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes. Making your way to the bathroom, you shook Din’s hand off of yours trying to gain your attention. “Please,” you yelled a little too loudly, yanking your hand away and making a bee line towards the restroom.

You slammed the stall door shut and waited for the heavy beskar boots to follow you in. He wasn’t the type to leave you. Ever. You waited.

And waited.

And waited. And they never came.

Sitting on the toilet sobbing, you barely remembered Grogu was there. Another scratch on your chest reminded you that he was hungry.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” you sniffled, wiping your eyes and attempting to clean up your red face.

Staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror felt stupid. You had so much pity for yourself. Your braid has become more loose than it was this morning. Strands of loose hair rested next to your face. Your boots had mud on them. Now was not the time to be critiquing yourself but you couldn’t help it. How could you not? Natalie was beautiful, more pretty than you’d ever be. Right?

This time Grogu let out a small growl and you gave in. Turning the corner, you were grabbed near the exit and thrown back into the bathroom.

Laying on the floor confused, you looked up at your attacker. A giant creature with blue horns stared down at you with a smirk on his face.

“I saw that pretty bag of coins on your wrist, ma’am.” he scowled, pointing his long knife down at you. “I would appreciate if we did this the easy way.” he said cracking his neck in both directions.

The blade rested on the middle of your chest. Grogu, being the curious creature he is poked his head out of your swaddle you had made him.

“Well well well, what is this?” he asked, moving the knife to bump the scarf you had around your chest. “I think I will be taking both.” he smiled, revealing his yellow crooked teeth.

Panic flashed your mind as you rolled over, shielding Grogu from his grasp. He let out a loud yell in anger and didn’t hesitate to swipe his dagger at your shoulder, leaving a pretty nasty cut.

“Fuck!” you yelled out in pain, holding the open wound.

Grogu being the good boy he is (he deserves another frog) rolled out of your grasp and waved his tiny hand in the air. The dagger flew from the attackers hand and right into your grasp.

“Good boy,” you whispered as you didn’t hesitate to stab the man near his groin. He cried out in pain as you twisted the knife, then pulled it out. It was covered in purple blood.

You scooped up Grogu and made your way back into the crowded Cantina. You spotted Din with his elbow resting comfortably on the counter talking to Natalie.

“… and then Greef started to complain about-”

“We need to go.” you said in a low voice, grabbing his hand and pulling in the opposite direction. “What?” he asked. “What’s that?” Natalie asked loudly, pointing at the dripping dagger in your hand.

“Shut it for once, won’t you?” you yelled at her. A wave of concern flew over Natalie’s face. “Hey!” Din yelled, sticking his finger in your face. You had to ignore the intrusive thought to bite it.

A large roar came from the Cantina bathroom exit. Everyone’s eyes turned to the creature. “You little bitch!” the man yelled, meeting your eyes in the crowd.

“We need to go.” you ordered, slipping out of the entrance. Looking behind you and gripping Grogu close, you ran to the speeder. Din quickly followed without Natalie on his tail.

You straddled the speeder as you heard your attacker’s yells from behind you. He was a few feet behind Din. At that point, Natalie began to stumble out of the Cantina.

Din held up his hand, signaling for you to start the speeder. The wound on your arm throbbed. With one hand cradling a sleeping Grogu and the other on the speeder handle, you prepared for the worst.

Din made it just in time. “Go go!” he yelled, grabbing your waist tightly as you sped off. That man and Natalie were left in the dust.

The speeder tumbled as you reached the crest. You meant to get fuel on your way back, but that obviously didn’t get to happen.

As the two of you finally stopped, you sat for a moment in silence.

Finally, you flipped around. You handed Din a sleeping Grogu and turned to go back in the crest. Your face was stone cold.

“Are you okay?” Din asked wearily. He was most definitely not getting a response. You walked through the hatch and made it to the medical cabinet. It was funny, you had forgot you had put on a white shirt today and not a crimson one.

“Is that blood?” he asked, removing his helmet and setting Grogu inside of it. He liked to nap there sometimes, it was warm and smelt of his father.

“Why do you care? I’m surprised your not back on your speeder going to find Natalie.” you hissed, cutting your sleeve off to reveal the wound.

“Fuck!” you yelled as the bloody sleeve rolled down your arm. “What? Cy’are what happened?” Din asked, rushing to your aid. “Get away from me.” you hissed back at him, struggling to see straight. “Let me help.” he demanded. “Go ffffucking find her.” you slurred.

Blood was definitely lost.

“Sit for gods sake.” he yelled, pulling up a chair behind you. He pulled out the bacta cream and bandages. “You b-better not fucking touch me Din Djarin,” you yawned.

Ignoring you, he wiped the blood away from the wound. It wouldn’t need stitches, but it would leave a nasty scar. He applied the cream and wrapped your arm up. “Too tight?” he asked, his eyes peering into yours.

“I don’t know why your so worried about me when we left Natalie out there.” you bitched. “Seriously Y/N, too tight or not.” he said ignoring your comment.

“You told her your name?” you slurred, the blood loss just beginning to regenerate.

“What? No. She heard you call me it last night.”

“Oh.”

“Why were you all over her? You could barely even speak to me. It’s obvious that you were just going to leave me somewhere and take her instead.” you mumbled, staring at your muddy and now bloodied boots.

“What?” Din asked, astonished. “What are you talking about, Cy’are?”

He bent down in front of you, his hands on both of your thighs. “Don’t lie,” you said, turning your head away from his. Tears began forming in your eyes.

“Your in love with her Din.”

Din wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your thighs. “You are dreaming, my love.”

“Then why did you-”

“I stayed with her because I thought you couldn’t stand her. I thought I was doing you a favor.” he explained.

I mean he wasn’t wrong.

“But what about-”

“Shh,” he shushed you. “I’m horrible but I’m glad we left her at the Cantina. I didn’t know how much longer I could have gone with her constantly at my hip. I couldn’t be with you, I was starting to loose my mind.”

You carefully grabbed a handful of his brown curly hair. You always forgot how soft it was, never being able to touch it under all that beskar.

“Really?” you sniffled, using your other hand to wipe the tear away.

“We have about another 45 minutes to get off this planet.” he hummed into your jeans, kissing your thigh before returning upright.

“I can’t believe you thought I liked her better,” Din scoffed, now towering over you.

“You let her use your blaster?” you questioned. “She grabbed it.” he sighed, laughing at your question. “So am I allowed to touch it now?” “Absolutely not.”

“But why did you ignore me then? Not even anything. No good morning kiss or sleeping in the same bed or…” “Oh.” he sighed. “I thought you wanted to keep it quiet? Not let her know. I’m sorry,”

“I’d let the whole galaxy see you touch me,” you mumbled. A smile rose to Din’s lips.

His hand turned to your cheek, cupping it ever so lightly. His thumb brushed over your lips. He bent down, giving you a soft kiss on your tear stained lips.

“You over anyone, cy’arika. How I’ve missed you.”

•

yes don’t worry grogu was fed he is well taken care of don’t call cps trust me he got all the frogs and eggs he wanted after that day

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @salliebley @peeta-is-useless @bubsonnobx @kirsteng42

bonus:

You lay in his warm grasp for the first time in over a week. His warm skin rested on yours. The hum of the open galaxy surrounding the ship filled your ears. Din’s messy hair sat on him well. His arms ran across your bare chest, holding you with ever such ease. His breaths became more shallow with each second.

“Hey,” he whispered groggily in your ear, pulling you closer. “Mhm,” you replied, pushing yourself into his embrace. You were expecting an ‘I love you’ or ‘I missed your body’ or something romantic.

“Did you remember my nuts? The dragon berry ones?”

“God dammit Din,” you sighed, closing your eyes.

“Did you remember?” he asked, sitting up in bed and peering down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“No Din. I forgot your fucking nuts.”

3K notes · View notes

grippingbeskar · 2 years

Text

real convenient | the mandalorian

mando x fem!reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: ADULT CONTENT MINORS DNI ( sex pollen with a twist so kinda dub/con but they talk about it, masturbation m and f, mxf intercourse) swearing, mentions of death, description of injuries

a/n: i dont have an excuse for this. not sorry.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Go right! I’ll catch up!” You yell over the noise of the forest, and if you were calling out to anyone else the instruction would have been lost to the galaxy, but you see the shiny armour of the Mandalorian change directions and follow the target down the side of the mountain.

You have been tracking this guy for months, the Mandalorian joining you about halfway through when you discovered you were both hunting the same guy. He also had a tracking fob which made your job ten time easier, so you teamed up deciding to put both of your sources of information together to seek this guy out.

You spin and take to run through the bushes, hoping you can cut the guy off at the bottom. Endor was full of giant trees and plants you didn’t recognise, but you were hopeful the bottom of the mountain came out at a clearing so you could at least see what direction he took. Bushes jutted out at every wind in the small path you were creating through the forest, bright green interrupted by sprouting flowers and fruits.

As you wind another corner, you can hear blaster fire coming from the clearing. Your hunch was right, and as you go to move towards the break in the trees, a snag on the ground sends you face first into the bushes. Immediately you cry out, thorns and twigs cutting up your arms. The blaster fire gets louder and you realise they must be moving in towards you, and footsteps beat along the path behind you. Using your new found cover, you slink yourself further into the bush, trying to ignore the sting from a deep gash on your forearm.

The footsteps get closer and you know it’s not the Mandalorian. You know what he sounds like - you aren’t too naive to admit you have developed a little crush on him over the past few weeks. He was just so big and strong - stoic, even caring. The one time he sewed you up after a blaster shot skimmed your rib cage, and how he took off his gloves and his fingertips danced along bare skin with expert precision. You dreamed about that night - and it had been the subject of all your fantasies ever since. You couldn’t get him out of your head. Every time he spoke to you it was like a fog came over and blocked everything else but him. So, you knew these too light steps must belong to the target.

You faced your body to the path, and as the man came around, sprinting along the edge of your make shift path, you stuck your legs out and sent him flying face first into the dirt. You were on him seconds after, bringing his arms behind his back.

“You have no idea who I am!” He screams - which is true, you just know what you’d been paid to do, but you also didn’t really care. Like Mando, you were a bounty hunter, admittedly not as accomplished, so when someone paid you for a job, you did it, no questions asks.

“Shut up.” You struggle to keep him on his stomach, and he manages to rotate underneath your hold. He was facing you, and you see his eyes shift from the wound on your arm to the brightly coloured thorn bushes, then back up to you. He smiles and you punch him in the face, his body twitching underneath you.

“Your going to wish you never did that. Your fucked now, you know that?” Your eyebrows furrow in a second of confusion and he just laughs. “You don’t even know what that thing does, huh!”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” You finally flip him back over, securing his arms behind his back as you shuffle down to hold him still. He continues to laugh when you move off him to tie his feet together.

“The thorns you cut yourself on. Your friends going to have a field day when he sees what you’ve done. A shame you’re tying up the only person who knows how to make an antidote.” Your heart starts to race, but you try to hold yourself together until Mando catches up.

“Your bluffing. You think you can scare me?” He just laughs again, which only serves to piss you off more. “What’s so bad about it then? You gonna tell me i’ve got ten minutes to live, and only you can save me? Real convenient.”

“You won’t die, but it will feel like you will.” You blink, taken aback. Suddenly you don’t think he’s lying - if he was wouldn’t he make your situation seem more desperate? You look back over to the thorns, and a light blue haze flows above the bush, still disturbed from when you landed in it. You lean over, letting some of your weight off your prisoner to examine it. It was a pretty colour, and it kind of smelled nice… familiar.

Suddenly you were flying forward, face first into the dirt. You hear the Mandalorians heavy footsteps coming up the path, but not before the target slips out of his foot bindings and runs, using his bound hands to grab a branch next to your face. Didn’t he say it was dangerous? What was he…

“Son of a…” A metallic voice says from behind you before a single blaster shot followed by the thud of a body snaps you from your trance.

You turn around, seeing the dead target bent at an unnatural angle along the path, and the Mandalorians blaster still smoking from the shot. You push yourself up from the ground, brushing the dirt off your knees from your second fall today.

“Took you long enough.” You huff as you begin to examine the gash on your arm.

“Thought you said you had it covered.” He puts his blaster back in its holster and fiddles with the hem of his glove.

“Your supposed to be the muscle here.” He breaths out a laugh and flips the dead guy over with his foot, confirming the kill with the tracking fob. “Did he get you, too?”

“What?” Mando says, and you point out the branch sitting next to the body.

“I fell in those bushes before, got a big gash on my arm. He was saying it’s some kind of poison or something - not fatal, but I don’t really know how much he was lying.” His gloved hand reaches forward and examine your forearm, and you can see a bit of ripped material on his glove, confirming your suspicion.

“You fell in those?” His voice comes out more of a statement than a question, and you just nod as he drops your arm and moves past you, scanning the bushes.

“Yeah. It’s not too bad, though. We can fix it up on the ship. I think he was trying to use it as a weapon. Maybe we should take some back to examine?” You reach an arm out, but he is faster and stops you before you can touch the broken off branch.

“Don’t touch it.”

“Little late for that. I fell in it.” You stare at him blankly, but he doesn’t respond, just keeps staring into the bushes. “Your kind of scaring me. Is it poison?”

“Something like that. We should g-go. The ship.” He stuttered.

You have never heard him stutter in your life. Now you were really worried.

“What about him?” You look back at the body, sprawled across the path as the Mandalorian drags you along by your non injured arm.

“Leave him. We need to go.” Your heart starts to beat a little faster, and you can’t tell if it’s because he’s holding you too tight or maybe you were getting delirious, because the small area of skin he touches feels like it’s on fire.

“What’s going on, Mando. Quit stalling.” His pace quickens and you see him limp a little as he hurries through the forests of Endor, trying to navigate as fast as possible.

“Nothing. It’s fine. Just need to get back.”

“He said he could make an antidote.” You we’re starting to panic - maybe the target wasn’t bluffing, and you needed him.

“He was lying. No antidote. Not one he can make, anyway.”

“What are you saying? Is it - are we going to…”

“Hey. It’s going to be okay. It’s hard to explain, but we just have to keep going.” God, his voice was so low. It always sent a wave of heat over body when he spoke to you like that, but this was like, a whole new feeling.

The hold he had on your wrist started to…tingle? It wasn’t even his skin on yours, but it was sending waves of warmth straight to your core. You think about how soft his skin was under those gloves the night he sewed you up on this ship. How gentle his hands were, how confident he was. It made you think about how confident he would be if…

“I think I feel sick. You need to t- oh God.” Your stomach lurched and he yanked you to walk faster. Was it sickness? You didn’t think you were going to throw up, but it felt like you had a fever. You were starting to sweat despite the cool forest of the planet, and your whole body was shivering but you were so warm everywhere.

“You’re going to be okay. It won’t kill you. It just-“ He breaks into a deep breath, and releases it slowly. “It just makes you feel sick. Just trust me when I say we just need to get back to the ship.”

“O-okay.” You watched as he led you into the clearing where the ship was parked. You don’t know how you haven’t noticed his shoulders before. Of course you had seen him, his giant frame was impossible not to notice. But he was so big, he practically doubled your size. It would be so easy for him to just-

“Go inside. Lock the door to your room, and don’t come out.” He grabs you by the shoulders and you instantly feel that sickness again. You know this feeling. It was…

“What’s happening to me?” Your breath shakes and your legs feel like water, and his hand comes up to lightly brush against your face.

“Your going to be fine. As long as you stay away from me.” His hand drags along your cheek bone, as if it is an effort to remove it. He half jogs into the ship and you suddenly feel sick again - watching him disappear makes all the muscles in your body tense.

Stay away from him? Why was he being so cagey about what it was? You move fast, turning the corner and hitting the button to shut the ramp. You can hear the shutter of the Mandalorians door close to your left, and you start to walk towards your own room when it overtakes you.

It was like you stepped into a furnace. Your whole body was alert, and it was almost painful how warm you were. The cool metal of the wall provided little relief as you slid down, only making it halfway down the hall. You swallow - and as you let your hands drop to your thighs, you suddenly remember where you have felt this feeling before.

You were… turned on? You knew what came with that, and hell if it hadn’t happened more than a few times being stuck with the Mandalorian, but this felt way more intense. Every part of your body reacted to even the thought of him, and you found your hands drifting higher and higher up your thighs.

You let out a shakey breath as your hand lightly rested over the hem of your jeans, and you screwed your eyes shut in embarrassment. Maker - was this seriously happening? Was this the effect of those bushes the target was talking about? He wasn’t wrong - you felt like you were going to die, but as your hand slipped underneath your pants, the relief was almost instant.

You still felt that burn, and every part of you tightened and froze when your finger brushed over your centre. You couldn’t help the sounds you made - a strangled moan echoing in the metal chamber of the ship. You moved your hand a little faster, pleasure building instantly as you were overcome with the feeling.

You never felt like this before - it’s never been this instant. You’ve never been this desperate. Stars- this felt like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. You had to move faster - it was no longer your choice. You needed release.

Your orgasm was practically simultaneous - and for a second all the pain and warmth was gone, and there was a calm silence. Your body relaxed, and you could breathe. You thought that might be it - it was over.

But in the next moment it was like nothing had happened, and you were right back on the edge, sweat starting to build and your hand began to move again.

You wanted to cry - why were you still so fucking turned on? You thought of the Mandalorian - was he in his room, doing the same thing, feeling the same frustration? Oh god- you can’t think about him right now. It will only make this ten times worse. He makes you crazy without the effect of some weird off world plant, you can’t think about it. The idea of him though - his hands wrapped around his cock, desperate for release had you finishing again, and you couldn’t cover your mouth fast enough to muffle your scream.

“Mand-oh fuck!” Your head bashed against the wall as you crashed into your second orgasm, this one lasting longer than the first, that sweet blissful relief only lasting a few seconds after you came down, and then shoving you right back into it. It was like the more you chased what your body so badly needed the more it was unattainable.

You hear a crash come from down the hall, and your embarrassment was only a underlying thought - the pure need overtaking you. You started to think - maybe it wasn’t the release you needed, but a person to give it to you. You slid your underpants up your legs and kicked your pants away, the fabric too heavy for your feverish skin.

You crawled down the hallway and leant up against his door, closing your eyes and trying to steady your breath. You turned your head so your ear was pressed against his door, and the sound you heard made you wetter than you thought possible.

