#a lot of people either use kids to fill those cracks or
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
naramdil · 2 years ago
Text
you know that tiktok trend where it's like "before and after kids" and the before is them happy and the after is the clip of that toxic guy from euphoria walking away?
17 notes · View notes
k0yaz · 4 months ago
Note
HiIII i saw your wlw post and :3 :3c can I request Arlecchino with a quiet and stoic lover,, well usually stoic, but she opens up more to Arlecchino and the kids! However she gets really shy and embarrassed when expressing positive emotions or gives gifts, which is ironic bc shes also very affectionate towards her. Ik this might sound bland but giving you lots of freedom with this /w\ gl with your beidou fic!! (Love her smmm)
sweetheart.
Tumblr media
Pairing(s): arlecchino x fem!reader
CW: sfw, female reader, established marriage, arlecchino is referred to as your husband, soft arle yayayay, reader is slightly insecure, mentions of judgy ass bitches, another proposal woah, mention of arlecchino’s real name, pure fluffy, omg lesbians wowowoow
A/N: MAAM ARE YOU AN ANGEL FOR SENDING ME THIS REQUEST. Also I know this req sounds like head canons but I couldn’t help myself I wanted to write a one shot
Tumblr media
Blissful silence enveloped the living room space in such a way that it brought you a sort of comfort, sitting on the couch beside your beloved husband with no sound harbored between you two. You always bore a hint of stoicism in your nature, especially in your mannerisms. Expressing yourself specifically had always been a struggle for you. Many people tended to believe that you just didn’t care, or that you were coldly unfeeling.
Such presumptive pointers often circled your thoughts constantly, which you clearly had a strong distaste for. However, she had never assumed. Nor had she pushed you away for your reserved nature. Arlecchino had never let you go no matter what, that was for sure.
Arlecchino glanced up at you from her cup of tea, which barely brushed against her bottom lip as her x-marked dark eyes practically pierced into you. You simply stared back, unsure of what to say to her, before looking back down at the book in your hands at the scribbled words on the pages.
The soft clank of glass gently grazing against wood was heard once Arlecchino set her teacup down on the table. Your expression didn’t falter or bother to look up as your eyes continued gliding over the pages, completely absorbed.
Your husband never fell short when it came to showing you affection either. She would always deliver you tender kisses, combined with sweet praises whispered in your ear whenever you needed it, making your heart flutter at every little action. Her patience towards you, along with the way she blatantly showed how much cares about you, ignited a sort of small flame within you. You began to attempt to show at least a bit of emotion toward her. Hints of affection.
Simply put, you felt safe around Arlecchino. Safe enough to open up to her. Safe enough to allow those pure, warm feelings to slip through the cracks of your closed off shell in front of her. You weren’t used to expressing such emotions, resulting in yourself getting all bashful and embarrassed whenever you felt that smile curve the corners of your lips.
You almost jumped upon hearing Arlecchino abruptly call your name, now stood up and halfway across the living room. Closing your book, you gently placed it on the table and looked over at her, wondering what she called you for.
“(Name).”
“Yes, Arle?” You hummed, examining how her gaze practically traced every move you made intently. Steam from her freshly filled teacup fogged the atmosphere slightly, before disappearing as she gave a light huff to the cup carefully held by the handle between her fingers. She looked back up at you with a rather fond look in her usually cold and unfeeling eyes, taking a moment to gather her thoughts.
You cleared your throat, wanting to break the palpable tension in the air. “How are the children doing?” You began, still staring at Arlecchino’s focused expression with her teacup still in hand. “Fine. They’re currently out on a mission together, but nothing too serious nor life threatening.” She replied. After what felt like forever, Arlecchino finally set her teacup down and spoke up, seemingly able to articulate her thoughts properly.
“I was thinking that…perhaps the ring I bought you was somewhat unsatisfactory. Especially for something such as important as marriage.” She insisted, clearly wanting to keep her serious expression. Yet the faint softness present in her eyes clearly told you otherwise. Her hand lowered to her hip, to slip inside her pocket and pull out a small ring box. As she extended her palm holding up the ring box slightly toward you, you felt your heart pounding out of your chest and ringing within your own ears upon seeing her crack the box open.
Your eyes scanned over the stone on the burnished silver of the ring—it was nothing you’d seen before. A gleaming ruby with fades of black around the corners, posing a striking resemblance to Arlecchino’s eyes. A soft hue of red tints your face upon seeing the ring. Your eyes widened as you suddenly felt all warm inside and grew quiet, slightly feeling bad that you couldn’t exactly show your appreciation for the gift that made you feel all loved and fuzzy inside.
Arlecchino however, knew you all too well. The silence hanging in the was nothing but your silent appreciation for her. She proceeded to remove the ring from the cushioning of the box and reached out her free hand, prompting you to place your hand in hers. Immediately understanding her subtle gesture, you placed your hand in hers in a fluid motion.
Her nails lightly brushed along your knuckles as she wrapped her fingers around your hand, her grip gentle, yet firm. She slowly reached over to pull off the old ring on your finger and placing it in the box for convenience, before sliding the newly bought ring onto your ring finger toward the end.
It fit perfectly.
A warm, genuine smile made its way across your lips, your cheeks still flushed as well. Despite your initially bashful reaction, you finally locked your eyes with hers. A tender expression present in her eyes. You allowed your eyes to bore into hers for a few moments, staring at your husband with a loving gaze.
You began to take a few hesitant steps toward her, reaching your arms up bit by bit. Not even a few moments later, you practically threw yourself into her arms while wrapping your own around her neck in an embrace filled with adoration. Arlecchino simply exhaled a soft hum as she reciprocated your embrace. Her chin rested on your shoulder contently, her eyelids lowering in a more relaxed state.
Heat crept back up to your face upon feeling her plant a quick kiss on your forehead protectively, the affection just causing your smile to stretch a bit further near your cheeks.
“(Name). My beloved wife. My sweetheart. Just know I only want the best for you, and you only.” Arlecchino murmured in a quiet voice, as if she only wanted the two of you to hear the exchange of such sweet and sentimental words. She loved every part of you. Your stoic nature being nothing short of you caring for her. The way you reserved your affection and love for her, and her only. The way you warm up to the children as well. How you got all flustered and bashful upon experiencing any positive emotions, or when you handed her gifts with a loose grip and head turned away. She loved everything.
“Peruere?”
Arlecchino immediately fixated her attention onto your lips, caressing your cheek with her palm resting along your skin, and thumb grazing your cheek lightly. Her heart fluttered upon hearing you utter her real name. The way the name she buried behind fell from your lips like a sacred word that allowed her to lower her guard around you.
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
Tumblr media
A/N: I told yall if I like the request I get a lil too into it and cook up something ik I went overboard but idc
666 notes · View notes
five-bi-five-mind · 8 months ago
Note
Could you please do a part 2 for New Additions where there is more smut that actually results in a baby (or twins because it runs in the family). I feel like Wanda would be obsessed with the idea that the reader is carrying their child! And you could pick the gender. (I would love to see the Twins reaction to finding out that their gonna have a sibling)?
Another New Addition
Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!Reader
Genre: Fluff & Smut
Words: 5.6k+
Summary: It finally happened, you were pregnant and growing your family that you now shared with Wanda. However, pregnancy was a little rough on you. Wanting to take care of you, and also absolutely adoring the way you were glowing from being pregnant with her child, Wanda had a plan. She was going to pamper you all night long.
Warnings: lots of pregnancy talk; pregnancy sex I guess? Bathtub sex, clit play, nipple play, top!Wanda but she's topping from the bottom lol, bottom!r, strap-on (r receiving); enchanted strap, cum-filled strap, strap riding, thigh riding, aftercare
A/N: this isn’t quite what the prompt is asking for but… still gonna use it to post this part two. Also, full disclosure I’m not sure what a power bottom is so can someone please tell me if that’s how I wrote Wanda to fix my warnings lol
New Addition (Part 1)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
This whole pregnancy thing wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Then again, you knew it wasn’t going to be some magical journey that television loves to tell you it is.
One might think, though, if this pregnancy was happening because of your magical soon-to-be wife then it wouldn’t be so difficult sometimes. It wasn’t always awful, but you also were barely four months pregnant and already feeling ready for this kid to come out. There was still a long way to go and today was a particularly hard day for you.
What people don’t really talk about, outside of morning sickness, in this part of a pregnancy are the other random symptoms. For instance, you were just sore all time, in random places. Your back would ache, or your whole body, or sometimes just your legs. It depended on the day. And the hormones raging through your body right now… God, those fucking hormones caused the weirdest shifts in your mood. You cried at everything.
It was a little humiliating when you’d sit down and watch a silly Pixar movie with the boys and end up sobbing your eyes out at every happy ending. The boys, being as sweet and perfect as always, would wrap their little arms around you and tell you everything was already right. They had no way of understanding that it was just your body wreaking havoc on your emotions. What was worse was the more they tried to console you, the sweeter you found it, and the harder you cried. 
It was always Wanda who would end the tears. Seeing her children wrapped around either side of you, she just somehow knew that was making it harder for you to stop. She’d always say just the right thing to calm her boys’ sweet, but protective nature towards you. 
“She’s okay, my loves,” Wanda would coo at them. “But I can take good care of her now, hm?” It always seemed like it was that promise of care that would reassure them you’d be okay if they untangled themselves from you. And each time, Wanda would take your hand and pull you out of the living room and into your now shared bedroom to get you ready for much needed rest. 
That’s another thing people don’t tell you. With all the emotions and changes running rampant in your body you’re just tired all the time. You honestly felt a little guilty with how often you’d take midday naps or go to bed early. Your days were filled with family time with the boys and Wanda if she wasn’t busy. But after these afternoons, you’d be drained. There wasn’t much alone time left for you to give Wanda the attention you worried she was missing.
