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[dlscenarios]

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[dlscenarios]

You Are In Love

Darry Curtis x Reader

Currently working on longer things for Ao3 someday so here’s a draft from, like September.

Darrel thought he would never fall in love.

In high school, he had dreams of finding his soulmate at college. Maybe they’d be a cheerleader, jumping in joy when he’d score a touchdown. Or maybe they were the nerd he’d stumble upon in the library leading up to finals.

In reality, he didn’t even make it to college. Instead, he had suffered not only the deaths of his parents and two friends, but he had to play father to his younger brothers while juggling two full time jobs and his grief. Darry had given up his own dreams for the sake of those boys, so when you shyly tapped his shoulder at the grocery store and asked so sweetly for him to grab a box from the top shelf and his heart stopped in his chest at the mere sight of your smile, he had a feeling things were finally changing for the better.

He stammered as he tried to introduce himself. Despite his stutters and how sweaty his palms must have been, you agreed to meet him again. That promise led to your first date at a nearby diner. The next was at the drive in, which only served to make Darrel feel like a dumb high schooler again but ended in your first kiss. The third date concluded in him asking to go steady.

Now several months later, you had become a daily comforting presence in the Curtis household. The gang loved you, especially Soda and Pony who adored the way you became the voice of reason to their older brother (and teased him about it with obnoxious kissing sounds after you left).

The boys loved to joke about how you were the new Mrs. Curtis. At first, Darry hated that idea and scolded the boys for it. Not because he didn’t love you; he did with all his heart. But the thought of replacing the old Mrs. Curtis — his mother — left a bad taste in his mouth.

Until he found her ring in his dresser drawer.

He and his brothers had each chosen one of their mother’s rings that could serve as a future partner’s engagement ring among divvying up the rest of their things. Darrel had chosen a simple gold ring with a small diamond in the center and, as he admired it, he couldn’t stop thinking about it on your finger. How perfect it’d look on you.

That solidified it. He’d finally found the one, all he had to do was make it official.

It was dark by the time you arrived at the Curtis house and upon opening the always-unlocked front door, to your surprise, it was completely empty. Normally, one of the boys would have been on the couch with a beer or watching TV, but this time, you turned on the nearest light to show a desolate living room.

Cautiously, you padded into the kitchen, seeing it just as barren and as clean as they would have left it that morning. Darry had been cracking down on dish duty.

The only thing out of place was a simple letter on the dining table, the message reading “Come out back - Darry.”

Upon opening the back door, you were met with an endearing scene. The only tree in the backyard had been decorated with the family’s old Christmas lights, lighting the yard just enough for you to see Darrel standing under it, his hands clasped in front of him with a shaking smile. You slowly made your way over to him, still confused about the whole thing.

“What’s all this?” you asked when you got close enough, taking his hand the second he offered it.

“Thought I’d surprise you. You always said we should do somethin’ with the backyard.”

“Yeah but you didn’t have to do all this for me, honey.” Darrel almost retorted that he should have done more. He knew you must have wanted a special, elaborate proposal but he simply didn’t have the time or the money to go all out and treat you the way you deserved.

“Actually, this ain’t the entire surprise, darlin’,” he replied instead, steely grey eyes meeting.

Your brows knitted in confusion. “What else is there?”

He took in a shaky breath, free hand rubbing the sweat from his palm on his jeans. “Well, I wanna start by sayin’ you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I thought I’d never find someone that makes me feel the way you do.”

He watched your eyes soften. “Darrel-“

“I love you, Y/N. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for all of us. You’re already part of the family…so I thought I’d make it official.”

Your mouth dropped as Darrel sunk to the ground, propping himself on one knee while fishing out a small box from his pocket.

He flicked the box open, showing the stunning and delicate ring inside. He looked back up to you. “Y/N,” he paused to huff out his nerves. His chest suddenly felt tight. “Will you make the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

Not even one second passed before you replied, “Yes.” You sunk to the ground with him, watching his face bloom into an elated grin as your hands came to cradle his face. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah baby,” Darry chuckled, “I am.”

Your expression mirrored his, a wide smile on your lips. “You just proposed.”

“Yeah I did.”

“We’re getting married, baby…” you said, bewildered.

Darry simply brought you into his lap. “Forever and always, sweetheart.”

[dlscenarios]

Darry smut pleasee

Part 2 to this but i like the first part better 🙃

MDNI

The steering wheel dug into your lower back, making your body instinctively arch, your chest pressing into Darry’s. Large hands, nestled on your waist, began to toy with the seam of your shorts.

“Want these off,” Darry breathed against your lips. You could feel the bulge in his jeans against your thigh. Pride filled your chest. Simply kissing was enough to push strong and tuff Darrel Curtis to near bursting.

One of his hands traced along your waistband until it found purchase in undoing the front button. You pulled away from him just enough to let his hand fall and tug your zipper down.

Darrel pushed you off of his lap, guiding your back onto the stuffy truck’s passenger seat. He tried to angle himself in the driver’s side—a near impossible feat given how big he was and how small the space. But he didn’t seem to care. Not when he eagerly pawed at his own jeans to free his straining erection.

You followed suit in removing your clothes, just enough to bare yourself to your boyfriend. Being in the lot meant time was limited. Wherever Darry decided to take you, it was only a matter of minutes before someone could catch the two of you.

Anything exceeding an hour at most was impossible, especially with gang being a bunch of nosy rats.

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Hi! idk if u take requests for leon kennedy but i loved ur girl dad fic and was wondering if you’d write about how leon would take care of his partner postpartum

I feel like this is so buns 💀 I KNOW pregnancy and postpartum stuff, I swear! It’s just hard to write sometimes.

Leon had quickly mastered the art of carrying his daughter in one arm and doing things around the house. He learned how to clean and put away the dishes with his free hand while making sure not to jostle the baby.

His favorite new task was bringing you breakfast in bed with your newborn daughter fast asleep and nestled safely in his arm.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” he greets you just as soft, setting the full plate on the bedside table. “Feel any better?”

Since the birth, Leon had been extra cautious with you and constantly checking in or helping however he could with your pain. If you needed help getting into the shower or sitting down on the couch, he was there to help. He knew giving birth was difficult—hell, he was trying not to panic in the hospital because he knew women used to die in your position—and he was the man who inly reaped the benefits from those hardships. He helped make the sleeping angel against his chest, so of course he was going to do his best to care for you and her.

Cuddles in bed while you eat became a norm. Leon would gently rock your daughter, his gaze darting from her chubby cheeks to you.

His own little family. It was hard to believe, but Leon didn’t plan on taking it for granted. After all, he has a protective streak to uphold.

[dlscenarios]

I’m in the need of Billy absolutely ruining reader’s pussy, every detail of how he talks and what he does while reader feels like she’s on an aphrodisiac just by looking at him. The aftercare is him literally worshipping reader and her body, praising her for a job well done and nurturing her back to normalcy. May I request this from you?

MDNI

Cw: This has been in the drafts for so long I’m so sorry, AFAB + Fem names, Fingering, I’m out of practice writing aftercare 💀

In Billy’s defense, you asked for it. You were the one that led him up to your bedroom. You were the one that locked the door behind you. You were the one pulling him in for a long kiss.

And you were the one guiding his hands to your hips, making no move to stop the one that slipped down to grab your ass.

You hummed against his lips before breaking free with a soft smack. “I missed you,” you whispered fingers digging into his back belt loops to keep him close.

“Missed you too, pretty,” he breathed against your lips, sparing another squeeze to your ass before shifting his touch along your back.

“Thought about you all day.” Delicate fingers cupped Billy’s face and brought him down for another kiss before he could respond. He melted into you, a groan rumbling his lips as his hands gripped you tighter.

Suddenly, he gently pushed you apart and threw you to the bed. He wasted no time in straddling your thighs, peppering your jaw and neck in kisses once he’s settled in.

Peck after hungry peck, he shifted down to your clothed chest, mouthing at your cleavage as he worked your pants down your legs.

He never was a patient man.

After discarding your pants, his fingers pressed against your panty-clad slit, already feeling the dampness growing under the fabric. He hummed as he sucked a mark onto a breast. The pad of his index finger found your clit through your panties and circled it.

Without a warning, Billy’s fingers hooked into the side of your panties and slid them to the opposing side.

His mouth left your chest as he leaned back to admire your bared pussy. His fingers fell back onto your clit, massaging it. “Already so wet, baby,” he muttered. “My girl needed me that bad, huh?”

You nodded and let out a relieved breath when one of those lithe fingers pushed into you.

His finger curled, expertly finding that sensitive spot he knew could make you scream. “She’s sucking me in, baby…” he cooed with a wicked smirk, slowly pumping into you.

He wasted no time pushing another finger in. You let out a soft gasp, feebly trying to fuck yourself on his hand. Billy’s thumb fell to your clit as he watched you struggle to grind into him.

“Such a good girl…” he whispered hot against your ear. His thrusts quickened. Soft, slick sounds filled the room and mingled with thick air. “So fucking wet. ‘S all for me, yeah?”

You nodded, your hips attempting to grin against his wrist.