You could hear him, like really hear him. He’d taken his helmet off, and he had to be at least partly unarmoued because you could hear the sliding of his hand over his cock. He was grinding out sounds you never would have thought he could make, moaning and sighing, and you would have stayed quiet and just enjoyed the sound - but he started to say your name.

“Mando? Stars - what is- I ca-an’t. It’s too hot. What do I do?“ You babble against his door and you hear him straighten up when he realises you are just outside his door. The whine in your voice when you say his name tells him everything he needs to know, and he groans in response.

“T-told you to- fuck- stay in your room.” You whine in pleasure as you slide a finger inside yourself, unable to resist at the sound of his voice. You begin curling it, hitting that spot inside you and it has you shuddering at the sensation.

“Tell me what’s happening.” You try to be quiet but you just can’t- you have to move faster; you need this more than anything.

“Thorns make you-“

“Fuck! Oh m-my go-“He draws out a “mmm” sound behind the door and it’s enough to push you to closer to the edge for the third time, your breath getting caught in your throat. “How do I m-make it stop?”

He just swallows and you hear him start up again, both of your sighs in sync as you chased your release in time. You want to tear this door down - even just to watch him. Watch how he struggles to suck in a breath as he gets closer and closer. Watch how hard his hand would grip his cock as he watched you touch yourself for him, watch how his body reacted when you came and screamed his name.

“Mando. P-please, I need something.” He groans and you hear his head lean against the door.

“I c-can’t. Not like this.” There is a single moment where you process his words in between rushes of pleasure. Like this? Does he mean he would open the door for you another way?

“What do you m-ean?” You hiccup, the movement of your hand quickening. “I just need you help me please please-“

“Relax, cyar’ika. Try to relax. Take a deep breath.” You close your eyes and your jaw shakes as you fill your lungs. Your eyes flutter open and you try to focus on a section of the wall, your hand still pumping in and out. “I can’t let you in. It wouldn’t be right to- like this. We can’t think straight.”

“I don’t care. Please just- anything. I’ll do anything. I just need you to help me.” You suck in another deep breath and your hips start to move with the pace of your hand, a moan filling the space between you.

“I-Fuck. Try something with me, okay?” You just whimper out a ‘mhmm’ and squeeze your eyes shut, the sound of your voice building a tingling sensation in your whole body.

“Tell me what your doing.”

“I’m - what i’m doing? But-“

“It’s okay, you can tell me.” His voice has dropped another octave and you can hear the pace of his hand stroking himself, and you try to match the pace and imagine it was him.

“I left my pants in the hallway. Didn’t even make it to my room.” You can hear how he relaxes into the door, sliding down a little and pumping his cock slowly as he listens to you. “I’m- I can’t stop t-touching myself. Maker I-“

“Felt too good, baby? I know, it’s okay. You touching yourself right now? You can go faster. Do what feels good, okay?” His words sent you soaring, every deep and dark desire bubbling to the surface underneath your desperation. You weren’t embarrassed anymore; whatever he asked you to do you would, but you don’t think that had anything to do with the thorn bushes affect.

“So close. Sh-shit I-“ You hiccup again, your hand working yourself in no rhythm - a wild need surging over you as you follow his instructions.

“Doing so good, cyar’ika. T-tell me what your thinking about.” He says this with a whine, almost like it’s painful for him to say it and not be able to do anything about it. You have no filter and moan out his name as you spill your truth.

“I think about you. Not just now - every time I touch myself I think of you. Imagine that it was you. How good your hands feel on me, how they would feel inside me.” You hear him groan and he chokes out your name as he comes, and hearing the sound you follow, and that sweet second of relief rushes over your body. You pull your hand out of your underwear to take your shirt off, throwing it to the side. It was damp with sweat.

“S’too hot. I can’t do this anymore. Please.” You knew how desperate you sounded, but by the sound of the Mandalorians actual whimpers from behind the door, he was feeling the same thing.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s gonna- it has to pass. I-fuck- it has to.” His voice was driving you insane, it felt like he was right in your ear, so close to connecting with your skin but just far enough, behind a few inches of steel.

“Can you open the door? For me? P-please.” You knew you sounded so desperate, but it’s because you were. You don’t know what it was, but you just knew you needed him. It was like someone had taken all those feelings from before and amplified them tenfold - it was the only thing you were sure about right now.

“Fucking stars - I can’t.” You sit on your hands to stop them from sliding into your underpants again - everything in a haze of pleasure and pain. Never fully recovering from those previous orgasms, your body convulsed slightly as his reply made you even more frustrated. Maybe he wasn’t feeling this like you were. You had probably been a lot more affected but the thorns - and maybe he hadn’t had any feelings before to be amplified.

“You don’t want me? I’ll- i’ll go I’m sorry I just-“

“I want you. Fuck, do I want you.” He growls, cutting you off and you hear his head hit against the door again “You keep begging me like that and I’ll tear this door down and-“

“And what?” He sighs and your toes curl at the sound of his hand wrapping around his cock again. “You can. You can come here, or I can go in there. You can do whatever you want and it will feel so fucking good I swear.”

“Cyar’ika.” He moans and you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together, the pressure of your body slowly making your hands numb underneath you. “I can’t do this to you. You don’t want this.”

“Oh, I do! Please I do, I want it so bad. Need it.” You egg him on. Does he really think you wouldn’t want him, regardless of the situation? “I’d beg for you always. Always.”

“Yeah?” He breathes out, and you hear him moving around inside. You were pretty sure you were crying, the exhaustion from the pain of holding yourself back and multiple orgasms that provided little relief making you lose all composure.

“Yes! Yes. Please, I need you so fucking bad. I’ll make you feel so good I promi-“

“I know you would, baby. Fuck, I think about it all the time. S’fuckin pretty and sweet, bet you’d be so tight.” Your hands rip out from underneath you and plunge into your underwear, unable to control yourself. You weren’t even doing anything good, just applying pressure in wild motions in the hopes something- anything would release you. It builds fast and you bite your lip so hard you taste blood.

“Oh fuck! Not a- no no nonono-o fuck!” You sob into your next release and you hear him whack something in the room, a metallic crushing sound snapping your attention away from him for only a second. Your head falls to the side, gasping for air.

“It’s ok. Shh. Doing so good, cyar’ika.” Your cries get softer as his voice fills your head. Your vision was starting to go blurry and as out of it as you feel, your desperation was still just as fucking overwhelming.

“Mando.”

“It’s Din.” You stop breathing. “My name is Din.”

“Fuck. You don’t have-“

“I want you to say my real name.”

“Oh, Din. Din. Din.” You chant, hoping that if you do what he says he will just let you in. Your hand doesn’t stop it’s movement on yourself, and every muscle in your body is destroyed with need. “Please help me, Din. Please.”

“Are you sure?” Your eyes shoot open and you turn around on your knees and lean your body against the door.

“Yes, Din. Please, I need you so badly. Want you so badly.”

You hear the hiss of a seal crack, and the door slowly slides out from in front of you. Immediately you crawl in, and you find him completely naked except for his helmet that he had slipped back on, leaning lazily up against the wall. He still had his cock in his hand, and it looked painfully hard even though you could see one of his undershirts was already covered in cum.

“Din.” You whisper and shuffle over in front of him, legs shaking as you position in between his legs. Both of his hands come up to hold your face and you follow his pull, coming up on his lap to straddle him. He runs one hand down your stomach, and you moan at the simple contact.

This wasn’t just for you - you wanted to help him as badly as you wanted this for yourself. You could see the small cut on his hand from where the thorn had torn his glove, and his entire body was straining to hold himself back. You could see his cock - hard and aching and he looked just as uncomfortable as you felt.

“I wanted this for so long. I don’t want to t-“ He sucks in a modulated breath as your hand comes down to touch him. Your fingers shake at how entirely consumed in this feeling you are, but you don’t want to do anything he isn’t ready for. Testing the waters, you lean your head down and kiss at his neck, the feeling racking pleasure through your entire body.

“I have too. Nothing that happens will be anything I wouldn’t want. I’m just not so shy about it right now. If your okay with it. Please.” You let your teeth drag across his collarbone and he chokes out a reply.

“Okay. O-Okay. Fu-come here. Come closer.” You nod against him, blinking back the tears of relief at the promise of him - someone you’ve wanted to be with for what feels like forever - promising to give you what you need. Your hand wraps around him and goes a little faster and he simultaneously starts tending his abs and moaning out your name under the helmet.

His hands move to your hips, and he pulls you up so you lose sight of your hand, so you reluctantly let him go, pouting a little at the loss of contact. Even with how you are both feeling he stifles a laugh, but when he moves your underwear to the side and you feel his hard length against your core, your body jolts on top of him and you cry out.

“Feels good?” He murmurs and you nod and arch your back, struggling to hold your own weight up. The other hand left your face and traces lines up your back. You realise the bursting flame of need has simmered a little lower now that you were close to him, and when the head of his cock rests against your clit, you drop your forehead against his helmet.

“Please, Din. Want you to fuck me.” He nods and moves your hips for you, taking the weight off your legs. As soon as he finds your entrance that desperation comes back, and you nearly start crying again.

“Close your eyes.” He groans and you do what he says, squeezing them shut. You hear his helmet rolling away to the side and his lips capture yours the moment he drives into you. “Fucking hell, cyar’ika.”

“Oh m- Din! Fuck yes!” Energy suddenly floods your body and you find the strength to meet his thrusts, each time he hits you harder and deeper than the last.

It feels euphoric - every nerve in your body feels alive and screams in pleasure as he drives up into you. It’s not just the effects of the thorns; you have been wanting this for months. Wanted to feel his mouth against yours, his tongue slowly searching every inch of your mouth and memorising your taste. Wanted him to fuck you, hard and uncensored, losing all that composure that you know he has to put on and taking it all out on you.

“This what you wa- fuck-wanted, pretty girl? Knew you’d take me so fucking well. Maker- so t-tight.” Your mouth was hanging open, trying to keep up with the pace of his lips and his hips but failing. He held you in place, and you rolled your hips when you could, every time making Din whisper a high pitched whine into your mouth.

“I wanted it so bad. You fuck me s-so good, Din. I’m gonna cu-oh god I’m gonna cum!” He speeds up and every single orgasm from before seems like it was building a tower inside of you, stacking higher and higher, and Din was about to crash into it and send it tumbling down.

“Cum for me, cyar’ika.” Both of your hands come around him, one finding his hair and yanking it hard. Din groans as he keeps his brutally fast pace, and you feel the world shift as he lays you down, still holding you in his arms as he fucks you. “So beautiful.”

The new position mixed with those two simple words sends your entire world dark, then white, then red as you lose all sense of anything other than cumming for him. You scream his name, dig your fingernails into his back and bite down on his lower lip as your orgasm racks your being. You feel the hot breath of Dins mouth on your face, and it makes you shiver as you feel his strangled breath when he cums alongside you.

It’s almost instant, the relief you feel when you begin to come down. All those muscles that were so taught and strained instantly relax, the heat in the room becomes a welcomed warmth from the cold metal against your bare back. Din pulls you back up so he is leaning against the wall, never pulling himself out of you. You don’t want him to - the idea of being any further away from him than this makes you feel cold.

“You’re fucking perfect.” Din mumbles against your shoulder, and you hear a hitch on his breath as you adjust your hips slightly to hold him closer. “You feeling okay?”

“So good. So much better. Are you? Okay?” You sigh, and sink into him. He kisses your collarbone.

“S’good.” He goes quiet, not holding you half as hard as you need him to. Clearly he’s giving you an exit, now both of you were coming out of the haze of the thorns, but it’s not an exit you want to ever consider.

“Can I stay? With you?” You keep your eyes shut as he presses his forehead to yours. You feel him shift underneath you.

“Y-you want to?” You nod against him and keep your eyes closed. He kisses you - this one slow and searching for confirmation, and you give it to him, returning everything he throws at you.

“I always wanted to stay, Din.” You feel him jolt inside you as you say his name, and although your body is tired and weak, you want nothing more than for him to stay this way forever - and to take you whenever he wants.

“Let me see your arm.” You had completely forgot about the cut on your forearm, and you lift it up between you, keeping your own eyes closed.

“How is it?” You ask, and you know he looks up at you because you can feel the tickle of his curls on your forehead.

“Have to stitch it up.” The idea sends a shiver down your spine, knowing how much you loved it the first time. As you react so does he, his cock still inside you twitching slightly.

“Is it gonna hurt?” He leans down and kisses a small patch of skin near the cut, and you flinch at the contact.

“Mm. You’re gonna be okay, though.”

“Will we?” You ask, suddenly a little scared at the idea of leaving this room, going back to reality. You didn’t want things to go back to how they were, not now you have had a taste of what being with him feels like. You want to have it all the time, want to know how he feels when you both aren’t under a haze - how he would fuck you nice and slow, romantic if you wanted, and hard and rough if you asked.

“We’re gonna be just fine, cyar’ika.” He mumbles against your skin and he pulls you in to his chest, tighter than before. It was exactly what you needed, and you know you believe him.

2K notes · View notes

poppy-metal · 3 years

Text

"The first time you hear Izuku moan your name, its with you hiding on the other side of his closet door, your hand clapped over your mouth in shock.”

A/N: im placing this before the sexual side of their relationship begins. A prelude of sorts, if you will.

Cw: voyeurism, smut, dekus secretly dirty mouth.

All things considered izuku’s room was...not as gross as you expected a staple college aged guys dorm room to be. It was cluttered but not disgusting, posters of comics and figurines and manga and some clothes strewn about, everything kind of frenzied and haphazard. It was so incredibly deku, a secret smile pulled at your lips, even though your reasons for being here were less than innocent

He’s wearing fucking pink. Because of course he is, of course izuku is humble and comfortable in his masculinity enough to pull off a bright pink t-shirt. It hugs his chest too, and you have to wonder if literally any of his clothes fit him and the tits he decided to grow in college. His image is so utterly imposing, his smile so bright, and laugh so airy, it sends butterflies flipping through your stomach at just the sight of him and that makes you want to vomit. Your lips curl in a sneer and you’re walking towards him and the group of friends he’s talking to as if on reflex.

Stupid, lovely deku. You knock your shoulder into his as you pass, hard enough that his books clatter and fall to the floor, scattering. And then those green eyes are on you, giving you his attention and your body feels alive, your blood cells buzzing under your skin even as he frowns. The dimples on his freckled face fall as he takes you in. Yes, you think, look at me, see me, want me.

Out loud you say. “Watch where you’re going, stupid deku” and you’re looking at him like he’s the dirt under your shoe. He’s not. He’s the center of your universe. Your world tilts around his axis. “Pink isn’t your fucking color by the way”. it is.

Izuku huffs. He’s past the point where he used to turn as red as a tomato and duck his head whenever you stood in front of him, but he’s still deku at the end of the day. An easy target. “If looking at me bothers you so much you could just ignore me.” He crouches down to pick up his things. His words make you itch, if you could ignore him, you wouldn’t fucking be here. Its because he exists too much, that you want to push him down so much.

You step your manicured foot onto his notebook right as he’s about to grab it. He tugs at it, you dont budge, and he looks up at you, exasperated. “Can i have my notebook, please?”

Why is he so fucking pretty? God, you want to throw up. You dig your heel in further, covering the flutter you feel in your chest with a practiced sneer. “I like the way you say please, deku.” You lean down a little, “Say ‘your highness’ and i’ll move”

It’s a thrill, seeing the way his jaw sets, his brow furrows, his eyes go annoyed. Sweet, sweet, friendly izuku. You’re the only one he looks at like this, like he wants to throttle you. But he won’t. You see his adams apple bob, his cheeks dust pink, even as he glares. “No”

You pause. It’s not the first time he’s gotten snippy with you, but the conviction behind it is new. You feel something in your stomach give a jump, your blood thrumming in your ears. You jerk your foot towards you, sliding his notebook out from his hands and standing completely on top of it with both your feet now. Your sticky lips, glossy and plump, spread into a mocking grin, “No? Do i need to slam you into some lockers and take you lunch money?” You feel a thousand feet tall, towering above him still kneeling, you on the high ground, looking down at him below you, where he can’t reach you. Can’t ever see the truth. “C’mon pansy, you’re already on your knees anyway”

But he isn’t anymore. He jerks to a stand, and now he’s taller than you, but you puff your chest out, not letting that affect you. It always affects you. Not that he knows or ever notices. Your eyes are widening when he steps forward so you’re practically nose to nose and chest to chest. “I don’t have time for you” he snaps, irritated. And then he’s stepping away as suddenly as he stepped up, the rest of his things gathered in his arms, he shakes his head at you, a tendril of that mossy mousey hair falling into his eyes. “I gotta get to class”

And then he’s gone, brushing by you, disengaging. You stand there, your breath stuck in your chest, not moving. ‘I dont have time for you’ over and over again rings through your head like a mantra. You step off his notebook robotically and kick it across the floor. It bangs against a wall and you feel your fists clench, nail beds digging into your palms harshly. ‘I dont have time for you’

You turn on your heel, away from the direction of your class, fury blinding you. Anger in place of humiliation, vindication in place of being humbled. You don’t know what crawled up his ass and made him think he was above you all the sudden, but you weren’t having it, not the fuck at all.

And that’s how you found yourself snooping through izukus dorm, with the intention of finding some kind of dirt, or something to hold over his stupid head. He didn’t have time for you? How dare he act like he was better than you, like he had things more important to do than to indulge you. You were still so mad you wanted to throw a tantrum, kick and scream and claw his eyes out. Straddle his stupid broad waist and shake him until all he saw was you, you, you.

You really hated him. Hated that because of him you were basically a bully because any attention from him was attention you thrived and lived under. Maybe if you weren’t so prideful, so disgusted by the weakness of your own gooey emotions for him, you would have tried to be the center of his attention in a nicer way, but as it was you were in too deep. This was the sick game you played, and losing wasn’t an option.

You hated how much that made you similar to bakugou in a way. You didn’t like that guy, and even weirdly so, you wanted to gouge his fucking eyes out for the way he treated and talked to izuku. Was it jealousy or possesivness that drove you to want to be the only one who could rile izuku? You wondered, sometimes, if bakugou felt the same way about you.

It was the loss of control, for you. Better yet, it was the way you liked the loss of that control. You had always prided yourself on being strong willed and a perfectionist. But whenever your eyes so much as grazed izukus, all your emotions went rattling around your stomach in sick twisted ways, giving you goosebumps, making you...nervous. It was a crush that had turned into an obsession, wasn’t it? And you wanted to make izuku suffer not only for invoking those messy feelings, but for not seeming to return them as well. If he couldn’t love you or want you romantically or sexually, you’d force yourself onto his radar and into his head until thinking about anyone else was impossible. Until you squirmed under his skin as much as he squirmed under yours.

