#i take this shit straight to the veins dog | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emmyrosee · 1 year

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It’s not common to see Atsumu fuming.

Genuine anger, not the petty shit he throws at you when he decides he wants to be an obnoxious turd to yourself or his brother.

You can tell the difference, too, because a petulant pout and attitude is plastered on that pretty face of his, but when he’s genuinely mad, there’s no attitude; it’s just raw emotion and lips pulled in a straight line, his chest giving irregular, short breaths because he can’t breathe. It’s almost scary, but it happens so little that you’ve learned to manage it when it does happen.

This is one of those rare occasions you have no clue which he’s feeling.

The car door outside slams shut, sending a nervous chill up your spine, but it’s immediately squashed when you hear Hisako’s innocent laughter. You smile and turn towards the now opening door, and you give atsumu a fake, sympathetic look when his thick brows are furrowed in frustration. On his leg, Hisako’s tiny arms are wrapped around him, her legs locked around his ankle and her smile that’s missing a tooth is beaming up at him.

“You,” he scolds, looking down at his menace of a six year old. “Go upstairs. And don’t come out until you’re seventy-eight.”

“Can I hug mommy first?”

“If you must,” he growls. With that, Hisako quickly bounds over to you and reaches her arms up for a hug, and while you give her one, you watch as Atsumu paces the floor, cards his hair, chews on his cuticles, anything to make him calm down.

“Daddy’s mad,” she whispers in your ear.

You offer her a snort, “I know.” With a kiss to her head you plant her back to her feet and nudge her to go into her room, waiting until to door closes before you turn back to your husband.

“Atsumu-“

“I’m not ready for this,” he growls. “The little traitor, I can’t believe she’d do this to me- my own flesh and blood.”

“Don’t word it like that, you make it sound like she committed arson or something.”

He softens and pouts like a dog; clearly, whatever it is, it’s taking a toll, and you sigh before you walk over and plant a kiss to his forehead. “Whatever it was, I know it wasn’t on purpose; what happened?”

“She’s just not ready, okay, she just doesn’t know-“

“Sweetheart, you need to let me in here-“

“He was holding her hand!” He whines, scrubbing his face with his hands. “They-They-They were holding hands! I thought I had a few more years to prepare for this shit! Wanted to wait before I put the fear back into these damn boys! I can’t fight a six year old!”

You pause. You retract your hand and give him an absolute smirk.

“You’re kidding me?”

“Sure ain’t!” He barks, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s so mad his forehead vein makes itself known with a sheen of sweat. “Tomorrow, I’m going to that damned school, and I’m moving her classes!”

“Honey,” you say sweetly, gently grabbing his arm to ground him. “It’s okay; I’m the one who told her to be nice to this boy.”

Instantly, his head whips in betrayal. His eyes are blown wide, muscles tense and despite how angry he looks, he can’t find the words to convey it.

“YOU WHAT?”

You shake your head, “she asked me why she feels butterflies in her tummy when she sees him.” To try and soothe him, you hook your head over his shoulder and bat your eyes innocently, “and I told her that it’s the same feeling I get when I see you-“

“Don’t try to be sweet, I’m mad at you,” he snarls, but there’s a softness in his eye that makes you think he’s not as serious as he thinks he comes across. A massive hand cards through his hair and he looks up to the sky as if to ask for patience. “I can’t believe this. My two babies, the loves of my life, betraying me in such juvenile ways.”

“Atsumu, spell juvenile,” you challenge.

“Spell ‘no’,” he grumbles. You sigh and gently grab his arm to pull him to the couch, and for a few seconds he puts up a small fight, but does end up giving into you in the end.

“Sweetie, listen to me,” you soothe. “Hisako is six. She’s going to start having little crushes soon enough-“

“Fuck, stop reminding me,” he whines.

You shake your head and rub a soothing hand on his back. “And all we can do is let her express those feelings in healthy ways; it’s what we’ve always done.”

“What if he hurts her?”

“He’s six.”

“What if he breaks her heart?”

“I’m sure she’ll cope.”

“What if he-“

“Atsumu.” Your hands squish his cheeks. “Calm down; she’s going to be okay.” You smile and kiss his pouted lips, “you remember what it was like having a crush at school-“

“Excuse you,” he grumbles from his squished cheeks, shaking his head from your grip. “I’ve only ever been in love with you.”

“You’ve told me about your relationship with Rintaro, trust me, that was a crush.”

“Was not!”

“Was too.”

“Was not!”

“It absolutely was.” You smile warmly, “and that’s fine. But now, you need to let her experience the same thing. She’s a big girl. Besides,” you nudge your nose with his, “you’ll always be her favorite man.”

“That’s actually Osamu, but I appreciate it.” Your words do seem to calm him down however, and he wraps a big arm around you to settle into the couch, “I just love her, baby… just want her to be safe.”

“I know; and she will be.”

The silence you get comfortable in gets interrupted by the door to your home getting flung open, and while you jump in the air in shock, next to you, Atsumu chuckles.

“Speaking of the devil.”

“What did you-“

Before you can say anything, Miya Osamu suddenly stands in the middle of your living room, the hat on his head tampered with and his apron turn on his hip, his head lined with sweat as if he ran here. Your jaw slacks in surprise, “Osamu, you did not leave work to come here-“

“WHAT STUPID LITTLE SNOT WAS HOLDING HER HAND?”

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chaotic-iguana · 5 months

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lovers’ spat, part i

miggy is an oblivious overworking idiot and fails to see you’ve had a bad day. he eventually makes up for it, though. (there will be a smut follow-up)

warnings: no smut (yet). just some nice angst (the girls are fightinggggg hehehe)

it starts with a missed alarm. then a sip of too-hot coffee burning your tongue. being late to work, getting yelled at by your boss, then by a client and finally by some randomon the fucking street when you’re walking home and he’s catcalling you and you refuse to look his way.

so yeah. it’s been a shit day.

but you’ve opened a portal to nueva york, you’re close to hq and you know migs will be inside and ready to take care of you. so all hope is not lost. yet. you burst through the double doors, half-sprinting to the elevator to reach his…lair? office is too mild for it, really. (eh, miguel’s a moody guy. it fits his vibe.)

you’re just about to walk in but you’re stopped by the call of your name paired with a babbling baby behind you. twisting to see the top of mayday’s head disappear behind him, you watch as peter b walks towards you with a grimace on his face and purple blooming under his eyes.

“are you…alright? you look a bit rough.” it sounds funny as you say it - take one look in the fucking mirror and you’d be saying it to yourself - but you can’t stop yourself from asking. he does look tired. and upset. which is entirely unlike him, but they do say parenthood is an adjustment. plus, it can’t be easy balancing being a spider and a dad and a journalist all at the same time. an offer to babysit bubbles in your mouth but stops at him shaking his head with a wry grin.

“today’s been rough. to be honest, i doubt miguel’s gonna be able to see you right now - we just caught an anomaly who stopped a canon event. he’s dealing with the fallout.” he’s speaking slowly, like he’s placating a child or dog. your frown must be obvious, because he starts chuckling nervously and follows up with a “but i’m sure he can work it out! goodnight!” before he’s swinging away - typical of a man who loves setting fires but never knows quite what to do with the ashes.

so now you’re stomping into miguel’s office, tearing through the tranquility of silence as you scowl at the raised platform and squint through the frankly shitty lighting. the sound of his fingers on the keyboard halts, and you think you hear him take a deep breath before his voice rings out.

“‘m busy, cariño. be home late tonight. don’t wait up.”

and it’s the way he says it, the irritation and annoyance glinting in his monotone words that has you seeing red, until your fingers are clenched in fists and your teeth are bared in the direction of his stupid, stupid platform. (you’d rip it apart with your bare hands if you could. why can’t he just work on the floor like a normal person? fucking medieval villain much? why don’t you just menacingly twiddle your thumbs and mwahaha while coming down then. idiot.)

you’re barely thinking straight, fury sparking in your veins and thrumming in your blood as you rip off a sandal and chuck it in the vague direction of the stupid thing. it’s not like you can tell, because your migraine and miguel’s shitty decor seem to have teamed up to fucking impair your vision and why in the fuck did he have to blow you off tonight of all nights-

your heel clunks against the metal, clattering to the ground with a pathetic thud. a sharp intake of his breath through his nose - loud enough to let you know he’s pissed - and therecomes the creaking of the dumb thing being lowered, inch by inch. you wait as the top of his head appears, hair standing in all directions and you just know he’s been doing that thing he does absentmindedly where he runs his hands through it over and over when he’s focused. and normally it’s cute but right now you just want to scream at him or walk away and you’re not quite sure which one to lean towards. and then he comes into view, eyes narrowed and fists clenched, hands stiff by his sides while he…frowns at you? lunging off the platform, he crouches to pick up your shoe before stalking over in your direction, glaring down at you.

“por qué joder harías eso?” he’s snarling now, jaw tensing with the effort it takes for him to spit the words at you. it makes you flinch, the forceful weight of his words and his tone and the way he’s towering over you like you’re one of those anomalies he hunts and something in your chest just cracks at the sight. straightening your spine, you curl your fingers around his to snatch back your shoe before slipping it on.

“qué esperabas? what did you expect, miguel? that i come here after a long day to find out again, for the billionth fucking time that my husband is too busy fighting something new-because there is always something new-to so much as look at me when he basically tells me to fuck off.”

eyes wild, your chest heaves as you meet his fierce look with one of your own. you can see him processing what you said, guilt flashing in his eyes for a split second before it’s replaced by concern. you can see him softening, reaching out - but you don’t want it right now. don’t quite know what to do with the sudden care in his eyes just moments after he was being so dismissive towards you. and if you’re honest - after the day you’ve had, it’s easier to cling to the venom coating your next words than it is to give into however the fuck he’s planning on fixing the situation.

“vete a la mierda, miguel. don’t come home tonight.”

and with that, you walk out.

you make it three steps before lyla pops up, wincing at the tears already spilling down your cheeks. you’re scrambling for your watch, fumbling your way through portalling home to curl up in bed. you can distantly tell she’s cooing something at you, placating and warm, but you’re too far gone to hear it; the AI too much of a reminder of miguel for your comfort. a wave of your hand through her hologram and a stumble through the portal, and she’s gone too.

well, fuck. that couldn’t have gone worse.

v excited to continue this one. as always, thanks for reading, comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day<3

taglist: @imherefordeanandbones, @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore, @millerscoffee, @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio, @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel, @mandoisapunk, @bastardmandennis (hey pal), @amanitacowboy, @party-hearses, @planet-marz1, @chiogarza, @jenispunk, @pertinentpostmortem i know most of y’all didn’t sign up for miggy content so let me know if u wanna be tagged only in pedro works. divider by the amazing @cafekitsune.

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ddmmyuta · 8 months

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Can I request a Yuta Nakamoto best friend smut? With female reader...

-🫣anon

I like your hands…

yuta x afab reader

warnings (wtf are you doing on smut tumblr as a minor?): smut, friends turned situationship, more smut, hand kink…

it was finally the weekend after a week that felt like a month! you needed to chill, take a breath, get some needed sleep, meditate… but that wasn’t going to happen, for you were going to a concert that evening. not that you minded… you were going to watch your best friend Yuta perform live, something you have always wanted to witness. but before that you had to do grown-up stuff… like shower and make yourself food and go get groceries… ugh!

just as you were about to exit your apartment to go get some groceries, your phone rings in your bag. it’s Yuta (your bestie) asking if you wanted to go for a quick brunch (that sounded so millennial I’m sorry). you agreed after being hesitant… you wondered where he got the time since he was literally performing that evening to thousands of people. you quickly pack the rest of your bag and sprint to the cafe he said to meet up at.

the cafe was fancy to say the least. you walked through the cafe doors and saw Yuta sitting in the middle of the room, already drinking a coffee. he doesn’t notice you until you’re right next to him. he quickly stands and gives you a hug ‘hi y/n, how have you been?’ he asks, pulling your seat out for you to sit. ‘I’ve been good… busy but good.’ you reply, settling your bag to the side. ‘shouldn’t you be preparing for a crowd of thousands at the moment’ you ask, looking into his eyes. damn, his eyes are really pretty now that you’re actually noticing and his hair compliments his skin tone a little too much to your liking. ‘We have a few hours before the concert and I knew you were coming to watch… thought we could chat a bit since we’ve both been busy and out of touch’ he says, grabbing your hand that was on the table and holding it. His hands are… fucking beautiful to say the least. it’s like Aphrodite sculpted every vein and crease on his hands, wrists… wow. ‘Would you like to order something?’ Yuta asks as the waiter is standing next to you… you must’ve gotten lost in a trance while looking at Yuta’s hands… you were weak!