His fingers slipped from you suddenly, clear arousal sticking to the two digits when Billy lifts them to your lips. You obediently opened your mouth and allowed his fingers inside. The tang of your slick coated your tongue as your lips closed and sucked Billy’s fingers clean before he pulled them back once more.

He made quick work of his jeans and boxers, pulling them down just enough to release his rigid cock. He gave himself a single pump before aligning with your entrance. Darkened, lust filled eyes look up and met yours in a silent question: was this okay?

You nodded and watched as Billy slowly pushed himself past your folds, stretching you in the way you had grown to love. He wasn’t necessarily big—probably a little over average length and certainly lacking in girth— but it always felt so right nestled inside you.

Like you were made to be connected like this.

Billy didn’t give you time to adjust before starting to roll his hips into yours.

—

Soft music emanated from the radio on your desk, playing some love song that you couldn’t quite make out the lyrics of. Billy carefully set your legs onto the bed before running a callused hand down your thigh, his thumb rubbing gentle circles as they went.

“Oh my god…” you panted, sensitive to the touch. His hand moved up rest on your side, his hips stagnant against yours as he touched his forehead to yours.

“You okay..?” he whispered, breath leaving goosebumps on your skin.

“Yeah…”

“Yeah?” he repeated, a smirk growing on his lips. “Because you look a little fucked out here.”

You cracked a tired smile. “Shut up.”

Billy chuckled before pressing a soft kiss to your nose, “Did so well for me, baby…” His hand ran up along your bare arm, pausing when it reached your shoulder to apply a gentle pressure to the muscle. “Always so good for me…”

You curled into him, Billy’s touch traveling back down to your thigh to massage it.

“You need anything?” he spoke into your ear.

You made a noise akin to a ‘nuh uh’ before mumbling, “Just you…”

You could feel Billy smile against your hair. “You have me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you…” you whispered.

His hand traveled up to your face, pushing your hair away as his thumb brushed your cheek. “Love you too.”

“I take it you missed me too?” you asked, turning hour head to rest your cheek against his peck.

Billy smirked. “Of course I did.” He leaned in closer, breath fanning your hair as he kissed your head. “You know I’m crazy about you.”

[dlscenarios]

hiiii! your writing is amazing! i just wanted to ask you if you could or would write anything with bob sheldon that included smut, tyy!!

MDNI

Bob has a hidden talent for eating you out. The problem is, you have to beg him to do it every time.

Your boyfriend is a popular Soc, always surrounded by friends or neighbors keeping an eye out on him like paparazzi. Like he’s a damn celebrity. So the two of you don’t exactly get much time to be truly alone and intimate. When it happens, Bob is always focused on kissing you, whispering sweet words about how much he loves you or how beautiful you looked, but his kisses never trail down past your stomach on their own.

Until you throw a leg over his shoulder and outright tell him to.

“I’ve been neglecting my pretty girl, huh?” Bob coos, his breath fanning against your naked slit.

“Shut up, Robert.” Your fingers card through his hair before pushing his face closer to your pussy. You notice his eyes roll as his mouth encloses you, his own hands stagnant on your thighs to keep them apart. He places a few sloppy kisses to your folds before his tongue darts out and begins to prod your entrance. His teeth lightly graze your clit as he slips inside with a groan.

He likes to act annoyed by your insistence, like you’re another nagging adult in his life—he had enough of those already—but Bob’s weakness was you.

Sometimes he simply needs a guiding hand to see his strengths.

[flirtingfawn]

ᥫ᭡. ⋮ 𝓅𝓇ℴ𝒻 .ᐟ 𝓁ℯℴ𝓃 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓉ℴ𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇𝓈ℯ𝓁𝒻 .ᐟ

⤷ 𝓷𝓼𝓯𝔀. guided & mutual masturbation. age gap. 𝟸.𝟾𝓀

smooth wood chills the backs of your thighs when leon sits you down right on the edge of his huge antique desk. your skirt fans outwards while your legs swing absentmindedly and your gaze follows leon across his office, watching as he shuts the curtains to hide you away from the loud outside world

there’s tension between his shoulder blades, you can see it pulling at his muscles through his white dress shirt and if you had to guess, you’d put it down to a tough day, rude students or difficult lectures, but you won’t ask him about it—not when you’re the key to making his day a little bit better

“spread your thighs,” he grumbles as he rounds his desk and flops down into his leather chair. his fingers tug roughly at his tie, his own thighs spread languidly and when he’s not satisfied with how far you part your legs, he frowns, “wider—yeah, just like that, sweetheart—now, touch yourself f’me,” he drawls, smirking 

your eyes widen at his request and heat rushes to your cheeks, much to leon’s amusement. you can’t help it though, knowing that he’s able to see right up your skirt at the flimsy panties you have on and the small damp spot that has definitely seeped into the fabric after you spent his entire lecture fantasising about him 

“how?” you whisper, feeling utterly filthy as your hand brushes up the inside of one of your thighs. tiny little bumps scatter over your skin with the soft touch and it sends a shiver right down your spine towards your already aching cunt, causing you squirm on the spot with anticipation

you know how to touch yourself but something tells you that it won't be as simple as he's letting on. leon touches you like you're his, like he owns you. he bruises you, marks you—always leaves you coming back for more—nothing is ever that simple with him and he confirms your suspicions straight away 

“slowly—i’m gonna talk you through it,” he grunts and he leans forwards to slide his hand under the hem of your skirt before he flips it upwards to properly expose your clothed pussy, “leave them on, wanna see 'em soaked,” he says, eyeing your already very wet panties with fervor

the material sticks to your body, contouring and outlining your cunt from your perky little clit right down to your steadily dripping hole but you’re not struggling on your own because leon is failing to hide the thick bulge that's straining against the zipper of his pants as he grinds the palm of his hand over it

your own hand—the one that isn’t disappearing high up between your thighs—presses into the surface of the desk allowing you to lean back as your fingertips begin to ghost over your clit, prompting a current to fizzle up your spine and bathe your body in the sweetest kind of pleasure 

“oh god,” you whisper, jaw slack and frowning slightly. your cunt clenches feebly around nothing while you go around in even circles that have a never ending wave of slick spilling from your hole, “l-like this, is this what you want?” you ask when you look up at leon, only to find him undoing his belt in a hurry

it’s wrong—so wrong—that you’re searching for praise from your professor. it’s addictive though, leon is addictive. he’s handsome and smart, much older than yourself and you can’t get enough of him and, well, he’s always so willing to praise you when you’re doing what he asks of you 

“yeah—good girl,” he groans and bucks his hips upwards to shove his slacks down his thick thighs. his cock frees itself of its confines in the blink of an eye, standing stiff and leaking profusely as he takes it into his fist and starts to jerk himself off lazily, “keep up with me,” 

you nod before you really realise that you’re doing it. you’re too busy ogling him and wishing that he would just lay you down and sink into your heat—fuck you well and good and take his frustrations out on you—but, you find yourself nodding and trying your best to do as he says anyway

leon makes no attempt to speed up or slow down his movements right away though, leaving the room to fill with the noise of your stuttered gasps and his rough grunts while it remains slow and drawn out. it’s not enough but too much all at the same time, the entire situation, his words, your fingers, everything makes you throb

more. you need more and until leon makes that decision for you, you’re stuck with less. you consider begging—he’d probably love that—but before you can blurt anything out, his fist shifts over his cock faster. it’s barely noticeable and maybe you’re just imagining it but you swirl your fingertips faster too

heat blossoms in the pit of your stomach and reaches right to the end of every single one of your nerves over the slight change. your eyes snap shut and the tip of your tongue gets trapped in a pinch between your lips all while your thighs twitch and stick together momentarily 

you’re soaked now, sticky over the soft skin of your thighs and you’re not sure that your panties could get any wetter if you tried. the fabric has darkened and the friction of it against your clit starts to become overwhelming, forcing scratchy whimpers from the back of your throat as you wince

“take ‘em off now,” leon hisses as he swipes the pad of his thumb over his slit. you don’t ask how he knows what you were about to ask or how he was able to pick up on your discomfort before you did, you just do as he says and store your questions away in the back of your mind for later 

hooking your thumbs under the straps of your panties, you shove them down your legs frantically. cool air rushes over your pussy and causes you to shiver as you kick your feet in an attempt to free your underwear from your ankles but in a flash, leon reaches out and snatches them up

he balls them up into his free hand, groaning internally when he feels how damp they are and then he drags open a drawer on his desk with a dull creak and drops your panties right into it before he slams it shut, “let me see that pretty little cunt, show her off to me,” he orders—as if he didn’t just steal your lingerie 

it takes a second for your brain to process what you just saw him do but when he grunts impatiently, you move. the sole of your shoe squeaks against the edge of his desk as you pull one of your legs up until your cheek is almost grazing your knee and you’re spread wide, just for his viewing pleasure 

you study him carefully, watching while his tongue darts across his bottom lip like he’s hungry for what he’s seeing. his cock tenses against his palm with want and blurts out a generous dribble of precome that slides down his length and over his knuckles, adding to the sheen that’s already there 

gently, you use two fingers to stretch yourself even wider. a singular wet sound fills the otherwise quiet room as your needy hole pulls taut and the pool of slick that was building just inside of you starts to spill over and gush until it’s dripping into a little puddle on the top of his desk

it’s not the first time you’ve made a mess there—and it probably won’t be the last—but it doesn’t feel any less dirty, even though you know that leon will reassure you later that it’s completely fine and it definitely won’t create a stain, right before he murmurs that he wouldn’t even mind if it did anyway