Acting like you didnt exist was unacceptable. Obviously you’d slacked off on your taunts and actions, if he could just brush past you so easily, not taking your bait. You needed to even the playing field again, and by even you meant you needed to be towering above him again.

Towering over him so you dont have the time to think about how much you want to be under him, your mind whispers at you as you pick through his room, trying to find anything incripting. Someone like izuku would probably have something utterly embarrassing like a diary or some weird porn magazines, shameless, helpless guy that he was.

You huff as you open his drawer next to his bedside, nearly slamming it back shut in shock at what you see there.

You’re not stupid. You’re a healthy, young woman with an active sexual imagination and access to the world wide web, to porn.

Izuku has a fleshlight in his drawer. Izuku has a sexytoy. Izuku. And its green.

Izuku has a sex toy that he probably uses. That he probably sticks his cock into and moves-

An absurd laugh barks out of you, shocked and helpless. Because while in your head you knew izuku had to be some kind pervert, what other explanation was there for the way he blushed and darted his gaze around like a ping pong ball whenever you leaned forward and get caught a glimpse under your blouse, this is...unexpected. Imagining izuku in explicit scenarios, doing lewd things, it was something you didn’t allow your mind to wonder to often over. You didn’t like the way you got all squirmy and meek whenever you thought too long about izuku without clothes.

You feel kind of squirmy now, hot and uncomfortable as you shift around and try to gather your wits back about you. Revenge, that’s what you’re here for.

With a shaky exhale you turn away from his dresser, your thoughts flitting around your head like annoying gnats. What, who, does he think about when he…? What does he look like? What does his...c- You shake your head, slap your cheeks, trying to center yourself from the images floating around, flustering you and distracting you.

You’re in the middle of lifting the covers on his bed to peek under it, see if there’s anything there, when you hear the handle on his door jiggle. You freeze, every muscle in your body locked frozen like a deer in headlights as the knob twists, and then catches. Right. You’d picked the lock with one of your hair clips and then made sure to lock it again behind you just in case something like this happened. And by the, “Ugh” on the other side of the door, yep that’s definitely izuku. You’re shoved out of your shocked state, and bolting for his closet door as you hear the jingle of his keys twist in the lock, trying your best to close the door as quietly as possible behind you, it swishing shut barely a second before the door to his dorm opens and you hear him step in.

Class must have let out early or something, you think huffily, gently rearranging yourself into a comfortable position on a pile of his clothes as he shuffles around his room. You hear the thumb of him dropping his books, the shuffle of his feet, the clutter of him taking off his shoes and the squeak of his mattress as he plops down on it.

You tuck your knees to your chest and roll your eyes, picking at your leggings as you wonder how long you’ll have to hide before he goes to the bathroom or something so you can leave. It’s fucking stuffy in his closet already, the air hot. Your hand touches the soft fabric beneath you, realizing you’re sitting on one of his hoodies. Its too dark to see which one it is, but you imagine it as your favorite red one. Maybe you’d steal it as compensation for him making you sit and wait in his dumb closet while he probably stared at the ceiling with no thoughts in his dumb brain.

You hear him sigh, loud and dramatic, and then a muffled scream/groan into his pillow. Your lips twitch, he’s such a fucking drama queen.

Your little smile drops off your face when you hear the sound of his drawer opening.

Oh god. Oh no.

Your face feels like there are embers burning under it as you hear the unmistakable sound of clothes being shucked, a zipper and and then flop, and then….a slick wet sound and a sigh of relief.

Your eyes feel like they are bugging out of your head. Izuku is really about to fuck his fleshlight with you hiding in his closet with him none the wiser. You feel suddenly embarrassed and hot all over, hiding your face in your knees as you hear him let out a moan. A loud one.

You’re on fire, every part of you. You don’t think you can take this, don’t think you can sit through this and listen to this, think you should just burst out of his closet and use your bravado to somehow flip the situation and make him feel humiliated for getting off in the privacy of his own room, like he’s in the wrong even though you had violated so many boundaries for even being here right now.

You could do it too, you know. You’re good at twisting things, at powering through the complicated mess of flustered feelings izuku makes you feel and making it his fault, making him back down and cower. You could do it...you’re uncurling your legs and pushing your hands under you in the middle of getting up to do so when-

“Fuck. ___” Your name. You freeze, for an unholy, goldy second you think you’ve been caught, that he has acquired x-ray vision and has spotted you but no. His voice isn’t surprised or upset its...breathless, airy. He moaned it.

The first time you hear Izuku moan your name, its with you hiding on the other side of his closet door, your hand clapped over your mouth in shock.

Heat immediately shoots between your legs, your core throbbing unbidden in reflex to the sound, helpless to stop it, to have any other reaction. Your ass plops right back down. You turn slightly towards the door, pressing your side against it, your ear smooshed against the cool wood as you listen, as if drawn under a spell.

“You’re such…” You hear izuku pant, his voice deeper and more rough then you’ve ever heard it before. “A fucking brat”

Wet between your legs, seeping through your panties at his words, seemingly ripped out of him. God, he sounds pissed, wrecked. He cursed. You’ve never heard izuku curse before, never, even when you’d pushed him too far. Something really was different about today.

The slick sounds are more frequent now, steady and...and sounding like real sex you’d heard from porn before. Wet, sloppy, and slapping. Your knees knock together as you lean forward even more. There’s an invisible string pulling, tugging you forward, you want to see…

“Fucking slut” He grunts, and there’s a heavy slap, your breath catching in your fucking throat as you realize that...that must be the clap of his balls hitting the back of his fleshlight everytime he thrusts into it. “Always running your fucking mouth, looking down at me, so mean, you’re so fucking mean to me…uh..”

The sounds of sex fill the room and you can’t take it anymore, you’re burning, burning, burning, fuck the consequnces. You hesitantly and slowly turn the handle of the closet door, letting it slide open just a crack, enough for you to peek through, to get a glimpse.

His lean muscular back is the first thing you see, he’s facing directly away from his closet, thank god but oh god, that means you see..so much. The flex of his shoulder blades under his tan skin, the smattering of freckles over his shoulder, the long slender slope of his spine as it curves down his broad back, the dimbles at the bottom of his spine, flexing as he fucks his toy. His ass, because of course izuku would have a perfect round bubble butt. There are freckles there too.

Your eyes skate down, hungry to his large and heavy balls, low hanging and full, currently smacked right up against the base of the little pocket pussy he’s practically straddling on his bed.

It hits you again than, that deku is imagining that toy is you, he’s imagining fucking you in this position on his bed right now, imagining its your cunt hes pounding into, and your face he’s spitting those filthy words at.

Your hand is really moving without your permission when it slips under the band of your leggings into your panties, fingers immediately dipping between the slick folds of your pussy, silky and wet.

“-Wet” Izuku grunts, as you dip a finger just barely inside. “Fuck, i knew you’d be so fucking soft and good inside. Such a bratty girl would have a sweet cunt attached to her, huh?”

Fuck, where and when did izuku start speaking like this? His soft voice curling around such crude words is making you gush all over your fingers. You wish you could see the kind of face he was making when he said them.

“Yeah, you like taking my cock don’t you, baby?” He croons and if you close your eyes you can almost imagine he’s speaking directly into your ear, behind you. His thrusts get heavier, rougher, he lifts his leg up on the bed and you see a flash of the little green toy being fucked on his cock, big and angry looking. He’s being so brutal, hammering the thing down on his dick as he hips rut to meet every downward tug. “Milk it. Milk my fucking cock you whore. Wanna- fuck, wanna hear you say my name when you cum, want you to know who’s pouding that little pussy. The loser you fucking hate, yeah? Gonna cum for me?”

Yes, you whimper in your head in answer to him, your fingers curling deep, deep, inside, fucking yourself on them in earnest. He’s so big and you only caught a glimpse, but it was enough. Enough to know he’d fucking cleave you apart if he tried to fit that monster between his legs inside your tight little pussy. But you want it, god you fucking want it. You wanna feel him splitting you open, making you cream around him, making you beg for it. Making you bleed.

“One of these day” he says, his voice breathless but steady, even as it cracks. You know he’s close. “I’m gonna fucking snap. Im going to make you look me in the fucking eye and apologize for making me want you, and then im going to split that pussy open- fuck, im coming, fuck, fuck, fuck. Do you understand, b-bitch? Gonna fucking make you mine, yeah, take it, take your senpais cock you dirty fucking girl, ah!”

He slumps forward, hips humping into the toy and balls spasming as he pumps it full of his cum, shuddering deeply with little aborted whimpers. “Good girl, good girl” he pants, trailing off, giving one last little jerk of his hips before stilling.

You bite your lip so hard you draw blood to stop yourself from whimpering out loud. You pull your sticky fingers out of your cunt and shuffle back into the dark of the closet, curling in on yourself as izuku lays there, panting heavily for a few moments before moving.

You stay stock still as you hear him get up and shuffle around, his footsteps padding into the bathroom where you hear the door click softly shut. You spring up to your feet and don’t care if you make noise as you dart out of his room and into the hallway, sprinting like a bat out of hell as you make you way to the girls dorms.

You’ll think about how to reevaluate and recoup later. Right now you just really need to get to your bed so you can rut pathetically onto your own fingers and imagine izukus fat dick breaking you open. Never in a million years did you think he had those kinds of feelings for you, and you know it changes the whole game, is a whole other level of playing field where you now know he wants you on a physical level.

You feel powerless and lie you’re slipping again, don’t know how you’re going to point your finger at him and laugh when you know for every insult you throw his way, is another way hes fucking his toy at night, adding it as another thing to get you back for. If he ever snaps.

If. you want it to be a when, so bad, not an if.

You’ll make it a when. You’ll push him off the metaphorical cliff he’s teetering on to make it so.

#poppy speaks #my writing #deku smut #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya smut #bully!reader #izuku smut #midoriya izuku smut

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introloves · 3 years

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crying thinking ab kyo nd aone (separate but they're both animals hehe) just creampieing you,, SIGH

good thing for u… i’m always thinking bout aone…

first time… kinda… with aone + big dick! aone + creampie + mating press + sloppy sex + messy sex + mentions of thigh fucking + f! reader

there was always that unspoken promise settled between the two of you- knowing how well endowed he was, the singular thought of having him stretch you out with his cock was daunting.

so, heavy petting and having him fuck your thighs, legs hugged to aone’s chest while the promise of your slickened cunt was right there, was always how he had you and being a being of pure want- you began to want more.

the night it finally happened it couldnt have been more spur of the moment- you being the one who was tired of feeling such a thick, heavy cock rut itself near raw over your cunt, squeezed between thighs rather than the slick insides he knew would hug him so nice, too strung up to think about the logistics- sweetly keening, begging, crying for aone to,

“please- please! s-stuff me- put it inside of me, please!”

those babbled, strung out words doing everything to snap the little bit of self restraint left tethering on a singular piece of twine, there’s a thin line creasing on his forehead with his pinched brow- mouth parted open to pant with the haziness you’ve put him in.

hands that have never touched you in such a rough manner splay right behind your thighs, eyes popping open to stare at him and not seeing the sweet man you’ve loved for months on end; instead met with eyes hazed over and seemingly looking past you- drawn to slits while you watch his jaw strain with each gnash of his teeth against one another.

its like a punch to his gut the second his swollen head pops- visibly and near audibly pops inside of your clenching cunt. there’s a second of clarity when he feels you push back against his hold, your own quickly clamping down over his rough and heavily veined hands digging into your thighs when there’s give and quickly panting out a;

“d-dont- dont stop! please.”

knowing he’s too fucking sweet, knowing that he’s trying to reel back in and stop the whole ordeal with how bad youre shaking, squirming under his hold- but you don’t want it too, having just a taste of himself nestled inside makes you dizzy.

there’s already no self restraint on his end and your words once more send him in a frenzy.

it takes ages to have him fully settle his hips against your body, instantly putting you in a tight press- all instinct for a virile man like him.

your arousal has pooled itself in a thick ring nestled at his base, painting his colorless pubes in your slick, hard pistoning followed with each creak and groan brought forth from your bed with the weight of his strong, heavy body swinging down onto you over and over.

you’ve been reduced to nothing more than a fucked out, limp mess. cross-eyed, spit trailing down your chin when you’ve cum one too many times already, just waiting for him to follow- sobs and pretty little whines just barely heard over thick and wet squelching accompanied with ever press of his heavy balls down onto your ass.

he thinks it’s embarrassing- thinks it’s shameful that he can’t last longer, not caring or really taking into consideration the way you’re covered in arousal and cum and sweat, tears trailing down your cheeks with the thoroughness his big cock has stretched you out in, a breath of relief actually leaving you when he stills- body bending down to meet your lips while a shuddering groan spills down onto your lips-

heavy warmth that feels so good filling up your spasming hole, rewarded with the feeling of being so full you can barely breathe, stupidly thinking that there’d be any space left for his cum with the way he’s carved the shape of his cock into your cunt.

aone’s wordless for the seconds that follow after, slowly letting you unfurl from underneath his looming body- quickly taking a hold of your pretty and dirtied face in rough hands- proclamation of absolute love for you only overshadowed by the fear that maybe this was too much too fast, but you blink up at him, eyes watering with how good you feel, tingling absolutely everywhere. a fullness you know youre going to be searching for and receive only with him quickly becoming a fixation.

“pretty. pretty.” is all he says, all he can- breathless too.

#aone #aone takanobu #aone takanobu smut #smut #thirst #requests #no.name #aone x reader #aone x reader smut #drabble

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lunaticsandidiots · 2 years

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ugh i keep thinking that if u had sex with adrian, you wouldn’t need to put on a performance and ‘be sexy’ for him. like this silly guy thinks you’re the hottest person on earth right when you wake up and when you’re covered in blood and dirt and when you’re brushing your teeth and have toothpaste all over your mouth and he especially thinks your hot when you’re naked. and sure sometimes you like to play up your dirty talk and your moaning, but you would never feel the pressure of having to be some sort of sex god to please him. you could just be silly and you two could laugh and joke and talk about how unrealistic CSI is while he’s inside of you and you’d both still have mind blowing orgasms. we are truly missing out. love, 🫐 (unless someone has taken my beloved blueberry emoji already)

BLUEBERRY IM SCREAMING UR SO CORRECT FOR THIS OH MY god im losing my fucking mind at this rn its so correct

adrian isnt a detail oriented guy nor is he a big thinker, so i dont even think he’d think about those things - all adrian would do is see you with your bed hair, or with ice cream all over your face, or writhing underneath him, or grocery shopping, or dancing in the kitchen, or with his cock shoved halfway down your throat, or doing your best christopher walken impression and just go “fuck, they’re so hot.”

#so emo for this #im in shambles rn #a certified Wreck™#🫐#ask #z speaks #emoji babies #vigilante #vigilante x reader #vigilante headcanons #vigilante smut #adrian chase #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase headcanons #adrian chase smut #headcanons

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caelesjjk · 3 years

Text

all at once | kth

Summary: you’ve never been one to judge a book by its cover, so when you found yourself falling for the local mechanic, his job had never made you think less of him. But maybe he didn’t feel the same.

pairing: mechanic!Taehyung x female reader

rating: 18+

genre: kind of strangers to lovers, dumbasses to lovers, fluff, little angst, smut

warnings: Tae gets upset with himself, reader gets upset a few times, mention of drinking alcohol

explicit sexual content: tae does quite a bit of dirty talk and reader LOVES it, slight handjob?, Tae eats her out, car sex, unprotected sex (Dont do that babes), lots and lots of kissing

word count: 4.6k

a/n: so…this is my first fic post for BTS, and I never thought it would be Tae but he fit so good. This idea was originally for a 5sos fic I wrote but turning it Tae was the best thing ever. This is also pretty short but will have a part 2 to bring everything together, I’m usually a very long winded bitch but I wanted to get something out there. I hope you like it, pleeeease let me know thoughts on it. It would mean so much.

*************************************************

This was never meant to happen. You were never supposed to fall in love with him. It was just supposed to be one silly date. A date that you never expected to go well. In fact, you fully expected to leave half way through the night and take a cab home. But, that wasn’t the case at all.

Taehyung was persistent. He saw you walk into his mechanic shop and knew that he needed you in his life immediately. He was covered in grime and grease that day, and you were in a black pencil skirt that clung to the curves of your hips and ass so perfectly he could feel himself getting hard beneath his dirty jeans. Your heels clicked across the concrete floor in a rush as you yelled into the shop for someone to help you out.

“How can I help you, miss?” Taehyung said, wiping his hands on a rag that was already too dirty to help anything.

“My car.” You sniffled a little. “My car won’t start. It was making noises, so I pulled over and now it won’t start at all and I’ve got to be at the airport soon.” The look on your face was desperate. Taehyung nodded, hopping into the tow truck and patting the seat next to him for you to get in.

You got in the truck with reluctance, considering its heavy layers of grease and dirt. You gave him directions to your car, which was about a mile down the road. By the time Taehyung had your car towed back to the garage with the hood popped open, it was getting dangerously close to time for you to be at the airport.

“So can you fix it?” You asked, biting at the nail on your pointer finger.

“It needs a new timing belt, I can order the part but it won’t be here until morning.” Taehyung explains with sympathy in his voice. You feel your stomach drop, knowing that you’ll miss your flight.

“I um…I need make a phone call.” You can feel tears of frustration start to form in your eyes.

After calling your boss to let him know what was going on, you were pleasantly surprised that he wasn’t upset at all. He told you to grab a hotel room and you could skype into the meeting he was going to be attending. You were so relieved.

“Everything okay?” Taehyung asked when you came back into the garage.

“Surprisingly, yes.” You gave him a small smile. “I’m Y/N by the way.” You take a few more steps towards him to shake his hand.

“Taehyung.” He replies, wiping off his hands on his jeans again before taking your hand.

“Could I possibly trouble you for a ride to the nearest hotel?” You asked, biting softly into your bottom lip. Taehyung could barely keep himself from grabbing your face and kissing you right there.

“Yeah. I mean I could. If you agree to get a coffee with me later?” He looks down at his dirty boots before meeting your eyes again. You look confused.

“You want to get coffee with me?” Your eyebrows scrunched together adorably.

“If you’d like.” He says, a smoldering smile settling on his lips.