after your meeting, Yuta walked with you back to your car, a awkward silence filled the air. ‘y/n, is there anything you’re insecure about?’ he asks, not in a offensive way, he was genuinely curious. ‘I don’t know, I think I’m insecure about everything and nothing at the same time. some days I feel pretty and other days I feel like dog shit’ you answer, Yuta looking at you confused. ‘Is there anything you’re insecure about?’ you ask in return. he takes a while to get to something that makes him feel insecure… ‘I don’t like my hands that much.’ you are shocked to say the least… ‘why, your hands are so pretty?’ you ask, a reprimanding tone in your voice. ‘I don’t know, I just wouldn’t list it as something that makes me attractive.’ he replies, you still shocked by his statement. you finally reach your car as Yuta greets you. ‘I should go get ready for tonight’s concert…’ you say, Yuta turning away and walking. ‘oh… and I like your hands…’ you say to him across the parking lot. you didn’t see it but he smiled and blushed so hard he could barely keep a straight face.

you arrive at the stadium for the concert, lines waiting for their tickets to get scanned. it was packed and you knew it was going to be a suffocating environment, however that didn’t matter for you were supporting your BEST FRIEND (which you told yourself constantly after your encounter at the cafe that morning). the show starts, people screaming and shouting, lights flashing… it was incredibly entertaining and somewhat nostalgic. the other members were amazing but your eyes were focused on Yuta… a little too much honestly. you started wondering mid concert if you were falling hard for the dude who lies like it’s a language and calls you bro as if it’s your first name. to be honest you tuned out so hard that before you knew it, the concert ended. people were leaving and the seats next to you were empty as you were just standing there lifelessly in a state of thought. you snapped back to reality shortly, got your things and went to go greet the guys backstage.

as you entered the backstage area you saw the other members either cooling off, eating or chatting with one another or other fans with a backstage pass, but you couldn’t see Yuta. you figured he was tired and probably wanted to be alone, so you greeted some of the guys but eventually left soon after. as you were heading for the exit of the backstage area, Yuta runs after you. ‘y/n where are you going?’ he asks slightly out of breath from running and performing for like… 2-ish hours. ‘I didn’t see you backstage so I thought you were tired or getting dressed…’ in that moment as you looked at him you realized he was shirtless. ‘I’m sorry, I wanted to change quickly before I saw you, I look all sweaty…’ he says shyly, and you won’t lie you would lick that sweat anytime! ‘I was wondering if you’d like a drink? Tea?’ he asked, gesturing to go to his dressing room. You couldn’t say no cause he looked all sexy with sweat dripping down his neck and he still smelled like an angel and his hair was all messy and his tattoos look all pretty and his belly button piercing was shining and his… you were WEAK!

as you entered his dressing room, you realized you were the only ones in there. he closed the door behind you and showed you to the couch in the room, which was conveniently facing the mirror. ‘so what do you want to drink?’ Yuta asks, walking across the room to the small fridge in the corner. ‘I have beer, whiskey, vodka, wine…’ he says, rummaging through the little fridge. ‘tea or a glass of water would be nice…’ you reply, Yuta laughing at your response. ‘you’re really boring.’ he says, pouring himself some whiskey and putting the kettle on for your tea. ‘I have to drive home…’ you reminded him. he sits down next to you on the couch, handing you your tea. ‘thanks for supporting me tonight, I really appreciate it.’ he thanks you, turning himself slightly to face you. ‘not as much as the fans appreciated it though…’ you say, gesturing to his still naked torso. ‘oh sorry… am I making you uncomfortable?’ he asks sarcastically, placing his hands on his chest to cover himself up. you once again notice his hands and how attractive every vein running down his arms are. he notices you staring, the air becomes thick and you completely zone out. subconsciously you both move closer to one another, both of you trying to keep focus but you just end up saying weird shit to one another and without even thinking you’re on his lap.

your lips are centimeters apart, foreheads touching and your heavy, nervous breathing seals the deal. his lips meet yours as his hand travels up your neck to your hair and grips tightly, your hands cupping the sides of his face and his other hand making it’s way under your underwear. ‘we should stop…’ you say breathlessly in an attempt to potentially save your friendship. ‘no we don’t…’ Yuta replies kissing you harder than before, his tongue intertwining with yours (and your friendship leaving the door). he flips you over so that he is hovering over you on the couch, his hands lifting your shirt up and throwing it on the ground. your bare torso feels the cold sensation of his rings as his hands roam your body, snaking down to your pants. he quickly removes your pants and throws them to the side, his hands moving towards your core. you look up to see yourself naked in the reflection of the mirror, seeing only Yuta’s back and head. he moves down to your heat, his head between your thighs and all you can see is the filthy reflection of you two in the mirror. he starts eating you out, making it impossible to keep quiet. ‘let them hear you…’ he says, moving his fingers toward your entrance and entering two fingers. his tongue licking your clit and his fingers moving in and out of you got you in a trance. ‘Yuta, I’m close…’ you say heavily, earning a grin from him. ‘cum around these pretty fingers you like so much…’ he says, pushing in and out of you faster until your cumming and squirting all over his hands and face. ‘such a good girl…’ he says, wiping his face with his dry hand.

you hear his belt unbuckle, his pants falling slowly to the floor. you feel embarrassed all naked like this, especially in front of your (former) best friend. ‘fuck, you’re beautiful…’ he says, finally removing his underwear to reveal his dick. even his dick was pretty, you don’t know how someone can be this attractive. just looking at his bare body, hooded eyes, tattoos and piercings could feed your fantasies and make you cum. ‘you look so cute naked… we might have to do this more often so I could see how cute you can get’ he says, teasing your entrance with his dick. ‘stop teasing me, please…’ you manage to whimper. ‘what do you want me to do then?’ he asks devilishly, removing himself from your entrance. ‘I want you to fuck me…’ and before you could end the sentence, he was fucking you hard. the sounds echoing in the room as his dick slams in and out of you, you’re heavy panting adding to the atmosphere. his left hand moving to your neck, slightly choking you. the sensation arousing you even further, it made you smile even. his right holds your one thigh, pushing it against your body as he moves even faster than before… you were going insane. your toes were curling from the pleasure, you knew you weren’t gonna last any longer and neither was he. ‘I’m gonna cum…’ you moan softly, his eyes meeting yours for a brief second after he was looking at your body the entire time. ‘cum for me…’ he pants in your ear, his abdominal muscles contracting with every thrust. ‘fuck you feel so good…’ Yuta says, earning a grin from you. before you could even think of anything else to say, you reached your high again. cum pouring out of you, your body shaking from what just happened. Yuta slowly pulls out and watches the cum drip down onto the couch, the sight making him want more.

before you could gather your senses he flipped you over once again so that you were straddling him. he looked into your eyes as you were hovering over him, his lips meeting yours again. he moves his lips to your neck, then to your chest as he leaves marks all over your body. ‘turn around’ he says, signaling for you to turn around so that you were facing the mirror on top of him. you quickly face the other way, now looking at yourself in the mirror and Yuta’s hands crawling along the sides of your body, one moving to your neck, the other moving to your clit. he starts circling your clit while kissing your neck from the back, him looking at your sensual reflection as well. the moans coming from you filled the room (and the hallway) as his hand moved faster around your clit. you were close to climaxing but before you could Yuta removes his hand and places it on your thigh. he lifts you slightly over his dick and he starts thrusting into you from below, your body automatically syncing up with his thrusts. the sight of you bouncing on his dick made him feel a certain way, and him knowing you’re seeing yourself all ruined like this made him even more turned on. ‘look at how pretty you are, fucked raw…’ he whispers into your ear, your core clenching at his words. ‘I want you to see how cute you look when my cum leaks out of you…’ he says thrusting even harder as if it was even possible. the hand that was on your neck moved to your breast, teasing your nipple as you were so close to cumming for the third time that evening. ‘Yuta I can’t…’ you say breathlessly, you can’t hold it in anymore. you were reaching your high for the third time but Yuta didn’t stop thrusting in and out of you until you were a cumming, squirting mess. his dick hitting you so deep it felt like you were gonna break. when he finally pulls out of you, he takes your jaw in his hand and he forces you to look at your reflection in the mirror. he forced you to look at your fucked out face, shaking body, heaving chest and the cum running down your thighs. he gently lifts you up and places you down on the (not cum smeared part) couch. ‘see this is what happens when you compliment me!’ he says, giving you a kiss to the forehead. he went to the bathroom to go clean up and you were understandably confused and shocked. you gather your clothes that were on the floor and you quickly put them on. you look at the cup of tea on the table and you feel sorry for everything it just witnessed.

‘I should get going.’ you say as Yuta comes out of the bathroom. ‘Hey, wait…’ Yuta says, trying to stop you from leaving. ‘What?’ you ask, kinda confused and rattled by everything that just happened. you were expecting Yuta to end the friendship. you thought he wanted to cut all ties with you now that things were awkward as fuck. Yuta looked into your eyes and he asks you… ‘I was wondering… there is a new Sanrio store that opened and I was wondering if you’d like to go check it out with me?’

thanks for reading… I absolutely loved this request, we need more people like anon who asks and requests what society needs! this is inspired by my love for Yuta’s hands cause when I see them hands I started barking like a damn dog!

#nct 127 #nct smau #nct smut #nct yuta nakamoto #nct yuta x reader #yuta nakamoto #yuta nct #nct127 #nct #nctzen #nct yuta fic #nakamoto yuta smut #nct yuta smut #yuta #nakamoto yuta

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imaslutforwritingshit · 8 months

Text

Edward Cullen Imagine (XF!READER)

PART TWO

Warnings- smut, p in v, cunnilingus, faint jealousy (Jacob), passionate (lovey) sex

P.S I’ve actually never made smut where the characters actually loved each other😭 it’s mostly just desire. So this is actually kinda well written , just a foreword to the poetic shit she says.

Read PART ONE here ;)

I didn’t understand what he meant when he said that. I didn’t understand, until his cold fingers snakes down the bones of my hips, and he covered me with his strong body, like the crevices in my pelvic bone were made solely for his hands.

“You,” Edward strained, his voice gravely, unlike the normal smooth charisma he embodied. As he spoke in my ear, he pushed my shorts down with his thumbs, the cheeky underwear I had picked out this morning on a whim now on full display to him.

When Edward let his fingers graze the shape of my ass, his hand wavered on my skin, like every movement was delicate- and yet something he couldn’t contain. “You are making me lose myself. The way you sound, look, smell,” Edward inhaled sharply, grinding his hard cock across the sheer fabric of my underwear. The feeling sent shivers and tingles down the nerves of my stomach.

I wanted more. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I wanted this. His voice was amplifying my desire for him, each rough syllable a new jolt of electricity through my body.

Edward groaned as my panties rose up, his dick deeper in the planes of my ass. I could practically feel the veins of his body sliding on the skin of my ass cheeks.

He finished his sentence in a husky tone, each word getting harder for him to speak. “You make me want to do horrible things, Calypso. I want to be selfish with you. To you.” The lowness of his voice, if I didn’t know him as my boyfriend, would be straight up deadly- and terrifying.

My heart melted at the thought of Edward getting what he wanted, a strange mixture of lustful hormones and admiration for the words. Everything Edward has always been was good, and gentleman-like, and selfless.

So, yeah. I want him to be selfish. I want him to have what he wants, just for this evening.

I arched my back, pressing my entire ass against his erection. “I need you to be selfish, Edward. I want to see you lose control.”

Edward stopped moving for a second, breathing heavily over my body. I could feel his cock twitching on my underwear, and I bucked my hips backwards, urging him to keep going. He stopped my movement with a rough push on my hips, bringing my entire body to the cushion.

“Callie, Callie. I will never lose control.” he felt my body up, each grope electrifying my senses. “I desire ruining you. My body begs to. The amount of times I fantasized of killing you when I met you…You drive me insane, beautiful.” He paused, and I could almost feel a smile on his face. “But I’m not a dog. I wouldn’t eat you alive the first chance I get, for my own filthy benefit.” Edward bit his lip, tilting his head in a dangerously playful motion. “Unless, of course, you would prefer that. Canines?”

Realization dawned on me. Jacob. He was mocking me about Jacob. Where was this coming from?

“Edward, I don’t care about him. I want you.”

Edward draped his head by mine, the graceful stands of his hair falling on my cheek. “I don’t know why you enjoy that so much, Calypso. The thought of being weak. Under Jacob’s ruthless control.”

The words were true, but still irritating. I could only assume this fire of emotion was coming from his episode of lust, but my body was getting too many mixed emotions to understand how to feel about it.

Edward thumbed my panties now, sliding the strings down in a slow, taunting manner. “I know that animal would love to see you like that. Begging.” He snarled quietly at that, and took a quick breath as my underwear slid off my ass. “To see you asking him, pleading him to take control from you.”

I whimpered, a strange thrill coming from the anger in his voice. He was jealous- because he wanted me.

Maybe I’m sick for that having fueled my desire more.

But then again, maybe I’m sick for loving a vampire.