“fucking hell—tease her,” leon growls, still focused on the futile clench of your pussy and the shiny trails that paint across your skin, “don’t touch inside—not yet—tease her like i do,” he adds and unfortunately for you, you know exactly what he means by that and exactly what he wants to see

the same two fingers that were baring your cunt for him slip lower and trace around the outside of your entrance at a pace that matches the stroke of leon's fist over his cock. you moan wantonly at the contact to where you’ve been needing it most this entire time and that seems to spur leon on

“faster angel, rub it—uh huh—like that,” he groans and squeezes lightly at his heavy balls with his free hand when you don’t need to be told twice. your fingertips drag desperate circles around your glistening hole, making your muscles tense and your hips roll in search for more, “lemme see how wet your fingers are,”

once again, you don’t need to be told twice but you whimper at the loss of contact while you hold your hand up in the space between your bodies. strings of slick connect your two digits, hanging and snapping as you part your fingers and then press them back together over and over again 

“i want—no, need—more, sir,” you whisper and bat your lashes, knowing full well that calling him that will get you anything you want. leon is weak to it but only when it’s tumbling from the tip of your tongue and riddled with an innocence that you know he can’t ever say no to, “please,” you whine, for good measure

leon’s composure slips, just like you expected it to. his hips jerk and send his cock through his fist at a rate that makes his teeth audibly grind together, “shit—fuck—yeah, okay, just one finger though,” he grumbles the last half of his sentence when you giggle over getting the better of him and getting what you wanted out of it 

“thank you, sir,” you quip and earn yourself a quick glare for it before his eyes flicker to where your middle finger is already sinking into the tight clutch of your body, eliciting a whimper to scratch in your throat as your head tips back and your teeth sink into your bottom lip

your walls squeeze around you, wet and soft, sucking your finger deeper in a moment of greed. your chest rises and falls in whiny pants while you draw your finger out slowly and then slide it back in. truthfully, it doesn’t feel half as good as when leon does it but it does the job when you’re so wound up 

the spring in your stomach winds, pulling at your spine until it arches enough to press that soft little spot that’s deep inside of you into the pad of your finger, “oh my god,” you shudder and indulge yourself in the feeling, rubbing ever so gently over it in the way that leon taught you how to 

“feel good?” leon asks roughly. his chair starts to creak monotonously and it piques your interest, bringing your half lidded gaze to him. the noise is caused by his hips jackrabbiting upwards, fucking his cock through his own hold with reckless abandon while you nod at him, “yeah, i bet it does sweetheart,” 

his words make you gasp and before you know it, you’re plunging your finger into your body to keep up with him. it feels impossible to even try, his hand is flying over his length with filthy slick sounds that echo the ones coming from between your thighs but you’re moving on pure instinct and it feels just right

“fucking—god—prettiest little thing i’ve ever seen,” leon groans and maintains a level of eye contact that makes your face burn red. he’s not interested in watching you fuck yourself right now. no—he wants to see pleasure painting across your face, the twitch of your brows and the silent oh that your lips gets stuck in

it’s depraved in its purpose, meant to make you feel like you’re putting on a show for him and you are. the more you think about it, the more your pleasure seems to build with him watching and getting himself off to you—like he’s unable to fulfill that need when you’re not around to satiate it 

any words that you want to say, curses or begs for something you don’t even know that you want yet, die somewhere between the air in your lungs and your mouth. cotton wool fills the free space in your head, suffocating your brain so that there’s only leon and a sense of euphoria swimming through your veins

but, of course, leon knows that. he’s smart, academically and seemingly when it comes to you. it’s as if he can see your thoughts, your desires, and they must be enticing enough because within the space of a rather sluggish blink of your lashes, he goes from sitting in his chair to hovering right up over you 

his free hand winds around your throat, not pressing but just holding you while he forces you to look up at him. your eyes soften with him right there, you can feel it happen and you can’t find it in yourself to be even the slightest bit embarrassed about it as tears start to prick at your waterlines 

“my favourite angel,” leon sighs as he dips closer to lick along your bottom lip. he’s not kissing you, more just marking you than anything else, “gonna add another finger for me—give her what she wants before i do?” he hums, smirking something awful as you react to the fact that he’s going to fuck you afterwards

“yes—ohmyfuckinggod—yes,” you cry out and start to work a finger alongside your middle one before your body is prepared for it. the ache is welcomed though, the stretch is delicious, and if you weren’t struggling to think, you’d wonder how leon always knows when you’re ready for more 

however, more can’t come soon enough for you. under leon’s heavy gaze and with his fingers stroking softly over the sides of your neck, paired with you being able to fuck yourself properly—finally—your orgasm starts to simmer throughout every part of your body 

you’ve never been able to make yourself come like this, not this fast. leon can and he always does, whether it’s over his tongue, because of his fingers or around his cock. he can push you to the edge and right off of it before you can even realise it’s happening and now, he’s doing it without really touching you at all

somewhere distant it registers in your mind that he’s stopped touching himself too. he has a hand around your neck, his thumb brushing over your drooly chin, and his other hand slides over yours where it’s pressed into his desk, his fingers intertwine with yours and it’s because of that simple gesture that you’re done for 

tears slide down your cheeks and sobs rip through your body. you’re incapable of doing anything that isn’t ruining yourself for leon’s entertainment. you try to tell him that you need to come, that you’re going to come but nothing comes out that he can understand—or, so you think

“you’re gonna come, huh?” he asks, his voice dripping with warmth and honey but he doesn’t give you a chance to answer before he’s teasing, “oh my sweet girl, already?” he pauses to lean in and kiss the tip of your nose, “just needed it so badly—i know—you can come for me angel,” 

on the next thrust of your fingers, a fire unleashes in your stomach. white bursts behind your eyelids as you clench them shut and then fireworks explode to replace the white, hot, sensation. you’re choking on your moans, stuck halfway between crying and trying to scream, which leon fixes in an instant 

his lips slot over yours like he was made for you, swallowing your noises and coercing you to breathe whilst he mumbles soft praises that you can’t distinguish against your mouth. heaviness overtakes your limbs, your fingers practically fall out of your wrecked pussy with a wet pop before you sag in leon’s hold 

the coolness of his desk brings another chill to your skin as he lays you down carefully and slots himself between your thighs. his large hands grasp at the back of your thighs and his fingertips dimple into your sweat and slick damp skin as he pushes your knees towards your chest

he half smiles and half smirks down at you when you blink up at him through tear soaked lashes. he’s in a far better mood than he was when you started, which means that you’ve done your job perfectly and now, as the blunt head of his cock starts to split you open, it’s time for him to do his

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a kiss if you do, mwah ily! send prompts to my ask box!

[dlscenarios]

MDNI

Cw: talk of virginity loss, implied public sex, not proofread, I suck at endings

You never expected your first time would be with Dallas Winston, but you supposed you should’ve seen it coming. After all, it wasn’t everyday that Dallas brings someone to the drive-in for a date. It’s even rarer that he actually paid for admission and let his date cozy up to him from the passenger seat.

The movie had just gotten through introducing its characters when Dally made his move, draping an arm over your shoulders like you’ve seen all the other boyfriends do.

“You enjoying the movie?” His voice came out hushed, free hand limply pointing through the windshield glass to the screen.

You hummed and let the car fall back into silence for a beat before Dallas piped up again. “Can I get you anything? A Coke or popcorn?”

“No thanks,” you replied, shooting him a soft smile. He returned it as if on instinct.

“Right. Well, let me know if ya change your mind.”

His attention turned back to the screen, but something in you doubted he was actually paying attention. No one ever came to the drive-in to watch the movies.

The car filled with awkward silence, both of you staring through the windshield at the big screen with no idea exactly what you were watching. After a while, you assumed Dallas got sick of the quiet, letting out a soft huff before speaking, “So…you catch any good movies lately?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

He turned back to the screen. A pregnant pause and then, you finally began, “Is it just me or—“

“This is the most awkward date in the world?” Dallas scoffed, “Yeah. I think it is.”

“I’m sorry…”

Your boyfriend looked to you, brows knitting together. “What’re you sorry for?”

He didn’t that you were the reason for the date’s awkwardness.

“I, uh…I’ve been thinking.”

“Gonna need more than that, dollface.”

“Well,” you glanced down, noticing that you had been subconsciously fidgeting with your fingers. “We’ve been steady for a while…I’ve been thinking maybe…it’s time.”

Dallas blinked. “What? Time for what?”

You sighed, “Are you really that clueless?”

“You’re being vague, sweetheart.”

“I wanna have sex.” You turned to fully face him, confidence suddenly draining as you utter your next words. “…I’m ready.”