“Yeah…I guess I could do that.” You don’t know why you hadn’t noticed how gorgeous he was before now. Messy dark curls on his head and perfectly shaped lips that pulled back into the most stunning smile you’d ever seen. The golden hued skin of his arms covered deliciously perfect muscles. You were in trouble.

“Great. Lemme give you that ride.” He opens the door to his tow truck again, letting you hop in on shaky feet.

He pointed out a small coffee shop across the street from the hotel he dropped you off at. You told him you could meet him there around 7 and he had quickly agreed, not wanting you to change your mind.

When the time came for you to meet him, you were afraid you had made a mistake. You didn’t know him. He was a gloriously hot mechanic that could definitely break your heart, and you just didn’t have the time in your life for anything like that. You were almost positive that he would just forget about you and move on with his life when you hadn’t shown up at 7. You were sitting in the middle of your hotel bed surrounded by paperwork to keep you distracted, looking down at your laptop clock to see it was now 8:00pm, just as a soft knock sounds on your door. You quickly wrap your robe around your body and look through the peak hole to see Taehyung standing there, hands in the pockets of his black jeans.

You take a deep breath, opening the door just enough to see him.

“Did you lose track of time?” Taehyung asks, looking a bit disappointed.

“Um…yes…I mean no, that was a lie. I just, couldn’t come.” You look down to hide your guilt.

“Did I do something to offend you?” He asks.

“No. Not at all. I’m just a really busy person, Taehyung. I can’t get into something like this right now.” You open the door a little more as you explain, and Taehyung’s eyes immediately wander down to the exposed skin of your legs before he quickly looks back up at you.

“It’s just a coffee, Y/N. No strings attached.” Taehyung’s hands slide into the front pockets of his now clean black jeans. His black sweater clings to his chest perfectly and exposes his collarbones just enough to make you crazy.

“Just coffee?” You repeat, and he nods his head. “Well do you mind just having a shitty cup of coffee from the coffee maker in here? I’m already in my pajamas.” You open the door completely, inviting him to enter if he wants.

“Who doesn’t love a cup of hotel room coffee?” He smiles, before stepping into the room and looking around at all the cheesy hotel room decor.

You talk for hours. Ending up with a 12 pack of beer to share between you instead of that questionable coffee. Taehyung starts out in the chair across the room, but as the night progresses, he’s migrated to the bed where you’ve been sitting most of the night. You enjoy his company, far more than you should. You are mesmerized by his smile and his goofy laugh. You want hear it over and over again. You’re already in too deep.

He finally decided to call it a night at 4:00am, saying he needed to go home and shower before work, where he had to be at 5:30am. You felt horrible for keeping him so late.

“I didn’t realize it was so late…or so early.” You say, walking him to the door.

“Neither did I. And I don’t regret a single minute of it.” He wets his lips with his tongue as he stands in the doorway, watching your face carefully.

“You’ll call me when the car is finished?” You ask, trying to forget how much you wanted his lips on your skin.

“Of course. Night, Y/N.” He smiles once more before he turns to start walking to his truck. You close the door, pressing your back against it and closing your eyes so you can breathe again. But before you can even catch your breath, there’s a knock on the door. You flip around and open it too quickly, too desperately.

“Taehyung.” You say with too much urgency in your voice. You wanted it to be him more than anything.

“Do you want to get dinner tomorrow night? I um…I really want to see you again.” He looks so utterly perfect as he nervously scuffs his shoe against the pavement.

“Yes.” You breathe.

“Could I also…kiss you?” Taehyung steps into your space, his scent taking over everything. You can’t seem to find your voice, but nod your head yes, because you have been wanting to be kissed by this man all night.

“I want to hear you say it. Tell me you want me to kiss you.” One of his hands has made its way to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing along your jaw.

“I want you to kiss me…please.” Your body is practically vibrating with want and your breath comes out shaky when you feel his nose brush against yours.

“So polite…so beautiful.” The last word is breathed into your mouth just before he closes that space and your lips finally meet.

It was so gentle and sweet. His mouth tasted like a mix of the cheap beer and the cherry chapstick he had been applying all night. It was perfect. Taehyung held you tightly against his lean body, your arms snaking around his waist. Your neck was craned back, his towering form making this type of kiss feel even better.

You were the first to press your tongue against his lips, making him smile against your mouth before he gave you what you wanted, licking into your mouth so slowly and languidly. It felt like being drunk, breathing in this man. When your hands started fisting into the back of his sweater, your mind clouding with lust and wanting to pull him back into the room and not let him leave, Taehyung pulled back from your lips, your own chasing after his and making him laugh quietly.

“I’ll see you for dinner tomorrow, Y/N.” He pecked your lips several more times when you started whining.

“See you tomorrow.” You reigned in your hormones and let him finally leave to get ready for work.

There were plenty of dinners after that. There were breakfasts and lunches. There was a street fair. There were walks around the park. And there were many, many nights of you sitting in his garage watching him work that ended up in heavy make out sessions. It had been two months, and you were irrevocably in love with him. No matter how much you tried to pretend it wasn’t that, you knew it was.

Taehyung was the most considerate person you’d ever met. Rough around the edges but he had the biggest heart. He always made sure you were comfortable, always made sure you got everything you wanted. He talked with you on the phone for hours sometimes when the two of you be in the same place. He respected you and your crazy schedule.

He had recently taken to sending you very scandalous pictures when you were stuck in a long meeting. You pretended to hate it but you didn’t, not even a little. He was so beautiful you had a hard time convincing yourself that he was real.

Tonight was one of those nights you had your way to his garage. You were perched on one of the tall chairs Taehyung had, while he was leaning over the engine of a car, making sure he had everything put back together correctly. Your hair was swept up into a messy bun, and your legs were covered in a very comfy pair of black leggings. You were comfortable here now and you wanted him to know that.

“How could you possibly like vanilla ice cream better than chocolate?” You say, leaning forward on the stool to see his face better.

“Because vanilla is better, baby.” He leans up just enough to smile at you before hunching back over the car motor. Your heart tried to pound out of your chest every time he called you that. It was something recent he started saying, and it would be an absolute lie if you said you didn’t love it.

“When will you be finished?” You whined a little, wanting his attention.

“Are you getting impatient?” He said, not looking up.

“Very.” You squirmed a little on your seat, hoping he would give you what you wanted, which was his sweet lips against yours. Kissing Taehyung was better than any other kiss you had ever experienced. It was never rushed and always just the right amount of everything. You hear him laugh softly as he stands up, grabbing a rag from the tall tool box next to him and wiping his hands.

“And just what should I be doing instead?” He asks, slowly taking a few steps towards you. You cross your legs to keep the ache at bay. He looked like he could absolutely destroy you, and you would gladly allow it to happen.

“I can think of a few things.” You try to be sultry, but you’re positive you sound like an idiot. Taehyung hums, tossing the rag at the old sink.

He closes the gap between the two of you, hooking his hand under your knee so he can uncross your legs and step between them and snugly press himself completely against you. Your hands instinctively slide up the muscular terrain of his arms until they reach his neck, where your fingers lace into the curls that got so messy throughout his day of work. His forehead drops down to yours and his nose skims yours. His lips are so close to yours that you can feel his breath. You skim your nose against his and over his pink tinted cheek, and back over his nose again. Taehyung’s hands find your hips, pulling them forward slightly so that your ass is just barely on the edge of the chair. Your legs slide up the back of his thighs until they’re locked around his waist. The rough and over worked pads of his fingers slide down your thighs and back to your waist.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” His lips are at your ear, just barely grazing the skin there. Your body is mush under his touch, and your breath shudders when he pulls your ear lobe between his teeth.

“I want you so badly.” Your words are scratchy and desperate. Taehyung smiles against the skin of your neck, where he kisses and licks until he’s leaving a burning path back to your lips, finally kissing you like you had wanted from the beginning.

“I would do anything you wanted me to.” He breathes against your lips, sliding his tongue into your mouth when it falls open from desire.

Your hands leave his curls and slide down to the hem of his white t-shirt, pushing it up until he grabs at it and pulls it over his head. You immediately bring your lips to his skin, kissing his soft stomach and chest that are now exposed to you at eye level. When your tongue brushes over one of his nipples, it’s like something ignites inside him and he’s grabbing the globes of your ass and lifting you off the stool. You wrap your arms back around his neck, opening your eyes to see him looking back at you.

“Taehyung…” You say.

“I know, baby. I know what you need.” He carries you from the chair you were sitting on over to the hood of the classic car he had been restoring in his spare time. The cold metal of the car blankets your skin in goosebumps as the beautiful man in front of you drinks in the way you look laying across the hood of his car. You tried to use your feet to pull him back down to you but he continued to look at you like you were the most stunning creature he had ever laid his eyes on. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He says, his hands pushing your knees apart.

“Me or the car?” You tease with a genuine smile on your face.

“Mmm, I don’t need the car. But I most certainly need to be inside of you.” He leans over your body pushing up the material of your shirt so he can flatten his tongue against your skin, licking a path from your belly button to the valley between your breasts. You can’t contain the moan that escapes you.

“Please don’t tease me, Tae.” You bite your bottom lip to hold back another moan.

“I wanted this to be so much more romantic the first time it happened.” He breathed as you lifted your arms above your head, letting him pull your shirt over your head and expose your bare chest to him.

“I don’t need big romantic gestures, I just need you.” You cup his cheeks and angle his face up so that he can look at you.

“You’re fucking perfect. Every fucking inch of you.” He groans, taking one of your nipples between his sweet lips. You bite into your bottom lip, but the more he sucks at your nub of nerves the harder it is to hold in the sinful noises.

“Tae…please.” You beg, needing him to give you the release you craved.

“It is taking every ounce of restraint that I have not to rip these leggings off your perfect body and fuck you senseless. But I want more than that from you.” He leaves wet kisses down the center of your torso as he moves down your body.

“What else do you want?” Your body arches off the car hood a little when his tongue circles your navel.

“I want to taste you. I want to make you feel so fucking good.” His dirty words are making the wetness between your legs unbearable.

“Get them off.” You pull at the band of your leggings, trying to pull them down. But his hands come over yours.

“I’ve got you, beautiful.” He says, pulling the thin material off of your hips and slowly down your legs.

He wraps his long fingers around your ankle, bringing it up to his lips so he can pepper kisses from there to your calf. You watch in awe as he continues kissing up your leg to the inside of your thigh. He looks up at you with lust and hunger in his eyes. You’re practically dripping with the anticipation of his swollen lips wrapping perfectly around your clit.

“I need you to touch me.” You whine.

“Show me where.” He kisses your soaking heat over the flimsy material of your underwear, causing another pathetic moan from you.

You don’t waste any more time, you are far too turned on to be shy at this point. Sliding one of your hands that was previously resting above your head down the center of your body and into the front of your underwear, you circle your aching clit with the tip of your finger. Even that small bit of contact makes your back arch off the hood of the car and your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

You open your heavy eyes long enough to see Taehyung watching you intently, the hard line of his cock in his jeans becoming more and more prominent. You want nothing more than to be on your knees in front of him with your lips wrapped around him completely while you let him fuck your mouth.

“Fuck, baby. I could cum just watching you.” He gets down on his knees so that he’s eye level with your heat, slowly reaching up and pushing your underwear to the side so that he can slip one of his long digits inside you.

You almost explode right there and then from the pleasure. You try to keep up the work on your clit while he’s sliding another finger in but your minstrations are becoming too sloppy. You take your hand away and sit up on your elbows to watch him work. He stands up, keeping his fingers buried deep inside you, petting at that perfect spot, and kisses you deeply.

“I’m gonna taste you now.” He says against your lips. You have never been so ready. He pecks your lips a few more times before ducking down between your legs again.

This time he hooks his fingers into your underwear and pulls them off. Grabbing your thighs in each hand, he slides you down the car so your ass is on the edge and your pussy is at the perfect height for him to taste. Before you can protest at how long it’s taking, Taehyung is licking just where you want him. Sucking in all the right places. Taking the time to turn his head and kiss your quaking thighs now and then. He has you a moaning and screaming mess in no time at all. Your fingers instinctively went into the curls on top his head, holding on for dear life as he continued the assault with his tongue and lips.

“Tae…Taehyung…m’ so close.” You can barely form a coherent sentence.

“Look at me when you do, baby.” He says it quickly, and goes back to sliding his tongue deep inside you and pinching your clit between his fingers. It was like a wave of complete and utter lust was washing over you as your orgasm hit you. It took all your strength to open your eyes and look down at Taehyung. He met your eyes and quickly stood up to kick off his jeans and boxers after you had cum all over his tongue, his chin was covered in your arousal and it was the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

Your head is swirling and your muscles ache from pleasure, but you can sense that Taehyung has picked you up but you aren’t sure if it’s actually happening or if it’s just a dream. When your eyes are able to focus again, you can see that he’s opened the door to the backseat of the car and he’s sliding into the seat with you straddling his thighs.

“I thought I was dreaming.” You say lazily, cupping his face and kissing his lips.

“I think I’m the one who’s dreaming, beautiful. Never thought someone like you would walk into my life and completely consume every part of it.” His hands slide up your back and into your hair angling your lips just how he wants them. “Ride me?” He asks next.

You use his shoulders to help lift your hips to hover above his hard length, so much bigger than you had thought it was. You can’t help wrapping your hand around him and pumping a few times, feeling how hot and heavy he is in your hand and the sounds he makes when you do were enough to make you dripping wet all over again. Taehyung gently pushes your hand away, groaning as he positions himself beneath you.

You slowly lower down onto him, the feeling of him stretching you out is the most pure pleasure you’ve ever felt. You feel his fingers digging into your hips as he tries to resist pulling you down onto him harder. And once your completely seated on his cock, and you feel his hips buck up just the slightest, you almost lose it completely. You bring your hands up to grip the headrest of the seat and bring your hips back up again. He’s so hard that you swear you can feel every vein petting at your wet walls.

“Oh, fuck Y/N. Baby, that’s so good.” Taehyung moans, his voice is deep and raspy. His rough hands are guiding your hips up and down as you start to swivel them each time you come down. You let your head fall back and the moans flow. When you begin to pick up the pace, Taehyung holds your body closer, and leans up so he can talk in your ear.

“You fit me like you were made for me, baby. So tight and perfect.” He rolls his hips up into your making you scream out his name. He kisses your shoulder and does it again, getting the same reaction. “Want to keep my cock buried in this pussy forever.”

“Tell me more, tell me how it feels.” You beg. You love his dirty words so much.

“Like heaven. So fucking wet, all for me.” He moans in your ear, causing your whole body to shiver and your pussy to clench around him. You know you’re getting so close again.

Taehyung grips his fingers into your ass and slams you down onto his cock, causing you to see stars. You feel yourself tighten around him, releasing your second orgasm of the night. You slump against him, your hands going back into his hair and holding on while he thrusts upwards to chase his high.

“You’re so good, babe. So so good. Please cum for me” You whisper in his ear to urge him on.

You sit up the slightest bit to watch his face as he reaches his orgasm. His swollen lips are parted and his breath is panting while his hips are sputtering. It doesn’t take much longer for him to release inside you, and for you to feel the hot liquid drip down the inside of your thighs. Taehyung gently takes your face in his hands, pushing some hair back from your eyes before he kisses you.

“Is now a bad time for me to tell you that I love you?” He smiles, eyes half closed with lust. You look at him a moment before answering.

“Never a bad time for that.” You smile at him and touch his shoulders.

“Will you say it back?” He sits up farther, holding you against him. Almost like he’s afraid you might run.

“Mmm, of course I love you, Kim Taehyung. Have for a while.” You confess.

“I want to tell you that every day.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Then you should.” Your arms wrap around his neck.

“It would be much easier if you moved in with me.” He says, but you can tell he’s nervous about what he’s asked. And you honestly don’t know what to say. You live in the city 30 minutes away for work.

“Taehyung…I…” You start to say.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to answer now. Just think about it.” He kisses your lips quickly, before carefully moving you from his lap so that he can get up from the seat. You watch his gloriously naked body walk to the front of the car and grab your clothes for you.

“Thank you.” You smile at him, but the smile he gives back isn’t convincing. He quickly goes back to grab his pants and slips them on his long legs. You quickly throw on your clothes and while he has his back turned to you, you walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his torso.

“I’m sorry about all that.” He says. You can feel his voice vibrate through his back where your face is pressed.

“Please don’t be. I didn’t say no, did I?” You kiss a quick trail along his spine.

“No. But it was too much. The’ I love you’ was bad enough, but I asked you to move in with me after two months…such an idiot.” He takes one of your hands and gently pulls you around to face him, kissing the top of your hand and your wrist.

“It’s just a lot to think about. But I’m not upset that you asked me.” You try to meet his eyes but he still won’t.

“Yeah. I’ll um…I better close up here. Are you okay to get home?” He asks. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“I thought that I’d stay?” You asked.

“Not tonight, Y/N.” He leans forward and kisses your forehead before walking over and opening the door of the garage for you to walk out.

“Taehyung…whats going on?” You ask.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” He lets you get out the door before he closes it and turns the lock.

You have no idea what just happened. How things went from being absolutely perfect to absolutely broken. You drive back home with tears stinging your eyes and far too many questions without answers.

#bts #bts fic #bts fanfic #Kim taehyung #Taehyung fic #bts smut #btscreatorscorner #btsgoldnet #I’m so nervous #please love me #kth #Tae

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thusspoketrish · 3 years

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Showers in the Malfoy-Potter Household

Domestic, tooth-rotting, fluffy Married Drarry!!! Written for the prompt Fresh over at @drarrymicrofic. 2.3K words. Thank you to @curlyy-hair-dont-care for the thorough beta xx

I. That One Time with the Gloves…

“Bugger, I need to shower!” Harry shouts to the empty sitting room as he steps through the Floo, shoulders tense as he kicks off his muddy shoes, waving his wand to send them to the hamper and clearing the residual mess on his and Draco’s Brazilian Macchiato Pecan hardwood floors. On socked feet, Harry dashes up the stairs towards their ensuite, disrobing along the way as the charmed grandfather clock in the downstairs hallway strikes 14:00.

Any minute now, Draco will Floo back in from brunch with Narcissa and Lucius—the very brunch Harry said he couldn’t attend because he pulled Sunday rotation at the Ministry. In truth, he had actually signed up for THE GREATEST WEEKEND QUIDDITCH MATCH EVER!!! between the Department of Mysteries and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Harry had been surprised to learn that the DoM swots were a bunch of dirty playing wankers—their self-important swagger causing a stir on the ground and a gloriously brutal match in the air. Harry’s pretty sure he bruised his ribs when he struck the muddy ground at the end of the match. But even with his injury, Harry couldn’t help the wicked grin that crossed his face when Timmons, the DoM’s Seeker, watched in horror as Harry staggered to his feet, punching his Snitch-full fist triumphantly into the air.