He kissed my shoulder blade, a soft contrast to the hardness of his words. “I’ve thought about tasting you for a long time.”

My blood.

A strange, unusual spike of fear entered my heart.

This was Edward. But he’s different now- fueled by emotions, unpredictable.

Is he gonna hurt me?

Edward kissed the small of my back, dragging his hands to my waist.

“I’ve thought about tasting you, Calypso. I just never said how.”

Edward grabbed my side, rolling me to be on my back. I stared at his eyes, animalistic and wild, blending in with the dark of the forest behind him.

“Spread your legs, my dove.”

My heart was pounding so fast, I could feel the pulse all over my body. Specifically throbbing in the area between my thighs, which I spread out per his orders.

Edward sucked in a breath in his teeth, the fangs in his mouth sticking out in a predatory manner. Only staring at my naked body, like the very sight was granting him vitality. He didn’t drop his frighteningly focused stare, and instead leaned over me, kissing my thighs. Each touch was tipping me over, teasing me in a painful way.

I remember what Edward had told me a month ago.

“So the lion fell in love with the lamb.”

I was indeed, a stupid lamb.

He grazed the skin below my stomach with his lips, tracing the lines of my hips with a trail of burning kisses. I was practically rocking my hips, a silent beg for more.

Edward pushed his cold, comforting hands on my hips again, forcing me down.

God, I could live in this moment forever.

This is my life now. He is my life now. I can’t see anything farther than this.

This is my past, my present, my future all encapsulated in one small, fleeting moment.

Edward stared at me, with intense, hot eyes, dragging on my breasts, my hips, and the slow trail to my clit. It would embarrass me- the heavy eye contact, with anyone else.

But Edward’s not like anyone else.

So I kept my gaze on him, as he kept his eyes on me, and let his warm tongue heat the area between my folds. I shivered from his godlike touch, unable to tear my eyes from the beautiful scene of his mouth on my body. He grasped my thighs harder, tracing circles with the perfect pressure on my clit.

As if he couldn’t control the quick movement, he snaked his tongue down to my wet opening, rolling movements inside of me. I mewled, gripping the sheets with white knuckles. My toes were already curling from the very idea of him touching me like this.

Edward bite down a little harder on the top of my pussy, licking my body like I was his last meal. Every touch was strategic, but am I surprised? He had 104 years of experience.

Orgasm was rising to my surface too quickly. I grabbed his hair, increasing the screaming thoughts of my mind, hoping he’ll understand. But the desire took over him- and he began flicking his wet tongue more, causing me to jerk my head backwards, clasping my thighs over his head.

“Please, Edward.” My gasps were filling the empty space, all of his movements sickeningly perfect.

He let go of me, the warm tongue exiting my folds, and I clenched my thighs together harder as he kneeled over me, his breath ragged and heavy. His lips were sleek with my fluid, and I felt my ears go red.

He was looking at me like I was the most beautiful thing to exist. He watched me, so intense that I could cower from his breathtaking gaze. Edward pulled his shirt over his head, the pale, shimmering color of his skin mesmerizing me.

The sun was out. Fading over the large pine trees of Forks- as if the universe had some perfectly divine idea of the first connection of our bodies.

His eyes were light brown in the sunlight, the lines of his abs sparkling in the warm orange of the sun.

“I’m crazy about you.” My confession was soft, so soft I wasn’t sure he heard it.

Edward slowly shook his head, but all I could focus on was the color of his eyes. It was the only thing tethering me from heaven.

He was a fallen angel, looking at me like I was the cure to his sin.

“Calypso. You are my destruction.” His breath quickened, his lean chest rising and falling with the pace of my own.

Edward’s mouth met mine one more time, one more soft, passionate time. I grazed my fingers over the muscles of his back, memorizing every part of this moment. Solidifying it in my nimble, mortal mind.

He let the tip of his dick slide on my wet pussy, staring at me with lustful eyes, eyes waiting for confirmation.

I nodded, biting my lip in preparation.

Edward let his thick shaft slide in my cunt, and I yelped, clenching his thick shoulders.

It hurt. His dick was so big, I was hardly prepared for it. But Edward, with the last remaining piece of willpower he had, slowed his movements, his hard body meeting the spongey, untouched area inside of me.

He hissed, dropping his body on mine, and he grazed his fingers through my hair, each thrust getting more powerful.

With that, I realized something.

Edward is a vampire.

A vampire with exceeding amounts of supernatural strength, and… stamina.

He showed no signs of reaching climax as he warmed my body with his cock, each stroke inside of me causing pleasure to shoot to my stomach.

I could faintly hear my reaction- unreal, loud moans that I assume the deers of the forest could hear. I mewled as he slowed down, pushing his forearms into the cushion. Edward let out a soft groan, stroking my face with his thumb. He repositioned his position, pushing his dick back in, and reaching new lengths of pleasure in my insides. I moaned, shamelessly, letting my fingers dig into his back.

The warm ball of nerves were heating at my core, a sign that I was reaching climax. Edward’s mouth dropped to my collarbones, sucking sharp hickeys as he thrusted inside of me, each movement rolling my eyes back.

I whimpered, stammering from the euphoria shaking my legs. “I’m-close…”

Edward moaned, a sound so beautiful I could’ve just watched him now, an artist and a masterpiece. He ground his hips to mine, hissing with the feeling of his body completely in mine. I let my hands fall over my head, closing my eyes to try to preserve the orgasm rising in my gut.

“No.” Edward’s voice was strained, the softness of his movements gone. Each thrust inside of me was hard, rough, matching his untainted desire. “Don’t close your eyes. I need to see you.”

I need to see you.

How could I love someone so much it hurt?

I opened my eyes weakly, meeting the heavy lidded, black pits of Edward’s. His abs clenched as he pushed inside of me, his hips bucking with a renounced speed. I gasped at the feeling of his dick hitting my cervix, trying to focus on his face, overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Please,” I begged one more time, the need for my climax forcing my legs to shake on his.

Edward managed a smile, and dropped his body again, fully covering mine. He rocked into me, and I whimpered in his ear, letting my hands drop over his neck.

Nothing has ever felt this good. Nothing will ever feel this good.

Edward groaned, the thrusts getting so hard it began to hurt again, with a strange, overwhelming pleasure that came with the pain.

“Callie…” His voice was soft for the jerk of his hips, a warm sensation rolling over my body.

“Edward!” I squirmed, peak taking over my nerves.

“I know, love.” Edward’s breaths were fast in my ear, the jerk of his hips creating the sounds of skin slapping throughout the room. He let a heavy groan slip from his lips, and I felt the leak of precum making the inside of my pussy even more liquid.

“I’m going to-” Edward’s voice was nothing more then a raspy groan in my ear.

“Please, please!” I whimpered again, clenching my legs around his abdomen to avoid the painful desire of climax. He had edged me on for so long, I don’t think I could’ve waited anymore.

Edward’s movements turned hard, fast, a ripple of sensation arousing my body again. He growled, our skin smacking together with new volume, and orgasm blinded my vision, making me roll my eyes back, and arch my back until my clit touched the root of his cock. I screamed, scraping my nails on his back until I could’ve been sure there was blood.

Edward didn’t protest; in fact, he thrust harder with that, each movement causing him to heave breaths, the warm air hitting my ear. He moaned, a vibration in the mess of my hair, and quickly pulled his warm, wet body from my own, shooting strings of hot white on the base of my stomach, dripping down my sensitive cunt.

Edward rolled off of me slowly, collapsing on the small couch, both of our bodies reeling the affects of the tiresome fuck. I attempted to catch my breath, feeling my heart beating so fast I couldn’t hear the birds chirping anymore. Hesitantly, I turned my body to meet his, but Edward was already staring at me, the warmth of his expression a relief to me. He bit his lip, his chest rising the similar pattern mine was.

I processed everything, opening my mouth to speak, but not understanding how to phrase it.

“Edward?”

He smiled, the soft, mesmerizing action in my peripheral. “Yes?” The melody of his voice still left me catching my breath.

I couldn’t say the words. They rung in my mind, an untamable message dancing through my heart.

Three words.

I love you.

Edward let his eyes fall on mine, hearing the silent plea of my mind.

“I love you too, Callie.” His mouth was parted, and his lips were red from before, and he read my mind and read those words. I couldn’t help it when I draped over his body, kissing him like it was the first time all over again.

He snaked his arms over my bare body, his smooth knuckles tickling my spine. His lips draped over mine as if we were two puzzle pieces, separated for too long, and now here, and alive, and in love.

I loved Edward Cullen. I had the very first day I met him. And even if I die a mortal, holding the hand of the boy who will exist forever, I know I’ll live until the day he ceases to.

I’ll live in Edward’s heart,

And he’ll live in mine.

Because that’s what love is, right? A taste of forever.

And we were forever.

Okay that’s it byeeee

I am super open to constructive criticism and feedback, as well as recs. Thanks for reading ! :> <333

#edward x reader #edward cullen x oc #edward cullen #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen smut #smut #twilight fandom #fanfiction #fanfic #twilight #twilight fanfiction #twilight saga #twilight x reader #twilight smut #breaking dawn #twilight eclipse #new moon

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azulock · 4 months

Text

this has been sitting in my drafts for sooooo loooong, it's mostly born from how mean people can be in this fandom about poor Oli looking the way he does. I love his messy 'I don't have my life together' look, it's very relatable, but today we putting him under tha razor!

summary. when Oliver finds himself forced to get a clean shave for some important club event he tries to rope you into doing the work for him. and you do it, cause he is too charming and you can't resist spoiling this man

pairing. Oliver Aiku x reader

wordcount. 2,6k

warnings. some slight mention of nsfw stuff but veeeery slight, it's mostly domestic fluff, just pure distilled domesticity shot straight into your veins, you've been warned

helping hand.

"Really Oliver, you pestering me during work hours to do that for you?"

Giving one last hard stare at your screen, you groaned and swiveled you chair around to face the man currently breaking the peace in your office. With hair still damp from his shower, Oliver stood bare foot before you - a trail of wet footsteps clear behind him. God, you'd lost count of how many times you'd told him he'd end up sick if he kept doing that.

"Oh come on, it's not that big of a deal," he insisted, cutting off your thoughts, pouting as you fitted him with a steely gaze. "I neeeeed you."

You roll your eyes at his whiny antics - and complete disregard for your work life. It was almost funny to see a grown man pout like this, especially when you contrasted the silly expression with this statuesque of a man. You couldn't help but let your eyes roam free for a moment, taking in the sight of him. Water droplets still rolled down his strong torso, taking your gaze to the short hair trailing down his lower abs, to the point where his sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips. Shit, he was diverting your attention.

"Oliver," you sigh, rubbing your eyes to try and exorcise the images stealing your focus, "you've been doing that by yourself your entire adult life, you don't need me."

"That's not true, it goes way better when you do it for me," Oliver whined again, and even in his husky tone, you could hear it, the begging, so shameless.

At this moment he looked every bit like a dog, a ragged mutt pleading for attention at his owner's feet. Hell, he was even trying to shoot you the best puppy eyes he could muster, pout returning to those pretty lips. You'd say it was ridiculous, but maybe it was the smell of soap or maybe the warmth emanating from his skin, but something was making you want to give in.

"That's nonsense," you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to convince yourself to not let him sway you. "I'm not a barber, and you've been shaving your own damn self for years. I'm pretty sure you can keep your eternal stubble under control on your own."

"Well, I could," Oliver shrugged, remaining unfazed by the exasperation in your voice. "Though, this time I'm gonna have to shave it clean."

"What?" Suddenly, you were fully immersed in the topic, even though you felt like you'd fallen into a trap.

Oliver had to contain his smile when you suddenly went from nonchalant to interested. It was really cute. He knew you liked feeling the scruff around his face, which he always thought was absolutely endearing. Now, sadly, he'd have to part ways with it, albeit temporarily.

"You remember tomorrow's party? Well, the team's president is an old school kinda guy. He's gonna get pissed if he sees the team's captain shows up looking so unclean for an important event," he answers with a full body sigh, eyebrows arching high as he raises his shoulders.

"That's ridiculous," your words cut so dry that Oliver can't help but laugh at the barely contained disgust in your tone.

"Well, I think so too. But I like my position right now, if the old man wants me clean for the party, I can make the sacrifice," he answered with a wave of his hand, stepping closer to your chair before leaning in, using his hands to prop his body onto your armrests. "But it could be less painful if you helped me."

You sat in silence, staring him down for a long minute as he leaned in close, that charming smile never faltering. From this close, you could smell the conditioner on his hair and feel his breath on your skin. Shit, you could feel yourself falling for it. Rubbing a hand over your face, you slumped further down the chair, sighing as you went.

"Fine," you groaned, looking back up to his beaming face. "Go soak the soap and the brush, I'll be right there."