Dallas only stared, his face showing no sign of whether he was pleased at your comment or not. You figured he’d be ecstatic. Hell, the night you met, he made it obvious that he wanted to get into your pants.

You caught his gaze fluttering down your form as he licked his lip before whispering, “You sure, babe?”

“I wouldn’t offer it if I wasn’t.”

That retort made him grin, turning in his seat, his hand slapping the steering wheel. “Well shit, didn’t think you’d give in that easy.”

Your glare wiped the smirk right off his face.

“Sorry,” he quickly said, “You wanna go somewhere nicer or..?”

“I don’t mind here…We’re in the back of the drive-in anyway.”

The corner of Dally’s lip quirked up. “Yeah but I doubt you wanna pop your cherry in the back of Buck’s car. He’d kill us for makin’ a mess.”

“Well…” You reached for his hand and grabbed his wrist. “What Buck doesn’t know won’t hurt him, will it?”

Dallas just looked to you. His smirk fell. “You’re serious, babe?” He watched you nod before continuing, his hand twisting in your grasp to grab on to your own. “Didn’t think my girl’d be this adventurous. Could get us kicked out.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you from anything.” You squeezed his hand before tacking on, “Jailbird.”

That cocky grin you had grown to love returned. “Yeah,” Dally scoffed. “Yeah it hasn’t. But if I go down,” his hand left yours to drape around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. There was a whiff of cigarettes as he breathed, “Now you’re going down with me.”

Dallas met your lips in a smooth kiss, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. He might not be the perfect partner, you thought, but you couldn’t pull away even if you tried. He was tough, rough around the edges, but the hesitation behind his traveling touches gave all the reassurance you needed.

You weren’t going to regret that night.

[dlscenarios]

MDNI

Imagine Mammon eating you out and you call him a good boy.

Mammon is actually quite good with his tongue, for all the talking-out-of-his-ass he does. It’s even better when he shuts up and explores your needy hole. He loved how it seemed just as greedy for his touch as he was to do the touching.

His mouth is enclosed around your entrance, tongue searching your walls for that sweet spot inside you, when your fingers entwine in his messy hair. His fingernails dig crescent moons into your thighs as he hums and sucks your folds.

That was when you said it. Your eyes roll back into your head as you breathe out, “Good boy…”

Mammon own eyes flutter closed as he delivers another harsh suck. He shivers between your legs, starting at the crown of his head and surging all the way to his toes. He readjusts on the bed, rock hard cock pressing into the mattress. His tongue prods you with a renewed vigor, a visceral need to make you come clouding his mind. A certain greed to feel you unravel because of him.

And greed was a hell of a drug.

[dlscenarios]

MDNI

Idk man i started this months ago & have 0 clue how to end it.

Aftercare was never Dallas Winston’s forte, but for his girl, he’ll try his damndest.

His hands dug into the pillow below your head, trembling arms barely keeping his body from crushing you. He always stayed still while coming down from an orgasm, but after getting serious with you, he’d naturally rest his forehead on yours as he panted for breath.

Once he finally gathered the strength to speak, it would only turn into a whispered “Fuck…” as he’d brush his nose against your cheek before pulling out of your warmth.

He’d meet your eyes and ask, “You still with me, babe?” He lets out a relieved sigh at your nod and slips off the bed, reaching for his discarded jeans to dig out cigarettes and a match. He always offered one to you, no matter your stance on smoking.

With the cancer stick between his lips, he yanks on his underwear and saunters out of the room to find a rag.

Dallas may never be a lover but at least he tries to care for the one person that matters to him.

[dlscenarios]

PLEASEEE DO MORE MATT DILLON CONTENT

Using this as an excuse to write Jonathan Corliss smut bc god I’ve been SLACKING on watching Matt Dillon movies.

MDNI

Cw: SMUT + AFAB Reader, Spoilers for “A Kiss Before Dying”, Heavily inspired by the choking scene iykyk, Light Biting?

The man you met down in the hotel’s bar was meek. Quiet and attentive, Jay Farraday charmed you quicker than any man ever had. Really, all he had to do was smile and place a gentle hand on your back as he ushered you to the dance floor.

In hindsight, inviting any man you had just met — in a bar, no less — up to your room was a stupid decision, but Jay never pushed to get that far. He had seemed genuinely taken aback when you proposed he followed you up and, after being reassured that it was alright, he remained a respectful distance behind you even after the elevator’s doors closed, leaving only the two of you encased alone in it. He had proved himself a gentleman.

What you hadn’t known that night was the real man you invited in.

Jonathan Corliss was not the gentle, handsome young man that watched you unlock your door. He stalked, eyeing his prey and readying to strike. As he shut the door behind him, taking in your form, he swept forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into a kiss.

A hand weaved into your hair, twisting through the strands until Jonathan could tug your head back with a single jerk. He pressed another, softer kiss to the corner of your mouth before releasing you, the hand in your hair trailing down your neck then to your shoulder.

“Wanted to do that all night,” he sighed. His fingers toyed with the polyester shoulder of your dress, tracing each minuscule stitch. His voice lowered as his darkened, hungry eyes met yours. “God, you’re beautiful…”

The corner of your lips quirk up. “Charmer.”

Jonathan chuckled. “Oh come on, you know it’s true.” He inched closer until his lips met yours again, slow and passionate as Jonathan’s other hand slid to your waist, his tongue prodding against the seam of your lip.

You hummed, clinging to the thin and crisp fabric of his shirt. Eager fingers made quick work with the buttons, popping them through their holes until it exposed his chest and you could slip your hand in to touch him.

Jonathan broke the kiss with a huff and leaned down to press another to your shoulder. Your touch snaked over his chest to his own shoulder. He wasn’t very muscular but his skin was smooth and felt perfect under your fingers. The hand under his shirt pushed him closer, your nose burrowing in him.

You felt his hand fall from your waist down to your ass. Jonathan stood straighter to whisper into your hair, “Can I undress you?”

“I’d be upset if you didn’t,” you breathed into his shoulder. His hand snaked up to the zipper of your dress and slowly, tantalizingly dragged it down until the full thing fell limp around your ankles. A roughened hand fluttered up your bare side.

Jonathan's eyes never left yours as he uttered, "Beautiful..."

You pulled him in for another kiss, your fingers messing up his gelled hair. The hand at your side shifted up and snuck between your bodies as it found purchase clutching one of your breasts. You moaned softly against his lips when he squeezed.

When he pressed into you, you could make out the large shape of his erection, still hidden under his slacks. Your mouth traveled to his neck and showered the skin in rough kisses as your own hand dipped down to palm his cock.

Jonathan let out a breathy groan against your hair. “Fuck…”

You hummed and suckled his neck before breaking away with a soft pop. You nosed his jaw as you spoke, “Show me.”

He didn’t have to ask what that meant and he certainly wasn’t in the position to deny. Jonathan stayed close as he whipped off his shirt and began to work on his belt. You scattered more kisses to his cheek and neck as he worked his pants and underwear down to his thighs. His erection sprang free from the confines, bobbing against his stomach.

Jonathan captured your lips once more, muffling a groan in a heated kiss before grabbing your hands and pushing you back. “On the bed,” he ordered.

A more gentle push made you sink onto the side of the bed, your eyes never once leaving Jay’s. His hands traversed your body, maneuvering you onto your back, spreading your legs and ridding you of your underwear. Your fingers dug into the white sheets, watching the fire in his eyes when they landed on another naked part of you.

When your underwear fell to the ground, his focus fell to your exposed pussy, his tongue wetting his lips before looking back up to your face.

Your foot reached out and tapped his thigh.

One of his hands fell to your knee and parted your legs further. Neither of you spoke as he lowered himself, your gazes never leaving the other’s until Jonathan gave a tentative lick to your folds.

Your stomach fluttered and your hand unfurled from the sheets to card through his hair. His mouth enclosed around your slit, tongue teasing your entrance as his upper lip brushed your clit.

“Jay…” you breathed, thumbing back a lock of hair that had fallen against his forehead. He hummed, his hands now gripping both your thighs as the tip of his tongue pushed in.

After a few minutes of exploring, he pulled away with a soft smack. His body caged yours as he rose.

With a final soft kiss to your cheek, he uttered, “More?” His hands found yours and held them hostage at the sides of your head.

“Please,” you replied.

Jonathan mumbled an ‘okay’ before one of his hands left to line himself at your entrance. The head, engorged, throbbing, easily passed through your folds. Jonathan eased himself in, slowly sinking into your warmth until reaching his hilt. He let out an airy huff when your hips met.

“Fuck, that feels good.” You nearly missed his words. The hand that had guided him in snaked up your body, fingers brushing your stomach, your breast until it wrapped firmly around your neck. His hips began to move, looking down at your lustful face as he lightly squeezed with each drag of his cock against your walls.

His head fell next to your head and mouthed at your jaw, his teeth grazing the skin every so often. With a harsher squeeze to your neck, he delivered a deeper thrust, your hips pounding together at the force and making you choke out a gasp.

Another hammered thrust. Jonathan groaned into your skin, “So fucking good for me, baby.” His lips met yours in another greedy, sloppy kiss. His thumb pressed deep into your neck.