The glory. The power. Harry feels like a warrior—he feels like a bloody beast!

The little white lie and a skipped brunch with the in-laws were worth it!

Once in the bathroom, Harry uses his wand to send his scattered muddy clothes to the hamper downstairs and turns the water on scorching hot. Stepping under the spray, his sore muscles relax. It’s absolutely blissful, and he can’t help the happy moans that escape him as the water sluices away the mud and sweat from his highly earned, brutal win. He chuckles darkly to himself. Those wankers from the DoM will be sucking on this one for months to come.

The shower curtain is pulled to the side, starling Harry so badly that he nearly slips, his head whipping around to face his smirking husband.

Draco sticks his head into the shower, making sure to avoid the stream, his eyes flashing. “Well, well, well. Look who’s getting so fresh and so clean after a hard day’s work.”

Harry huffs, covering his nipples with both hands as he says, scandalised, “Merlin! You scared the bloody hell out of me!”

“I’m sorry,” Draco says, sounding far from it. “I was so eager to see my husband after a lengthy morning away from him that all I could think about coming up the stairs was giving him the best shower blowie he’s ever had in his entire life…”

Harry grins. “Babe, I’ve missed you so much,” he says eagerly, stepping back under the spray. “Come on, get undressed and join me.” When Draco doesn’t move, Harry gestures inward. “Come on...come now…”

“Yeah, okay. Let me just…” Draco pulls from behind his back Harry’s dirty Quidditch gloves, dropping them into the shower as Harry gasps. The fresh dirt mingles with the water, swirling down the drain. Harry could’ve sworn he sent those gloves flying into the hamper.

Draco’s smile is shark-like, eager, and ready for blood. “Imagine my surprise when these came flying into my chest on my way up the stairs. I was so curious, I decided to have a quick search of the laundry room hamper, and lo and behold, I found all of your Quidditch gear, sweaty and smelling of fresh mud and grass, darling. Must’ve been one hell of a rotation this morning, huh?”

Harry holds up his hands. “I can explain—”

“Oh, really?”

“Er, yes…” Harry starts, running a hand through his soaked hair. “Babe, it’s those wankers from the DoM’s fault! They’re a bunch of posturing arseholes and someone had to put them in their place.”

Draco crosses his arms against his chest. “Ah, right. And that someone had to be you?”

Harry smiles sheepishly, shrugging. “Well…you know I’m the best Seeker in the Corps.”

Draco harrumphs, tilting his chin up and leaning against the wall next to the shower. “So, you know what this means, right?”

Harry bows his head. “Yeah…” he says sadly, shaking his head.

“What?”

Harry sighs. “No more Mimosa Sundays at Malfoy Manor?” he asks hopefully, peeking up at Draco through his wet, shaggy hair.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You know the mimosas at my parents' are bar none.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know…so, no blowie for me?”

“You’re damn right,” Draco says, yanking his head back and sharply pulling the shower curtain shut.

Harry grumbles to himself, turning back to the shower to rinse his hair. A minute or two passes before the shower curtain opens up again, a fully naked Draco stepping inside.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t start grovelling the proper way: by sucking my cock,” Draco says with a smirk.

Harry laughs, wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist. “How did I land such a deeply compassionate, forgiving husband?”

“With that sinful mouth of yours, obviously,” Draco drawls, placing his hands on Harry’s shoulders to slowly push him down onto his knees.

II. That One Time Draco Was Trying to be Seductive...

Harry’s entering their bedroom, half an egg mayo sandwich in hand, when he notices Draco standing before the wardrobe mirror. “What are you doing?” he asks, pausing near the door.

Draco turns around, his arms spreading wide as he pops one narrow hip outward. He’s draped in an intricate floral-patterned gold bathrobe. “Do you like it? It’s new, darling. Just arrived from Italy. Rocco-inspired, heavy-weight close-knit silk lined with black satin…isn’t it gorgeous?” Draco purrs.

“Er…it’s quite something,” Harry says, biting into his sandwich.

“Neanderthal,” Draco tuts with a scowl before turning back to the mirror. He slides his hands reverently down the sides of his body as he tilts his head to the side. “It feels like fucking sex,” Draco whispers, his eyelids drooping.

Harry chokes on a bit of egg. Draco grins, ferally, as he faces Harry again.

“I have a surprise for you. Get undressed and meet me in the bathroom,” Draco says imperiously.

“Right now?” Harry asks around his sandwich, his eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline. “Why?”

Draco runs his hands down the front of his bathrobe, his eyes fluttering shut. “The things I’m going to do to you the moment you slip this robe off my body…”

That’s all Harry needs to hear as he sets his sandwich down on the nightstand to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor before levelling Draco with a heated stare and a wolfish grin. “Is that right? Well, go on, then. I’ll meet you there in a minute,” Harry says, now unbuttoning his trousers. When Draco heads towards the bathroom, Harry picks his sandwich back up and shoves the rest of it in his mouth before getting undressed.

When he’s fully naked, he opens the bathroom door, the entire room filled with fragrant steam so thick he can barely see Draco.

“Er?” Harry says, stepping into the bathroom. Draco stumbles forward, wand in hand.

“I think I may have overdone the steam a bit,” Draco says before promptly pitching forward. Harry misses him by just an inch because he can’t bloody see, and Draco lands face first on their tiled floor.

“I thought it would be sexy,” Draco whines from his position on the floor in Harry’s lap after Harry Rennervates him. There’s a red patch on his forehead and a trickle of blood coming out of his left nostril that Harry cleans up immediately.

“You were! You were so sexy,” Harry urges softly.

“But there was no arse groping. No kissing. No fucking. It was all so unpleasant!” Draco cries.

“Aw, babe. I’m sorry. I think we should take you to St Mungo’s just in case…”

Draco sighs, sitting up but swaying slightly. “Fine. Alright. But let’s not tell them the visit is due to my failed attempt at seduction.”

Harry stifles a laugh. “Of course not. C’mere,” he says, helping Draco to his feet. “You can seduce me after the Healer has ruled out a concussion, okay?”

“Okay. But only if you promise to take my new bathrobe off with your teeth later…”

III. That One Time with the Mongrel…

Draco’s writing out a pros and cons list to determine if they’ll be purchasing a cottage in Cornwall this summer when Harry appears in front of him, a black towel cradled against his chest that’s moving.

Draco quirks an eyebrow. “What in the fresh hell is wrong with that towel?”

Harry chuckles and pulls the towel back. Pressed against his chest is a tiny, muddy little Beagle.

“No,” Draco says firmly, setting his quill down.

“Wait! Don’t be so quick about it! C’mon, babe, she was all alone in the alley by the Ministry! No mum or dad in sight. I couldn’t leave her there!”

Draco closes his eyes against the utterly heartbroken look in Harry’s eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Of course, Harry would bring home an orphan, Draco had been preparing himself for this day since they married four years ago, only, he thought said orphan would be a wee babe, not a filthy mongrel. He exhales, nods, and opens his eyes, hand dropping away from his face. “Okay. Well. I refuse to have this mongrel in our house looking and smelling the way it does.”

Harry’s face lights up as if Draco has promised him the moon, and the stars, and all the love in his entire being. All over again.

“So, can we keep her?” Harry asks excitedly.

“Yes, Harry. We can keep her.”

Harry surges forward to press a kiss against Draco’s mouth, taking Draco off guard but aiming perfectly, nonetheless. Draco can’t help the laugh that bubbles up his throat as Harry begins to litter kisses all over his face, the mongrel caught between them. “You’re going to love her, I promise. Just look at her! She’s bloody adorable, isn’t she?” Harry says, holding the beast out to Draco.

Draco’s nose scrunches up as the dark-eyed creature stares up at him. She’s so small she could fit in Draco’s cupped hands, but her smell is atrocious. “Sure…” Draco says slowly, leaning away.

Harry hums happily. “I think we should name her—”

“—Beasty,” Draco interrupts, gaze flickering up to Harry. Harry rolls his eyes.

“No, silly! We should name her Pepper. Because she sorta smells like black pepper.”

Draco wants to suggest to Harry that perhaps they need to visit St Mungo’s to get his nose examined, because the last time Draco checked, black pepper smelled absolutely nothing like faeces. But he refrains, the joyous look on Harry’s face well worth going along with the madness.

“Sure, darling, whatever you want. Pepper it is. But she’s going to need a bath.”

Harry nods. “Right, yes, let’s take her upstairs to our bathroom.”

Draco smiles tightly. “Ah, no. I just had that tub put in. I don’t want this mong—Pepper staining the porcelain.”

“Oh, right, right. Okay, well, we can bathe her in the tub down here.”

Draco links his fingers together over his list. “Yes, excellent idea. So,” he starts, eyeing the now droopy-eyed, stinky monster. “Should we use a Petrificus Totalus or—?”

“DRACO!” Harry gasps, looking completely horrified. “We can’t put Pepper in a full body bind, are you insane? She’s a puppy!”

Draco frowns, his eyebrows knitting together. “She’s covered in grime and you expect me to manoeuvre this beast into the tub with its full cooperation?”

Harry glares at him. “She’s the sweetest thing, and I’m sure we won’t have any problems getting her into the bath, okay? Just follow my lead.”

Draco shrugs. Harry hasn’t led him astray yet.

When they finally enter the downstairs bathroom, tub now full of water at the perfect temperature and a mild soap, Draco suddenly gets an armful of Pepper as Harry begins to shed his jacket and jumper.

Draco stares down at her.

She is quite cute, with her large, bulbous black eyes, long, floppy ears, and wee-frowny mouth. Draco believes he can actually come to love this gross little beasty.

“Let’s get you all fresh and clean, sweetie,” Harry says, taking her back from Draco to place her in the water.

That’s when all hell breaks loose.

As Harry struggles to keep a hold on her, Pepper lifts her paws away from the water as if it’s fire, wild yelps escaping her as she struggles out of Harry’s grasp, dropping into the water first before lunging straight at Draco.

Draco catches her, her tiny little body soaking through his very nice, very clean jumper.

“Fucking fuck, fuck…” Draco mutters, staring down at Pepper, warmth exploding in his chest. She’s shivering against him and the anger and shock immediately leave his body as he cradles her, a defeated groan escaping him as a section of his heart unlocks and opens up to this little beasty.

Harry laughs. “Merlin, you are just so bloody adorable,” he says.

Draco scoffs, even as he stares down fondly at her, rocking her in his arms. “She’s a menace, that’s what she is.”

“No…I mean you,” Harry says, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses, cheeks dimpled. Draco can feel the heat of a blush spilling across his cheeks as Harry leans forward to kiss him. When they part, Harry glances down at Pepper before meeting Draco’s eyes.

“We’re building our little family,” Harry says proudly.

Draco opens his mouth to say something mocking, but can’t, not with the ball of emotion that’s suddenly lodged in his throat. Instead, he blinks several times, glancing down at Pepper who’s staring up at him with her large eyes, tail wagging.

“Oh,” Draco says softly. “I suppose we are.” He sniffs. “I think it’s best if we get Beasty Pepper to the vet instead, maybe they can help us give her a proper bath. Shall we?”

Draco smiles as Harry drapes an arm around his shoulders. “Yes, let’s do it, babe,” Harry responds tenderly.

#drarrymicrofic #Drarry Microfic #Drarry fic #Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #Drarry #Drarry Squad #short fic #fluff #so much fluff #established relationship #harry x draco #married drarry #All fluff and zero pain #which I'm finna embrace as my new normal #hahahaha

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jangofctts · 3 years

Text

Anything at All (boba fett x fem!reader) (part one) (part two)

Rated: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: smut, even mORE thrONE fucking, oral sex (f receiving), boba’s a biter, unprotected sex (dont be silly, wrap thAT wiLLY), vaginal fingering, explicit language, boba is a grouchy dom kwjhgjh

a/n: anyway I think yall forget im a writer and not just a Certified Clown, but anywAy here we be. HAPPY NEW YEARS ya FILTHY anIMALS im so thankful for all yall and im glad I can provide you with some entertainment kaejhejhr

You haven’t seen Boba Fett in days.

Called away on business you’ll never be included in or know the fine details about. It’s not kept away from you because he doesn’t trust you, or thinks you’re a mindless idiot—no—he’d rather keep his princess occupied with prettier things. No need to concern yourself with the the underbelly of what he now rules.

You’re not upset about it—you’re not really a fan of watching petty squabbles that’ll result in someone’s chest being imploded by a blaster. You’ve seen enough of it in the cantina, and while you were never the one tasked with clearing the bodies out—it was still mildly traumatizing. Eh—no need to dwell.

You’ve got other shit to do anyway.

There’s a seemingly endless zigzag of secret hallways and dusty rooms within the palace, teeming with strange knickknacks and ancient artifacts that are more than likely cursed. Definitely haunted—but it doesn’t stop you from exploring or sorting through the useless junk. Besides—Fennec stayed behind, acting as your glorified babysitter for the past few cycles—ensuring your safety from both whoever dared step foot into the palace and the ghosts. What a lovely woman.

Speaking of which—you hear her sigh and shuffle, shifting her weight onto her other foot as she leans back against a dusty crate. She picks at the dirt beneath her fingernails, lazily glancing up every now and then to check that you haven’t eviscerated yourself on a piece of scrap metal or something. Lucky for her, all you found today was an abandoned crate of old datapacs shoved in the back corner from what you assumed to be some sort of office. Yesterday you found a sword that was promptly confiscated.

“I’d be careful snooping around in those,” Fennec warns as your fingers find the on switch. “You never know what sorta data the Hutts were keeping here.”

You shrug and wave away her concern, reading over the information that flickers across the screen. “I think I’ll be ok…See?” You pointedly wave the datapac in her direction. “This one is about the finances. Spooky.”

Fennec rolls her eyes followed by an amused smirk that ghosts over her lips. You toss it aside and root around some more, pulling out another datapac. The blue hologram flickers to life and as you decipher the little lines of text your face falls. Each line is a name, previous and recently bought or traded people that crossed the threshold of the palace. Fennec was right. This isn’t fun anymore.

“These are…slaves.” Your lips curls in disgust. “How is this still not outlawed? It’s barbaric.”

“You’re not from Tatooine, are you?” Fennec asks as she meanders over and wrestles the datapac out of your hands. She switches it off and tosses it back into the dusty crate. You huff and cross your arms over your chest.

“No,” you agree. “Im from Arkanis. But even there we don’t have slaves.”

Fennec squats beside you, her elbows resting over her bent knees. She playfully taps your shoulder with the back of her hand and quirks a brow. “What’d I tell you—snooping doesn’t do anyone any good.”

You roll your eyes and shrug, a frown still etched on your lips. Fennec sighs, rubs her chin and then reaches out to push a stray hair behind your ear. A flush blooms up your cheeks at the gentle touch.

“You have a sensitive soul, Kitten,” she chuckles, poking at your cheek that you’re certain she can feel the heat emirate from. “You said you were from Arkanis—tell me about it. Why come to Tatooine?”

Your lips quirk in a tiny smile as you bat away her pointer finger, saving your cheek from another poke. “Hey—not everyone likes rain ok?” You huff. “Besides, Tatooine wasn’t supposed to be permanent.”

She nods. Unsure what exactly to tell her--a silence ensues. It’s not terribly awkward but it’s enough that makes you jumpy and itching to move on from this room now stained with information you weren’t prepared on finding. You stand suddenly, brush yourself off and mutter under your breath about finding something less…heartbreaking.

Fennec jumps up as well and when you leave the room her hand clamps over your shoulder. She spins you around and levels her gaze onto you. “You’re free to leave whenever you like. You know that right?”

Your brows furrow. “I know—don’t worry, I want to stay.”

Her head bobs with a satisfied nod. “We’d miss you if you left. You’re nice to have around.”

You blush again and mumble out a thank you, shooting off into another unexplored location to escape Fennec’s knowing smirk. Maker—you’re embarrassing.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Boba returns later that afternoon—the shadow of his familiar figure stretches around the curved stairway, the purposeful stomps of his boots against the carved steps following with it. Your heart flutters within your chest, like a distressed creature with wings as you jump from your makeshift seat.

You come face to face with Boba. Or, helmet rather—whatever.

The smell of hot metal and dry air sticks to him as he paces closer, closing the small gap that separates him from you. You’re frozen beneath the heavy weight of his stare behind the void like black of his visor as he plants himself firmly before you, close enough that his cuirass could brush your chest if he puffed out his own chest.

“Hi…” You smile, a fragile vale of uncertainty blanketing the pair of you—still attempting to feel out his mood, sort through the general gruffness of his personality and gage wether or not you could reach out and touch him. The helmet is a tricky thing to read and his body language gives nothing away. You swallow your nerves take a leaping risk.

“Let me see your face.” You murmur. You move your hands up to the edges of his helmet at a snail’s pace, giving him ample time to slip through your fingers—wedge a sharp thorn between whatever it is that you’ve built and name it for what it is.

He doesn’t choose that option.

With a low hum, Boba dips his helmet closer to your outstretched fingertips instead. The metal is cool under your palms as they fold over the sides of the helmet and pull up. The metal whispers against his skin like wind through tall grass as the point of his chin peeks out, followed by his lips, his nose, and finally those golden brown eyes. They glitter with amusement as you release a shaky breath, the helmet the only thing acting as a barrier as you clutch it near your sternum. His mouth quirks when you blush and glance away—focusing on the little silvery nicks the green paint refused to cover. You rub your thumb over the blaster pockmark that dents the metal—you frown. You hope that wasn’t recent.

Boba gently pries the helmet out of your hands and sets it onto the armrest of his throne. He purrs your name and pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, leading your attention back to him. Your eyes flit up his scars—your breath catching in your throat as he smiles.

“Hello, princess,” he says—the grit and timbre of this new nickname jumpstarting your heart to skip and choke on its own tireless beat.

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth and shake your head. “Boba, I’m not—“

He doesn’t let you finish your sentence—

Boba spreads his fingers over your jaw, tilts your head and swoops down to meet your lips in a dizzying kiss. Hard, hungry, victorious, breathless—like he’s spent years fighting and only now takes a moment to slow down—drown in the softness of your lips and skin. His hands claw at your arms, your clothes, your hair—like you’re the spoils of battle and he fears losing you to the shadows of his past and some hidden horror that nips at his heels. He kisses like a man terrified that this will be brief, intangible and something that’ll abandon him.