And she was missing this attention, but she also knew it was temporary. What you were doing for her, carrying her child, was so much more important than a temporary shortage of your attention. Plus, she had her moments with you. Currently, her favorite thing was waking up next to you and sneaking her hands under your shirt to press to your stomach. You had just started showing, even though it wasn’t too much yet. It was still enough for Wanda to be able to feel the difference. Most mornings you’d wake up to her fingertips tracing over your belly, or pressed flat trying to feel a kick. You told her multiple times it was too early for that, but Wanda wasn’t going to miss the opportunity if it were to come soon. 
Even though Wanda cherished these moments of being close to you, she still craved certain other moments of intimacy. It wasn’t like the two of you completely stopped, though. The frequency was just… less. Especially since you started to show. Part of you was a little self conscious about it, even though Wanda continuously reminded you of how beautiful you were each and every day. Part of it was also because your body was just changing and you genuinely were a little more tired lately. It wasn’t that you were avoiding or rejecting Wanda exactly, things were just a bit different now. Wanda understood, she really did. But still, this change in frequency didn’t go unnoticed by her. 
So when a week went by and you two hadn’t really done more than spoon in bed and kiss each other here and there, Wanda was getting a little pent up. Not only that, but the way you just utterly glowed from being pregnant with her child, it was doing something to Wanda that she didn’t expect. She hated that she felt so desperate to have you, especially when she knew this week you had been struggling with some rough pregnancy symptoms, but she just really couldn’t help it. Of course, she would never make you take care of this problem for her or make you feel bad if you said no, but she really really didn’t want you to say no. So, she came up with a little plan. One that made sure you knew you were loved and cared for, while also getting opportunities to be closer to you and touch you in a way she hadn’t all week. 
Wanda had asked you to drop the boys off at a friend’s for the night, claiming she had forgotten something she needed to take care of right away. You, being the kind soul that Wanda knows and loves, gladly said yes and even offered to take them to buy snacks for their big sleepover with their friend. Grateful for more time to prepare and just out of the sheer love she had for you and the way you loved her boys, Wanda made sure to use the extra time to her advantage. 
She was setting up the finishing touches when she heard the front door open and close. An eager grin spread across her face as she heard you call for her and that’s when she knew she needed to wrap up. With a snap of her fingers, candles lit all across the room and she took a moment to soak in what she had done. As she looked around the room, her smile grew. Everything was perfect. There was no doubt in Wanda’s mind that you were going to love it.
After one more quick check that everything was in place, she finally went downstairs to greet you. The minute her eyes fell on your bright smile she couldn’t help herself, she hurried down the stairs to wrap you up into her arms. 
“You’re back!” She exclaimed between kisses she showered across your cheeks. You giggled and wrapped your arms around her waist as she kept kissing you. 
“I was only gone for less than two hours,” you laughed and brushed your nose against hers. “We could’ve waited so you could join us.” 
“Hm, I know,” Wanda pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “But then I wouldn’t have had time to prepare your surprise.” 
“Surprise?” You pulled back to look at Wanda and the way you gave her such a curious, yet excited look, had her heart melting. 
She pulled you in again for another kiss, this one slightly longer and lingering. “Mhm,” she mumbled against your lips. “I’ve spent a lot of time planning tonight.” 
“Oh?” You tried to pull back from the kiss to question her again, but Wanda leaned back in, capturing your lips one more time. “Wanda,” you giggled against her lips as you tried yet again to pull back. “Do I get to see this surprise?”
“Hm?” Wanda blinked, already getting carried away just from kissing you. “Oh, yes! Sorry…” she gave you a sheepish smile and slid her hand into yours. Without hesitation, you let her lead you back upstairs to the bedroom. 
The whole time you followed her, you looked all over, trying to catch a glimpse of this surprise. Wanda looked back at you for a moment as you kept scanning the bedroom, and couldn’t help but smile at how adorable you were being. She shook her head, sometimes your excitement matched her boys. It’s no wonder you three clicked instantly. 
“So…” You were still looking around the bedroom. “Where’s this surprise?” 
“In the bathroom.” Wanda pointed to the door. “Go see for yourself.” 
The confusion in your eyes grew, but you eagerly made your way to the bathroom. Wanda had let you go, no longer guiding you as she watched you reach for the door. She walked up behind you as you opened it and you let out a surprised gasp.
“Wow…” You took in the sight before you. Candles filled the bathroom, leaving you both in a soft muted light. The tub was filled and full of bubbles. Sprinkled in and around the tub were rose petals. It looked like a stereotypical scene out of a romcom. Wanda pulled out her phone for a moment to press a button and suddenly, soft instrumental music filled the room. 
“Do you like it?” Wanda’s arms came to wrap around you from behind. Her lips placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder. “I know this week hasn’t been easy for you. So, I wanted to give you the most relaxing night I possibly can,” Wanda kissed your shoulder again. “And to show just how much I love you.” Her lips pressed to your neck before her hand reached up to turn your head so she could meet your lips. 
“I really like it,” you whispered into the kiss. “And I love you.” 
Wanda stepped back and began to undress. Even after being with her for a while, you still couldn’t help but feel a little flustered from seeing her naked form. She was almost completely undressed and you still just couldn’t take your eyes off her breathtaking form. It wasn’t until she caught you staring and threw a wink your way that you felt your face flush and you instantly turned your attention to your own clothes. 
When the final piece of clothing came off, that was when you realized Wanda had moved closer to you. Her hands reached out and her finger tips traced along the sides of your stomach before she pulled your naked body into hers. Her eyes sparkled as she looked down between you two and at the small baby bump that was starting to show. In her mind, it blew her away just how lucky she was that you were actually willing to do this for her, for the two of you, for the family you now shared with her. There was nothing more beautiful than watching you carry her child. Seeing this physical reminder of that just made her want to worship you for how gorgeous you looked. You, on the other hand, felt slightly self conscious about these small changes. While the fact that you were actually starting to show made it feel more real that your family was growing, you still were unsure of how Wanda felt about these changes to your body. Wanda could sense that unsureness that you had too. But tonight, she hoped she would help put that self-consciousness at ease. 
Wanda’s hand went to cup your cheek. Her loving eyes stared back at you for a moment. Her thumb brushed against your cheek gently and she gave you a soft smile. “You are so,” her voice was thick with emotion as she spoke, “so beautiful.”
You didn’t say anything. Instead, you turned your head to press a kiss to her palm, before moving to press your forehead to hers for a moment. A soft whisper of “I love you” was exchanged between the two of you before Wanda’s hand slipped back into yours and led you to the bath.
Her hand stayed in yours, steadying you even if you didn’t necessarily need it, as you stepped in. The water was the perfect temperature and you had a feeling that was just another magical perk of being with Wanda. When you had eased in and sat down, Wanda motioned for you to sit up and move to the middle so that she could step in and sit behind you. With her legs around either side of you and her arms wrapping around your waist under the water to pull you closer, you ended up with your back completely pressed against Wanda’s bare front. 
Wanda’s hands urged you to lean back onto her and when you did, her hands immediately began to trace along just about any part of your body they could reach. “Are you comfortable?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Your eyes were closed and your head was resting against her. It wasn’t until she asked you again that you realized just how instantly relaxed you really were. 
“Oh, mhm” you sighed happily. “Very comfortable.”
“Good,” She let out a small laugh as her hands kept slowly tracing your bare skin. 
When her fingers brushed against your nipples, the small gasp that left your lips did not go unnoticed by Wanda. That small reaction alone absolutely floored her. She needed to hear you make that sound again. It had only been a week since she last was able to draw a sound like that from you, but to her a week without having you like this was a long time. So, her fingers circled your nipple, this time with more intention. And, just as she hoped, a small gasp left your lips yet again.
You were surprised by just how sensitive you were. One little touch of your nipples and you were already struggling not to whine and moan? Yes, you could be quite vocal and needy when it came to being with Wanda, but it wasn’t usually this easy for her to get a reaction out of you. Although, you were also well aware that it had been a week since you last let Wanda touch you and your hormones were going crazy. Pregnancy really did a lot to a person’s body and one thing you didn’t expect was to be crazy horny more often than you usually are. And with Wanda… that was usually pretty damn often. Except, your insecurities had started to win here and there this week. Plus you really were struggling just a bit more with fatigue and other not-so-fun pregnancy things. So, those things had kept you from actually acting on some of the things your pregnant, hormonal body was screaming at you for. 
But now, Wanda was being so sweet and romantic. All your insecurities melted away with just the way Wanda looked at you before you two even got into the bath. The bath itself was helping too. All the aches in your body felt like they were distant memories the moment your body was engulfed in the warm water. On top of all that, you had the house and Wanda all to yourself. That was a rare luxury with the boys. Not that it stopped you both from just about anything, you just had to learn how to be more discreet. When were you going to have another chance like this, though? Certainly, nights with just you and Wanda in the house would be increasingly rare once the new baby comes.
Wanda’s hands were now fully cupping your breasts. Your eyes were closed and you squirmed in the tub, pressing your legs together as you felt her roll your nipples between her fingers. You were completely aware of the way her bare body felt against your back and that sensation alone was causing the ache between your legs to get worse.
Without even having to ask, Wanda knew to move her hand where you needed it. Even as she played with one of your nipples, while her other hand was busy spreading your legs as best she could in the tub, her touch was still gentle. You felt utter admiration and love in the way she whispered soft praises as her hand finally cupped your pussy under the water. When you felt two of her fingers press ever so gently to your clit, your body tensed for a second and low whine fell from your lips.
“Shh,” Wanda cooed into your ear from behind. “Let me take care of you.”
With your eyes still squeezed shut, you nodded your head and gave in to the feeling of Wanda playing with your clit and switching between both your nipples. 
Your head fell back on Wanda’s bare shoulder as her fingers kept rubbing against your clit. Your eyes were still closed and your lips were parted as small sighs of pleasure kept falling from them. One of your hands had a grip of the edge of the tub, but the other came up to intertwine with Wanda’s as she moved it from your breasts. The whole time Wanda kept steady pressure on your clit, she was also softly whispering even more praises about how good you were doing. How much she loved seeing you like this. How she couldn’t wait to get you out of the tub so she could see you naked and spread open on her bed. 