You didn’t know it then, but ‘Jay Farraday’ would be gone by morning, leaving no trace behind. No number, no card, no poorly written excuse. It was like he never existed in the first place.

When you left your hotel room, you decided to ask the front desk if anyone sharing that man’s name was still checked in and, if so, to give him vague thank you for the night prior.

“I’m sorry but we haven’t had anyone with that name recently. No check ins or outs,” the clerk said after a quick computer search.

Something settled in your gut. The bar you had met him in was exclusive to the hotel’s guests. He wouldn’t have been able to get through the door without a room key.

Something was off about the man you slept with that night, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it just yet.

[dlscenarios]

Tobio Kageyama NSFT Links

MDNI

Cw: 🌽 links, post timeskip obvi

-> Tobio’s extensive hand care routine comes with perks—his fingering game is peak.

-> He’s a munch, but he’s never too sloppy with it.

-> His favorite kind of homecoming.

-> He only goes on away games if you come with.

[dlscenarios]

Leon Kennedy is such a girl dad.

The moment his daughter’s born and the nurse lets him hold her, it was like a weight lifted off of his shoulders. All of the death and monsters he’d seen, the tragedies he’d faced, seemed to melt away when Leon gazed down at the sleeping baby in his arms, her chubby cheek pressed next to his heart.

He never wants to let her go. When she comes home from the hospital, Leon can always be seen roaming around the house, his daughter in his arms as he shows her around the place, his soft, deep voice easily putting her to sleep. Even as she grows and can be carried on a hip without needing head support, Leon has her and learns to do his chores with one hand just to keep her with him.

The fluttering in his chest he’d felt the moment she was born returns when her first word was “dada.” Leon had been playing with her, using her rattles and stuffed animals like action figures with a smile when she bounced excitedly and waved her arms around before saying it as she reached for him. His smile grows and he abandons the toys to pick up his little girl, cooing to her. “Yeah sweetheart, it’s dada. You love dada, huh?”

The baby raised her chubby hand to his cheek (although Leon could tell she thought about grabbing his hair instead) and said the word again.

Leon kissed her forehead. “Dada loves you so much, sweetheart.”

He would kill for his daughter if he needed to. In an instant, she became his greatest achievement and his will to live.

[fictional-thoughts]

..ok but like mando x virgin reader?? 👀

What she wants

Mando x virgin!reader

Warnings: smut, age gap, reader is 18+, first time, oral, penetration, not proof read

-

Everything about her is soft, small and gentle. The way she sits in the captains chair, legs tucked beneath her, arms crossed over her chest. Her body seems so small compared to his when piloting the ship.

Every about her is wrong. Forbidden, it’s the feeling of desire and secrets. The air surrounding her is hot and heavy, it follows her, sinks into the Mandalorian lungs like an airborne poison. He catches his breath as she swivels in the chair, leaning closer to him, her scent is intoxicating and it pulls him in deeper.

It’s wrong. It’s so so wrong.

She’s staring up at him from the chair, her eyes quickly glance up and down his frame —up to the window, outside at the stars, and back to him. Mando’s heart is hammering in his chest, her gaze is burning through him harder than any sun in the universe. His fists clench, palms sweaty beneath the leather gloves. She’s blushing, caught in the act. Watching the dark and brooding soldier.

A sigh escapes, and she relaxes more into the chair. Her hands falling into her lap, legs sliding from beneath her, skin exposed. The Mandalorian stills, his heart stops and he’s looking at her legs under the light of the stars. He focuses on her chest rising and falling in tune with her breath, lips parted, eyes wide — she’s intoxicating.

No.

He turns away, fuck was that too quick? The wall is more inviting and interesting, he’ll just stare at that until she says something. His weapons feel heavy, everything is heavy. His mind, his body, the idea of sin creeping in. The weight pulls him down and inside, begging him to reveal what is desired.

It’s as though he can feel her smiling, maybe it’s his imagination but he’s entrapped in the thought of her eyes on him, a small smile escaping her lips. She knows the air in the ship is thick with some kind of pressure, intensity, longing.

His gloves come off. The cape follows, blasters and holsters are set on the bench alongside the wall. A deep breath and the Mandalorian rolls his heavy shoulders back, a release. The tension is burning through him and as he pulls his breastplate off, he hears her voice.

“I was waiting for you,”

God it’s so soft, without the helmets enhancements her voice would go unheard, soft like a promise of everything good and sweet. A whisper from the sunlight, the stars.

He turns to face her, half clad in beskar — the armour between them is the only thing stopping her from seeing his true form. He’s taller than her, bulky, intense, strong. She watches the helmet tilt, the rasping breathing through the mask is filling the silence.

“I don’t expect you to wait for me.” His voice is monotone. Controlled. He leans back against the bench, slouched into himself.

“What else is there to do?”

Silence follows her sickeningly sweet voice. Innocent.

She’s so innocent.

There’s a heavy feeling of guilt and shame surrounding the soldier. He’s taking in every bit of her presence, staring deep into her soul. This is so wrong, he is her protector, her guardian. Entrusted by his commander to bring her to safety of her home planet, unharmed. The Mandalorian steps closer, pushing the boundaries. He’s thinking of every moment between them thus far, her lingering gaze, the silence between them that builds up so strong he has to take a moment. It’s been only a week, flying through the stars together, alone. Just the two of them in endless space, the journey will come to and end and he’ll never see her again. This will be over. The feeling of undeniable need, hidden passion. His mind is racing with the idea and she seems to know everything he’s thinking and feeling without saying it.

“I was so lonely in here,” she breaths, “I don’t like waiting.”

A pause. The helmet tilts to the side. He’s watching her so closely. What is she waiting for? Every moment between them has been packed with this tangled energy, it’s filling the air and suffocating him.

“Do you want an apology?”

She sighs, adjusting her position in the chair. It’s uncomfortable but she knows it makes him even more nervous with her in his seat. The captains chair, she wears it like a throne. She’s constantly searching for something, anything to get his undivided attention. The soldier is distracting himself constantly. Changing subjects, brushing past her. Ignoring her when it becomes to much to bare. He cannot get close to her and it drives her insane. Stuck alone in this ship with such a looming presence has turned her into something she is not. Something she has never been.

“I don’t know what I want,”

They both know. It’s been digging into them since the very moment she stepped onto this ship. The walls have been closing in every second the passes, melting and bleeding into unspoken words, longing, need. It’s pushing them into a situation neither expected. She’s been alone her entire life, locked away on the promise of some faraway king. A trade, an exchange. She’s sick at the idea and feels lost within her family traditions. Stuck, chained to her destiny.

The Mandalorian follows a similar path. Although unbound by contracts of marriage, his vows tie him to a code. Held up by tradition. It’s wrong, the cards have been dealt and choices have been made. It’s set in stone. The game has rules.

This is against the rules.

“Figure it out.” Harsh. He’s too harsh.

Her hands come up and brush through her hair. Her body stretches, sleek and smooth. She standing, coming closer. He retreats back to the bench by the wall, leaning back. She’s standing right in front of him now, looking up at the forbidden man, the darkness of the ship is pushing them closer. The redness from the lights on the dash casts a hazy beam over the helmet as she stares into it. Hes intimidating and silent, breathing ever so softly.

The seconds pass like years. Every moment between them has lead to this, the journey is nearly over and he can’t help but feel grateful she will soon be gone, out of his mind. The sick thoughts, the fantasy of it all. She’s beautiful in this light, it’s taking him back to the moment he first laid eyes on her. He’s never felt this kind of thing, a burning and intense attraction, fire and the need to take her. Burn out the flame. It’s all melting down to this moment as she’s before him, waiting, expecting this moment to change the course of each interaction between them.

It’s been so hard.

Watching her, feeling her presence. She takes up every ounce of his self control. Her voice, her body. Her touch as he helped her into the ship the first time. Her hand lingering on his, a soft brush of his shoulder. The details she takes in as she explores the ship, the weapons, the shadows of his home.

The Mandalorian knows this is wrong. She’s so close to him and it’s so wrong. She’s young and beautiful, a caged creature to admire. All to himself in this very moment.

“Figure what out?” She’s close. So close. “You think you know what I want?”

The Mandalorian looks down at his boots. His legs are parted a bit as he leans into the bench along the wall, arms behind him, holding him up. Holding him back. He’s slouched and desperate to make himself seem smaller, less enticing. She could fit so perfectly between his thighs if she wished. She could be right there, so close and all for him to take.

“I can’t tell you that,” he speaks through the mask. It’s heavy in his throat, the words, filled with hidden feelings. He’s hoping she doesn’t hear the desperate restraint in his voice.

The journey has been long. Too long. She too beautiful, too soft.

The flame between them was sparked the moment they looked at each other the first time. It’s a wildfire in this moment. Her body trembles thinking back on every moment since they met, this is the closest she’s been to the man and everything in the universe is telling her to be closer. She’s stuck on the idea that it’s not all in her head, that the energy between her and the soldier is real, inviting. It’s so wrong and she’s desperate to make him push her away, there’s only inches are between them. Her face is warm and her skin is prickled with nerves. He’s so close.