He trails after your lips when you break away—your lungs heaving for precious air. He doesn’t let you go far, ensuring your positioning by tangling his fist into your hair at the nape of your neck and scraping his lips up your cheek, enticing you into another kiss. You tilt you chin to meet him with equal fervor, whining as his warm tongue curls sweetly into your mouth. His existence fills your veins with liquid silver—evokes the bloom of crackling star fire beneath the cavity of your ribcage. Every thought starts with him and ends with your heart aching to burst into a million tiny shards.

The next time you part, Boba is the first one to pull away. He cups your cheeks between his weathered hands and plants a tender kiss just below your hairline. You swear you can feel the skin buzz from the touch—like every atom in your being was solely created for him to command and conquer. You sigh and lean into his palm.

“I missed you.” You admit with a small smile.

Boba leans closer and presses another kiss to your forehead. “And I you, little one.”

“I got worried, y’know,” you continue, your fingers tapping a trail up the front of his chest plate. You trace the repainted insignia with your fingernail and flash him a coy smirk. “You never called—thought maybe you found a new pretty thing.”

He grunts, shakes his head and sweeps a rogue strand of hair behind your ear. “Hilarious—my hands are full enough with you hounding me every five minutes.”

You puff out your bottom lip and feign offense, mumbling some lame whine like a petulant brat. Boba snorts and crowds closer. He presses his gloved thumb between your furrowed brows, smoothing out the wrinkles and then cups your cheeks between both palms. You freeze as he carefully knocks the crown of his forehead onto yours—it’s sweet.

An excited smile splits when he moves his head to your right, the syllables of each word rolling off his tongue sweeter than spiced honey. “I’ll make it up to you, pretty thing,” he whispers by your ear, his warm breath disturbing the fine hairs there. “How does that sound, hm?”

That’s not even a question you would ever dream of denying—you quickly nod. “I’d like that.”

Boba drops his hands from your face and peels himself away. His eyes trickle down your figure—calculative and analytic—planning out each move to pick apart the entirety of your being. “Take everything off.”

You comply without a second thought—slipping free from the breezy cotton and scratchy poncho you stole from a storage room. The fabric pools at your feet in an unceremonious pile—leaving you bare for him. Despite the sickening dry heat that pollutes the air and causes beads of sweat to gather at your hairline—goosebumps rush up your arms under Boba’s piercing stare.

Boba’s eyes flicker to the throne. A feral grin tugs at his lips. “Sit.”

This time you hesitate. Did he…? No—you must’ve heard wrong—

He quirks a brow and gestures to the throne. “Well? Are you going to listen?”

Your tongue slides over your chapped lips. “O-ok..I just—never mind…”

Scrounging up some courage, you gingerly seat yourself onto Boba Fett’s throne. Chills race along the entirety of your body as the freezing metal seeps into your warm flesh. You squirm and beat away the urge to wrap your arms around yourself—he wouldn’t like that—probably would take it as some sort of insult anyway—

All your current discomforts melt away in a fraction of a breath as Boba Fett lowers himself to one knee, and then the other. A king kneeling before his very own throne for someone like you. Someone who’ll be lost to the pages of history and the endless swirl of galaxies and supernovas—you’re nobody to the world, but to him you’re everything. You inhale a shaky breath as a strange stroke of pride alights through your body as he peels off his gloves and maneuvers himself flush against the edge of the throne and between your thighs.

Boba bows forward and slips his calloused hands around your ribcage to tug you closer. His lips land over your collar bone, slides his tongue over the protrusion then sinks his teeth into you there. You gasp as he slides lower, leading a trail of bruises and teeth marks in his wake. Boba moves his palms, up and in to grab at your breasts, the flats of his fingertips rolling over your nipples. A whimper escapes past your lips as he catches the pebbled bud between his lips, the hard enamel of his teeth scraping over it—meant to tease. Your nails dig into the fabric bunched around his neck as he moves on to suck your other nipple, the cooling saliva sending a chill down your spine as it dries.

You squirm, unable close your legs or to relieve some of that burning tension collecting in your core. You’re already wet—worked up and impatient. You roll your head back onto your shoulders and bite your lip. If you complain and tell him to hurry up you’re scared he’ll leave you like this—deny you that pleasure you’ve been craving for days.

It feels like ages before he moves on from your breasts, now smattered with bruises and his saliva, and carves out a blinding path down your sternum, your belly, then your navel with his tongue. Boba circles your bellybutton—you force down the ticklish nerves and stay still for him.

You don't mean to jump as his rough hands drop over your knees. You barely get out the first syllable of an apology when his hands slip up your bare thighs, curl around the swell of your ass and yank. You squeak as the edge of the throne bites into your tailbone, the majority of your lower half forced to lean on Boba’s shoulders and his greedy hands. He kisses the inside of your knee—you jolt with an airy gasp.

Boba picks up his head and smirks. “Look at me when I taste you, little one.”

Mouth suddenly drier than dust, you nod dumbly.

He hums, satisfied with your weak response and continues on.

Boba’s bare fingers trace minuscule patterns into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, coaxing out a shiver. They sweep up towards the apex of your thighs, settling close enough to reach your aching center. You know he’s there—it’s impossible to ignore him—but you curse anyway when you feel his thumbs softly part the lips of your soaking cunt. They steadily work up and down, smearing your wetness around but never enough to give you any friction. You bite back a groan as your hips unconsciously twitch.

“Patience, princess,” he rumbles, shifting his weight to better reach your cunt. “Maker—you’re dripping already.”

There's a moment just before Boba commits, his face hovering close enough that you can feel his sticky, hot breath, anticipation gripping your chest. And then he licks a broad stripe from the base of your pussy all the way up to your swollen clit.

His mouth Is searing, his tongue like liquid velvet as you shudder and grab at his head. He grunts against you as you drag him closer—greedy for everything he deems you worthy of. Boba’s mouth pinpoints around your clit, sucking and tracing circles over the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. Your eyes flutter—it’s a struggle not to shut them completely. He asked you to watch after all…

He then trails lower, sucks on your labia, and makes his way down to your entrance. The wet heat of his tongue circles your entrance, skips over it completely to lick at the wetness dripping lower that threatens to pool onto the throne or the floor. He opens his mouth wide and hums in appreciation, devouring your pussy like he’s been denied this his entire life.

“Fuck—Boba,” you cry, canting your hips into his mouth.

It's perfect. So fucking good.

The tips of his thick fingers, two of them, press at your entrance, teasing the fluttering ring of soft muscle before sinking in. The two digits slip in with ease—all the way up to the second knuckle and when he draws them back, they're slick with your wetness, glinting in the low light. With a smirk, Boba thrusts them back in, then out—setting a steady pace that he refuses to stray from. It leaves you just hovering along the sharp edge of oblivion, the catch of his knuckles and calloused skin along your walls pure torture. Stars—he’s going to be the death of you—

Your hips arch into him, trying to urge him to go faster. Instead, he slowly retracts his fingers and removes his mouth. You gasp in frustration as your cunt clenches around thin air. It almost hurts.

“I told you to be patient,” Boba chuckles, massaging a warm palm along the outside of your thigh. “You’re behaving like a brat.”

“I’m—I—I’m sorry—“ You wheeze, trying to rope in some self control that fled a long time ago. Your wits are scrapped thin as you throw your hand against the back of the throne. You don’t care that he’s rendered you to a begging mess, your words slurred and hardly understandable. You're so close to diving off the edge—so near to those plush lips and weathered hands that’ll surely become your salvation. "Please! P-please—I need..."

You're babbling as he drags his fingertips over your thigh, skims over your cunt, and traces a pattern into your opposite thigh. "Boba. Fuck. I pro-promise to be better—I can do it. Please—“

He complies.

Two fingers are thrust up into your dripping cunt, curving so deliciously into something that feels like unrefined plasma bolts. His mouth dips down and sucks on your clit and with a few more curls and thrusts of his fingers inside of your clenching walls, your body seizes up tight.

You're flying off you’re high, faster than a fucking speeder with tampered gears. You cum onto his tongue with a strangled cry of his name, sparks of blurry white lining the edges of your vision as your back arches. Boba keeps licking you through your orgasm, even as you buck and squirm in his iron hold. Stars implode behind your eyelids as heat, hotter than wildfire and jetfuel spreads from your center all the way up your stomach and down to your toes. You're shaking, lucid enough to hear Boba, and feel the vibration of his groan, as he licks up the flood of your wetness over his tongue.

Your brain swims in hazy bliss and fuzzy pleasure as you float back to reality. He's still curling his fingers into your pussy and it hurts. You're too sensitive. Your nerves are rubbed raw and you're still throbbing—but you're too fucked out and still riding the waves of your orgasm to push him away. He takes this opportunity to tilt his fingers into your cunt faster, suckle and lave his tongue over your clit that burns from overstimulation—somehow you're back at the very edge again.

It's sharper than a blade against flesh. Your thighs quiver around him as he twists his fingers inside you and bumps agains that tiny, little patch of nerves that wrenches a cry from you. Your orgasm floods through you veins, bursting and rupturing every cell in your being. This one is blistering—charrs all the way to the fucking bone. Your core pulses around Boba’s fingers, fucking you through it until those burning waves of release eventually cease into a dull throb. You whimper and push at his forehead because he's still licking at your cunt. You panic a bit—fucking hell, he’s gonna make you cry—but he pulls away, his mouth and chin wet with your slick.

Boba leaves absolutely no time to completely float down from your high—you squeak as his hands shoot up to grab at your hips, wrenching you off the throne and all but throwing you onto the same floor he kneels on. You flash him a dopey grin, letting your legs fall open for his enjoyment—

“Such a filthy princess,” he chuckles, extending a hand to cover your knee, bending it further out to expose more of your flushed cunt. “You taste sweeter than star cherries.”

You preen at his compliment. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

It earns you an amused huff. Boba scrapes the hand resting on your knee to the apex of your legs, thumb and forefinger gently parting your delicate, slick folds. You bite back a keening whine, utterly exposed to him as he slips the hood back from the throbbing knot of nerves at the top of your slit. Too raw. Your pussy clenches involuntarily, causing everything from your toes to your hips stiffen. Boba hums in delight at his handiwork.

“Stars, Boba—please…” You beg, voice breathy and soft like whips of spider silk. Boba makes a sound that oozes with smug pleasure, teasing your sore clit with unadulterated glee. “Please,” you hear yourself whimper over your pounding pulse, shifting in his grasp and praying he’ll put an end to this sickly sweet torture.

“Pretty little thing, begging for my cock…” He rasps, darkly threaded sin and the husky scrape of the gray sea licking up jagged, black rock. You’re certain he could talk you into unraveling at the seams, untouched and putty in his hands for him to mold and shape. Boba’s other hand sweeps up your sternum, his fingertips dancing along the mythosaur pendant coiled around your neck. He then curls his thick fingers around the base of your throat and ever so lightly squeezes. “Poor baby—all worked up after a few days…I’ll fix that for you.”

Before you can fully process, he grabs the swell of your hip and flips you onto your belly. The air from your lungs is knocked out of your chest, the abrasive sandstone bitting into the points of your elbows and patches of your skin and no doubt leaving behind irritated scrapes. You hear the shuffle of fabric and then Boba suddenly seizes your hips and arches them into his crotch, grinding the deliciously hard length of his cock through your wet folds. Throbbing and just as desperate as you are, Boba refrains from flinging you into another bout of teasing. He slicks himself up with your arousal and drags the tip of himself to your clenching center and sinks that first, glorious inch inside of you.

With a low groan, Boba pushes in deeper, watching your tight hold flutter and accommodate his thick length. It’s the same as before during that night in the cantina—dreadfully full and all but bursting at the seems. The gentle rocks of his hips and gravelly praise eventually allow him to finally bottom out, his sharp hipbones resting against the swell of your ass as you shudder and groan. Fuck—

You can feel him in your fucking guts.

Boba grants you a brief moment to settle and then—it’s catastrophic.

Your jaw drops in a silent scream when he pulls back, all the way to the tip and slams back into your tight heat. Boba’s hand tangles into your hair at the nape of your neck and and pulls, forcing your back into a sharp arch. The action leaves more of you open, somehow pressing in even further. He hits so deeply within you—stars it feels like he’s splitting you open and laying you bare.

His dark chuckle resonates above you—a bit breathy as he tames his own frazzled nerves. “Shit—that feels good. Doesn’t it, princess?”

Your incoherent babble makes him laugh as he gives your hair a playful tug, all the while he never stops thrusting in and out of you. You wiggle your hips, the slight shift makes it ache, and the sharp downward thrusts put delirious pressure on that patch of nerves that renders you dizzy. Every muscle in your body feels like it’s a tightly spooled cable, fraying and an inch away from snapping. Your gasping breaths pitch into airy squeaks as the fist twisted in your hair tightens, tugging your head back just a bit more.

Boba lurches foreword, the nip of beskar a frigid shock to the bare skin of your back when he lays over you, his elbows caging you in close. His head drops onto your shoulder blade, pressing sloppy kisses over the arch of your throat and slope of your shoulder—without warning he sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck. Maker save you—

The feral drag of Boba’s teeth digging into your sensitive flesh skin makes you squeeze around his cock—Boba answers with a soft growl that vibrates against the skin of your shoulder. Somehow he fucks into you harder, his pace becoming brutal. Your nails scrabble against the floor, searching for some sort of anchor as you wail under him.

It’s too much—fuck, you’re gonna implode. Pinned between the rough sandstone and the hand in in your hair, mixed with the sharp pain of his teeth marring your skin—you loose it. Sensing your peaking orgasm, Boba’s fingers wedge between your legs to toy with your clit. He rubs quick circles with two fingers as he purrs words of filth into your ear—how good his pretty thing is for him, how well you came for him, how tight you are.

“There you go, little one,” Boba says, his words like a tendril of dark smoke. “Cum for your king.”

His efforts are quickly rewarded as you shudder and lock up harder than durasteel beneath him. A blinding surge of vicious heat, knocks you clean off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs as your nails dig into the sandstone—trembling and grappling blindly for a foothold in your own head. The cold chest plate is a much needed anchor for the overwhelming intensity that threatens to drown you and bury you six fix under.

He bites down again when he cums, his hips digging into you with short, rough jabs. “Fuck—you take me so well.” You squirm, feeling his cock throb and spill into you, making the mess between your legs smear over your thighs. His thrusts stutter to a stop as he sighs deeply and pulls out, a mixture of his cum and your arousal spilling onto the floor. Boba huffs above you, drags a finger through your swollen folds and pushes it back inside of you. “Good girl.”

You shiver—reduced to a useless puddle with no intent from moving off the floor as Boba’s weight moves away. You could sleep here—that’s something completely plausible you think. Nice, warm dirt—

Boba purrs your name—the sound piquing your interest enough that you overcome the heaviness that’s settled in your body and move your head. He’s returned to his throne, cheeks a bit flushed and his chest rising and falling to recover precious air. You watch as Boba peels off his cuirass with practiced ease, and lays it with care onto the floor. He murmurs your name a second time and pats his lap, coaxing you off the floor.

You happily slither onto his thighs, exhausted and all too eager to be swept up into the warmth of his arms. He grunts as you tuck your head under his chin and cuddle into his chest, relishing the rough scrape of his palms folding over your shoulder and the outside of your thigh. His soft breaths tickle the top of your head paired with the quiet, but steady rhythm of his heart beating beneath your fingertips and ear pressed onto his sternum. Your eyes flutter shut and though a hushed silence falls over the room, there’s nothing to be said.

Boba tucks his nose into your hair and you smile, the slow speak of your heart unraveling into a lush garden of something new and brittle—like flakes of frost in the early morning sun. He’s more bruise than bleed nowadays—a wound closed then reopened and he promises nothing of a future beyond what you have in these moments. And yet—

You wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

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#here we Go HERE we GO #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett #the mandalorian #the mandalorian s2 #fennec shand #star wars #sw #star wars fanfiction #my writing

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gojology · 3 years

Text

— Gojo and Nanami | Their Insecurities

pairing : insecure gojo x gender neutral reader, insecure nanami x gender neutral reader warnings : unedited, probably some misspellings, maybe some cursing, i probably dont make sense at all wordcount : 1703 a/n : this is so bad dear god please forgive me for deeming this as content

GOJO SATORU ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆ Gojo’s insecure about his lack of bodyhair. His lack of facial hair and arm hair worries him. Being babyfaced wasn’t something positive in his eyes- no, he wishes he was physically more masculine.

Your eyes meet his, the sun rays bathing both of you in an orange filtered light. His mouth is slightly opened, skin flush to the touch. After a night of intimacy, your ready for another round, pushing your palm towards his forehead. “Good morning, Satoru.” you say, voice slightly wavering even in the most private presence, without the formalities and what not, he’s surprisingly normal, and it’s taken you a bit to adjust to that. He’s warm, but it’s the good kind of warm, and it shows on his silly, dopey smile.

You guess it wasn’t the time for more sex, so you resist your urges, directing the energy to something else.

Gradually, your palms find themselves on his cheeks, and you pinch them slightly, giving him a look you hope is loving- because you really do mean it. Your rest assured, as the curve to his swollen lips grew even wider. The sounds of bird chirped as your fingers danced across his jawline, finally at your final stop, his chin.

You tip his chin up, and sure enough, hickeys are adorning his neck. A feeling of joy and honor fills you for a brief second, you were the one that was allowed to see him vulnerable, given the pass into his locked up heart. He finally breaks the silence between the two of you, pushing away your slack hand delicately.

It’s peculiar, there’s a tremble to his lips, like he’s scared, or about to burst into a fit of tears. You think it should be the other way around, but here you were, arms held close to your chest, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, bated breath preventing you from questioning the sudden change in tone.

“Hey, um, Y/N, weird ass question, but, am I hairy? Like, wooly mammoth hairy?”

You can’t tell if it’s sarcasm or not.

Trying not to make a face, you shrug your shoulders. “Well, I mean, not really. You’re actually pretty nonhairy, in terms of uh... The average-” you pause, realizing how drastically his face fell. “-But I do like non-hairy guys! Who would wanna date a wooly mammoth anyways? Hey, baby..” you coo, giving him a tiny peck on the cheek, fluttering your eyelashes. “What’s this about? Hey, you know, you can just be straightforward with me, I don’t mind.”