The feeling of Wanda’s fingers was intoxicating and it only added to everything to feel her wet, naked body against your back too. You were fully leaning into Wanda as she touched you. Your hips were no longer still and were starting to slowly grind up into the way her fingers were working on your clit. The familiar feeling was building inside you and your small sighs turned into louder whines and moans as she kept up with what she was doing to your clit. 
As you felt yourself build up and up, you couldn’t take it anymore and reached behind you for a fist full of Wanda’s hair. Wanda leaned forward just as you tugged her closer and turned your head. When your lips met in a heated kiss that’s when her fingers picked up the pace. She felt your hand squeeze the one that was still intertwined with hers and she knew you were two seconds away from that edge. When she applied more pressure, your body tensed and you let out a final desperate whine against her lips. Your hand squeezed tighter against hers as you came, but she kept a hold of you, letting you ride out your orgasm. 
After a minute your body completely collapsed back into Wanda and her hand moved from between your legs to wrap around your waist and pull you even closer.
“How are you feeling?” Wanda asked after placing a kiss on your shoulder.
“Good…” You were still trying to catch your breath. “Great actually.”
“Yeah?” You felt Wanda smile against your bare skin and you nodded, your body relaxing even more against her. The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, relaxing in the still warm water with Wanda’s arms wrapped around you. After a while, both of you decided to get out.
Wanda, again, made sure to keep you steady as you got out of the bath. With a towel already wrapped around herself, she made sure to wrap you up within a split second of the cold air hitting your wet body. You both smiled and giggled with each other as each of you attempted to dry the other off. 
Neither of you bothered to put clothes of any kind back on when you were both nice and dry. The both of you knew tonight wasn’t quite over yet, and your body still craved way more from Wanda than the one, albeit amazing, orgasm she did give you. 
When you both were done with the bath, Wanda sat you gently on the bed as she began to move the candles from the bathroom to the bedroom, as well as the speaker she had for the instrumental music that was still playing. The romantic mood from the bath you shared was effectively recreated in your shared bedroom and you couldn’t help but smile at Wanda as you watched her fuss over small details. The way she looked, as she made sure the candles were positioned just right, the glow of their flame plus the moonlight coming from the window, was stunning. Wanda always said that you looked like you were glowing, even before you knew you were actually pregnant with her child, but she was glowing too. You made a mental note to tell her more about how beautiful she was, just like she would remind you. 
When the room was finally ready, Wanda walked up to where you sat on the bed and leaned down to kiss you. Your hands immediately grabbed at her bare hips, pulling her closer and parting your lips for her tongue to gently run against your own. The soft sigh she let out as she felt your tongue against hers was intoxicating and it immediately made you want to hear more. However, you also desperately wanted to feel Wanda touch you more, or at least to feel her finally inside you. Rarely did you specifically ask for what you wanted, always struggling with being too shy, but tonight you had something very specific in mind that you think the both of you would enjoy.
Pulling back from the kiss you looked up at Wanda who was looking at you with a blush across her face and lust in her eyes. She knew just by the way you looked at her, that you wanted something. 
“What is it, my love?” She gave you a knowing smile. Excitement grew in her eyes as she watched you struggle to get over your shyness. She loved seeing you communicate what you wanted from her. It was hard to coax out of you, but it was a huge turn on for her when she finally got you to admit it. 
“Would you um…” You bit your lip, feeling your face flush more before you even got the words out. Really you shouldn’t be shy about this anymore, but you couldn’t help it. “Tonight, could we use the…” 
“The what, baby?” Wanda’s eyes sparkled as she watched you struggle to get the word out. She knew exactly what you wanted and she loved when you asked for it. 
“You know what I’m talking about,” you pouted. Wanda was going to give you a harder time, but any time she saw you pout she’d instantly cave. It wasn’t fair really.
“Do I?” She kept teasing, not quite ready to let you off the hook. “You could want a number of things. But I think I do know.” Her grin grew as she watched you squirm. “Is it that you want my cock again?” 
Your face was bright red at this point and despite covering it with your hands, you still nodded. 
Wanda just let out an amused chuckle in response, but you knew by the way she was shifting where she stood that you were going to get exactly what you wanted. “Alright,” Wanda began, “but if you want this, we’re going to go carefully and slowly” 
You nodded eagerly, waiting for Wanda to do her thing and put on the magic toy you both loved so much. “We’ll go carefully,” you agreed, trying to reassure Wanda so she’d make a move.
“And slowly,” she corrected. 
“And slowly,” you nodded again, still eager for Wanda to conjure up the toy.
“And you’re going to ride me.”
“And I’m going to r–” you paused as the words sank in. “Wait what?!”
Wanda gave you a devilish grin. “Yes, you’re going to ride me. Listen, this way you can set the pace and we can make sure nothing gets too out of control.” By nothing, Wanda meant herself. Before you were pregnant, any time she used the enchanted strap-on she created for the two of you, it didn’t take her long to get a little… overly enthusiastic. No matter how many times she’s fucked you with it, she hasn’t gotten used to the fact that she can actually feel herself inside you. Any time you start to get close, a part of her loses it just a little bit, and she struggles with the urge to just fuck you into the mattress. Usually, you have no quarrels about letting her do exactly that, but right now things are different. You were more fragile. She couldn’t risk the safety of you or her unborn child just because she can’t control herself. The best solution, in Wanda’s mind, is to have you in control. Hopefully, it’ll be easier to control her constant need to ruin you when she can feel herself inside you, if you’re using this toy with you in charge. 
“I– Wanda, I haven’t done that before.” To Wanda, you looked so cute when you were nervous like this. Her hands reached to cup your face and you didn’t put up a protest when she pulled you in for a breathtaking kiss. Her tongue immediately licked into your mouth and you moaned against hers as it did. Your hands grabbed at her naked body as she tilted your head back and kissed you harder. Suddenly, she was moving while she was kissing you. Her knees went onto the bed on either side of you and you realized she was straddling your waist.
Your mind short circuited for a minute and your hands grabbed harder at her as she kept kissing you. Her naked body pressed down against yours and for the first time, you felt how wet she was as her pussy pressed to your thigh. You didn’t even care about the whines that were being suppressed by Wanda’s lips as you felt her start to grind down. But all too soon, Wanda broke the kiss. 
“See,” She said breathlessly, “Just do this…” Wanda dragged her body against your thigh again and you groaned at the feeling. All you could think to do was nod as your eyes fell between your bodies to watch the way she was moving. Wanda was breathing hard as she continued to grind slowly against you. “Are you ready to try?” Wanda stilled her movement and you swallowed hard, trying to muster up more courage. You didn’t want her to stop what she was doing, but you also desperately wanted to feel her inside you and that feeling was growing by the second.
“Yes, I’m ready.” You practically sounded like you were pleading with her, even though you were trying to keep your cool.
“Good girl,” Wanda kissed your lips again before crawling off of you. You watched with curiosity as she got comfortable on the bed, leaning herself against the headboard. With another wave of her hand, suddenly the thing you’d been waiting all night for was right in front of you, with the straps already tightly attached to Wanda’s hips. “Now,” Wanda’s eyes were dark and her grin was wide as she looked at you. “Come here.”
You could feel your heart rate pick up just by looking at the sight in front of you. Wanda had her hands folded behind her head as she rested against the headboard. Her legs were spread and in between them was the crimson strap-on you loved so much, even if you still weren’t quite used to the size. To ride it seemed daunting, but as Wanda waited for you with a hungry look in your eye, it was all you wanted to do. 
With a little bit of hesitation, you crawled to where she was on the bed. “Take it slowly,” she instructed as you began to mount her. Her hands moved from behind her head to rest on your hips. You felt her gently guiding you so that you were steady as you started to line her strap up with your entrance. 
“That’s it,” she practically groaned as she felt your wetness against her enchanted toy. 
“Fuck…” you muttered under your breath as you started to slowly lower yourself onto it. The size was still hard to take, but as it stretched your walls it still felt incredibly good. 
When you were finally all the way down, your thighs flush with Wanda’s hips, her hands tightened their grip on you. You didn’t move for a minute, just watching in awe as Wanda clearly reacted to the feeling of being inside you. Her breathing picked up and her eyes grew darker as she looked back at you. Eventually, you experimentally picked yourself up only slightly and then ground back down onto her cock. The movement was not lost on Wanda; her nails immediately dug into your skin when she felt it. 
With a sudden burst of confidence, you started to move, rocking your hips against Wanda’s as she sat below you and just let you ride. She felt every single thrust though, and it took every ounce of strength in her not to lose control like she wanted to. Her instincts were screaming at her to just flip you over and fuck you until you had tears in yours eyes. However, she knew that wasn’t a good idea, not when you were more fragile right now. So instead, she held onto you tightly and let you ride her.
As you picked up the pace, Wanda’s head fell back against the headboard. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her lip was between her teeth. She was breathing hard at this point too and you started to notice the way her hips would jump with each time you pressed yourself down hard against her cock. Eventually, you felt her hands tugging at you and you realized it was her way of moving you faster. 
“Fuck baby,” Wanda groaned between pants. “You feel so good.” Her eyes were open again and you couldn’t help the moan that fell from your lips as you kept fucking yourself on top of her. The way she looked right now was a rare sight. Usually, you were too busy getting lost in the way Wanda made you feel to watch her lose control because of you and it was making you even more wet as you rode her.
Wanda could already feel your wetness drip down her cock and onto her bare thighs. That plus the way you let out moan after moan with each time she moved her hips and fucked up inside of you was driving her crazy. She hated to admit it, but she was so fucking close already. She was feeling you squeeze against her cock more and more with each time you practically bounced on top of her. At first, she wanted to make you cum one more time before she came with you, but that wasn’t going to happen. Wanda severely underestimated just how fucking good you’d look fucking yourself on her cock like this. 