He feels her body heat, or is it his own? It’s pulsing and moving between them, dragging the pair closer. She lifts her hand, fingertips graze all the way up and hover over his chest. Shes got curiosity in her dark eyes, blown open and hungry with need. The heavy fabric of his shirt is soft under her fingertips. Time is frozen between them now.

“I think,” her voice is so soft. All she wants is him. The protector, the commanding man leading her through the galaxy to her final home. “You can figure out what I want.”

Fuck.

It’s rolling through him, that goddamn fire. His chest is tight. Her hand is on his chest, pressing close to his heart, her thumb slides under the open part in his shirt, skin to skin it nearly breaks him right there.

This is wrong. She’s just a girl, promised to someone else.

His bare hand suddenly grips hers and pushes it away. Her eyes flick downwards and there’s a tremor visible on his hands, and the spark dies, the fire subsides. Her heart skips a beat at his touch, she’s never felt this way with a man, a masked man with a voice such as his. An aura of power and strength. It’s everything she didn’t know she wanted.

The Mandalorian is snapped back into reality, her hand was off of him, there’s space between them again. They can’t have everything they want, even in secret, hidden behind the heavy metal walls of the ship. It’s against every code in his entire existence, in hers as well. What is he thinking, being so close to this girl? Letting her hands trace up his chest, feel his heartbeat, his longing? He’s a dead man if anything happens to this girl, a dead man with no bounty.

He says her name, not as gentle has he had hoped. He’s stern, controlled. “You don’t want this.”

She’s recoiling, stepping backwards ever so slowly, challenging him, coaxing him to follow and fuck he desperately wants to. Her confidence doesn’t falter, she knows what she felt. It’s there, clawing and screaming to be released.

A sigh. “Mando…”

Silence.

“Never mind. Goodnight,” she’s turning and moving towards the door, down to the bunks. The darkness seems to swallow her whole, and the air is hung tight over them. Tense and burning. The Mandalorian hesitates, pushing himself from the cold walls of the ship, following her for only a moment. Her steps fade, his falter. He’s frozen there.

She doesn’t turn to look back, and the regret seeps into his soul. Crushing him down to dust.

-

Three more nights of this. Sleeping ten feet away from this girl. He’s imagining how she looks right now, resting beneath soft covers, barely anything on. Bare beneath the stars. She probably looks so peaceful, so perfect. Untouched by the pain of the long days and treacherous nights.

Untouched. God he needs help.

The night is not even close to being over. There’s still hours to go, the moonlight is bright over the ship. And the wind whistles past, mocking him. He’s tossing the covers off, his rough hands brush over his face, through his hair. He’s uncomfortable with himself, the actions of earlier. Mando let it go too far this time. Has there ever been other times? She’s reached out to him, she’s moved herself to be closer to him, and her gaze lingers for a second too long, or is he noticing things differently? Reading too much into it. That has to be it. She’s a young girl, no knowledge of the world or of him before this journey. Nothing she does has meaning.

Is he reading too much into this? What does she possibly want with him?

“Fuck,” he sighs and he looks over to the wall. The time reads only past midnight, it’s been an hour since her departure to the bunks across the ship. He followed silently after he heard her door close, crept into his bed, still half clad in his armour. He can’t remove it, there’s a chance she’s coming back and there has to be something between them. Fuck.

His mind wanders to the thought of her again, her body, her sweet voice coaxing him in. Her form is so small compared to his, breakable, he’d shape her into something she’s not. A wrecked mess. The Mandalorian would break her. Ruin her.

God he wants to ruin her.

He mentally slaps himself out of the thought. No. This is wrong. She’s wrong for coming on to him in the way she has been. He is faithful, sworn to his code. He won’t break.

A light flicks on in the hallway.

He shifts in bed, startled. Sitting up the covers fall from his lap to the floor, and as he’s reaching to pull them back up a shadow crosses his half open doorway. It’s her.

“What are you doing?”

She jumps back at the harshness of his voice, realizing his voice is no longer obstructed. The mask is gone. Her back is facing him now, she’s turned away with a hand covering her mouth, smothering a small gasp. Her heart is racing a million beats per minute and there’s heavy, rustling movement behind her. Mando stands quickly from the bed and picks his helmet off the bedside table. With a hiss of air its back on, covering his face. He can breathe again.

Stalking through his bunk to the door, he looms behind her. She won’t face him. She can’t. Why did she come in here?

“I’m sorry.” She’s caught like a deer in headlights, head hung she’s scared to turn around. Her feet won’t move, he’s so close behind her she can feel every inch of his form towering over her. It’s heavy, his anger in the air. Is it anger? That voice was not what she was expecting, human, real and strong. “I can’t sleep, and I thought—”

“Thought what?”

Fuck, what was she thinking?

The fire in the air is ablaze again, curling up the walls with heavy waves of heat. Forcing them together. The Mandalorian can’t take it anymore and he’s reaching to grab her shoulder, forcing her around to look at him. He’s rougher than he meant to be, catching her stumbling, making her steady with two hands on either of her shoulders. With a slight shove to her shoulders she’s pressed back against the now fully open door. Is this what she wants? A step closer would bring them face to face, with her pretty eyes looking up at him. He closes the gap between them.

Her lips part and a small gasp rolls up through her chest.

“What are you doing,” her name rolls of the Mandalorian’s tongue like a pathetic prayer. Then he’s scolding her. “You can’t be in here.”

Putting her in her place.

She apologizes again. Pitiful and sweet, staring into his visor like her life depends on it, searching for a sign of what he could be feeling, thinking, anything. His body is surrounding her, covering her in warmth. The details of him stand out in the semi darkness. His dark clothing, the misplaced armour, the mask, the small slice of skin she can see where the collar of his shirt meets the edge of the helmet. His belt half undone. What was he doing? Half undressed in bed, waiting for her? She’s essentially naked before him, loose clothing slips around her body, barely clinging to her form. They’re opposites in this moment, steady and strong verses timid and weakened. She feels small right now.

“Quit apologizing. Explain.” His hands release her shoulders, sliding off the slender slopes, itching to touch her anywhere else. They drop to his sides.

She can’t possibly explain anything right now.

“You know, earlier…” she’s trailing off. Uncomfortable but comfortable with how close they are in this moment. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. With this.”

What the fuck. Mando’s thinking and breaths in deeply. It crackles through the helmet and the very sound of it sends shivers down her spine. They’re so close she can almost feel it, his real and human voice, pushing into her. Dragging her down.

He’s let this go on for too long.

“I can’t be okay with this.” His voice is strained and his head tips back, as if he’s rolling his eyes dramatically at her, as if he doesn’t know what to do with her. It’s exasperation, maybe desperation. His body language is giving off so many mixed signals she’s nearly going insane. He’s close enough that she could lean in and feel any part of him. “I’m not okay with this.”

“Why..” She’s asking and suddenly his hands move on their own accord, sliding up the front and top of her thighs, pulling, slowly dragging her clothes up with them. It’s so soft and delicate in his bare hands, her skin exposed in the soft lights it’s driving him crazy. God she’s got him in the worst possible position right now, or maybe she’s in a worse position — neither of them know. But it doesn’t feel wrong, her body under his hands. He doesn’t know what he’s doing touching her this way, convincing himself to stop he’s sliding one hand up the curve of her waist, touching beneath her breast. She’s letting him touch her, and the world is silent around them, waiting and watching. Both his hands meet at her jaw, gently cradling, tilting her head back a bit, forcing her to look up at him properly and it feels like every universe is collapsing around them. The Mandalorian is leaned into her, pressing close and she’s trying to remain calm.

“Why are you doing this to me,” he challenges her question. His thumb grazes over her bottom lip, tempted.

She’s stuck in his gentle grasp. Frozen in place, this is what should have happened hours ago when he first returned to the ship. Her hours and days of thinking of this very moment, it’s happening and it doesn’t feel real. But he’s real, the strong, untouchable soldier is inches away, touching her, questioning her. She forgets everything else except him in this moment, she’s too scared to speak, what if he stops?

“I want—”

“What?” Her name is uttered through the mask. And his hands push past her jaw, one lightly grips the side and back of her neck, tangled in her loose hair. She looks so perfect right now, caught with him, trapped in his hands.

The power he feels over her is wrecking him. It’s consuming him, his entire body is alight with hunger. She can’t want this, it’s wrong and can’t happen. It feels so good right now he can’t stop. The helmet leans down and her forhead is pressed to his, the Mandalorian feels her hands settle on his waist, above his pant line, inching towards his skin, craving something. Anything.

She’s shy and small now. No words escape her lips, only soft breaths and small gasps each time her hands explore further and further.

“You gonna show me what you want?” He presses her. The helmet is cold against her hot skin and she moves so he stands back, up straight again. It’s happening, he’s too far into this now. The code is forgotten, broken and lying on the floor. Shattered with every bit of his self control. Her voice is soft, her hands slide up and over his shoulders, pulling him in. They clasp behind his neck and his settle on her hips, connected. Please please, he’s silently begging her to do something, to be so bold as she was before so he’s not at fault for this entire mess he’s allowed them to get into. He needs her permission to break the rules, to allow him to break his code.