Closing the distance between you, Oliver met your lips with his in a short kiss before pulling back in a breath, his skin still damp and warm from the shower. "Already done that, I'll go get myself a chair."

You hummed as he got up, lifting your body heavily off of the chair after he'd disappeared into the hallway. You spoiled him too much, you were sure of it, but you guessed he had the same type of charm as a big dog who still believes they are lap sized. It was hard to say no to that.

Following the wet footsteps, you found yourself in your en suite bathroom, Oliver sitting on a high chair he'd taken from the kitchen counter. At least he'd left everything ready, so all you had left to do was commit the dismal crime of doing away with his stubble. A pity, you'd miss the feeling of it on your skin. For however many days the shave would last, that is.

Picking the plastic bowl of shaving soap, you started moving the barber brush in circular motions to begin lathering it up. Taking a step forward, you approached Oliver as your hands worked, shaking your head as he snaked an arm around your waist.

"You are spoiled," you mumbled, feeling him laugh as he looked at you both in the mirror, your gaze following his.

"Maybe," he hummed, "but I spoil you plenty too."

"Well, here we go I guess," you said with a chuckle, making him straighten to give you a better access to his face and neck.

When the soft brush touches his face Oliver hums, closing his eyes as you begin spreading the soap over his jaw. It felt nice, both the gentle smell of lemon grass and the feeling of having you taking care of him. Yeah, he was spoiled, he knew it, but could he really be blamed for liking being pampered?

Oliver was only human after all, and having to unwillingly part ways with his facial hair was not his favorite thing. So it only made sense that he'd try to squeeze whichever little joy he could from this situation. And having you do that for him was joy enough on his book. Between feeling the warmth coming from your body and the comfortable silence that had settled, he could almost forget he was being forced to do this.

Opening his eyes he found your face close to his, gaze set in concentration as you moved the brush around his neck, finishing lathering it up. It was beautiful, really, sometimes you'd focus on something so much you wouldn't even see the things around you. Cute, and he couldn't resist the urge to take advantage of that, lowering his lips to meet yours in a quick peck.

"Oliver," you exclaimed as he laughed, "you gotta cooperate, you bastard. Now I got soap on my face," you grunted, looking at the mirror and then back to him.

"Just a little bit," he chuckled, reaching out to clean your face with his hand as you sneered at him.

You shook your head and turned to put the brush back, watching from the mirror as he still chuckled at you. Pestering you when you were focused never seemed to stop amusing him. And to boot, you couldn't deny there was something infuriatingly endearing about it. Or maybe you were just blinded by the casual charm of his smile - again.

Picking up the safety razor, you turn back to him again. "Now, you better behave if you don't wanna have to clean your blood off of the white floor."

"So mean," Oliver pouts before smiling that heart shattering smile again. "Alright, I'm in your hands then."

You roll your eyes as he straightens up, hands gripping the sides of the chair. When the blade first meets his face you feel Oliver shiver at the cold touch of the metal, but as quick as it happens, it's gone. You move your wrist and the blade glides down his warm skin in short strokes, following the grain of the hair on his stubble. Oh, it's gonna be so sad to see it gone. Especially knowing how a good part of Oliver's appeal came from how he looked at least a little like a mess. You couldn't even recall the face of his club's president, but you now hated the old man.

There is ease in the silence that settles as you carefully work the sharp blade along his face and neck. Only the rough sound of metal scraping against the hair and skin fills the bathroom as an oddly well-behaved Oliver sits in stillness. It feels almost suspicious, even, but you guessed he had no interest in showing up to the party with a cut on his face. Not that you believed even that could do much harm to his good looks.

When that first pass is done you turn to the sink and wash the razor before picking up the brush start the cycle and lather his face again. Though, just as you turn back he catches you off guard, forward and capturing your lips in a quick kiss - but he almost topples his chair over in the process. Desperately you steady him up, pushing his large frame back by his shoulders.

For a moment there the scare takes the best of you, brows furrowing in a scowl, ready to chastise Oliver for the stupidy. But then he starts laughing, the warm and husky sound enveloping you as they echo off the walls, breaking your defenses. You laugh along, slapping his shoulder but leaning against him for a short moment. Sometimes he could be an idiot, but that too was part of the appeal.

Once you both recover you go back to your work, lathering his face, putting the brush back in place, picking up the razor, and bringing it to touch his face. This time you move it cross grain, once more enjoying the sound of the metal moving over his skin. It's all peaceful, for at least half of the process until Oliver grows bored, his large hand finding your bare leg, fingers traveling over the back of your thigh until they reach the hem of your shorts.

You grunt in warning and he only hums quietly in what sounded like a mocking acknowledgment. Oliver disregards your death glare completely, his palm touching your thigh, rough fingers massaging your skin as they move. Even then he doesn't stay put, hand traveling up and groping your ass, kneading the flesh under your shorts just as your reach his neck. For a moment you consider giving into the desire to leave just a little gash on his skin, but you manage to resist.

Just as you try to turn back again he he uses the hand on your ass to pull you closer in. You don't even have time to protest as his lips crash against yours - and you can already notice the strangeness of not feeling his stubble. Still, he doesn't give you much time to think on it, tongue slipping past your lips and exploring the wet insides of your mouth. He tastes like coffee, and you can't help but let the taste lure you in, the sensations enveloping you, warmth rising in your face until then it's gone.

His lips part from yours with a quick peck and you are already missing the kiss - what a bastard, teasing you like that. You huff and shake your head when Oliver winks at you, slapping your ass as you turn around and repeat your previous motions of washing the razor and grabbing the brush again.

You lather his face, then throw the brush in the sink before picking up the razor and letting it touch his skin for a final pass, this time against the grain. Oliver hums when you lean in and it sends shivers down your spine, his hand finding your leg again but this time he just let it dance over your thigh absentmindedly. You find comfort in the warmth of his palm and in the ritualistic nature of this whole thing - it's a soothing type of repetitive task.

This time the blade hugs close to his skin, and when you get to his neck you can feel his steady pulse. Sitting so still, so calm, the beating of his heart feels strangely slow, yet heavy and powerful. You know it's the telltale sign of that athletic resistance and ungodly endurance, but the slow rhythm never ceases to seem almost eerie.

When you finish you run a hand over his face, feeling the smooth, still damp skin. It's strange, but you take solace in knowing it's temporary. Soon enough it'll be gone, though not without leaving Oliver itchy for at least a day, and you always found it funny how bothered he was by that. He smiles at you and you can feel it go straight between your legs - fuck, you are sure he did that on purpose.

But you don't give the pleasure of attention, instead turning around to rest the razor on the stone sink. You hear Oliver yawn from behind you, and watch from the mirror as he stretches as you pick a towel from the rack. Turning back to him you pat his face dry, and as if he wasn't already being spoiled enough, you rub the aftershave lotion on his skin. When it's all done Oliver climbs down from the chair and pulls you in by the waist, placing a soft kiss on your lips before you both turn to the mirror.

"There you go," you say, resting your hip against the sink as Oliver leans in, "how you feeling?"

"Like I'm seven years younger," he responds, touching his face with his free hand. "Which is a nightmare, actually," he pouts.

"Oh, come on, it's only temporary. You gonna be back to having the stubble and looking great again in just a few days."

"Hey," he grunts, squinting his eyes at you, "what do you mean by that? You talk like I'm not handsome anymore," he almost growls in a joking threat, a smile playing at his lips as he cages you against the stone counter, hands on each side of your body. "What's up with that, huh?"

You chuckle as Oliver says the question low in your ear right before assaulting your face with soft kisses. You laugh, grabbing at his shoulders as he snakes a hand around your waist. He's rubbing his face against yours and you can't help but notice how odd it is not to feel the stubble you'd grown so used to.

"Oliver," you laugh, dual colored eyes looking up at you as he peppers kisses over your neck, "this is so strange, your face is so smooth."

"Ah, but you gonna have to deal with it," you laugh as he rubs his face against yours almost like a cat before taking his lips to yours and placing a quick peck. "You gotta make up to me for saying something so mean."

"I've just done your shaving for you, ain't that enough?"

"Nah, I can think of something better."

He pulls you in closer, rubbing his pelvis against yours, letting you feel the large bulge under the the fabric of his sweatpants. Of course, he was like that, it didn't surprise you at all. But you guessed you could spoil him just a little bit more, as a reward for behaving so well even under such difficult circumstances. Yeah, he deserved a bit more pampering, why not?

now for a word from our sponsors: @wishiknewwhatiwasdoingwithmylife

#oliver aiku x reader #aiku x reader #oliver aiku #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader

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mirangel · 10 months

Text

aspectabund.

pairing: sampo x afab!reader

genre: smut

cw: prostitution but not, sampo whimpers, sampo breaks into your house, fingering, usage of pussy and cunt, sampo has dick piercings, marking

word count: 2k

how much would sampo charge for one night? that’s a question you’ve always asked yourself, and one little mishap earns you the dream come true.

written by a minor, dni if uncomfortable

You can’t help but open your mouth sometimes, for the better or worse. Today seems to be both, when you’re talking with a friend of yours about the wanted criminal list in the newspaper, as always. You two have this fun game, where you try to guess their backstory just by their image alone, it’s just meant to be lighthearted really, just fun and games.

You find the most infamous one on the list, Sampo Koski, a household name for people you should avoid. But you were always a sucker for danger, and so you can’t help but comment, “He looks like he’s into some freaky shit.” Your friend leans in closer, tracing the smug grin he has on his face with their fingernail, and you continue, “I’d pay that man to fuck me senseless.”

They gasp, hitting your arm with mild surprise and playfulness. “You dog! We’re out in public! What if the Silvermane Guards overhear?” You shrug off the teasing remark, winking at them instead. “Let them hear for all I care, I got money, and I want a criminal’s dick. How much do you think he charges?” Your friend elbows you in the stomach with a shriek, unaware of the lurking shadow in the alleyway.

Emerald eyes pierce your form, a sly grin on his features. My, weren’t you interesting! The criminal is all too used to hearing demeaning comments about himself, but to hear those sweet words from someone he’s never met before? It brings a tear to his eye, well, almost, if he wasn’t so distracted by the way you look. This business trip can wait, he thinks. You look like you need a good ol’ friend to pay you a visit after all.

You can’t help but glance at the window every couple of minutes as you get ready for bed. There’s a sense of excitement building up in your veins, nervousness too, but why of all times does it have to appear now? There’s a quick shuffle from somewhere behind you as you bend down to reach for a fallen pen, and you quickly turn around, pen still in hand. Your gaze meets his almost immediately, a man leaning comfortably on your own bed, a smug expression on his face. “Nice ass.” He chuckles, flipping the azure fringe between his eyes.

You quickly stand back up straight covering your ass with your hands, but the damage has been dealt. “This afternoon, you said you’d pay to fuck me, hm?” Sampo tilts his head, but you can’t help but blink nervously at him, opening your mouth before closing it, and opening it once more to question, “How did you get in my house?” He shrugs, the sly smirk you saw on the newspaper returning again. “Don’t worry about that, how about we fuck and figure it out the price along the way? I’m sure we can satisfy each other, trust me on this.” His voice is smooth like silk, and he discards his coat, tossing it to the other side of your room as effortlessly as persuading others to give him extra money.

“Really? You’re… willing to fuck me for cash?” You’re bewildered, your jaw dropping as you can’t help but walk closer to Sampo, who stares back at you with a cat-like grin, slowly blinking as if he had all the time in the world. But the only thing he says is, “Sampo Koski never goes back on his word.” That’s a lie, you can recall at least ten accounts of him conning others in Belobog, but in this current state, do you really care? This is your once in a lifetime opportunity, and you’re damn well going to take it.

You pounce on him almost immediately, cupping his cheeks and pulling him into a passionate kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist, slotting his leg in between your knees, pushing you to kneel as he sits up. His returned kiss is teasing, egging you on to try to steal more from him, just like he has to several others. Sampo sneaks a calloused hand up your night shirt, ghosting your skin before cupping the back of your head, pulling away just an inch before whispering, “You really know how to make a man wanting, don’t ‘cha?”

But before you could speak, he kissed your lips once more, pushing you down on your mattress, taking the control you once had before. He pushes his tongue past your lips, exploring his newfound territory, looking for the treasure that lies within. He leaves you no room to fight back, pinning your hands above your head with a sly grin. “I’m a greedy man, you know?” Sampo tilts your head upward, exposing more of your neck. “I’ll be sure to indulge, you don’t mind, right?” He begins peppering kisses, humming when he hears the whines you make as a result. “So good for me, so needy.”

“Sampo!…” You sigh, gripping his hair with his hands when his own trails down your body, mapping out every little detail, every curve, and the texture. He grins when he feels your wetness from prodding at your panties, and he shifts them to the side, inserting his middle finger inside. He adores the way you moan so lovingly at the intrusion, “So pretty, can’t believe you wanna pay a man like me to fuck your tight pussy.”