He doesn’t take a moment of hesitation, exasperatedly blurting out, “Does my lack of.. Hair, bother you?” but it seems he regrets it, your cheeks puffing up, stifling a giggle. Yet, he maintains the bone-chilling eye contact, his eyes are as vivid as ever, so blue it looked like the entrance to heaven. Your immediately lulled, whatever he was going to say was definitely urgent.

“W-What? Are you being serious?” covering your mouth, your voice is muffled, but his face looks absolutely terrified, and you relish in how funny he looked. It wasn’t everyday that he was genuinely frightened, well, maybe he didn’t show it often. “Of course not! Why would I be even remotely worried about bodyhair when I have something way more eye-catching in front of me?”

The shock turns into a sheepish smile, returning for a second time, your heart melting instantly. He takes a long, deep breath, exhaling the tension away, tugging at the covers to go over his chest. You hadn’t realized that he had stolen more than half of the blanket for himself, but you don’t make a fuss about it.

For all the weight he carried on his sagging shoulders, you’re sure the warmth is appreciated.

NANAMI KENTO ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆ Nanami thinks he’s a boring person, through and through. Outside of work, he doesn’t see why anyone would want him. Some days, he wonders if he should pick up on Gojo’s personality, telling jokes and being sarcastic and what not.

The fine, white porcelain Nanami had gifted you was beautiful, to say the least. Nanami frequently shone it until it glimmered in the light, wiping any smudge or speck of dirt that dared to get on his beloved tea set that he gifted to you a few months prior. Gold trim, alongside depictions of birds fluttering about, and your favorite flowers. It’s perfect for you, and that’s why he had gotten it. His eyes had instantly brightened, picturing your beaming face as you served the two of you some tea.

But he wonders, would you be happier if he perhaps gifted you something more up to date in comparison to the porcelain? He had enough money to buy you the world, bags, jewelry, he’d often used to hear stories of his co-workers giving their wives expensive, well, anything, and they’d be over the moon. A sudden realization grew inside of him at the thought of this:

Was he too out-of-date?

The thought went rampant in his usually collected mind, twisting and turning at night, only the sound of you, deep in sleep, could calm the troubled man down. As a consequence to his overthinking, he got little to no rest, and if he got little to no rest, his eyebags would turn their ugly, sneering faces in his direction.

And so, as he’s baking tea cakes to go along with the afternoon tea the two of you would routinely drink, he’s going deep into depth of himself. He’s a good worker, good at...

What was he good at? Aside from work, he can’t see why he’d be of use. Nanami acknowledges he’s stoic, which may be good in some cases, but often, everyone runs away from him because he appears as scary with those cold, calculating eyes. As opposed to Gojo, everyone enjoyed how lenient of a teacher he was. Well, Nanami isn’t sure on that, maybe aside from Megumi, Nobara, and Yuuji, everyone hated that. Regardless, him and Gojo don’t share something in common.

Gojo has humor, and he doesn’t.

So why did you like him?

Nanami’s subconsciously drumming his long, bony fingers against the counter, eyes studying the ceiling like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Steadily, an acrid smell completely overwhelmed your senses- now, you’re hacking into your arm, and finally, Nanami comes back to Earth.

He blinks a few times, like he’s drinking in his surroundings, before he realizes the tea cakes are completely burning into a crisp.

Now, he’s on heightened alert, yanking open the handle to the oven and fanning out the flames with a random oven mitt he had hastily grabbed for. Beads of sweat are developing on his skin, before finally, you rush in, still hacking up a storm with a large pot of freezing water in your shaking hands.

Nanami curses himself for ever appearing as informal, but then he remembers he’s infront of his significant other, he didn’t have to put on an act. His face relaxes, and he opens his mouth to speak, to apologize, but he’s paused- by you. You raise your palm up at him, the other hand opening up a window looking over the garden.

“Nana.” he freezes completely, the affectionate nickname was specially reserved for confrontations like this. You spoke softly, which, for some reason, was significantly worse than you screaming into his ear. Your eyes follow suit, staring at his collar, loosening his tie. He winces, but Nanami’s not sure why he does. You had touched him millions of times, so why was it now that he didn’t accept it?

“Yes, my love?” he finally breathes out, wrapping a strong, gentle arm around your waist just loosely. You place your thumb just below his lower lip, your index finger rubbing his plush lips all at the same time. The exchange is purely affectionate, yet, he’s still tense.

“What has gotten into you?” you murmur.

“I- Nothing, darling, I’ll bake another-”

“No.” is all you say before you grab him by the chin, unwavering. Usually, those piercing eyes of his are emotionless, something shocking. The eyes are the gateway to the soul, so why is it that it’s blocked off? But you guess it wasn’t the case here, he stared back with the same level of intensity, fear and peculiarity. You stay in that position for a little, savoring just how much you must mean to him, it wasn’t everyday he was vulnerable and let you inside. Your breathing is heavy, eyelids heavy as well due to his routinely ruckus every night, but you’re determined to erase any trace there was left of that. You kiss him. It’s sloppy, yet chaste. A fight for dominance usually occurs between the two of you, and almost routinely, Nanami wins, but this time, he lets you do the work.

Your lips never once trail away from his own. Heavy breathing through nostrils, hands roaming where it shouldn’t at such an early time, but who gave a fuck about the rules? It wasn’t a workplace, and you’d never let it be one. He clings onto your figure, you savor his muscular physique. Not once do his hands not roam, your flesh was his, and his was yours.

Finally, you pull away, heat rising to your cheeks, tears are beginning to dawn on your glassy eyes. “I’ve listened to you roll around in bed every night, mumbling shit about how you don’t see why I’d want you. You better donate your eyes and brain to charity right now.”

This wasn’t the reaction, or beatdown he was expecting. He flinches at the vivid image he got of you gouging out his eyeballs. “...Why must I do that?

“Because, you don’t use them, obviously. If you took a fucking second of your life to look deeper into your personality below the surface level, you’d see how fucking amazing you are and I love you for that.”

Shaking your head furiously, you shush him up yet again when he finally decides to speak up, tears are beginning to spill down your cheeks. “Shut up, Nana. Shut. Up.” pulling him in for another kiss, your hands grabbing at his shoulder like he was going to let go.

But he never did.

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fanfiction-inc · 3 years

Note

Can I get Arthur Morgan

But of back story having met a sweet but wild woman let’s say they meet during Colter. She’s literally lived in the mountain and survived and ends up with the gang.

First meeting hmmm he’s just like oh what in the heck is this crazy woman and she’s so nice to me and snuggly and sweet and wtf she just decked a man flat on his ass?!

ONTO REQUEST with back story in mind.

But they end up sweet on one another And the letter from Mary comes.

Reader ends up tagging along due to reasons and she can’t stand when Mary basically is tugging at Arthur’s emotions. He’s never seen the reader looking at anyone so angrily.

But they end up having first NSFW time and Arthur is a mess of I’m not worthy snd reader is like I say you are and if I gotta F-squeak toy sound-ck it into you I will.

DONT feel the need to go with everything I said I just like to give prompts and let people fly free! Love your writing!!!!

Feel free to ask back for anything RDR!

I had so much fun writing this request! 😍 I hope you enjoy!

(AN: As always, smut is under the cut!)

You have had enough of this woman, her very presence and mannerisms sickening you as you walked along behind your love interest and his former girlfriend.

This woman was working him through every emotional attachment that was left lingering, and she tried to play on the fact they used to have a relationship to persuade him to do this or that for her.

What finally had you huffing and puffing, glare like pure daggers towards the woman with every emotion spawned from the fires of Hell, was when she tried to convince him to run away with her.

To change him into an "honest man".

A "good man".

Arthur Morgan was as good of a man as he can be!

He was kind, smart, caring, and if this woman couldn't see it then it was her loss.

Arthur lost attention at times from Mary's woeful story, catching the gaze you gave to the woman as you walked on and helped him with the task he had been asked to do.

The rage in your gaze, the balling of your fist, and how your body was tense.

He's never seen you like this, always such the charming and sweet little thing when you two are together.

All giggles and smiles, kind gazes and warm embraces.

He didn't know what to make of it, even when you two return to camp and you haven't spoken a word to him.

It wasn't his fault that Mary was like this, he had no part expect being a passenger among your anger train towards the woman who didn't deserve him.

His mind went to ways he may have upset you when with Mary.

Did he stay too close?

Did he not make it known enough that he was taken in some form of relationship with you?

He followed you back to your tent, seeing how your hands were shaking at your side, his taking yours and causing you to turn quickly and face him.

The moment those big blue puppy dog eyes met yours, you melt, calming in his presence.

God, you loved this damn man.

"(First name)-" He was cut off by your words when your form pressed in against his own, lips brushing his in a gentle lip lock.

It took him a millisecond before he was returning the kiss, hands letting yours go in exchange for coming up to cup your cheeks and hold you closer.

It was like fire between you two, the kiss heating up even without words needing to be exchanged.

He only pulled away when your fingers looped in his belt, eyes catching your own.

"(First name), darlin'... What if m'not enough for ya?" Your questioning gaze meets his own and he swallowed thickly. "I don't deserve a woman like ya. So sweet on me, stealin' m'heart each time y'smile and that damn contagious laughter.."

He stopped speaking the moment your finger placed against his lip, watching your expression shift to a far more sweet and loving demeanor.

Yet lust still stayed in those eyes that left him dreamy, lost in thought as he stares.

"Arthur Morgan, if I have t'fuck it into ya that y'deserve me, I will." He felt his cheeks warm when you began unbuckling his belt, the audible gulp sounding in the air making you pause.

"Are y'sure?" He questioned in a breathy whisper, licking his lips when your hands move up his chest, grabbing the collar of his shirt to pull him against you so your lips rested against his ear.

"Absolutely, Mr. Morgan." He visibly shivered, melting when feather like kisses trailed along his jaw and down to his neck, now being hyperaware of just how you make him feel.

His hands come down to grasp your rear, soon hiking you up with a squeak from your lips so your legs wrapped around his waist.

So he could grind his growing hardness against your pants covered core and let you feel what you do to him.

His fingers came to the buttons of your shirt, working to get them undone ad yours worked on his vest, letting the article fall off his form unceremoniously to the dirt below.

He catches your lips following a tilt of his head, humming in satisfaction when your shirt is off and your bare breast are exposed to the humid air of the camp.

Arthur Morgan was savoring every second of this, loving how hot and needy your form grew when he laid you on the cot and busied his mouth with a perky nipple, earning the most delicious of noises from you.

Each breathy sigh when his tongue flicked over the bud and how his teeth just barely grazed the sensitive flesh earning a hitch in breath.

It was pure music to his ears.

Soon enough it was his turn to groan, the sound a low rumble rising from his chest when your hand snaked its way into his trousers, taking him in hand.

"My God, woman. You're drivin' me wild." He huffed out, motions pausing as his eyes flutter shut and savor the slow rhythm you had set with each pump of his member.

"Isn't that the point, Mr. Morgan?" You joked sweetly, giggling when his eyes open to send you a playful look, his lips moving from your breast to kiss down your abdomen and pause at the trousers blocking him from your drenched sex.

Your hand had to pull away from the way he lowered himself, his fingers looping in the waistband of your pants and gaze flickering up for a single second.

A silent question was posed.

"Go ahead." You cooed, body shivering in pure delight at the way his gaze shifted to something more...needy.

He has waited so long to do this, and now he was gonna savor every second of it.

He reveled in the view of you once your pants were off, a verbal moan leaving his lips when he stole a lap at your core, hands moving to catch your shifting hips.

He kept his gaze locked on your own, not giving a damn who heard your lewd noises that spilled out with each suckle and lick at your sensitive bundle of nerves and needy hole.

Savoring the way your chest raised with each quickened breath and how your eyes fell half way when he found the right pace to bring you closer and closer to the edge.

Each hungry lap led you closer and closer, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging with a sweet, delicious moan as the levee broke and he was flooded with your slick, cleaning you of every drop he could.

He rose up with a chuckle, your blissed out expression making his heart flutter.

It encouraged him, made him happy to know he could make you feel so good.

His tongue darks out, licking at what was left on his lips and back of his hand wiping at his chin.

God this man looked sinful doing such.

"Sweeter than honey." He commented, grinning at the rising blush decorating your cheeks.

Your fingers grab his pants again, pulling him in for a kiss as he moved to get his shirt the rest of the way off.

His pants soon followed, now nude to you for the first time.

Of course, you've seen him from the waist up when things got too hot for multiple layers.

Bare chest exposed and slickened with sweat from whatever activity he had been doing.

Your fingers traced over the flesh, resting over his heart to feel it racing as he positioned himself between your legs, gaze seeking your own for approval once more.

"Arthur, please just fuck m'like ya mean it." You pleaded with him when the tip of his cock brushed over your slickened folds, hitting your clit and making your thighs tremble.

He gave a smirk at your words, hips moving so he could sheath his length within you.

He's slow, savoring the way your core accepts every inch of his shaft until his hips are against your own and face pressed against your neck, delivering tender kisses to aid in the process of you adjusting to him.

You're like a well oiled machine, moving in sync to advance the process.

Breaths shared between open mouthed kisses and noises silenced by the other, excluding the wet, skin hitting skin noises that begin to overtake the tent.

Raw, needy, he fucks you like a man desperate to never lose you, to never be without you in his life.

Each pump brings him closer and closer to the edge, just like the feelings building like wildfire in your core.

"Arthur!" Your tone is breathy when it reaches his ears, the only warning besides the sudden clamp of your walls around him and the new octave your tone takes to your release.

He groaned out when he finished within you, your walls stealing everything he has and weight resting on his arms as he tries to combat the high and not crush you.

"I told ya y'drive me wild." He chuckled out, breathless and moving to his side, bringing you with him so he stays buried inside you for the time being.

"Do y'still feel unworthy of me, Arthur?" You questioned gently, fingers tracing designs along his chest, head resting against his shoulder.

"No, all because ya reassured me." He admits, kissing the top of your head.

"Good."

RDR2 TAG LIST:

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #ns/fw ask #ns/fw hc #sothisoutlawwalksintoabar #Thank you!!

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maddiewritesstucky · 3 years

Text

Snare Me His Shadow

Pairing: Steve/Bucky

Rating: Explicit 18+

Words: 4.5k

Tags: Primal Play, Prey/Predator Kink, Fighting As Foreplay, Rough Sex, Biting, Choking, Dom/Sub Undertones, Come Swapping, Anal Sex, Overstimulation, Fucking Outdoors, Storm Sex, Poetry As An Aphrodisiac, R18 Hide And Seek

So a million years ago, @howdoyousleep3 passed on an ask from her inbox that read:

[I dont know if you’re familiar with primal play, but it’s so fucking hot. Yeah, I know, Steve is all muscle and ability, he’s strong he’s fast, he’s smart, he is not prey. Usually. But Bucky - the winter soldier - is a hunter. The best, in fact. He loves a good hunt]

...This one possessed me. Please heed the tags, this is an entirely consensual and agreed-upon game between Steve and Bucky, but it is very much a hunter/prey type situation 😈

It’s electric, like this.

Barefoot on the damp earth, navigating by muscle memory more than sight, because darkness settles that much denser beneath the tree canopy.

Steve could move faster, could take this barely-worn path through the woods behind the compound at a sprint. But fast is loud.

Fast is leaves cracking and branches splintering, and the muted thud of footfalls on the forest floor. It’s eyes fixed only ahead so you don’t stumble, and nothing but the sound of your own exhales in your ears.

‘Fast’ gets you caught.

The in-rolling storm crackles humid in the air, sparking against Steve’s skin as he weaves through the underbrush. He throws his every sense outwards, searching and sifting through those faint currents of movement around him, those quiet signs of life. But it’s all life out here; birds and insects and creatures who can’t bear the light, all just playing the same game he is, and every last one of them pricks at his awareness.

Every last one of them kicks at his pulse and drip-feeds new adrenaline into his bloodstream, because experience echoes a warning way down in his cells - the apex predator comes silent as a spider.

There’s so many eyes on him, the weight of being watched pressing down on him from all sides. He digs the heel of his hand into his arousal and pulls in a lungful of air on the cusp of rain; feels himself splintering between his warring desires to put up a worthy chase, and to drop down belly-up in the dirt.

It’s a choice that will be made for him, eventually.

He might be strength, and speed, and strategy. But out here, he is prey.

Out here, in these weeping woods that stretch endless into the night, Steve is achingly, exquisitely outmatched by the hunter who lies in wait; biding his time, unseen, and slipping ever closer.

Dressed in black from head to toe, or skin bared to the shivering pulses of the forest; empty handed, or palms laden with the urge to grab and pin and possess…

The Winter Soldier is out there, and Steve’s blood runs so much hotter for the knowledge that he won’t see or hear or feel him coming until it’s too late.

He winds his way amongst the weathered trunks, hugging the shadows and pawing at the lines of his own body; stroking his thighs and pulling at his nipples, raking fingernails over the bare skin of his stomach. It’s rough and absent and frantic all at once, a weak precursor to what he’s evading.

The dissonance of it is dizzying, hiding from the thing he wants most. He wants to cry out, to make for the clearing in the middle of the woods and sprawl shameless in the open until he’s found, but he knows the rules - run, hide, don’t make it easy.

Pursuit is the purpose, and capture is a pleasure that must be earned, no matter how raw his skin is screaming for touch. And it is screaming - he’s a copper wire stripped bare, and he shivers for every stinging snap of branch and damp drag of leaf against his body as he picks his way through the darkness.

Hard limits apply, he’d told Bucky, the rest is up to you.

He shudders for it now, those words and the way Bucky’s eyes had darkened for them; the way he’d leaned in to kiss his sugar-laced threat right onto Steve’s waiting lips - I will find you.

It’s only a matter of time. The forest is vast, and countless months have passed since they last played this game, but Bucky is a blade that never dulls.

Bucky is razor-sharp, in wit, beauty, and battle; made up of midnight and silent strides when he so chooses, and he will find Steve.

He might have had eyes on Steve this entire time; ten soundless steps behind, watching Steve’s slow descent into desperation with a smile on his face, and the mere possibility has Steve’s cock weeping through the thin fabric of his shorts.

His fingertips dip beneath his waistband and sweep through the wetness beading at his tip; stroke that sensitive spot just beneath the head. His palm slips to press at the heavy throb in his balls and it makes his breath catch too loud in the confines of his chest, has a moan slipping out past his gritted teeth.