She’s quiet.

“Tell me what you want.” He’s gentle. “Please,”

“I want you, I just—” Her words are soft and needy, reminding him she’s just a lost girl trapped with him. Stuck in a forever loop, this moment will replay over and over until the world burns. The Mandalorian is impatient, the need to beg for her voice or actions or anything has vanished as she touches him on the side of his helmet. A touch, a whisper, a promise.

Permission.

Her heart stops when he pulls her closer and moves her to the side of the bed. He’s not waiting, her words have left her and she’s stunned into silence, a breathless and beautiful creature. Fuck she’s perfect, sliding onto the bed she’s all for him to take.

It doesn’t feel wrong anymore.

He’s above her on the bed, the pressure is building and he can’t believe she’s there with him, stealing every ounce of light in the room, it’s crushing down on them, forcing him closer. Teasing very small touches over her body, it’s torture for the both of them. Every fibre of his being is screaming at him, to stop, to continue. She’s right there open and waiting for him and there’s nothing stopping it. His mind races back to every thought of her, every touch, each word hinting at what could happen in the darkness of the ship. It’s lead them here and he doesn’t know how he’s managed to control himself this long.

“Mando,” she whispers, sliding her hands over him, pulling at the heavy armour. As her clothes ride up, every inch of her exposed body is heaven for him. “I haven’t ever—”

He stops.

Time halts in place. The world spins and comes to a stop.

Untouched.

Of course. He’s thinking and another wave of desperation pushes through him. Of course she’s never been with anyone, it explains her frustration, her lack of fear, her complete and utter desire. Her shyness. He’s sitting up and pulling her with him, looking directly into her soulful eyes. Her face is flushed, chest heaving. Shes breathtaking.

The Mandalorian utters her name, groaning with need. He’s even more tempted now, pulled in by the thought of being the first man to have her, to take her and show her how to feel so good.

“You’ve never?”

She stares into his soul. “Never.” The shyness creeps back in. “But I want this, I want you to tell me how to feel, please.” She feels pathetic and needy, begging the faceless man to show her what she’s missing. The years of waiting felt like a waste until she became trapped in this ship with him, the mysterious and terrifying, probably dangerous man. Her protector, her guide.

He doesn’t know her. She doesn’t know him. Strangers forced into this reality, together. Bound by unwavering need.

“I can show you what to feel,” his voice is caught in his throat. “You’re sure?” His eyes pierce into hers through the helmet, she can’t see it but she feels it.

She’s nodding again. Her body has never felt more alive.

“You’re just so—”

“So what?”

A hand slides over his helmet. He’s contemplating, running over the probabilities. How much trouble would this get them in. How much would she regret it? Would she regret it? She’s just —

“So young.” The Mandalorian is standing now. Away from the bed. “You don’t know what you want.”

Her face changes. “You told me you can’t tell me what I want.”

Fuck.

A scoff escapes the helmet. She’s right. Shes caught him and she knows it, sitting there in his bed, clothing pooled around her, inviting him in. He’s thinking over every way, any escape, an excuse. Something. Anything. His mind is drawn blank as she is peeling away her clothes, sliding the small straps down her shoulders, revealing herself to him. Each moment before this flashes though his racing mind, how she has coaxed him into this place with her, caught between desire and something else. Something wrong and unspoken of. The rules. The code. Her family, the life he is supposed to be escorting her safely to.

This is all so wrong.

—

The Mandalorian is gentle. Her body moves in tune with his touch, shivering and caving into him. Shes bare, blindfolded on the bed, the helmet laid discarded on the floor. Traditions forgotten and each second that passed brings them closer, his hands are rough and they slide up her legs, pulling them open. Her hands find his shoulders, run up to his head, searching for details of him. He’s slowly kissed each part of her, murmuring against her skin how perfect and beautiful she is. Their lips meet with a soft kiss, hidden in the dark and she moans ever so softly into him.

Exploring every inch of her body, getting used to the softness of her the Mandalorian is drunk on passion, every conscious and rational thought has left. He’s entrapped by her, the way she feels beneath him, touching him, begging for him to kiss her again because it just feels so good.

Desperately, he’s moving over her, placing kisses down her chest, his hands find her breasts, cupping and bringing his mouth down he slowly kisses and licks. She’s gasping, caught in the moment and god it feels so good. He’s warm and his mouth feels better on her breast than it did on her lips, she’s craving more. Anything he can give her.

“I’m going to do something and you’re going to tell me if it’s okay,” he’s pleading at this point, looking up at her between kisses on her nipple. His hands move to grope her breasts again and slide down her stomach, inching between her thighs. “Tell me it’s okay,”

“It’s okay,” she’s struggling to comprehend what he’s saying, her body is tense and she’s warm all over. Her stomach feels tight and there’s that burning hot coil winding up within her. “Keep going,”

The Mandalorian slides down, his hands pull a leg over his shoulder and he’s so so close to her centre he can smell her, sweet and inviting he can tell she’s slick with want. Her body is twitching and she’s unknowingly pulling him in closer with her leg. She’s needy and doesn’t even know what she wants. Something, anything. He’s slow with it, leaning in to softly kiss her, she’s shaking and her hands pull him in pushing him closer. He’s stopping himself from moaning at the taste of her, sliding his tongue up he’s teasing and slow, eating her as if it’s his last, cherished meal.

Fuck. He’s giving in and doesn’t slow down, his mouth on her cunt is pushing and pulling her to exactly where he wants her. Desperately close. He sucks gently, pushing her legs further open with his hand he brings two fingers to his mouth and sucks, then slowly slides them up and down her core. Warmth spreads through her entire body at the feeling, she’s lost and torn open, drunk on his touch. It’s overwhelming but she doesn’t want the feeling to end, there’s something missing and she doesn’t know what it is. The feeling is too good, she’s crying out his name, followed by soft moans and praise.

She’s so wet, Mando traces his fingers up and down once more before teasing entrance.

“Mando—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he’s back to licking and kissing her slowly, hands leaving her cunt. He’s above her now, one arm pressed beside her head, holding him above her. Blinded, she’s left in the dark with such a wretched feeling of emptiness without his mouth or fingers on her. His other hand traces around her centre, gathering every bit of warmth and wetness. “It’s okay, here—”

He’s kissing her deeply, slowly pressing two fingers deeper and deeper. Dragging her down into a warm pool, her body is shaking and she’s moaning into each kiss. It’s a small stretch and feels so good, breaking her open for him. God she’s tight around his fingers. He’s slow with it, gentle, sliding in and out, crooking his fingers ever so slightly.

“I got you, does this feel good?”

She’s gasping ever so softly. “Yes, Mando — oh my god.”

“Yeah right there huh,” he’s teasing and his words are calm, his deep voice is controlling every bit of her entire being. “Right there feels so good.”

Tell me it feels good. Please. He’s begging her internally, watching her every move, every shiver and sigh that leaves her body.

Her hands are on him, gripping his shirt. She’s kissing him back between his sinful words. “You feel so good, please,”

“I know,” he’s soothing her, pushing his fingers deeper. “I can feel it, how much you like this,” he’s calling her pretty names and sighing into each kiss, holding himself back.

Fuck.

“Just like that, tell me how it feels.” Keeping himself from tearing her apart, he’s whispering praise and instructions. He’s fucking her so slowly with his hand, gentle and loving in a way. As much as he wanted to ruin her before, thinking she was this wild thing to be tamed, to be taken as she so boldly came onto him, she knew was she wanted — now he wants to reassure every moment with her. The first time she’s been held and touched this way, it has to be perfect, the way she deserves. He’s proving to himself he can be gentle, he doesn’t just take what he wants. She’s is melting into his hands and it’s taking every single bit of whats left of his self control. The Mandalorian is sure this is a lot more than she imagined with him. Untouched, so innocent and perfect, not what he was expecting from her.

She’s struggling to find words. She needs more, his hand feels so good it’s killing her slowly. The burning hot feeling is fleeting, slowly burning out as his slows down, his fingers inside her, slowly pushing. More gentle than before. Fuck. Shes sliding her hand down to force him to continue when his fingers reach her clit, sliding in small circles she’s thrown back into burning hot desire. Her head is thrown back at the new feeling, thighs tighten around his hand. Shes gasping and moaning his name — pulling him closer.

“Mhmm, like that?” He questions, whispering her name into her ear, following with kisses down her neck. The blindfold tight around her eyes, she’s covered in darkness and all she feels is his hand and lips on her, the warmth of his breath as he tells her she’s doing so good for him.

“So good, you’re doing so good for me.” His body is solid over hers, covered with years of pain and suffering. The hard exterior is broken down with her, open and ready to be completely hers. Shes begging for more.

Please.

“Yeah, I got you,” he’s moving her up on the bed, repositioning himself before her. Her hands find his and bring them to her breasts, smoothing over her skin. He’s leaning down to kiss her once again, then pulls back and finally removes every part of his clothing. She hears the armour fall to the floor, the shirt lands beside her by the bed. His hands trail up her calves, parting her knees once again. “Come here, that’s it—”

She’s gasping when she feels him so close. She’s nervous immediately, that burning feeling is back. Hot and pooling inside her, begging for more. “Mando,”

“Shh,” his voice is soft, less gravelly as before. His chest rises and falls in tune with hers. “Stay still for me, tell me if you’re okay.”