He can’t help but admire how messy you are for him, even with just one finger inserted you’re already coming undone for him, and he smirks, watching as the slick you produce gets all over his hand, your thighs, and he just gets so hard looking at you. “Naughty, so naughty.” Sampo inserts his ring finger inside, and there’s an obscene squelch as he thrusts his fingers inside you, “Do you hear that? Your pretty pussy is making all that noise just for dear ol’ Sampo.” He quietly laughs, taking in how darling you look to him.

Your face contorted with bliss, sweat running down your features, and he especially notices the quiver of your lips as you moan, and he almost jumps when you jolt, but not without a loud moan. “My, so sensitive, huh?” Sampo teases, humming when he drags his fingers down your most sensitive parts inside you, and you shake like a leaf, whining. “Sampo… more please!” You plead, gripping his arm. “Patience, love. Gotta stretch you out, y’know? Wouldn’t wanna get hurt.”

Sampo lowers the hand used to pin your wrists above your head to unbuckle his belt, watching as you gulp nervously at the large bulge shown on his boxers once he drops his pants down to his ankles. “Nervous?” You can’t help but laugh awkwardly, nodding. “Don’t worry, you’ll fit.” His sheer confidence was so unbelievably attractive to you, and with that wink of his? Simply unbearable.

When he lowers his boxers to reveal his true glory, he’s well endowed, and the tip of his cock is a rose pink, with a frenum ladder right underneath the tip of his cock. He removes the fingers he had inserted into you, and you whine when you don’t feel so full anymore. But you weren’t disappointed for long, as he wraps his slick covered hand around his cock, pumping it in display. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle, leave it all to Sampo, alright?”

You salivate looking at him, a tinge of crimson on the tip of his ears and under his eyes, he lets out an airy laugh, “My my, you look as if you’re about to devour me.” You can’t help but stammer, struggling to come up with a response to his observations. “…So cute.” He mumbles, lifting your legs to his shoulders, tapping the tip of his cock against your clit, chuckling when he sees your body jolt at his ministrations.

“Hurry up and fuck me already!” You cried out, and Sampo truly can’t help but laugh when he sees your lips form into a pout, and he delicately places the pad of his thumb on your bottom lip, using the side of his index finger to tilt your chin upwards. He slides himself into your tight, yet welcoming cunt, letting you slowly adjust to him. The way his piercings drag across your walls is intoxicating, and you can’t help but plead, begging for more. “Fuck— You’re so tight…” Sampo groans, gripping the sheets besides your head until his knuckles turned white.

He pushed himself further, until both of your pelvises touched, and with that, you both couldn’t help but let out a whine, clinging to each other as if you two were lovers. Sampo slowly begins thrusting, as if he was refraining himself from being rougher with you. He kisses your collarbone, leaving you with far too many love bites for your liking, but you can’t complain, not when the drag of his heavy cock along your insides makes your mind melt, tears threatening to fall from your eyes as you find the words to express your desire.

“Sampo…. please fuck me harder…” It comes out barely a whisper, but despite that, he nibbles on your earlobe, speeding his movements, adding more force to his thrusts, hitting deeper inside of you, until he can make you scream his name. He hits your most sensitive spot inside you, and you clench around him, and Sampo throws his head back, whimpering. “D-Don’t do that… so suddenly.” He narrows his eyes, but his signature smirk returns shortly after, thrusting with a desperate need to bring you both to you overstimulation, fucking you as if his life depended on it.

The heavy weight of his balls smacking firm against your ass, the stench of sex and sweat in the air deluding you, making it appear as if it was a dream. His breathtaking kisses drive you insane, and the way he stuffs your pussy full, you couldn’t have wanted anything more. “You don’t mind if I do a little magic on you?” Sampo’s honeyed voice by your ear whispered, a gentle, yet confident chuckle followed shortly. You nod, desperate to reach your orgasm. With that, Sampo flips you onto your stomach, pressing your legs together as he uses his weight to keep you down, letting you bite and drool over your own pillow.

And heavens above, it felt so fucking good. You don’t think you’ve ever come faster than you did with Sampo, forced to mold to his whims as if you were the one being paid to have sex. He tilts your head back by inserting his middle and ring finger into your mouth, watching your eyes roll behind your head as he continues to pound you, watching you taste yourself on his fingers. “So naughty of you!” He sneers, but he then continues, “Ah… I might cum soon if you keep this up… you’re so sexy.” Sampo whispers the last statement, using his free hand to lace between your own hand from behind.

You could barely think with how good it felt as you convulsed around him, yet remained still under his body weight, and Sampo simply chuckles, nibbling and tugging at your earlobe, leaving more hickies and small bruises on your neck like a touch-starved man, all the while using your body as if it was a toy, and you loved every moment of it. “Fuck— Sampo! It feels so good please please please! Please more!”

Sampo buries his head into your neck, his thrusts becoming more erratic, his breathy whimpers so loud and clear echoing in your head. But he then detaches himself from your body with great reluctance, pulling himself away from your needy cunt, thick strands of his spent decorating your lower back. You can’t see it, but to Sampo, it’s the greatest sight he could lay his eyes on, besides credits of course. “My…” He mutters, spreading his cum over your back with his hand. “You look beautiful like this.”

“…How much do I owe you?” You mumble, barely finding the energy to turn your head to even face him, to look him in the eyes. Perhaps that’s better, because he has a shit eating grin on his face right now, watching his cum spill down your sides as he continues to spread it around. “Well… that was fun for me too. My only payment is that you keep this relationship going with me.”

You nodded, and Sampo lays down next to you, petting your head with the same grin he always sports.

Yeah, keeping this up would be fun for the both of you.

#⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ starry scribe ✧#⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ fading fantasy ✧#sampo x you #sampo smut #sampo x reader #sampo x reader smut #honkai star rail smut #hsr smut #hsr x y/n #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x female reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr sampo

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kaeyx · 7 months

Note

Vamp chuuya would flip out after getting intel that kitsune dazai planned on making you immortal that week because he finally gathered all the materials. He would turn you into a vampire in his panic, and only afterwards would realize that dazai tricked him. There were no materials to prepare, chuuya made you immortal without dazai needing to get help from anyone. And even better, you now lived by a very specific set of rules that dazai could take advantage of.

Chuuya keeps you (locked away-) safe in his castle for nearly a year if dazais constant pestering before they reach an agreement. Now the castle has a guard dog(fox) and a traditional japanese vacation home. Its a win for you too, now that you are dependent on blood you have two happy donors. I kinda imagine they wouldnt even let you drink someone elses blood.

Chuuya making you grind and cum on his thigh when you bite him. Leaving for work he gives you one last taste of blood while cumming inside you as a goodbye. 'Making sure your fangs are healthy' by feeling around your mouth with his fingers and groaning as you reflexively produce more saliva or twitch your tongue

Dazai making you give him your underwear before he lets you bite him. <-you were hungry and not allowed in chuuyas cellar. The underwear must be wet before you hand it over and you will be commando for the rest of the day.

Its a good thing if you become a vampire because at least you would be given the supernatural stamina to handle them both.

I've read this at least 10 times now and I just 🥴🥴🥴🥴 holy shit where do I even start

For Chuuya any chance he gets to have sex is also a chance to drink your blood or have you drink his. I imagine the way vampirism works is that you can't produce your own blood but still need it running through your veins so you can function. Chuuya would love leaving a warm load in you before he goes to work and come back after feeding, making you ride his thigh while you suck your share straight from his neck. Helps him feel like he's providing for you, and why would you have to leave if you have your meals delivered right to you? There's no downsides really.

I imagine kitsune blood tastes different, maybe even better than human blood. Might be the magic in it? Either way, it's like a craving you get sometimes and Dazai is delighted to help satisfy it. In exchange for something, of course. Pushing you against a wall and making out with you, rubbing you through your clothes until you're soaked through before he finally lets you feed on him. Loves to feel your warmth smeared over his thigh as you straddle him, fangs in his neck, grinding subtly against him because he got you too worked up. Might even stuff your underwear in your mouth and make you keep getting yourself off against his thigh, because he loves keeping them later as keepsakes. What could be better than a mix of your wetness and his blood, staining a pair of your underwear that he now gets to keep?

#asks.answered #dazai.bsd #chuuya.bsd #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #dazai smut #chuuya smut #kitsune!dazai #vamp!chuuya

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daisyvisions · 1 year

Note

as long as you’re sure you’re okay with it!!

11 (“I’ll make you feel good, I promise. Just trust me.”), 94 (Whispered praises against the other’s lips, which are met with soft whimpers and moans.), and 96 (“Oh, sensitive there, aren’t we?”) with eric please 🥹

yes i might just be the softest subbiest eric whore you will ever meet i apologise 😭

(don't die pup, enjoy every single drop of this request 🤪)

Desperate

Member & Prompts: Eric Sohn (TBZ) + 11. "I'll make you feel good, I promise. Just trust me.", 94. Whispered praises against the other’s lips, which are met with soft whimpers and moans., & 96. “Oh, sensitive there, aren’t we?”

Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), choking, rough sex, pet names (baby, baby girl, princess), cursing, praising? (idk if there's anything else I missed!)

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆.

It was a cold, quiet afternoon. The sound of raindrops hitting the window, the natural glow from the sky shedding some light into the dark room, and all snuggled up against Eric’s chest.

His back leaning against the headboard, his arms and legs wrapping your body like a warm blanket as you watch him play his video game on the screen in front of you.

Watching the veins in his hands move as he grips the controller, his fingers fiddling with the buttons. You suddenly feel your core throb at the thought of how he caged your body beneath his the night before. Oh how you loved his hands.

The way its firm grip has on your soft skin. The way his rough fingers lightly graze your sensitive spots, making you feel lightheaded every time- just like what had been happening to you at this very moment.

“I-I’m going use the restroom…” you mutter as you get up from the bed. “Okay!” he responds back as his eyes were focused on the game.

Maybe splashing water on your face was a good idea, maybe it would help calm your racing mind… Looks like you spoke a bit too soon.

The image of the veins protruding on his strong hands were still stuck in your mind, feeling yet another throb down in your core.

Suddenly, you remembered a thought you’ve been trying to suppress down for so long. Would he be into if I asked him? Would he get scared of me or think I’m weird? Shit- You shake your head.

You take a deep breath before opening the door. Looks like today is the day you’ll finally ask him about it.

“Eric?”

“Yes, baby?” his eyes still glued to the screen.

“Have you ever thought about…choking me?”

Eric’s ears perked up like a dog hearing a squeaky toy. The last two words you had uttered had him pausing his game. “What did you just say?”

Oh no, he’s weirded out. Abort, abort, abort- “Uhm… I was just wondering if you’ve ever thought about ch-choking me… Or if you’ve ever done that to someone before…”

You stare at the ground, desperately trying to avoid eye contact as the embarrassment creeps up your cheeks.

Yeah, he did hear that right. He wasn't hallucinating one bit. “Well, I tried it once before... Why? What's in that crazy mind of yours, hm?”

You try to speak, but you feel the words getting caught up in your throat.

“Come here y/n, talk to me.” He calls out for you.

Walking towards him felt like an eternity. What’s worse is you felt your stomach twist from driving up the courage to look at him straight in the eyes.

“Look at me, princess.” His warm hands cupping your face, making you tilt your head up at him. “You can tell me anything.” He smiles reassuringly.

“Well-” you gulp down your anxiousness before continuing, “I was wondering if maybe… we could uh… we could try it?”

His eyes widened. There was a moment of silence between the two of you. You start to panic, thinking you might’ve said the wrong thing.

But you were so wrong. In fact, his eyes had widened in excitement, feeling a sudden twitch in his cock the moment he heard your request.

“Oh baby girl… I thought you’d never ask.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, you’ve never seen Eric’s eyes go dark the way they did before. “Wait, wha-”

His lips suddenly crash into yours, feeling his needy tongue slip into your mouth. He starts kissing you everywhere from your jaw to your neck.

It seems you’ve woken up a sleeping beast inside him… and you loved it.

You help each other out of your clothes, leaving only but your soaking underwear on. You gasp into his mouth, almost letting out a moan as you feel his rough fingers slightly tighten around your neck.

“Oh, sensitive there, aren’t we?” he grins looking at how you react.

“Eric, please-”

“Please what, baby?” his hand gripping your throat a little tighter now.

“Please, I need you i-inside me” you whine desperately.

“Say no more.” He grabs your waist and aggressively positions you on your elbows and knees, your ass on full display for him. He pushes your panties to the side, exposing your wet cunt.

He leans forward just enough to whisper in your ear, “I’ll make you feel good, I promise. Just trust me.” You feel the tip of his cock brush against your entrance, making you shiver from feeling his precum spreading against your folds.

He impatiently pushes himself inside you without warning, making you both moan from the sudden stretch.