He knows it’s foolish, knows he’s only making himself easier to track. But every step he takes is winding the hunt toward its inevitable climax, and intellect is giving way to instinct.

His consciousness is beginning that steady downward drip, sinking from logic and reason to settle and swim with the dense heat pooling at the base of his spine. Soon, he’ll be nothing more than the urge rippling under his skin, the tight-squeezed air in his lungs and the thrum of blood between his thighs, and every brush of his own hands is permission to slip a little further to it.

So he doesn’t stop.

His feet and his fingers keep moving; his body acting now on his mind’s behalf to draw towards the river's edge, where his desperate sounds will be swept away by the unending rush of water over rock, because this is about preservation now.

It’s about surviving the voracity of his own need until he is found, until Bucky catches him, and then…god, then...

The rest is up to you.

The beginning of rainfall winds its way down through the tree canopy, and it does nothing to quell the heat radiating off Steve. He’s burning so hot for this, so hungry for it; his need only growing sharper as the atmosphere curls in thick and charged with the promise of thunder.

It’s rumbling in the distance already, too faint for non-enhanced ears but creeping closer; a rolling bass beneath the surge of the fast flowing river up ahead. He can see the diluted black of open space through the trees now, can hear the clack of wet-tumbling stones, and it’s nothing short of delusion, the way it feels like he’s headed for sanctuary.

Logic knows it’s a weak veil of auditory cover at best, and an outright plea for ambush at worst.

Steve knows, down in his gut, exactly which one he’s hoping for, and he sprints for it with the last of his tactical thought seeping out through the soles of his feet.

He breaks through the tree line, hitching a gasp as he stumbles out into the full force of the downpour. It’s coming down heavy, sluicing at the fever-sweat clinging to his skin, and he tilts his face up towards it; lets his eyes drift shut and his shoulders drop as he bares his throat to the purple-black sky.

His pulse riots for the sheer abandon of the gesture, of shifting his posture to one of invitation in the midst of evasion. It only spurs him on, makes him want to find out just how shrill that siren in his cells will wail when he refuses to curl in on himself.

He forces his hands open at his sides, turns his palms outwards and walks further out onto the exposed riverbank. He stands ankle deep in the river with his heart in his throat, soaked to the bone and all but shaking with the desire to drop to his knees in submission.

And that’s when he hears it.

The slow-whistled high note, followed by a low; the signal that shivers from the top of Steve’s spine to the cradle of his hips.

Found you.

It’s a question as much as a warning, that signal; a chance for Steve to respond in their shared language of gesture whether he wants the chase, or the fight.

As if he hadn’t made up his mind the moment they agreed to play tonight.

As if he’s not done for either way.

He pulls in a shuddering breath, his skin prickling with the presence he can sense now off to his left. Survival instinct begs him to open his eyes, to scour his surroundings and prepare for what’s coming, but he only shuts them tighter.

He grins up at the pelting rain, curls his quivering right hand into a fist, and beats it against his drenched, heaving chest.

Take me down where I stand.

Thunder rumbles overhead and shakes the stones underfoot. Steve’s blood beats frantic in his ears, one heartbeat stumbling over the next, and he waits, waits for the blow he doesn’t want to see coming.

A foot to the back of his knees, an arm wrapped around his throat, a strike of unyielding metal between his shoulder blades...it’s never the same twice, and it’s always better than the time before, and he can’t stop the desperate whimper that falls from his parted, rain-slick lips.

“Bucky!” he pleads, hurling it into the current of the storm raging around him.

“Steve,” comes the answer from directly behind him; the word falling across his skin in the split second before teeth sink deep into the meat of his shoulder.

It’s nothing short of wanton, the way Steve cries out with it.

Five fingers curl a punishing grip around the column of his throat and a soaking wet body plasters against his back, and Steve doesn’t even try to hold his centre of gravity as he’s wrestled down to the riverbank.

It’s a messy takedown, raw force over skill; dripping all the same desperation that’s been twisting hot in Steve’s gut all night. Bucky pins him belly-down against the stones at the river’s edge, the full weight of his body draped over him, and Steve knows the tremor he can feel humming through Bucky’s muscles has nothing to do with the cold.

“The river,” Bucky growls; metal forearm jammed against the back of Steve's neck, “of course you came to the river.”

Steve squirms giddy beneath Bucky’s mass, beneath that deep-thrumming power crushing down on him.

The storm-swollen current reaches up the bank to wash shallow and frigid beneath Steve’s cheek, his chest; against his nipples and his thighs and his cock inside his drenched shorts. It’s cold enough to draw gooseflesh across the bared expanse of his skin, but fuck if that persistent rush doesn’t feel like getting tongued; like every single time Bucky’s ever slipped an ice cube in his mouth and sucked him off just to see him hit the ceiling.

“Buck...”

It’s the only word that makes sense anymore. Steve gets his elbows under himself and pushes his body up, but only so much as to feel the stifling weight of Bucky on top of him.

Bucky’s hand slips to the front of his throat and grips him tight up under the line of his jaw; tips his head back to get his lips and teeth pressed hard against Steve’s ear.

“Steven...did you even try?”

The rain and the river aren’t enough to sweep away the mockery in his tone. He’s shifting himself on top of Steve, putting scant inches of space between their bodies, and Steve knows this cue; grins bright and breathless for it.

He digs his hands in against the riverbed, plants his knees and shoves upwards. He heaves his weight forward and Bucky’s grip loosens just enough to let it happen, to let Steve crawl and clamber a few meager feet forwards.

Steve knows it’s a false freedom but he laughs half-hysterical for it anyway, and even more so when Bucky’s hands are catching him again, clamping bruising tight at his hips and grappling him onto the flat of his back.

He winces at the battering strike of rain against his face, but it’s just as soon blocked by the cover of Bucky caging him in; replaced by the tepid drips rolling off Bucky’s perpetually warm skin.

Steve’s body reacts the way it thinks it’s supposed to, going through the motions of trying to throw Bucky off - strength funneled into a forearm arm pressing here, a knee striking there. But it’s pointless; sabotaged by the underlying truth that the only place Steve really wants to be is stuck exactly where he finds himself - pinned pliant beneath his predator.

He lets himself look, then; lets his gaze slip down between them to drag over the length of Bucky’s body. He’s bared to the elements just the same as Steve - not a stitch on him save for running shorts that barely hit at mid-thigh. His hair is pulled back, and he’s soaked to the bone, and when lightning splits the darkness in two and catches on the angles of his face, that raw perilous beauty strikes a blow all of its own to the center of Steve’s chest.

“You win,” Steve rasps, dragging his voice up from the pit of his billowing lungs.

Bucky’s answering laugh is darker than the wet-ink midnight pressing in on them, and it shudders all the way to Steve’s bones when Bucky sinks down to purr ominous against the vulnerable stretch of his neck.

“Not yet, I haven’t.”

The ravenous clamp of teeth on his throat sends Steve’s body bowing, writhing for that merciless bite that doesn’t break the skin, but makes purpled ruin of what lies beneath. Fascia and blood vessels and Steve’s sanity, all broken down in the transcendent grind of Bucky’s jaw, the heat of his mouth; all over Steve’s neck and his chest and his belly, and it’s so feral, the way Steve wants it.

He wants the shred of busted stitching and the shock of rain against newly bared skin as his shorts are torn from his body.

He wants the red welts raked down his rib cage, the kiss-split lip and the deep set imprints of Bucky’s teeth all up the insides of his thighs.

Bucky’s touch is heavy and he means it to be; his shifting, squeezing grip claiming handfuls of Steve’s willing flesh wherever he can get it. And he can get it everywhere - every last inch of Steve’s body splayed out for him in tribute to his prowess, and Steve wants him to take it.

He wants Bucky to make sacrilege of it out here under the split-open skies, until it feels like heaven itself is sobbing for it.

“Fuck me,” ruin me, desecrate me, arch-backed and bleeding-lipped in the dirt, “Bucky, fuck me…”

Steve begs with all of himself, legs split and arms thrown above his head; dripping sweat and storm and half-crazed surrender. Like he actually has to plead for this, like Bucky’s not already stuffing searching fingers up between his cheeks to grope for the base-end of silicone that says Steve’s body is primed for the taking.

Bucky bites taunting denial into his skin, over and over. ‘No,’ even as he pulls the plug from Steve’s body and replaces it with his fingers. ‘No’ growled against Steve’s body every time he begs now, and please, and I’m ready, just to fray that tenuous thread of Steve’s resolve.

Steve’s delirious with it, crying out high and sharp for the stretch of cold metal inside him and the drip of remnant lube. He chants Bucky’s name and reaches out with clinging, clawing hands that only get batted away; that get caught at the wrists and pinned down, and Bucky’s laughing at him.

Bucky is toying with him, leaving him empty and climbing back up over his body to graze teeth over Steve’s cheekbones, to whisper sweet mockery against Steve’s lips before he kisses them bruising-hard.

“Tell me you want it,” Bucky coos, clamping his hand over Steve’s mouth and pushing the clothed head of his cock up against Steve’s hole.

Steve sobs against his palm. He forces the words out wet and incomprehensible onto Bucky’s skin; again and again as Bucky tuts and tells him to speak the fuck up.

Tears are streaming free from the corners of his eyes and his legs are hooking desperately around Bucky’s waist, and he knows that Bucky wants this just as bad. He can feel Bucky shaking and shuddering under the strain of holding back and holding out, trying to push Steve closer to his breaking point just because that’s what Steve wants; devotion at its most deranged.

“Don’t cry, baby,” Bucky laps at the tears tracking down Steve’s face, letting up his hand from Steve’s mouth only to settle it heavy on his throat.

He slips his other hand down between them to shove at his shorts, fighting the clinging fabric down far enough to get his cock free, and then they’re both groaning for the rub of naked skin on skin.

“Buck,” Steve chokes out a half-strangled cry as Bucky sinks his whole weight onto him, dragging his stomach over Steve’s weeping cock and rocking his own into the crease of Steve’s hip.

“Tell me you want it?” Bucky says again, a question this time instead of a taunt.

Steve’s rasp of yes, fuck, do it barely makes it past his lips before Bucky’s cock is pushing into him.

There’s no hesitance, no pretense of patience to it. Bucky doesn’t finesse it and Steve doesn’t want him to - he didn’t spend half the night skulking through the woods in the middle of a fucking thunderstorm just to get taken the way he would be in the sanctity of their bed.

Steve came out here to get fucked vicious, and Bucky knows better than to pull his punches.

He shoves brutal and punishing into the tight heat of Steve’s body, knocking the air from Steve’s lungs and the sense from his psyche.

He’s tucking words up against Steve’s ear, something lilting and familiar, and the roar of Steve’s own blood and the groaning sky above don’t drown out Bucky’s voice so much as darken it’s edges; slip a rumbling bass beneath it’s baritone. Steve loses himself in the well-worn rhythm long before the words catch up to sink hooks into his ribcage.

“O Hunter, snare me his shadow,” Bucky hums, “O Nightingale, catch me his strain…else moonstruck with music and madness...I track him in vain.”

Steve would weep, if he had it in him to do anything other than lay there flat on his back and take it.

Bucky grinds in blinding-deep and stays there, rocks there; drips poetry all over the side of Steve’s neck like he’s not fucking him fit to kill.

He squeezes Steve’s throat until his eyes roll back, swats at Steve’s cheek and pulls merciless on his hair. He stuffs fingers into Steve’s gaping mouth deep enough to gag on, and hinges Steve’s jaw open so he has no choice but to set loose every raw, wrecked sound Bucky knocks out of him.

It’s fucking flawless.

“Give me one,” Bucky growls.

Steve needs no clarification beyond the spearing of Bucky’s cock into his prostate, and he reaches down between their bodies to jerk himself frantic and heavy-handed.

It should be pitiful, how little it takes. But it’s been mounting for what feels like hours, and when Bucky wrenches himself abruptly from Steve’s body to slap a hand down square over Steve’s balls and his slick, aching asshole, that orgasm crests with near-painful force.

“Fuck!” Steve’s wracked with it, shuddering and flinching from it like it’s not the makings of his very own flesh and blood.

Bucky doesn’t even wait for it to be over before he’s dipping down to lap at it; rubbing his cheek and his chest and his belly through Steve’s release on his slow crawl back up to spit it into Steve’s mouth.

“Don’t you fuckin’ swallow it,” he warns, pressing his thumb to the seam of Steve’s lips, “I want it back.”

Steve’s body is sparking chaotic, crying too soon and too much just as loud as it’s screaming too good as Bucky grips him by his sodden hair and buries his cock back inside him; falling into rhythm like he never stopped thrusting in the first place.

He wants to moan, wants to cry out for that welcome knifepoint of forced pleasure building within him, but the desperate sounds creeping onto his tongue are every bit as caged as the come he can’t swallow.

Which is the whole point, Steve flushes submissive to realize - Bucky’s got him gagged without even touching him.

He twines his limbs up around Bucky’s body, groping and pulling at him like there’s still an insufferable distance left to close. The guttural moans Bucky’s spilling into the crook of his neck only render Steve’s own noises even more pathetic; huffing high and reedy the longer they remain trapped in his throat.

“Christ, listen to you...”

Bucky pushes up onto his elbows to stare down at Steve, to watch the play of desperation on his face.

He’s no less transparent himself in how affected he is, a lifetime of ceaseless want spelled out in his gaze; hunger and rapture and the kind of adoration Steve doesn’t think he’ll ever fully earn, not really.

But it’s all right there, in the way Bucky’s looking at him; the way he’s bearing the howling force of the storm against his back just to give Steve this, and Steve is sunk.

Steve is nothing more than the sweet ruin of his body and the near painful swell of his heart for the multitudes that Bucky contains. A death sentence if you ask the history books and still the better half of Steve’s soul, Bucky is the boundless shadow and blinding light of Steve’s entire existence; his every reason for being and doing and fucking trying, after all these years.

It would be terrifying, if Steve weren’t bone-deep certain that he’s the axis Bucky’s world spins on, too.

“You found me...”

The words are almost a sob hitching off Steve’s tongue, pitched fuck-drunk and slurred around his mouthful of himself.

He’s breaking the rules and he knows it; half hopes for the crack of an open palm against his cheek for it. But the look Bucky hits him with lands harder than any physical strike could hope to; taking Steve’s face firm between his hands and staring down at him like there’s never been a truth so vital, so dire.

“I will always find you, Steve.”

And that’s just it, isn’t it? The one thing their shared existence will always narrow down to. There’s nowhere either of them could go that the other wouldn’t tear the world apart to get to, and the scant inches of distance between them right now might as well be oceans for all Steve’s burning inside to cross them.

He cups his hands around Bucky’s neck and arches up, pulls him down; pleading with everything but words for Bucky’s mouth on his, and Bucky doesn’t make him wait. He meets Steve right there in the delirium with lips and tongue and moans that rival the swelling thunder; sucking the taste of Steve off his tongue and dripping a starved groan into his mouth in its place.

“I wanna make you come,” he says, like he hasn’t already dragged one out of him, “tell me you’re gonna come.”

“Fuck, I am, I’m gonna come...”

“Say it’s for me, Steve, tell me it’s mine.”

Steve nods so hard, he can feel a bruise bloom at the base of his skull where it grates against the riverstone. Of course it’s for Bucky, everything’s for Bucky; every breath in his lungs and every beat of his stricken, obsessed heart. The sensations within him are mounting too immense, too desperate to be named pleasure, but they’re careening all the same towards the one thing Bucky wants from him, and it will only ever be Bucky’s, this perfect agony of coming undone.

“It’s yours,” he sobs, voice weak and body shaking. "Just—fuckin’ take it from me, Buck.”

He gives up all conscious hold on himself; submits entirely to the relentless drag of Bucky’s dick against his insides and the wet rasp of rock against his back as Bucky drives deep into his surrendered body, chasing that climax for the both of them.

It burns so bright, when it hits Steve; wrenched from his core and rolling sharp through the splay of his trembling frame. He cries out with it, but the storm cries louder, Bucky cries louder; moving ceaselessly through the spasms of Steve’s orgasm and drowning in the give of Steve’s body beneath him.

“Fuck, Steve, I—”

“Do it,” Steve slurs, needing nothing more than the tell-tale shudder of Bucky’s body and the way he gasps Steve’s name like a warning. “In me, Buck. Do it.”

Bucky cusses sharp, pulsing his hips as he lets go inside Steve like he can bury that seed deep enough to stick. And fuck, Steve wants it to. It’s all raw nerve on the inside but Steve never wants this to end; possessed by the slick grind of Bucky’s twitching cock and the heaving half-moans of Bucky’s breath.

“Don’t stop,” he pleads, reaching fingertips down to where their bodies are joined, where Bucky’s stuffed into him and leaking out of him. “Keep fucking me, just—just keep—”

Keep coming.

Be that monstrous entity in the woods who fucks me like it’s a haunting, ’til not even an exorcism would rid me of you.

He prods at the stretch of his swollen rim, drags his fingers through the warmth seeping out around Bucky’s cock. He wants it everywhere; brings those slick fingers up to smear over the pulse point on his neck, down the line of his throat, and Bucky heaves a moan dragged right from the marrow of his bones.

“I won’t stop,” he grits out through clattering teeth, rocking into Steve graceless and starving. “Not gonna stop, Steve.”

It sounds as much like threat as it does promise.

They’re both quaking with it, overstimulated and frigid cold and too achingly, crushingly lost in each other. For all the serum may have made them both to defy science and probability, to withstand war and stall the ravages of aging, it still couldn’t create a vessel vast enough to contain this - this raw, insatiable need for one another.

“Bucky…”

Steve looks up from the flat of his back; tips his head to offer up the stretch of his throat as he offers up a tremulous verse — a challenge — into the space between them.

“The woods are lovely, dark and deep...”

Recognition sparks dark and joyous in Bucky’s gaze. He catches Steve’s hands in his and threads their fingers together, palm against palm in a too-tight grip.

“But I have promises to keep,” he grins, “and miles to go before I sleep…”

His lips are turning up wolfish; the roll of his hips turning to something liquid and long-haul, and the rain beats down just as violent as it ever did.

Steve lets his eyes slip closed, lets the final refrain slip from his tongue before he surrenders, smiling, to the slow closing of Bucky’s teeth around his windpipe.

“...And miles to go before I sleep.”

If you’re at all curious, the poems they quote are ‘In The Forest’ by Oscar Wilde, and ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening’ by Robert Frost 😘

#steve/bucky #stucky #stucky fanfic #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes

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