Suddenly, as you felt Wanda’s thighs begin to twitch underneath you, she surged up. Her arms came to wrap fully around your waist and her hips began moving up harder and faster into you. Your body immediately fell forward, overwhelmed by how hard her cock was pumping into you. Your eyes closed and your face buried into her neck. Wanda felt your nails scratch at her back as she kept a fast pace, pulling your entire body to fuck yourself faster on her cock. 
“Fuck fuck,” Wanda groaned as she kept pumping her hips up to fuck you harder. “Like that baby, keep riding my cock.” You tried your best to speed up, but at this point Wanda was practically just fucking you onto her cock herself. “I’m gonna cum. Fuck, I’m going to cum inside you.” 
“Please,” you moaned. Your only thoughts now were of how badly you wanted her to cum and how badly you wanted to cum with her. Suddenly, Wanda used all her strength to pump her cock harder up into you a few more times before, finally, you felt her warm cum fill your pussy. With a loud cry, you followed after, coming hard on top of her. She could feel a mix of both your and her cum dripping down the strap and onto her lap.
Eventually, her movements slowed until she felt your body completely relax against hers. Both of you were breathing hard as you tried to come down from your orgasms. Wanda’s hands found their way to your hair, stroking gently while she placed a few light kisses to your shoulder and then your neck up to your jaw.
“How are you feeling?” She mumbled against your skin. 
“Mm, good,” you breathed. “A little worn out.” Usually, you could go a few more times, but you wanted to be honest. Your stamina and energy wasn’t what it used to be and you definitely understood that it was the pregnancy. 
“Why don’t we get you cleaned up?” Wanda kissed your lips briefly before gently moving you up and off her strap. With a flick of her wrist it disappeared from her hips and the both of you looked down. “I think I might need another bath,” she chuckled. 
You looked back up at her sheepishly. “Can I join again?” 
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she grinned before hopping up from the bed. Her hand slipped into yours and she helped steady you when you stood up on shaky legs. “Plus, I’m not done spoiling you. I promised the boys I’d take care of you. It was the only way they agreed to go to the sleepover.” 
She stopped for a moment and pressed a hand to your stomach, her eyes shining with so much love as she looked down at your small baby bump. “And you and their new sister deserve the absolute best care in the world.” 
You smiled as you watched Wanda admire you and the changes your body was experiencing. You knew you weren’t just in for a night of love and care from her, but a whole lifetime. Not just from her, but from the whole family you now shared with her.
Tag list: @geekyandgay98 @desperate-gay @high--power @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @natashamaximoff69 @natashasilverfox @lovelyy-moonlight @jareguiromanoff @dj-bynum3718 @noahrex @demonicbaby666 @storiesofsvu
Join the tag list here
754 notes · View notes
bootsukki · 8 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
warnings: angst and fluff ig, pro!kageyama and singer!fem!reader
masterlist
twitter was blowing up with videos of (y/n)'s concert the night before. the moment had been completely unexpected for many— she was singing "in bloom", a sweet, quiet ballad about finding a home in someone's arms, a song she had always presented with a sweet smile and blushy cheeks, her usual "wrote this for a sweet blue-eyed boy" completely missing and instead, as she hit the chorus of the sond, her voice cracked, eyes filling with tears that she couldn't hold back. the fans, confused, caught every moment on camera, and speculation ran online about what it all meant.
hundreds of thousands of tweets about the moment that brought more tweets about the current situation in (y/n)'s and kageyama's life.
@PopBase: Fans catch worldwide known Japanese star, (Y/N), breaking down during her song "In Bloom" yesterday in Rome, a song wrote about her boyfriend, Japanese volleyball star, Kageyama Tobio. Attached: Video of (Y/N) pausing mid-song, brushing away a tear, and mouthing an apology to the audience.
@DeuxMoi: Rumor has it (Y/N) and volleyball star Kageyama Tobio were spotted leaving couples therapy in Rome recently. Could this be trouble in paradise for this couple? The singer and volleyball were last seen together celebrating their 4-year-anniversary in the Paris Olympics.
Attached: Image of the couple leaving a well-known Italian therapist's office. (Y/N) looks like she's been crying and Kageyama Tobio is trying to hide her from the camera.
reply from @bloomingyn
you are all pieces of shit, she's completely heartbroken and crying and you take a photo? you don't know what's going on in their lives to be posting shit like this, assholes
@kgymssss (y/n) cried while singing "in bloom" last night, and she looked completely heartbroken. can someone please confirm if her and tobio are okay?? :(
the socials of (y/n) were filled with comments of fans trying to get answers and some other people being completely rude towards her and as days streched on, neither her or kageyama said a word which only made everything worse.
the tension between them had been shimmering for months. a rift that started as a small crack and now has grown into a big gap in their relationship that distanced the couple and the dreams of two people who didn't seem to fit together.
kageyama's contract had reently expired, which meant that he had to either, wait for his current team to offer something (which they did) or wait for other teams from the league he was playing in or other leagues to offer him something (which also happened). kageyama loved italy, he had been living in the country for a few years by now and his life while playing in the italian league had improved drastically, while (y/n) had been hoping to go back to japan, closer to her roots, and... start a future together with kageyama. she had even hinted that she wouldn't mind going back to voice acting knowing she had several offers lined up. truth be told, she was really homesick and tired of being on tour for months and months without break for the almost seven years she had been working on music in the us, she had been going on tour for a huge majority of those years, recording songs and more albums in between. she was tired and exhausted of that life. she wanted to take a break from music and focus on other things. it wasn't that he didn't want that, they had even talked about it before, getting married, having kids... but the idea of leaving italy, leaving his volleyball team when he felt himself at the highest level, was something he wasn't completely ready for.
it all came to head one night after another quiet dinner full of unspoken words at kageyama's apartment in rome. as she cleared her plate, he looked up, expression guarded but tense.
"can we talk about it?"
(y/n) sighed, shoulder slumping as she turned to face him. he knew she had been crying a lot recently, she always did it while showering or when she left to rehearse for her shows and even though they didn't have much time together before she was back again moving to other siders of europe to sing, he needed to talk. they needed to talk.
"we've been talking about this, tobi, for months. i feel like we are going on circles."
he looked down, gripping his chopsticks tightly. "i just... i don't see why we have to go back to japan... italy is incredible and i think we would be very happy here. i... i can't just walk away from volleyball. volley is..."
"everything to you." she interrupted, voice soft but full of hurt. "italy is great but... i miss home." she hid her face on her hands, feeling, once again, tears welling up her eyes. "i get that you like living here. believe me, i do. but... what about me? what about what i want? i know japan would be the best place for us to live and there are a lot of opportunities for you there. there are teams waiting for you."
he stood up, walking to get closer to get, frustration on his face. "it's not that simple. i can't just... leave. my career is here and i... i thought you understood that."
"i understand that." she looked up at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "i've always understood, from the moment we started dating. but being together means that we need to do compromises and fight for us."
"i'm trying to compromise" he insisted, voice defensive. "we can still live here, you could move here."
(y/n) shook her head, cleaning the stray tears that were leaving her eyes. "you're asking me to compromise then, to move here and do, what exactly? stay at home all day and do nothing? in japan, i could still work in voice acting. i've always tried to be a part of your life but... w-when do we start building a life together?"
"we are living a life together."
"are we? because with how much i am in the us, recording new songs and going on tour for almost 8 months a year, it feels like we are not even together."
kageyama's jaw clenched but he couldn't seem to find an answer.
(y/n) took a shaky breath. "i want a home, one that is yours and mine. i want to finally settle down and maybe, just maybe, start a family together and... i want that to be in japan, i want to be in japan, closer to my family, closer to the people we love, the place we have both grown up in. i want to get married and have kids and... i would love for my kids to have that, to have a "normal" childhood where they don't have to take planes everytime they can see their dad and that's if they are able to see him because his training is brutal and he spends a lot of time playing matches and focusing on the league. i don't want my kids to be on a tour bus since they are babies, because i want them to go to school and know that they have a place that is completely theirs, a home. a mom and a dad who are present and... i thought you'd want that with me."
"i want that with you, i have told you this before."
"you have told me but you are not willing to go back." she sighed "tobi, you can still play volleyball at home, you have offers."
his silence was answer enough, and she felt a pang of heartbreak. (y/n) turned away, walking towards kageyama's bedroom and closing the door behind her.
the days that followed were filled with uncertainty. they barely spoke, exchanging only the briefest of texts, and each conversation felt like stepping around the edges of something neither of them knew how to fix. the internet wasn't helping and (y/n) couldn't go online without seeing tweets and instagram comments about her relationship status and speculation, heartbreak caught on camera for the world to see and comment on.
after leaving rome and italy, she went to the uk to do some shows and everything seemed to worsen the rift between them. not being together was completely breaking both of their hearts, especially when they were feeling so lost and confused.
kageyama sat alone in his apartment after a full day of meetings and calls, freshly showered and grateful for the three days off he was given. he stared at his phone, thumb hovering over (y/n)'s instagram profile he followed from his personal account only friends and family followed and he opened his browser, looking for a flight to the uk.
when (y/n) walked onto the stage in london the following night, she felt the familiar rush and adrenaline, tinged with nerves she couldn't seem to get rid of since she left italy. performing was usually the one place where she would relax but it had gotten really difficult to do in the past few months, exhausted and sad.
she usually started with one of her most popular songs but, as she moved closer towards the piano where she would sing "in bloom", her throat started to get itchy but she simply smiled like she always did and sat down on the piano.
as she started singing the song, her voice faltered on the second verse, the words hitting too close to home.
so here a am, no longer alone, in the blue of your eyes, i found my home. in you, i bloom, in you, i’m free, you’re my place, my everything.
she closed her eyes for a second, steadying herself before she sang the chorus.
and when she opened her eyes, her gaze moving around the crowd, she saw him. her tobi. her love of big blue eyes. she smiled, seeing him whistle and clap, a soft and small smile on his face, eyes focused only on her. her heart skipped a beat and she stumbled over her next words, quickly catching herself as she finished the song.
the crowd roared with applauses and cheers as the song ended, but (y/n) was completely focused on him as the band continued playing the next song.
the concert finished quite quickly and she waved at all the people, bowing to show her respect and smiling brightly, slipping backstage, where she was bombarded by her team, taking out her microphone, giving her water and taking out pins from her hair.
thanking them, she turned the corner towards her dressing room and she stopped in her tracks, seeing him leaning against the wall, hands on his pockets and a neutral expression on his face.