She’s nodding beneath the blindfold, she feels his hand capture hers and lead it to his chest, he’s dragging it down with his over his abdomen and she’s feeling every inch of his skin, warm to the touch. His muscles contract under her touch, his hand over hers moves further down, grazing over his dick. The lightest of touches from her is sending him into a spiral, he’s never been this hard in his life. Watching her mouth open, a soft pant escaping her lips she’s craving more. Her hand moves with his over his cock, stroking lightly, teaching her how to touch, how to feel.

“My god…”

“You feel how bad I want you?” His voice is tight, strained under pressure. Her hand moves, turning to properly grasp him. Sliding up and down the way he showed her. God she’s already so good. “Fuck,” he’s over her now, hands on either side of her head, kissing her. Her hands move to cup his face, and he feels a tug in his chest, he needs her touch maybe more than she needs his. He says her name over and over again, the praise flowing from his mouth is sending shock waves through her body.

“I want you,” she’s breathing into his neck, her arms slide up and down his strong back.

She’s going to take it. He’s pushing himself up again and his hand goes to stroke his dick once more, the other pushing one of her legs up and onto his shoulder, stretching her open. Her body moves to be closer to his, her other thigh falling open towards the bed. The sight makes him groan, pressing a small kiss onto her calf muscle, he’s using his hand to guide and press his dick into her. Slowly, sliding up and down first. Fuck she’s still so wet, sick and coating the tip of his dick. She’s moaning, breathing heavy with each movement of his.

“Ready baby?” He’s calling her every pretty name he can think of in this moment, “baby, tell me you’re ready.”

She’s desperate, nodding, words can’t leave her mouth.

His hand leaves his dick and circles her clit again, slowly.

“Words, I need to hear them.”

“Yes,” she’s nearly crying at this point, pulling him in every way she can. “Please, Mando —”

With her permission he’s slowly sinking into her. The warmth washing over both of them, it’s intense and pulling them closer. He stutters for a moment, a small whimper leaving his lips. Gods she feels good. Perfectly taking his dick, she’s absolutely soaked, tight and he doesn’t want to pull out. His hand comes down to press onto her lower stomach. “Feel that baby?”

He’s slowly pulling out to slide back in, taking in every second of the feeling. Her warm cunt is taking every bit of him and it’s dragging him further and further away from every ounce of whatever religion or code he lives by. It’s ecstasy. The entire room is warm and nothing else matters but the two of them, the air is hot and heavy and their bodies are damp, pushing together and he’s telling her how good she feels as he fucks her. His hands pressing on her stomach softly she can feel him deep inside her, drawing out that heat, that want. The need she had felt the second she saw him. Her eyes are closed beneath the blindfold, screwed shut she’s gasping and moaning with each hit. Her body is tense and he’s telling her to relax, he’s got her, she’s so good for him, taking everything he has.

“Fuck,”

“Shh,” he’s cooing, his hand coming up to cover her mouth. He can’t listen to her cries anymore it’s too much, she’s bringing him closer and closer with each movement, he’s fucking her faster now, her bodies relaxed into him. Letting him take her. “Just like that, thats it, fuck baby.”

Her body is trembling and she’s overwhelmed. It feels good and slightly painful, the arousal is reaching a melting point. Boiling over and seeping into her bones, her nerves are on fire. Her chest is heaving, her hand on his covering her mouth she’s still breathing and pleading with each thrust. His hand slides to cup her jaw again, just as he did while avoiding the temptation from earlier. He’s looking at her, so perfect beneath him, taking it so well.

“Tell me you’re okay, please baby,”

She’s trembling. “You’re so good, so good,” he’s fucking her through her words, pushing her closer to the edge. He wants her to feel this, to understand how much he’s giving her. He needs her to break under him, submit to the feelings. He’s moving her legs and settling properly over her, face to face, kissing her, moving down to rest his head in the crook of her neck, he doesn’t stop, each trust feels better and better. His voice is contracted, caught between small moans of her name.

“You like that?” His words sink into her ears, warm breathingon her neck sends more heat though and inside her. “Fuck — like that? That feeling baby? I can feel how bad you needed this, tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she’s holding him close, letting him use her. “I feel—”

“What baby? You wanna feel good?”

God she doesn’t know how she could feel better. He’s moving again and shifting her, pulling out for a moment she’s groaning desperately, chasing that empty feeling without him inside her. The Mandalorian is craving her, every second he’s not fucking her is torture, he wants to make her beg, to plead for more. He wants to bring her so close to the edge she won’t even remember anything. He’s teaching her, showing her what real love and passion can be. She’s so close he can feel it even if she doesn’t know it yet. Her cunt is dripping, he’s feeling how wet and slick he’s making her with his words, it’s carnal and deep and bringing something out he didn’t know he had or needed.

“Come here,” he’s pulling her into a new position, turning her on her side. Sliding his hands up and down her body she’s so warm to the touch. “Come here let me make you feel good.”

She’s entrapped, drunk on whatever this drug is. It’s feeding into ever part of her body and soul, crashing around her. It’s hot and sending sparks through her body, his touch, his lips on hers, everything she’s wanted, he’s whispering in that deep voice right in her ear. She’s turning to face him, blind in the room. Feeling for him, finding his shoulder and tracing up his face.

The realization sinks in, the morals are gone, away in the night and forgotten. This is her own doing and she’s sure she’ll never feel this good again, his rough hands, exploring every inch of her, the way he feels filling her up, the cracks of his voice, so deep and filled with a yearning she thought she’d never experience. It’s sinful and sweet, he’s holding her so close and running his hands down her legs, pushing them open again.

His hands slide between her legs. He utters her name, soft, needy. “Please, let me finish.”

The Mandalorian is pulling her back down, riding the high of showing her just how good she deserves it. He’s craving her release, it’s so close he can tell. She’s so sensitive to the touch, her body is weakened, slack and allowing him to move her wherever he wants.

“Mando, I —”

He’s kissing her. Desperately and messy. “C’mon, let me show you how good this feels.” Kissing down her neck again, he’s going to show her just how beautiful she is. How good she can feel, he needs this. She hasn’t finished yet and his only goal is to prove he can show her he knows what she wants. The untouched, shy girl sitting in his captains chair only hours ago. She’s open and letting him run his hands between her legs, kissing her in all the right places, slowly pressing into her. God she’s so good.

“Please,”

“Let me give you want you want.”

--

Havent posted in years but randomly got the urge to write, watched an episode of the mandalorian and here we are, I did not proof read this nor do I think its good (lol) Anyways, hope you enjoyed

[dlscenarios]

Hellloooooo!! i just saw your post about leon taking every chance to go down on his partner, and, quite frankly, i loved it 😍 BUT NOW I HAVE AN IDEA!

What if one time, when Leon goes to go down on his partner, they stop him and are like ‘Leon, I’ve got a bush. It’s a little gross right now’ or something similar? I just wanna see how Leon would react to his partner trying to stop him from his dessert💀

ANYWAYS- Have a great timezone!

MDNI

I do not think i did this prompt justice but hhhhleon

It came as a hesitant tug to his hair. At first, it was just light enough that Leon thought it was normal, that you simply needed to hold on to something. The kisses creeping towards your panties ceased when you suddenly tugged harder.

Leon sighed through his nose as it rested on your stomach before looking up, a silent question of why.

“I didn’t shave,” you spoke softly, your hand unfurling from his hair. He could tell by the way you tried to back away and bury yourself into the mattress that you were embarrassed.

Leon only stared back. All that over a bush? His eyebrow raised. “So?”

“So?” you parroted, gawking down at the man still positioned between your legs.

A hand trailed along the side of your thigh. “You act like that’ll stop me.”

“Leon, it’s gross.”

“No, it’s natural, baby.” His free hand came up to rest on your hip, fingertips tracing the seam of your panties as if it could help comfort you. “You never have to shave for me. I mean, you’ve seen the hell I’ve been through and trust me, eating my gorgeous partner out doesn’t even come close to that just because of a little hair. Quite the opposite.” Baby blue eyes met yours. “Clear?”

He waited for you to nod and utter a “‘kay” before his fingers hooked into your waistband and slowly dragged your underwear down. After dropping them to the floor, Leon placed a soft kiss to the thatch of hair you tried to hide from him.

“You’re beautiful, sweetheart.” His voice was gruff as he spoke. He spread your legs farther apart. “Now, can I enjoy my meal?”

[dlscenarios]

OHMYGOSH- WAIT IM SO SORRY. I thought you wrote for Leon and I’m so sorry I didn’t check! You can ignore the request! My bad!

Babe, if you see me post about a character, I’m always down to write for them! Don’t worry :)

[dlscenarios]

Someone needs to beat it into my head that first drafts are allowed to be shit bc i dont like the intro to my new leon fic and it makes me not want to continue writing it😭😭