Wasting no time, he starts pounding into you like there's no tomorrow, the grip of his hands on your hips tightening the more he feels his cock rub against the ridges of your walls.

“Oh fuck, Eric-” ”You feel so good around me baby, just like that- shit…”

The sounds of skins slapping, his balls hitting your core, and your nipples brushing against the fabric of the mattress has you entering into another dimension.

“Fuck baby- you’re so tight.” he grunts as he continue to thrust harshly into you. You reply with nothing but a strain of broken moans.

Then Eric suddenly remembers the request you had asked him, making his cock twitch inside you. “Up” he commands.

You do as your told and he pauses his movements monetarily as he helps you kneel upright.

He places his hands around your neck before continuing to thrust inside you, making sure that the grip is firm enough to send a message.

You swear you feel your eyes roll back from the overwhelming senses, jaw slacking open as you pant profusely.

“You like that baby? You like my hands around your pretty neck?” his hot breath fanning against your ear.

“Y-yes, s-so much-” You cry out, his thrusts getting deeper each second, hitting your gummy spot so well.

“You’re doing so good baby, so fucking good.” He moves one of his hands to hold your jaw, turning your head to meet his. His lips latch onto yours with much desperation.

“God you’re so perfect…” He groans into your mouth as his thrusts become more rhythmic, his other hand his gripping your neck.

The tight grip making you slightly gasp for air has your head spinning and your core getting wet each second passing by. This is exactly what you’ve been dreaming of.

“Eric- s-so good, fuuckkk” you mewl.

Whispered praises against the other’s lips, which are met with soft whimpers and moans. Had you known your boyfriend had this side to him, you would've asked a long time ago.

And thank god you did.

#eric sohn #eric sohn smut #the boyz smut #the boyz hard hours #tbz scenarios #the boyz fic #the boyz fanfic #tbz drabbles #tbz smut #the boyz scenarios #kpop smut #eric sohn scenarios

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dilfhos · 7 months

Text

BEST PAL.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA x READER

CC: dubc0n, virginity loss, cucking, unprotected s*x, inexperienced sex, pwp

+scummy bf makes you help out his friend >.< [old drabble repost! ]

Dabi being such a good sport to help out his virgin friend, Shigaraki. What a pal offering up his girlfriend to take the guy’s precious innocence.

“C’mon don’t be like that. I thought Shigaraki was cool people!”

“Dabi you don’t even like him,” You protested.

“Not true babe.” He lied. In all honesty, he couldn’t care less if the ashy bastard got his dick wet in his lifetime or not.

But watching how inexperienced Shigaraki was when he tried to stick his tongue down your throat made him hard like none other. Especially when you were trying to be a good sport and take it. It was cute when you’d try to whimper for him to take it easy amidst Shigraki’s frantic yanking of your pesky clothing but Dabi knew his friend; He didn’t do ‘easy’.

Dabi watched quietly from the corner, making sure not to interrupt him as he had his way with you, only speaking up when Shigarki would begrudgingly ask if this or that was right.

“Yeah, grip her tits. She likes that,” Per demand, he does so, crimson eyes sparking up when you arch your back under his touches. Apparently you liked it when he teethed on your nipples a bit too—you were pulling his hair, muffling your squeal in the back of your hand.

“Be sure to tap her clit too, feel how tight she gets?”

Shigaraki would nod excitedly as he felt your walls clench around his dick. Wow, chicks really did dig it when you roughed ‘em up a little too. His grip on your neck had your eyes rolling as you bit back the urge the scream. Despite his inexperience, Shigraki could recognize pleasure from a mile away, thankful for the plethora of women in his desktop. His skinny, newly fucked dick was actually doing something to you.

And Dabi, man as irritating as he was to him all the time, he wasn’t all bad, Shigaraki deduced.

After all he was actually letting him fuck his girlfriend.

You didn’t really know what to feel really. Not with Dabi’s really weird friend humping your pussy like that. Not as he stared you in the eyes like a man crazed as he canted his bony hips against yours, every now and then hitting that delicious spot inside but mostly missing it. But the wild look in his eyes as he desperately rutted you like a dog, his other hands moving carelessly to grope your body made you bothered and wanted. It was cute in a way.

However in the span of six minutes, his face distorted and his hips stuttered. He didn’t even really get into it before his breath was hitching up and his body felt a surge of heat radiating through his veins from the start of his heavy balls.

“Fuck! Cumming! I’m-shit!” His movements spasmed to a halt. And you whimpered as you tried to writhe from under him but he held you in place. For someone as scrawny and paper-thin as he seemed, Shigaraki’s grip was steel. He wanted to move, really he did but the way your gummy walls were constricting him like a fucking vice, he just couldn’t help it. You couldn’t blame him, it’s his first time after all.

Your lips parted as your brows furrowed, staring him straight into his half-lidded eyes as you felt his essence jet into your unprotected little cunt, filling you up with a seemingly never-ending load. He leaned down, sweaty forehead pressed against yours, mouth parted to fan his warm breath across your face.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, you looked over for reprieve but instead found your boyfriend looking every bit as excited as you felt disgusted.

Dabi had a sickening smile on his face as he drunk in the contempt in your eyes, hand lazily pumping his leaking cock. “I gotta teach you how to eat a woman out man.”

DILFOS. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE OR REUPLOAD MY CONTENT—CURRENT OR ARCHIVAL.

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki #my hero acedamia #dabi x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero acedamia #shigaraki tomura x you #bnha #bnha shigaraki #mha #bnha x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #its so lateeee its 12am #but i wanna start filling in my masterlist so you’ll be seeing hella reblogs tm🫡#I’ll probably come back and add like 50 more tags shdhdjdjdh #reblog for him and dabi to come through ur dreams tn hehe #[ output—☆ ]#tw dubcon

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violetganache42 · 16 days

Text

Highlights from tonight's watch party filled with framing, whodunnits, and mystery galore (Sorry about your laptop problems and all our lag complaints, WriteBackAtYa):

"No":

Scrooge and the triplets making an appearance

Mortimer's voice

Mickey being a people pleaser

WriteBackAtYa commenting how we love saying our favorite characters' names whenever they appear onscreen

Me: "PLUS INTEREST?!"

"Duckman of Aquatraz":

Story Blossom: "Would've been awesome if Webby kissed a shark in the new series" spamtoon: "its okay because huey kissed a worm"

ACAB!!!

Even in the original series, Louie is always trying to talk his way out of shit

The idea of Glomgold walking into court blasting Queen's "We Are The Champions" in a similar vein as the "All I Do Is Win" scene

"WHY, BEAKLEY?!"

Duckburg's court and its judge fucking suck

"NOT THE PAINTING!"

Scrooge effortlessly defeating the prisoners in arm wrestling

MORE SCROOGE AND WEBBY MOMENTS 😭💖

Mad Dog being a mama's boy

This whole episode showcasing how prisoners are people too

melcat33: "Mel Dog was like 'this is my comfort millionaire'"

The Scrooge x Mad Dog ship setting sail

This episode also reminding us on why the legal system sucks

Glomgold taking the time to hang up a painting of Scrooge

"McMystery at McDuck McManor!":

Donald fleeing to his car like:

youtube

"Literally the oldest person he knows?"

The entire table read of this episode from Disney Channel Fan Fest 2018

youtube

Scrooge being a sulking Grumpy Gills. XD

DJ Daft Duck

Godfrey and I being on the same wavelength yet again (To quote Godfrey, "Insert 'Perception Check' by Tom Cardy")

youtube

Scrooge being SO against celebrating his birthday that he straight up lagged and froze the Discord stream (Dude, WTF?)

THE BUTLER DID IT

Mist Opportunity

"I hate this already."/"OH, YEAH. :)"/"You can't get that helmet off, can you?"/"OH, NO. :'("

Black Arts Beagle is best Beagle Boy

DT-87

The stream lagging on the part where Scrooge walks into a sliding glass door 😭 (I know it's because of WriteBackAtYa's laptop, but for the sake of levity, let's say it was Scrooge's doing again and he did it because that part fucking embarrasses him.)

Mark saying Glomgold sucks at the whole "trying to kill Scrooge" thing (Rare Mark Beaks W)

THE DUKE IS BACK

"Since when did I have to become the adult in the room? I'M NOT CUT OUT TO BE THE ADULT!"

Huey doing a Scrooge impression

"Don't kill me! I barely lived! #YOLO #FOMO #AHHH"

Duckworth's reaction to seeing the axe fall down to the floor

Duckworth and Beakley's beef with each other

"Clock Cleaners":

Snoozer male stork

Learning A New Hope was paired with "Duck Dodgers in the 24th 1/2 Century" for its screenings

Realizing we were watching the edited version of the short where Donald says "Aw, nuts."

The return of Max's real mother

The Great Mouse Detective:

Me sharing which DT/DWD character would be who in a GMD-themed AU way before the movie started

Us getting excited at hearing Alan Young's voice

Cheerful music playing right after a sad moment (Hiram getting kidnapped) = Last Crash ending vibes

A new server emoji of Mark Beaks getting shot point blank for dabbing

Tokuvivor: "The world's smallest violin" Caroline: "Let me play you a song on the world's smallest violin" Me: "Basil, this is serious."

Learning Vincent Price is in this movie

Sharing a GMD Lorcana card during "The World's Greatest Criminal Mind"

"Flaversham."/"Whatever."

teleportzz: "literally every man in this is so gay so far" puffywuffy8904: "or are they just european" Story Blossom: "Or are they gay AND european?"

youtube

Basil's face when Toby sat on Olivia's command

OLIVIA SAYING UNCLE BASIL 😭💖

Hiram and Olivia reminding Puffy and I of Scrooge and Webby (I AM GETTING FUCKING EMOTIONAL ABOUT IT AS WE SPEAK.)

Ratigan upon learning Fidget's list is missing:

Basil x Dawson being the movie's equivalent of DWD91!Drakepad

Story Blossom pointing out how Miss Kitty is basically Goldie

The bar fight scene in a nutshell:

"There is no Queen of England."

Ratigan's royalty drip

WriteBackAtYa: "He's supreme like a taco from Taco Bell"

Basil trying to imprison Ratigan: "Officer, arrest that man!"

The entire Big Ben scene and how well the 2D and CGI animations blended together

Learning that the ballroom scene from Beauty and the Beast was the first Disney and Pixar collaboration

According to melcat33, Basil not skipping leg day saved his life

puffywuffy8904: "and they were roomates" Me: "Oh, my God. They were roommates."

Ratigan's "Goodbye So Soon" diddy playing during the end credits

#my post #duckblr movie night #dt cafeteria table #duckblr #mickey mouse shorts #no #ducktales #ducktales 1987 #duckman of aquatraz #ducktales 2017 #ducktales reboot #ducktales season 1 #mcmystery at mcduck mcmanor!#clock cleaners #the great mouse detective

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mistressoftheelderitchwhorehouse · 1 year

Text

Pulling Me Out and Connect Me

A/N: Just some Chuuya lab PTSD thoughts.

TW: Blood, mild gore, child abuse

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Pairing: Chuuya x Reader

Reader Type: Gender neutral, black coded

_____________________________

Small fingers twitched against warm glass as more chemicals were pumped into his tank. He could feel the tubes in his spine and wrist suck them into his veins, and then distribute them to his brain, heart, and stomach.

He wanted to scream, but his vocal cords constricted against the tubes shoved down his throat. He began to thrash, but the needles in his spine dug deeper and deeper into the bones and nerves until the liquid around him was dyed red.

"Doctor his vitals are dropping!"

"Give him-"

"Wait the energy levels are rising. We have to enact Code 535!"

His skin jumped as warm fingers brushed his face. They passed along his forehead, down his temple, and along the curve of his jaw.

"N there's nothing more we can do."

"That's fine. Dump the tank. We can produce another eventually."

He slammed his hands against the glass, but all of the shadowy figures on the other side ignored him.

He slammed his hand again, only for warm, small fingers to lace with his.

"Chuuya. Chuuya? Baby. C'mon you're the one who wanted to be up early."

He opened his eyes, and the slurry of blue, black, and red liquid was gone. Instead he was staring at your face, your curtain of dark curls hiding you both from the outside world.

Your frown broke into a grin. "There we go. Now we're cooking with oil."

"Time is it?"

"4 AM."

He groaned and shut his eyes. "Fuck, why'd I suggest this again?"

"Hmmm." You kissed his jaw, along his cheek, and finally a chaste kiss to his lips. "Cause you're sweet and lovely."

He opened his eyes again when he felt you sit up and your weight shift. You were still astride his hips, but you were looking out the window and at the glowing city. The sun hadn't risen yet, and through the smog and lights he could see a few stars doing their best to burn against the blue and black sky.

He shuddered, and this drew your attention back down to him. You brushed sweat slick strands back behind his ear.

"Baby."

"Doll."