"tobi", she breathed.
he straightened up, expression softening when he saw her. "hi"
for a moment, neither of them spoke. he looked exhausted, and she could feel herself getting tired as well. finally, she broke the silence.
"what... what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“i needed to see you,” he said, his tone raw. “i know things have been… hard. and I’m sorry.”
she looked away, her shoulders sagging as she let out a sigh. “tobi, we’ve been over this. i-”
he took a step closer, his gaze unwavering. “i want you. i have always wanted you and i know that i've been selfish and stupid and... god, these past months have been incredibly hard on both of us. i don't want you to feel like you don't matter or that you are less important than my career because that is not true."
she looked up at him, her eyes searching his. “what are you saying?”
he took a deep breath, his hand reaching out to take hers. “i've... i've talked with my lawyers and team these past days and... i think there is a really good team in japan who made a really good offer for me. i've discussed all the terms and it seems like a great opportunity for us. i want everything with you and i also want our future kids to grow with parents who are there for them and... i want to get married and start a life with you, forever."
tears prickled at her eyes, a mixture of both relief and disbelief flodding her heart. "are you saying you'd be willing to go back to japan?"
"no baby, i'm saying that we're are going to japan. i am not going to think about it and accept the offer." he nodded, squeezing her hand gently. "i'm ready to go back home with you, find a perfect home, start a family... if that's what you want. i promise that is what i want. i want us to be together at all times and not have to talk through facetime and think about time zones and taking planes everytime we want to spend a few days together."
she let out a shaky laugh, a tear slipping down her cheek that he cleaned with his thumb. "that's all i've ever wanted, tobi."
he cleaned some other tears, his eyes softening as he looked at her. "nothing matters if i lose you."
she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close as he held her tightly, spinning her around, and for the first time in months, the weight on her chest seemed to lift. she felt his hand gently stroking her hair, his quiet promise echoing in her mind.
“are you… really ready for this?” she asked, her voice muffled against his shoulder.
he pulled back, looking into her eyes with a rare vulnerability. “more than anything.”
kageyama closed the gap between them, a deep and long kiss shared between the lovers as they swayed in the middle of the hallway, holding each other as the noise of the crowd faded into the background.
it wouldn't be easy, she still needed to finish tour and do all the paperwork it required to leave all the stages, music and sign new volleyball contracts behind and prepare for the big move but, with his arms around her, she knew that they were ready to face whatever came next, finally, together.
55 notes · View notes
recreationalfanfics · 2 years ago
Note
For Assassin's Creed hc how would the Connor Kenway, Jacob Frye, and Ezio having a pletonic relationship with a fellow assassin who is younger then them and is a medic in training?
Just strictly pletonic yandere with a female assassin
AAAH, THANK YOU FOR MY FIRST AC REQUEST!!
Platonic Yandere! Connor:
- No because Connor has dad vibes or at the very least, protective older brother vibes and that is EXACTLY how he'll be with you.
- Maybe you joined the Brotherhood and he took you under his wing or maybe he was assigned to be your teacher but either way, he will always be nearby and watching you just to make sure you are safe.
- He will also help educate you in your medical education as best as he can, introducing you and getting you familiar with helpful plants that have medical uses and such.
- He also insists on being the one to teach you how to fight properly because even though he knows your main focus is healing and helping injured assassin's recover, he'd never forgive himself if he allowed something to happen to you. Don't worry, he's a gentle teacher who eases you in and has a lot of good advice.
- He has killed people for you. Templars who tried sneak you or drunken men who tried to hit on you. When you panic and ask him why he did that, he says that he had no other choice. You think that maybe he could've just knocked them out, tied them up somewhere and left them, but...it IS Connor. He usually chooses the most peaceful and diplomatic options.
- Maybe...maybe you're overthinking it. After all, Connor would never lie to you...right?
Platonic Yandere! Jacob:
- You definetly meet Jacob when he's brought in by the Brotherhood with some new injury he got that was probably from doing a stupid stunt. Either way, it's not too bad and it was good practice.
- He's a fun and lovable guy, honestly. He's cracking jokes and making you laugh and asking about how long you've been with the Brotherhood. You feel relaxed with him, he's so much more casual than other assassins and you're more drawn to him.
- He lets you hang around him and the Rooks, all of them love you like a little sister and are always happy when you come around. Sometimes Jacob calls you in if one of them needs to be patched up and he jokingly says that maybe instead of the Brotherhood, you should just work as a healer for him and his gang.
- You laugh it off and so does he but he's actually deadly serious about it. Jacob isn't gonna act like the Brotherhood is all peachy and perfect because they're assassins and some of those heartless bastards wouldn't feel any guilt leaving you behind on a mission or something, but...if you worked for him, you'd be much more safer. Everyone loves you, everyone adores you, and everyone (especially Jacob) would ensure your safety before their own.
- Most definetly has started fights over you, like some drunk tells you that you'd be a better whore than a medic and Jacob loses his mind, both Evie and Henry and even some other rooks have to pull him back as he beats the man shitless for saying those things about you.
- He kinda treats you like a kid, which is ironic because he hates being treated that way himself by older Assassins and Evie, but he can't help it. You're still so innocent to this world, too innocent to even be an Assassin, so just leave it to Jacob and keep everyone happy with that adorable smile of yours, yeah?
Platonic Yandere! Ezio:
- NO BECAUSE HE'D THE W O R S T OUT OF THESE TWO AND MORE NOTICEABLE AS A PLATONIC YANDERE. ESPECIALLY IF YOU REMIND HIM OF HIS BROTHERS IN ANYWAY, SHAPE, OR FORM.
- You'd be way too star struck to notice it, though. After all, you're meeting THE Ezio Auditore! AND HE SEEMS TO NOT BE ANNOYED BY YOUR INEXPERIENCE LIKE THE OTHER ASSASSINS.
- Unlike Jacob he won't deter from being an assassin and he'll also teach you to defend yourself like Connor but you just fill in a gap in his heart that he thought would always be empty after what happened to his family.
- You start to notice his yandere tendencies when an Assassin snaps at you because you might've done something wrong and Ezio just threatens them with death straight up. He charms his way out of it but the even still kinda lives in the back of your mind.
- NO BECAUSE BOTH TEMPLARS AND ASSASSIN'S FEAR YOU. Because if a Templar captain sees his troupes bring in an Assassin Prisoner and it's YOU, the captain will start crying as he asks his men if they know what they've done. Other Assassin's have seen the injuries Ezio has given to those who ALLOW you to get hurt and for that reason, you are to stay close to them at all times for fear they might meet the same fate.
- Depending on which Ezio we're talking about, he'll literally make it so that you're always under his protection and that he can always have his eye on you.
- Bonus thing: he does not trust boys, given his background and how he played with women, he'd much rather choose one of his own assassins that are your age than risk having you get your heart broken, he's a good dad that way.
298 notes · View notes
cope-to-anime · 1 year ago
Text
the hashira and their phones
Tumblr media
☆ what’s their phone like? what’s in there?
Tumblr media
tomioka giyuu
does NOT name his contacts
has games but they’re the type of games you’d think are boring like snake and sodoku
his phone is always on silent mode because the ringing shocks him
seen-zones your messages often, either replies in 5 seconds or in 5 days
he uses his note app to make grocery and to do lists
himejima gyoumei
has cats as his home and lock screen 
sometimes forgets that siri/alexa is enabled so he gets spooked 
one of his fondest memories is when he first got his phone and all the other hashiras entered their number in it 
phone has been dropped a couple of times but it’s so sturdy
he has a little cat keychain plugged into the headphone jack of his phone. 
rengoku kyojuro
has the latest model phone but doesn’t know how to fully use it
loves to take photos
his lock screen and home screen are the same: rengoku family pic
has premium everything like Spotify premium, YT premium, etc
food delivery app gold membership holder
iguro obanai
has those tempered glass covers that are dark and tinted so you don’t see what he’s doing with his phone from where you’re standing 
at first he didn’t want to have a phone case because he likes the grip he has on his phone, but mitsuri insisted he get one so he did 
slither.io master 
gallery has a lot of pictures of nature but rarely has ones with him in it 
phone always on silent, mitsuri in his important contacts
tokito muichiro
uses moving phone lock screens, minimal motions like clouds in the sky or shapes floating around 
always forgets to turn off their mobile data or wi-fi so their phone drains fast 
blue phone case with mist details, doesn’t have a pop grip 
he drops his phone often but coincidentally he either drops them on a soft surface or the fall isn’t strong enough to leave a crack 
he says the most satisfying thing about his phone is him taking off the plastic cover from the screen when he first got it 
shinazugawa sanemi
sanemi actually takes very good care of his phone
he knows how expensive they can be so even if his phone is old it still looks good as new
his lock screen is a default image but his home screen is a family pic during genya’s high school graduation
he doesn’t really have games on his phone because he’s too busy but he used to play fruit ninja
his messages are mostly him checking up where his younger siblings are and when they’ll get home
uzui tengen
the noisiest ringtone EVER 
has 1000+ unread emails 
phone gallery has multiple folders but mostly it’s selfie and groupie folders 
when he listens to music he listens to it in full volume 
is part of Kyojuro’s premium account family plans 
kocho shinobu
butterfly phone case with wavy body for a better grip 
overall theme inside is purple and white 
family photos in her phone are in her favourites folder
has that beaded hand grip that tangles and hers are made with butterfly beads 
phone on silent most of the time but when it isn’t she has a violin cover of a song as her ringtone
kanroji mitsuri
cute games like neko atsume and hungry hearts
she would definitely let kids borrow her phone to play games
her phone gallery is filled with pics of people she loves, food, and pretty clouds
all of her contacts have nicknames and corresponding emojis
she’s the type of person to give her password away to her friends
117 notes · View notes
offlivne · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
─────  👽 ! 𝗨𝗚𝗛 ★ the vibes (pt.1)
Each off/live release and their aesthetic
─────  👽 ! 𝗨𝗚𝗛 ★ WE LIKE IT !
Really set the vibe for their debut and future releases. Deffinaly set high expectations for those who actually heard it and liked it. It layed down the foundation for their style of music and their whole ‘were free’ concept. The concept for this album had a slight blend of pop culture and technology optimism, but still held that vibe of trying to break the mold and escapism. 
Tumblr media
For this album the styling for the mv was very minimized, the boys were shown wearing and performing in quite minimalist places, either wide white frames, or slightly decorated sets, such as laundromat or washrooms. People assume it was cut to fit their budget, but it left a satisfying feeling for most. Despite the minimized sets, the mv, as described by some, gave off an almost apocalypse atmosphere. The deep green and black light that was casted on almost every frame left quite the impression on most. 
Tumblr media
On stage the minimalist styling continued but you could tell the stylist had stepped up their accessories, adding more eye-catching necklaces, earrings, hats, basically anything that would make them stand out more in a crowd. Throughout this era you could tell the stylist was trying to stick with little to no color, staying close to green and different tones of grey colors. And sometimes blue jeans and purple. 
Tumblr media
─────  👽 ! 𝗨𝗚𝗛 ★ Who slayed this era ? voted by fans
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
NINE had the most votes in the end, his total being 6383 votes.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
─────  👽 ! 𝗨𝗚𝗛 ★ NANANA !
NANANA wasn't very memorable according to netizens. But it was definitely different. In this era the boys announced that they would be focusing less on the escapism of their concept and more on the ruff and playful side of childhood and more questionable side of their concept. In this album the boys expressed this ripped up and frustrating look of the concept. As explained by Jeonghan on a live, he expressed that their concept spoke a lot to suffocating pressures put on kids, NANANA was a version of someone who had managed to rebel and was now living on the fine-line of this society expectation. 
Tumblr media
The styling for this album as far as packaging for the physical album and mv it was by far their most impressive and interesting looking album yet. The physical album actually came in pieces. A ripped up photo of the members littered the inside of the package, used as quoted by Prince, “confetti” or stuffing so the side goods wouldn't be damaged in travel. Fans soon noticed that this ripped up photo could actually be reassembled, and many glue sticks later an outlaw posted on instagram the completed the photo. Ando n the back a special present for whoever cracked the code and paid special attention to the litters of paper. On the back a full tracklist of their current songs and possible future songs were written in orange and blue marker. This was described by fans as one of their highlights of the album. 
Tumblr media
For the MV, this time it wasn't as minimalistic, there were a lot of fancy graphics and cool transitions. The sets, if studied closely, were lacking but the boys seemed to fill them up with their new style, so it wasn't much of a complaint. 
Tumblr media
For stages the boys went on with very baggy and street fashion looking clothing. Their styling for both WE LIKE IT and NANANA were similar but this time you could tell that, even by a little tiny bit, that their clothing were of higher quality. 
Tumblr media
─────  👽 ! 𝗨𝗚𝗛 ★ Who slayed this era ? voted by fans
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
SHIN had the most votes in the end, his total being 5602 votes but SKYLAR came a close second.
16 notes · View notes
diamond-punk0963 · 1 year ago
Text
Descending Through Madness: Mad Hatter!Spencer Charnas HCs
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
(Note: My recent request from @starshoteyes is what pulled me into making this post. Huge shout out to them! I hope you like this!)
~Headcanons~
Spencer would be more of a horror take on the mad man rather than what people would usually think of the mad hatter as.
Is obsessed with the number, nine. (Keeps everything in sets of nine)
Carries pocket knives with him in his jacket at all times. (To play with or use as a weapon)
He has zero idea how many pocket knives he owns. (He just usually takes them with him and goes on with his day)
If he were to unload every knife he has, it would take HOURS for him to be fully unarmed. (Even then, he probably had a few on him that he forgotten about)
Lives in a dark forest, away from civilization. (Mainly because he’s an outcast from the local towns and kingdoms)
Has probably drank blood that was mixed into his tea without noticing. (I’ll let you decide how it got there)
A common thief (he doesn’t have a job because no one will hire him) in stealing tea and whatever items he can get his hands on. (He’s gotten himself into trouble, due to this)
His tea set is made up of cracked, broken tea cups that he either stole or found as it was left abandoned. (Again, can’t afford a proper set so he would have to make due with that he can grab)
Often gets tangled within the straps of his jacket. (He would either need help with getting untangled or he just finds a way to operate while being tangled)
He doesn’t have a favorite flavor of tea but would take any red-colored tea that would look the closest to blood as possible.
His clothes were also something that he stole over the years. (Probably modified to fit him better)
Loves messing around with other people, playing his game of insanity towards those who would fall into his trap.
When it comes to food, it would also be something he needed to steal for survival. (It isn’t all that great, not having any coins for food supplies)
Perceived as insane but really, his thought process is just different than everyone else’s. (He wishes someone could understand him, though.)
Has a soft red blanket to keep himself warm for when he sleeps either at his tea table or at the small house that he lives in. (House was abandoned but he managed to keep it lively as much as he could.)
Doesn’t speak in riddles or rhymes but will probably talk your ear off about spooky stories. (He loves anything spooky.)
Made his hat from materials he managed to obtain and random stuff that he could find within the nearest villages.
His fingerless gloves (not pictured in photo) were something that Spencer made on his own.
Due to his low income, a lot of what Spencer has is either stolen, abandoned, or made by his own hands. (He learned to be crafty at a young age)
Has major sweet tooth. (Strawberry tarts and cherry filled pastries are his favorite)
Has a TERRIBLE sense of direction. (Literally gets lost in the forest, almost every single day. Only way that he didn’t get lost was because he carved roman numerals of nine onto trees to guide his way home.)
Prized possession of his is a stuffed rabbit that he kept as a kid. (Sometimes, he cuddles with it in his sleep if he’s having nightmares)
Loves reading books in his spare time. (Has a small collection of books in his small house)
Very much introverted by default. (Doesn’t have much friends from being isolated from everyone in his home)
He would have tea parties on his own. (Which basically involves him just sipping on tea and wandering through the tea party area)
Has a habit of carving the nine roman numeral on anything he can use his knife on. (It helps him occupy his mind)
Has he ever killed anyone? Not even he knows the answer to that question. (He probably has)
Probably has scars on his hands from the number of times that he has cut himself from playing with his pocket knives. (May have gotten the nine numeral scar at the palm of his hand, due to it)
Uses his gloves (fingerless or fully covered) to cover up his hand scars. (Gets a little self-conscious about it but half of the time, he just doesn’t care about it)
Huge addict to anything strawberry and cherry related. (Again, it reminds him of blood. The dark it is, the better)
Probably paints his nails black or dark red. He does mix-match on the polish. (He gets polish on his fingers but keeps it because he likes the mess of it.)
Looks like he could kill you but he’s actually a cinnamon roll. (Probably the type that’s messed up in the head but he means well)
Keeps a broken pocket in his jacket, always stuck on nine o’clock. Inside, there’s an old picture that he doesn’t let anyone see. (The one items he keeps close to his heart, literally)
Although he likes the quiet atmosphere, he does crave having a companion. (Tried making friends in the past but failed since no one wanted to hang around someone like him)
10 notes · View notes
alas-poor-cesario · 2 years ago
Text
Fannish 50 - #1 The Body
I'm taking part in the Fannish 50 and originally wasn't going to cross post but why not.
This is the first of the 50 TV Episodes from "Older" Fandoms that Shaped Me as a Fan that I want to talk about because when I think of impactful TV episodes this is pretty much top of the list every single time. 
Massive Trigger Warnings For This: 
Death of a parent
CPR
Grief
Context for the Episode
Original Air Date: 27/02/2001 Season: 5 Episode: 16
The cold open of this episode picks up from where the last one left off. There's no recap at the start of this episode either. 
So at the end of the previous episode we see Buffy walk in the door and see that her Mam has got flowers and she calls for her, getting no response Buffy walks into the front room and finds her Mam on the couch with pale skin.
The Plot of the Episode
This episode is broken into 4 parts; (titles from the wiki)
The Daughter
The Sisters
The Family
The Body
The first thing we see after the credits is a flashback to Christmas at Buffy's house. Everyone is having fun, it's filled with joy and it's so important to have this at the start of the episode. Then, piece by piece we see Buffy coming to terms with it; her on the phone with the ambulance service, then Giles coming over and seeing "the body", her friends finding out and all of them dealing with it.
Impact on me
Act 1
Each act starts with a shot of the body on the floor which is powerful. It keeps reminding you of what's happened and confronting it. You're not allowed to forget what Buffy has and is seeing
Lack of music - it's haunting that normally you get background noise and songs in these episodes but here you have nothing. You're confronted with this absence and it makes you focus on everything going on the screen a lot more.
The opening shot with Christmas was put in so you wouldn't have Joss Whedon's name over the long shot of Sarah Michelle Geller reacting to seeing Joyce dead. 
Seeing Buffy and hearing her say Mom and then Mommy - the childlike aspect of it reminded me how young Buffy is and how long she's been dealing with this. She's been dealing with vampires and the Hellmouth and this responsibility but at the same time dealing with being a kid and having to go to school and do homework and having a life. She's just a scared kid here, and she's allowed to be.
Buffy doing CPR and the ribs cracking as she's doing it really got me the first time I watched this episode. I knew that it was the case it could happen but this made me confront the thoughts of having to do it and what it would be like if that happened to me. 
The fact that this is the one monster she can't defeat - death.