Your smile softened at the nick name. " You okay? You're a million miles away."

"I'm fine. Early as shit." He grabbed your hips, his voice going lower as he slipped his fingers under your shirt to kneed at the soft flesh of your sides. "C'mon. Said I'd take ya out today, yeah? Can do this again later. I promise."

"I suppose I can leave the most comfortable seat in exsistence." He loosened his grip as you got up. "Want me to make coffee before we head out?"

"That'd be fantastic."

You grabbed your robe and slipped it over you shoulders, before going back to the bed, and pressed another chaste kiss to his lips. Without another word you were gone, the soft padding of your footsteps the only hint you were still in the apartment.

Chuuya shut his eyes and and rubbed at his wrist. The past was the past, and there was nothing that he could do to change it. The choices he made, the people he gained and lost, all of it was the rocky and blood slick road that had made the Chuuya Nakahara of today.

He sat up and swung his legs over the bed, before going over to a small table under a window. He plucked up a photograph that had six figures staring at the camera. They all wore the type of straight faces that threatened to burst into laughter if so much as the breeze blew wrong. A smile ghosted upon his own lips as he traced the wood frame with his thumb. He couldn't remember when the picture had even been taken anymore. He supposed that's what happens when a decade goes by.

"Coffee's ready!"

"Kay! Gimme a sec!"

He set the picture down and grabbed his cigarettes out of the drawer, before leaving the room entirely. The photo of a 15 year old Chuuya, Piano Man, Lippmann, Doc, Iceman, and Albatross seeming to wish him the best as he left.

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whatsnewalycat · 10 months

Text

Passenger / Chapter 4

Pairing: Trucker!Din Djarin AU x OFC Charlie Wanderlust

Chapter Four: Wyoming (Part One)

[ Previous Chapter ][ Series Masterlist ][ Next Chapter ]

Chapter Summary: Charlie and Din have a bad morning.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 4.9k+

Content / Warnings: heavy angst, suicidal thoughts, homicidal thoughts, half-hearted suicide attempt, half-hearted homicide attempt, gun, fennec shand, boba fett, yearning, do u feel the slow burn now mr krabs

Notes: Hey, hi. Please be mindful of the trigger warnings on this one. It's a little (a lot) angst-heavy at the top, but it gets lighter. Big thanks to @frannyzooey for proofreading this!! Let me know what y'all think :) letsnottalkabouthowturnedoniambydincallingherbluff

Consciousness finds you like a crack in a dam.

A trickle at first, when you register the slow, steady rhythm of the dog’s snores lifting and lowering your arm. You feel the flannel innards of your sleeping bag clinging to your sweat-drenched legs. Your ears tune into the low, constant hum of the old Peterbilt’s engine, and you blink open your eyes to see the subtle light of dawn creeping in through the windows.

Then, as you realize you’re still alive, still being held captive in this fucking truck… whoosh.

Blood rushes through your body, hot and furious, sending you upright in an instant. You find the man propped up against the passenger’s side door like a rag doll, staring at you with dull, vacant eyes. It takes him a moment to process the fact that you’re awake, then all at once, his eyes go wide and he sits up straight. Both of you freeze.

That’s when you see it. The darkened bags under his eyes. The exhaustion slumping his broad shoulders.

The gun in his hand.

Fire floods your veins and you growl, “You fucking coward.”

His eyelids flutter when the insult hits him. A nod rocks his head back slightly.

“All you had to do was pull the trigger,” you seethe, emotion cracking your voice, “How fucking hard is that?”

His jaw clenches. Head tilts to one side. Eyes flit around the cab before settling back on yours, “Do you want to see?”

You blink at him, “See what?”

The man pulls himself to his feet and shimmies between the front seats, holding the gun’s grip out to you.

You drop your gaze to your lap and grit your teeth, “Fuck you.”

He crouches beside the bed and nudges your shaking hands with the weapon, “Take it. I want you to see.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“I know,” he mutters, grabbing your left hand, your dominant hand, pressing the heavy grip into your palm, “Come on, show me how you hold a gun.”

You swallow the thickness in your throat and correct your hold to proper form. He nods in approval and searches your face, then points to his forehead, “Right here.”

No.

You shake your head. Tears distort your vision, blurring his face into an abstract mess. The gun is solid and cool in your sweaty palms. You can’t bring yourself to move it.

So he does it for you.

His hand wraps around yours and guides the aim to his forehead. A sob wracks your body and you shake your head again and again, begging him in a soggy whisper, “No no no—”

He ignores your protest, talking over the cries sounding from your throat, “If you kill me, you can leave. Take whatever you need. Flee to Canada. That was a smart plan,” he searches your face and gives a small shrug, adding, “Please take care of the dog, though.”

He’s right. You know he’s right.

Tears streaming down your cheeks, you hold the muzzle steady between his dark, unblinking eyes. Your thumb pulls back the safety with a metallic crackle. He doesn’t even flinch.

“How hard is it, Charlie?” he asks, his voice a low, daring trickle, “Hmm? How fucking hard is it to pull the trigger?”

“Fuck you,” you tell him in a pathetic sob, “You’re a piece of shit—”

“Then do something about it.”

Red blinds you. It burns you from the inside out, pulsing and furious. You flirt with the trigger, lightly stroking the hard curve of it, imagining all the potential futures branching out from this moment.

A future where you kill him, take his dog and your meager belongings, and head for Canada. Another where you give him back his gun, he delivers you to Portland, and you die in a cage.

Another option becomes clear to you. One that could make this nightmare end in an instant. Where you get just what you wanted.

The numbness of resignation dulls your senses, even as your heartbeat speeds to that of a hummingbird’s. You pull the aim away from his head and point it at your own, thinking: How much pressure would it take? Would it hurt?

His features quickly shift to panic. He holds a hand up and says, “Hey, no—”

Thinking: How hard is it, Charlie? How fucking hard is it to pull the trigger?

“Give me the gun, Charlie.”

A damp, painful knot tangles your throat. You try to swallow it down, but a sob bursts through anyway, and you hear yourself choke out, “I don’t want to die.”

“Hey, look at me,” he instructs.

You can’t. You can’t focus on anything but the barrel buried in your hair and the allure of the trigger. He touches your chin and coos, “Eyes right here, kid.”

Your gaze flicks to his.

He carefully wraps one hand around your wrist while the other tilts the barrel up and flips the safety back into place, “There we go.”

Your hand goes slack and he takes the gun away, hiding it somewhere as you collapse into yourself. When he returns, the mattress shifts under his weight. The heat of his palm presses into your back, smoothing up and down the length of your spine. It coaxes another bout of crying from deep within your chest.

For weeks, this dense, dark matter has been collecting inside you the way dust does on framed family photos. And this pitiful blubbering is just an involuntary purge. A seasonal deep clean.

You expect him to tell you to stop, or to leave, but he doesn’t. He just sits there and rubs your back. You’re not sure if he’s being supportive and patient or if he doesn’t know what else to do, but the effect is all the same. It soothes you.

Eventually, you sit up and wipe your eyes on the sleeves of your shirt, then dare to look at him.

He holds your gaze. You realize this is the first time you’ve seen him without his face covered by sunglasses or a hat or darkness. And he is… remarkable.

His deep brown eyes drop to your mouth for a fleeting moment, capsizing your stomach. Heat pulses to your face and you look away, whispering, “You don’t have to do this. You can let me go.”

He says nothing, just stands and starts disarming the cabin.

Neither of you have spoken a word.

Which is typical on your captor’s part. You’re pretty sure if you never tried to say anything to him, he wouldn’t speak at all.

But there’s something different about his silence now. It seems weighted and intentional. Like he’s actively trying not to break it.

His movements are clipped. Heavy with hard edges. When it came time for your morning bathroom break, he tossed the handcuffs next to you on the bed and waited for you to restrain yourself on the grab bar, crossing his arms and staring at you, as if that was enough explanation.

And, you suppose, it was.

After he returned from letting the dog out, he emptied your latrine, grabbed a black canvas toiletry bag and towel from the overhead compartment, and left again. The morning’s events sucked all life from you, leaving you hollowed-out and zombie-like.

You were nodding off when he returned, his dark curls dripping wet beneath his black baseball cap. The clean scent of his damp skin wafted back into the sleeper cab. Days worth of grime made your skin crawl. If you held any kind of fight in you, you would have asked to take a shower, but you found it pointless.

Why perform maintenance on a sinking ship?

Even so, after the man freed you from the handcuffs and started to prepare the rig for departure, you got ready for the day the best you could.

While he plugged in coordinates and did whatever the fuck on his dashboard tablet, you crouched down behind the driver’s seat and changed into your cleanest clothes, resigning to the fact that they will likely be the clothing your body dons when it’s discovered in some Portland alleyway within the week. You twisted your greasy hair into two long braids, then pulled out your guitar and strummed a few of your favorite songs. Songs filled with hope and freedom and adoration for this beautiful world.

But, for the first time since you left home all those years ago, they rang hollow and false. You stowed the guitar away in the overhead compartment, then strapped yourself into the passenger’s seat upfront and opened your notebook with the intention of drafting goodbye letters to your grandma and brother.

An hour later, the white space sectioned off by cornflower blue lines remains empty.

You could blame the weight of existentialism crushing your rib cage like an aluminum can, but in all honesty, the scenery keeps distracting you.

Waves of evergreen trees roll by your window as far as you can see. Every so often, a hill stretches up towards the sagging gray clouds so abruptly, it exposes the pale, stony earth beneath, cliff sides torn into the forest like ripped clothing or stretch marks. A few towns crop up here and there, tiny symbionts feeding off the lifeblood of I-80, none of them much more than a gas station, a church, and a bar.

It brings you a sense of oneness. Peace. Gratitude.

In the grand scheme of things, you don’t matter. Not to the mountains and the trees and the streams. They existed for years before you and will still for years after you. Just a speck.

But that speck was so good to me.

Regret fills you suddenly. You think about all the people you’ve met, all the things you’ve seen, all the places you’ve been. And you realize none of them will miss you.

You swear you hear your sternum crack when you realize this.

But then you hear the dashboard chime.

Both you and your captor frown at the source. He shakes his head like he doesn’t understand, but starts searching for an exit. By the time one comes along, all you can smell is burning plastic.

The man pulls over on the side of a county road, then kills the engine. When he pulls back the hood, white-blue smoke billows from the Peterbilt’s innards into the gloomy sky.

You look over at the dog, whose flat snout steams up the driver’s side window, and snort, “That doesn’t look good.”

The dog whines and scampers onto your lap, pulling his front paws up onto the dashboard. He glances between you and his caretaker, ears perked up with curiosity. Through the windshield, the two of you watch him shake his head at the machinery. He leans forward into the engine bay and touches something, then jerks back like it bit him. Tugging his gloves off, he stares down at the smoking mess, then pulls a cell phone from his pocket and makes a call.

“Din Djarin,” the velvety feminine voice answers, “How can I help you?”

“Shand,” he greets, squinting up at the glowing gray sky, “I broke down off 1-80 in Wyoming. Need someone to come take this trailer to make the deadline.”

“Drop off?”

“Provo, Utah.”

“Send me your location and the work order, I’ll get someone out there.”

“Will do, thank you.”

After hanging up, Din pings his location and sends her electronic copies of paperwork detailing the job.

He glances through the windshield every once in a while, and can see you and the dog peering over the dashboard from the passenger’s seat. The anxious creases haunting your features throughout the morning have softened. You look amused, in fact.

Looming financial devastation be damned, relief loosens his knotted shoulders just a little. He corrects himself, pushing his shoulders back, staring into the messy engine compartment.

Shit.

This is… not ideal.

Din started to get an inkling of this unfortunate bout of sympathy while waiting for you to fall asleep last night.

Actually, that’s not true.

It happened before that. The second he heard your request for a mercy killing, it started twisting in guts.

By the time he finally heard your breathing alter into that of a dreamlike state, the inhales and exhales becoming deeper and less predictable, he doubted his ability to grant your wish. He tried anyway. Stood above you, aiming straight at your temple. Just one small movement to assure him the collection of your bounty. To achieve financial stability for at least a year. To unburden himself from your presence.

A minute passed.

And another.

And a few more.

Twenty minutes went by in total with your life in his sight, then he resigned to the passenger’s seat while he tried to sort this all out in his head.

If you had just tried to escape, or tried to attack him, he could have pulled the trigger and excused his guilty conscience away. But no. He let you pull back the curtain. Something he could have stopped if he really wanted to do so.

He didn’t, though, did he?

As much as he hates to admit it, even to himself, he wanted to hear your story. It was unprofessional. He should know better. All it did was surface more questions. Make you more human.

Rookie mistake.

He is a killer. Reborn out of blood and forged into this rigid shape. He should know better than to view his target as a person with hopes and dreams and a future. But no matter what lies he tried to tell himself about self-preservation or duty or mercy, he could not fucking do it.