"she's cold" "the body is cold" "no, my mom"
This broke me a bit because it's something so small, but so powerful 
And for those who watched that episode and then went into a healthcare setting, then you've had this reminder, this thing in the back of your mind that these are not just "bodies" these are real people. These are people that mean the world to someone else. 
"we're not supposed to move the body"  and it sort of dawns on her there, when she uses the same phrasing as the person she was speaking to on the phone. That's the moment it hits her that this is real. That her mam is now a body, it's both her mam and not her mam anymore now that she's passed.
Act 2
The fake out bit with Dawn worked so well
The art class - we're looking at a woman's body and the negative space around that
We don't really see the bit where Buffy tells Dawn we see what the other students in the classroom would be able to 
we're watching the pain of others on the TV, we're onlookers
Also Dawn's conversation is something so teenager-y and normal and it's at times, we get a bit of humour with the "Annals of History" pronunciation but it's cut short
Everyone realises something has happened, but isn't sure what it is exactly
I had it when I saw my partner come into my work before Christmas. I instantly knew something had happened, just not what it was specifically.
And the final bit of this act is that we see the body that Dawn has drawn and that stings so badly having just seen her and Buffy talking.
Act 3
So Buffy, way back in Act 1, pulled down Joyce's skirt to cover her for when the paramedics /coroner got there and now we see Joyce's body and they're cutting the clothes off her. 
The silence when we see Xander and Willow just hits you. 
Willow not being able to choose an outfit is so relatable. Black being too somber, yellow being too happy, and she wants the blue jumper because Joyce liked it but she can't find it and that's what she's focusing on.
The fear of her not having grown up enough outfits for this when Willow is normally the character I imagine when I want to think of someone upbeat in Buffy.
This being the first time we see Tara and Willow kiss. It's absolutely magical in that they're there for each other in that moment, and it can't be swept under the rug with the here for the gay representation and then they're gone once ratings go up. 
The first proper boyfriend I had, he got together with me around the same time my Grandfather passed away and he was so supportive and amazing with me and then coincidentally my fiance got together with me around the time my uncle passed and having this in the episode? Showing that there's still relationships and happiness and we're seeing the comfort on screen? Beautiful.
Anya is the only one who can really ask these questions and she doesn't understand and that's heartbreaking. The others don't really understand her here but I think that's why it works so well. She's not human, she hasn't been around humans like this and had these experiences before and it's new to her and she doesn't understand.
They feel like she shouldn't be talking like that about it.
Xander and Willow here reminded me of what it was like when I lost my Granda and my best friends in the world were there for me and looking after me, and there's been moments where it isn't a family member but it's someone close to a friend of mine and it hurts so bad and then you have these little moments where you just make things normal when comforting each other.
Act 4
Dawn asks to see Joyce and it didn't occur to me that she hasn't seen her before this. She's been told by Buffy but it's abstract at this point, it's not real. Buffy saw her, Giles has even seen her but Dawn hasn't.
Giles is being protective over Buffy  here and filling out the forms and taking the role of a father. 
There's this reveal that Tara has done this before in this act and I love the way it's done. Buffy apologises and says she hasn't done this before, and Tara says that she has. It was when she was 17. She says yes and no to it being sudden, because even if you know it'll happen it still comes as a surprise. 
There's a vamp in the morgue and it attacks Dawn and life goes on, things are still as Normal as they can be considering what's happened.
And there's something about Dawn finally seeing Joyce, and asking where she went when Buffy says it's not her.
3 notes · View notes
sociallyawkwardseal · 25 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
Prompt: Fictober Day 8: "Are we happy?"
Fandom: School Bus Graveyard
Summary: The SBG kids talk about just what to do with their Savannah report.
Content Warnings: None that I can think of!
Words: 709
Note: I know I'm really late on Fictober, but Life got in the way. I'm trying to catch up, whoops.
Tumblr media
“Are we gonna keep going over our homework, or?”
Taylor groaned at the question, sinking further into the beanbag that she had rolled into as soon as her brother abandoned it to go downstairs for another water.
“We at least need to finish the outline today.” Ashlyn muttered, her eyes flickering down to the clipboard that sat in front of her on the floor. It was a small collection of papers—the class’s syllabus, the assignment’s rubric, and scrap sheets that had various ideas that each of them had thrown out.
Aiden chuckled, low and quiet, from where he laid on the edge of the bed. “Pretty hard to figure out what we wanna write about after the whole trip got kinda like. Messed up by the whole phantom situation.”
You’re telling me… Ashlyn didn’t look up, her foot tapping silently against her crossed legs on the floor. How can I think of anything else we saw on the trip after that?
How could any of us?
“Oh, hey,” Aiden sat upright, now folding his legs underneath him as he resettled. “Logan got a lot of pictures of like. The gravestones in that one cemetery, right?”
“Yeah, I did. I think Ben took a few, too—on his phone… He said he wanted to use them for references.”
“Sooo. We could just research some of those people, and then call it a day?” Aiden waved his hand in a circular motion as he spoke, trying to spool his ideas out of his head and into the air. “Researching the people who lived and died in Savannah. There’s probably something there, even if we can’t tie it back to the Sorrel-Weed House, since we did tell Mr. Thomas we toured it. Honestly? I kinda don’t want to tie it back around, anyway.”
Taylor raised her head from the beanbag, barely, just enough to catch Aiden and the others in her line of sight. “I really don’t, either. But. Yeah, that works for me?”
Ben nodded in agreement, his palm lingering over his phone as he listened to Aiden.
“So. Are we happy just researching the names on the graves we got? And the cemetery itself? And not the Sorrel-Weed house or anything else in town?”
Logan nodded, pulling his bag up from the floor and into his lap. “That works for me, I’ll go ahead and get the pictures I took out?”
“Alright. Thanks.”
“I dunno, are we happy?” Tyler scoffed pushing the cracked door open just enough to slip in. He closed it back, not fully, and sat next to the occupied beanbag chair. “I wasn’t even here to help make the plans.”
“If it were a majority vote, you would have lost, anyway.”
“… Yeah, fair.” He shrugged, reaching over to poke at Taylor’s arm. She nudged him, shooting back with a quiet ‘My spot now’, as he continued talking. “I don’t actually have a problem with researching the tombstones, it’s probably the easiest thing we’ve got to work with. Did anyone actually get the cemetery’s name, though?”
He has a point.
The room fell silent, not even the shuffling of Logan digging through his bag filled the space between them anymore. Everyone sat still, just trying to recall whatever they could. Any signage. Any detail about the street it was on. Even other places near it. Anything.
Was there a bistro across the street? It was somewhere we passed on the carriage ride, too. But. What did they call it? Ashlyn’s foot hit against her leg a bit heavier, her knuckles digging into her cheek harder as she tried to recall anything. One of us has to remember something.
“We can probably just look up some of the names and see if there’s a registry for where they’re buried? Or see if their obituaries are online, and if they say where they’re going to be buried?” Logan said, now holding a few stacked photographs in one hand, his other still digging through his bag.
“Hey, yeah, that works?” Aiden beamed, patting Logan’s back with a heavy-hand—making him lurch forward and catch himself before he fell off of the edge of the bed. “Op. Sorry.”
“You’re fine. I’ll look them up later, unless someone else wants to.”
1 note · View note
exclusivenyc · 2 years ago
Photo
Tumblr media
SKELETON CHARACTER: THE BEACH GOER
OVERVIEW -
On the outside looking in, this person might seem like they’ve got life all figured out. They cracked the code. Broke through the Matrix. Nothing can bother them—not their parents, not their boss, not those snot-nosed kids stomping on everyone’s sand castles either. Okay, well maybe their parents and boss can’t bother them because they cut them out of their life. But they’d be lying if they said that unaffected attitude ever came naturally to them until recently. The truth is, it’s taken them a long time to get here. A very long time. A lifetime of misfortunes—things most people likely wouldn’t have been able to survive or come out kicking on the other side. Sometimes they still wonder how the hell they’re still alive, given their past. But a strong pursuit of happiness through rehab, therapy and setting boundaries has unlocked this new era of life to them, and even though they have no job and are living in their car, they’ve never felt freer. Soon, something’s gonna change. They can feel it. In the meantime, they’ve stopped waiting around and wallowing in their own misery, and have learned to take life day by day. To quit all that looking back, and start living. Really living. Even if all they have is the shirt on their back and a gifted hot dog for the day, that’s alright with them. Call them a hippie, but they don’t even care if you do. They have no will to prove their worthiness to anyone anymore, and instead have taken up the role of trying to get people to see the light. To live, because all we have is today! Don’t you see?
DEMOGRAPHICS & DIVERSITY -
Muse Age + Gender: 30s+ / UTP
Muse Occupation: Unemployed
Suggested Faceclaims: UTP
Diversity: UTP
CONNECTIONS -
THE HOT DOG MAN: Showing up to the beach every day has it’s perks. This one comes in the form of friendship and a free hot dog. A signature, daily, personal coupon to one large weenie with extra, extra relish, free of charge. The Hot Dog Man has this currency system. A hot dog for your thoughts, he calls it. Well, the Beach Goer has a lot of thoughts, and even if they’re so much more healed than they were a few years ago, they still feel bad taking charity. This is a good compromise, to stave off the guilt of being given something for free, and as a result, they’ve unintentionally shared a lot about their life with this person. They never planned on it. Sure as hell didn’t intend to do it. But there’s something about the Hot Dog Man that makes them want to be vulnerable, and in a good way. They might even call him their best friend. That position’s been needing to be filled for awhile anyway.
THE LIFEGUARD: Cowabunga, dudes! Surf’s up! The best things in life are free and it seems like the Beach Goer is the only one who can get the Lifeguard to look up from their phone for more than five minutes. They aren’t privy to this though, and maybe if they were they’d have noticed by now the way the Lifeguard blushes in their presence. Instead, they go over to bug the Lifeguard for a surf board every day. Normally you’d have to pay to rent one, but there’s no harm in sneaking one over to the Beach Goer, right? They don’t even know the effect they have on the Lifeguard, or why it’s so monumental that they’ve gotten them to eat a sandwich with them and talk for an hour at a time. This is just normal time-passing behavior to the Beach Goer, but it’s a sonnet of love to the Lifeguard.