Which, now that he thinks about it, is much worse than “not ideal.”

No. It is downright “bad news.”

He calls the only diesel mechanic listed within a 50-mile radius to arrange for a tow and repair. He tells the gruff man on the other end of the line he’ll “need a new radiator,” then, “yes, I am sure.” The thing had been held together by glue and hope for 20,000 miles. It was inevitable. Din was just praying it would wait until after he received your bounty to fall apart.

But, as is sometimes the case, fate had different plans in store.

Fennec Shand called while he was on the phone with the mechanic. He calls her back, skipping formalities completely when she picks up by asking, “Did you find anyone?”

She doesn’t seem to mind, jumping into the conversation with, ��You’re in luck. Boba Fett just finished a job in Laramie and can be there in an hour.”

Din nods, “Ok. A tow is on the way, taking us to a nearby town. I might be out of commission for a few days—”

“Us?”

His lips part, gaze flashing to the windshield as he stammers, “Me and the, uhh, the dog.”

“Hmm,” Fennec hums, “Yeah, thanks for that, by the way. I got a real earful from the owners.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry to me, it’s coming out of your pay,” she snorts.

He props a hand on his hip and glances around, “Do you know what his name is?”

“The dog?”

“Right.”

“I’ll see if I have anything in my notes, mind if I put you on hold?”

“Sure.”

Some time goes by with silence from the other end of the line. Din steps away from the engine bay and paces the gravel shoulder in front of the rig.

Eventually, she comes back with a simple, “Grogu.”

“What?”

“G-R-O-G-U,” Fennec spells it out, then enunciates, ”Grow-goo, that’s the dog’s name.”

“Oh, I see,” he smiles at the ground, then nods, “Thank you.”

“Need anything else?”

“That should do it.”

As he returns to the cab of the truck, Din repeats the name under his breath, “Grogu.”

He pulls the driver’s side door open. A robust and rhythmic strumming invades his ears. Sort of upbeat. It cuts abruptly when he closes the door and sits down.

“What’s the news, big guy?” you smirk, draping one arm over the graffitied face of your guitar, “Do I live to see another day?”

He glances into the sleeper cab at the dog, who’s napping, then back to you, “The radiator is toast. A tow is on its way from Yellow Seed. Guy on the phone said there’s a motel across the street from the shop. We can stay there until it gets fixed.”

“How long’ll that take, do you think?”

“Not sure,” he admits, “He said he might have to order parts, so it could be a day or two before he can start. We’ll know more then.”

You nod as you absorb this information, teeth struggling to clamp down your curving lips. Then, as if you cannot possibly contain it any longer, the smile explodes across your face. He notices, for the first time, that you have this little gap between your front teeth. Like he could slot a dime between them in a perfect fit.

He also notices his chest tighten and his breathing alter.

Bad, bad news.

“It’ll be in your best interest to behave when we’re around others,” he says while turning his attention to his mounted tablet and pulling up the email app.

“Or what, you’ll kill me?” you snort, dropping your gaze to the guitar in your lap.

“I’m sending the coordinates of the motel to the guild. If anything happens—if I end up in jail, or if you run—the next person who finds you might not be as accommodating as I am.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t call the cops. Rule number four,” you raise an eyebrow and pluck a melody into the strings of your guitar, “Fuck the police.”

He rolls his eyes, “Still—”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you pause your plucking to wave him off, “I’ll be a good girl for you, is that what you wanna hear?”

A wave of arousal flips his stomach and sends his heart racing.

His mouth gapes open and his throat croaks before a wide, pleased smile creeps across your face, “Oh, I got you a little flustered with that one, didn’t I, uhh—hey, what’s your name anyways?”

He shakes his head without answering your question, furrowing his brow at the tablet while typing out the email to Karga. Trying to ignore the heat coiling in the middle of him. Trying to think about anything other than “I’ll be a good girl for you, is that what you wanna hear?”

With a little huff of annoyance, you go back to playing your guitar.

When the tow truck arrives, your captor sets up some little orange traffic cones in a curve along the left side of the rig.

Out of the tow comes a bearded mechanic, outfitted in a navy blue jumpsuit with a name patch that reads Paul. He approaches your captor and shakes his hand. They exchange a few words before Paul moves on to inspect the engine compartment, squinting into the exposed guts of the truck.

Another semi-truck pulls over ahead of the tow only a minute or two later. It’s an odd green-ish gray color with rusty red accents. Your captor goes to greet the other truck driver, a bald, barrel-chested man. They exchange a polite nod and stand side-by-side behind the mechanic, arms crossed as they talk. The bald trucker seems to be more talkative, his lips moving intermittently, while your captor’s stay mostly resigned to a firm frown.

A pang of loneliness shoots through your heart. You realize you’re just staring at them, aching to socialize. The sparse, one-sided conversations you’ve had in the past few days have left much to be desired. No offense to your road companions.

Well, maybe a little offense when it comes to your human road companion.

You set the pup down in the driver’s seat and go to open the door, using rule #10 as your rationalization: Be a stand up tramp.

It’s only polite, after all, to go introduce yourself and be friendly. And, yeah, maybe you desperately want to chit-chat a little, too. So what?

The second the passenger’s door cracks open, your captor is there, blocking your exit.

“Get back in the truck.”

“I wanna say hi.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

You roll your eyes and push on the door. He grabs it and pushes back. The only thing stopping him from slamming it shut are your legs dangling out the bottom.

“Oh my god, seriously?” You blink at him and gesture to the vast, desolated hills outside the rig, “What am I gonna do, big guy, run away? I already told you, I won’t spill your beans, I swear.”

He stays frozen in place, holding the door a quarter of the way open, jaw clenched, broad shoulders squared, like he thinks he can intimidate you. Although you can’t see his eyes through his mirrored sunglasses, you can feel them burning into yours.

So you stare him down. Give him your best “do not fuck with me” face. The space between your bodies becomes so thick and ripe with challenge, you wonder what ever happened when that unstoppable force met the immovable object.

From the driver’s seat, the dog starts to whine in discomfort. This tiny noise pulls the lens back just enough for your brain to formulate a sentence you think could break him.

“You can stare at me all you want, brown eyes, I’m not gonna kiss you.”

His lips part and his head jerks back, “I—I’m—what? No—”

Victory.

A smile spreads across your face.

“I promise I’ll behave,” you tell him, holding your hand out to him, pinkie finger erect, “Pinky promise.”

He looks towards the mechanic, then his trucker comrade, jaw working from side-to-side, weight shifting to one hip. So close to giving in.

“Please, I’m so bored.”

When he turns back to you, he studies you for a moment, then sighs and releases the door.

“You gotta do the thing or it doesn’t count,” you insist, holding your pinky out to him.

“I’m not doing that.”

“Figures,” you scoff. He ignores the retort, stepping aside so you can climb down.

You start around the truck’s unhinged jaw of a hood, waving to the bald trucker when he comes into view, “Hey there!”

“Ahh,” he grins, revealing a set of big, porcelain white teeth, and glances between you and the man hovering over your shoulder, “What’ve we here?”

His accent is interesting. Probably a Kiwi.

You return his bright smile with your own and extend your hand, “I’m Charlie.”

“Boba. Pleasure to meet you,” he nods, giving you a firm and brief handshake, then looks to your captor, “You’re collecting all kinds of stowaways, aren’t you?”

“It’s temporary,” he responds mildly.

Boba’s eyes seem to sparkle at this as he steps back and tucks a hand under each armpit, giving you a wink, “That’s what they all say.”

You laugh and shake your head, jerking a thumb over your shoulder, “Trust me, he can’t wait to get rid of me.”

The mechanic’s head pops out from the inner workings of the truck when he hears your laughter, and you wave to him, “Hi there!”

“Howdy howdy,” he nods in greeting as he approaches, wiping his hands on his jumper.

“I’m Charlie,” you smile and point to his name tag, “Paul, I’m guessing?”

“Yes ma’am, that’s me,” he props his hands up on his hips, jerking his head towards the truck, “Y’all got any more in there, or is it just the two of you?”

“We got a dog. Other than that, just the two of us. We gonna be able to fit in the tow?”

Paul frowns and shrugs, “Might be tight, but I think we can squeeze everyone in.”

You nod, then step around the upright hood, “What’s it lookin’ like?”

“Lookin’ like your, uhh,” he pauses here, glancing between you and your captor, probably trying to assess what the relation between you is, finally settling on, “Din here was right. Radiator’s busted wide open. She’ll need a total replacement.”

Din.

That has to be his name.

Another victorious smile spreads across your face. And to think, just a few hours ago, you were longing for death. Things are looking up.

You clear your throat and attempt to stifle your obvious excitement, “What’s that run?”

Din sighs from behind you, and you hear Boba chuckle to him, “Just temporary, eh?”

“Top of my head, I’d say about three grand. Don’t hold me to that, though. I’ll know more when I can call around for parts and take a better look.”

“Right on,” you cross your arms and glance over your shoulder at Din, whose mouth is flattened into an unamused line, then back to Paul, “Anyway, sorry for interrupting, I’ll get out of your hair. Just wanted to introduce myself.”

“Hey, ain’t no problem,” Paul smiles, hiking a thumb towards the tow, “If you and the dog wanna hop into the truck, we should be able to get this bad boy all hooked up in a few minutes.”

“Sounds like a plan. Thank you, Paul!”

Paul returns his attention to the truck, heaving the tarnished chrome hood shut. You turn to Boba, squinting into the sun, and give him another courteous wave, “Hey, it was really nice meeting you, Boba. Good luck in your travels!”

“Same to you, Miss Charlie,” he nods, his smile stretching wide as he looks between you and Din, “You keep him out of trouble, now.”

“This guy? Trouble? No way,” you snort as you turn and walk around Din, shooting him a smirk on your way back to the passenger’s side.

He follows hot on your trail, practically hissing, “Are you satisfied?”

“I sure am,” you grin back at him as you pull the door open, “Hey, do you want me to let the dog go do his business before we take off?”

He halts, holding the door open, staring up at you. You raise your eyebrows in question.

“Sure—Uhh, yes,” he shakes his head, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome… Din,” you beam, and your glee only grows when a disgruntled sigh heaves his chest.

To your credit, you did not tip off the tow truck driver on the ride to Yellow Seed, just as you promised.

You did, however, charm him. Which is almost as much of a problem as him suspecting the truth.

Din sat between you and Paul, hoping it would act as a deterrent for conversation, but neither of you let that get in the way. You just talked around him. The situation took him by surprise, though. He found himself being more perplexed than he was irritated by the back-and-forth.

It was almost effortless, the way you seemed to control the conversation, keeping the topic centered around Paul and Yellow Seed. This left little space for him to attempt small talk by asking about who you and Din are, and the circumstances surrounding your travel.

People love talking about themselves. You clearly know this and use it to your advantage. It solidifies something Din has been realizing the past few days: You are very clever. Cunning, even.

When a sign goes by, marking Yellow Seed’s city limits, you read the population out loud, “One-thousand, nine hundred, and eighty-six. Dang, that is a small town.”

You hug Grogu to your chest as you lean forward and look at Paul, “Din said there’s a motel here, is that right?”

“Yep,” he nods, “Right across the road from the shop. If you want, I can show y’all around town after unloading the truck.”

“No,” Din says.

You smack him in the shoulder and chuckle, “We can walk. It’ll give us a chance to stretch our legs. Thank you so much for offering, though.”

“No problem,” Paul squints, flipping on his turn signal, “Here we are.”

The big wooden sign out front is barely legible, its paint chipped and faded by at least a decade of neglect. Beyond it, a big gravel lot crowded with cars and trucks and rigs in different states of disarray. Some have weeds growing up into the wheel wells like the vehicles haven’t been moved in weeks.

The garage itself is a simple, box-like structure with aluminum siding. Three two-story garage doors take up most of the road-facing side of the building.

Paul puts the tow in park and kills the engine, then swings the driver’s door open to climb down. You don’t move, and instead, regard Din with a smug smile while scratching Grogu between the ears, “How’d I do?”

He gives you a nod, “Good,” and after a beat adds, “Thank you.”

Your smile stretches and warms. It curls around inside him, beckoning a gentle, hungry hope that feels intrusive in his body. Inwardly, he chides himself.

Such soft things are not made for him. They are a luxury he cannot afford and does not deserve.

You pass him the dog and crack the passenger’s door open, then turn to him, “Ready?”

The ambiguity with which he interprets this question makes his mind whir. Is he ready for the next leg of this journey, and the uncertainty it brings? Can he rebuild the carefully constructed walls you’ve been dismantling? Or is it a fruitless endeavor? Is he ready to face you without the distraction of the open highway stretching out in front of him?

Not at all.

But he nods, “Ready,” and follows you into the crisp October air, letting his feet touch down in Yellow Seed.

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