THE EMT: Maybe one day the Beach Goer will become a paramedic. The more they talk to the EMT, the more they feel drawn to the calling to help others, and the stories of diabetic emergencies and heat stroke are interesting enough that they get the Beach Goer to shut up about Alan Watts for five seconds. Even though the EMT is younger than them, they look up to them. In a lot of ways, they even feel a little jealousy for the EMT, because they got their life together way sooner than the Beach Goer ever did. Talks about using narcan to save someone’s life makes the Beach Goer get a little quiet every time, though, and unbeknownst to them, the EMT has caught onto this. Neither is willing to prod the other for their vulnerability, so they enjoy each other’s company, and read between the lines.
THE FERRIS WHEEL OPERATOR: The Ferris Wheel Operator really needs to get that stick out of their ass. Or, at least just loosen up a little. Have some fun! The Beach Goer tries to be the Operator’s voice of irrationality, encouraging them to live their life before it’s too late. They have different ideas of what life is supposed to be like. After all, the Operator has a family and they don’t. In a lot of ways, they think they might have been like the Operator in another life. Had they made all the right decisions and settled down. The Beach Goer has somehow become their resident weekend babysitter, and not always, but often finds themselves spending the entire weekend running around with the kids and going on rides. They feel for the Operator, and take it from them, they know what poverty is like... but they just wish the Operator could see that they could be perfectly happy living on one job, and not wasting their whole weekend mindlessly pressing buttons.
THE CHEF: Leftovers? Count them in! There’s one thing for sure, witnessing the Chef post-shift every day is a nice, blatant reminder why they never liked working. The left over pasta the Chef sneaks to all the employees after Garguilo’s closes is worth its weight in gold to the Beach Goer. It makes for a very satisfying dinner, plus the smell of Italian food on the Chef is kind of nostalgic. The Beach Goer lets the Chef rant to them about their shift every night, and gives them life advice straight from the file cabinet of live free, die free. Take down the establishment, dude. Fuck capitalism. Is there anymore garlic bread?
1 note · View note
thestarlightforge · 1 year ago
Text
Ok but the craziest thing? Is if Kara shows up.
And it’s MELISSA’S VOICE—
Edit:
Ok but y’all. Actually.
Melissa, Katie, Chyler, Nicole, even f***ing CHRIS WOOD—the PRINCE HIMSELF—were rooting for SC when SG was on.
Can you imagine that conversation?
Melissa would be wary to come back. SG had a great run, but she and Chris have a kid now, and the show ended on a pretty good note. But Chris did Netflix’s new He-Man, which aired shortly after SPOP was over, and all that stuff is loosely connected. Those creative teams are at least gonna be aware of each other, and as good an actor as he is, he would be aware of the lore around SPOP—how connected she was to the original He-Man cartoon, and how SPOP’s popularity is totally how they were able to so easily get a He-Man reboot off the ground.
Imagine, if you will.
The My Adventures of Superman creatives—a whole pack of SPOP and Steven Universe people—approach the CW SG alums on a Zoom call.
“We know Supergirl ended. It was a beautiful, pride-filled show, and you founded an amazing queer fandom to follow it. But it was never allowed its final bloom, regardless of your pushing.”
They produce concept art of queer Kara, her hair a-la Carol Danvers in The Marvels, hands on hips, a determined smirk on her face. Lena stands beside her, smirking back, full maroon business suit and those sparkling green eyes.
“We want to go there. We want to give Kara the Pride she deserves. And we want you to be with us.”
In their group chat:
Melissa: Well?
Chyler: >YOUTUBE - KARA LEANED IN<
Melissa: Heh.
Chyler: >YOUTUBE - KARA AND LENA CONSTANTLY FLIRTING WITH EACH OTHER<
Nicole: RECEIPTS 👏🏼
Chyler: >YOUTUBE - SUPERCORP CRACK<
David: Was there crack on the show? Did I miss crack?
Nicole: You played a detective, lmao
Chyler: >YOUTUBE - LENA BEING HORNY ON MAIN FOR SUPERGIRL<
Katie: Oh gosh—
Chyler: >YOUTUBE - ALEX DANVERS HAVING TO THIRD WHEEL SHIP SUPERCORP FOR THREE MINUTES<
Melissa: So one “yes,” then.
A moment goes by. Chris is grinning. The final nail:
Melissa: Katie?
Katie: …
Katie: “See ya tomorrow, boss.”
Melissa grins wide.
Melissa: “❤️”
AND SIX MONTHS LATER, WE’VE GOT SUPERCORP KISSING ON SCREEN, WHICH OFC THEY WILL AIR THE EPISODE ON EITHER
MAY 13 — 5x13, the episode code for “It’s a Super Life”
JUNE 20 — 6x20, “Kara,” and during Pride Month
OR
JUNE 8
AKA
6x08
WHEN KARA LEANED IN
AKA
“WELCOME BACK, KARA”
EDIT 2 (bc I’m unhinged):
And the episode where they finally kiss on screen is about Kara convincing Clark it’s okay to tell Lois, finally, that he’s Superman. Because A), She’s probably going to figure it out anyway lol, she’s Lois Lane. And a more important B), After a lot of struggle with vulnerability, Kara learned it’s okay to let people in. To let them take care of you. You don’t always have to save the world alone. “El Mayarah, little cus.”
And Lena walks up to her on the balcony where they were chatting, Kara still in her full Supergirl garb.
“Hey, Kara,” she says.
“Hey, yourself.”
“I ordered potstickers.”
“Mmm.”
“Shall we head home?”
Kara looks at her with a look of total peace. “Love to,” she says, and scoops her up. A soft twinkle of one of her theme songs from the CW plays on piano in the score… And Kara kisses her. Simple, but full. Like she’s finally home.
“Good luck, Superman. I’m a text away.”
And Lena and Kara fly off into the Metropolis skyline.
Once she’s gone, Clark texts her.
Clark: A Luthor and a Super.
Kara: 😌 Something like that.
Kara: ❤️
Even if she was in one episode and never again. I cannot explain. The healing that would happen. Inside my fractured, grinch-like heart.
Tumblr media
Okay, so My Adventures With Superman was everything I hoped it would be and more! Clark is a fun, charming, earnest himbo. Lois is a driven, confident reporter with a knack for finding a story and not really thinking of the trouble it'll get her into. And Jimmie is an eager conspiracy theorist who's ready to uncover the truth with his friends.
I honestly love this version of the main trio. They're funny, energetic, and lively and they go together well. And most of the background characters are fun so far. Perry is fantastic as their perpetually tired and fed up with their bs boss. This Ma Kent is FANTASTIC. And this version of Livewire is an interesting (and hot) take on the character.
And I love how immediately into each other Lois and Clark are. Their obvious crushes on each other is refreshing and done really well, leading to a lot of cute moments just in the first two episodes.
So okay, when I watched this, my first thought, after just "holy shit this is great!" was that WOW, for a completely straight show, it just kind of feels gay. Like, it has a very queer vibe to it. Somehow, despite Lois and Clark being a het relationship it kind of feels sapphic as hell in the way it's done. And I'm sorry, but this version of Livewire was designed for lesbians:
Tumblr media
So I looked at the credits, and yep, it made sense.
The show was developed by Jake Wyatt, who worked in the animation department for the Duck Tales reboot and Steven Universe. Josie Campbell is the co-producer, who was a writer and story editor on She-Ra and the Princesses of Power. The first episode was directed by Jen Bennett, who directed 17 SPOP episodes, including Princess Prom, Promise, and Save the Cat. And the second episode was directed by Diana Huh, who was a co-director and storyboard artist on SPOP, and a storyboard artist on the Duck Tales Reboot, Infinity Train, and DC Superhero Girls.
My point is that there are a number of SPOP alum working on this show and it shows because somehow, someway, this silly little (so far) completely het show about one of the oldest superheroes and America's boy scout, feels fresh and gay as hell.
And who knows, maybe there'll actually be some queer content down the line. I mean, Kara is supposed to show up at some point. 😏 A girl can dream, can't she?*
My Adventures With Superman feel fun, fresh, and very anime-inspired and I 100% recommend checking it out. It airs on Adult Swim and HBO Max, and the first episode is free to watch on Adult Swim's Youtube page.
Also, I want you all to know that I worked really hard to make this a decently coherent post and not just a lot of squealing about how great this show is and how adorable fucking Clark and Lois are.
*For real, if, against all odds, this show was somehow the show that pulled off Supercorp, I would LOSE. MY. MIND. I know, there is a 0.0002% chance of that happening, but again, a girl can DrEaM!
122 notes · View notes
no-droids · 4 years ago
Text
Home
Tumblr media
gif credit: @javier-pena
Part Eighteen of the Rough Day Series
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 19.5K
Warnings: SMUT, religion kink (maybe?), squirting, consensual stalking/pursuing, canon-typical violence, mention of underage drinking, uhh I believe that’s it but as always, let me know if I’ve forgotten anything please!
A/N: Hey yall!!!  So I know this chapter has been a long time coming and though I’m not completely satisfied with it, I hope it brings a little happiness to you for an hour or two while you read!  School has been kicking my ass and I’ve been in a bit of an emotional slump recently, but I pulled a few all-nighters to post this on time and it’s finally finished!  Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me and sent me encouraging words over the past month or so, I hope you enjoy the end of the Sanctuary arc💕
Also like last time, part 2 of my collaboration with @followwhereshegoes will be posted after the chapter!!  As a reminder, sweet girl is a reader insert and every imagining of her will be different—this is Lisa’s interpretation of her and her artwork is absolutely gorgeous, so please go give her a follow!
Day 5–11:13am:
You zone out again in the early morning, but that happens a lot.  Din always keeps you up so late, all the time, and without any caf here, the rising sun just makes your eyes droop instead of flutter brighter and wider.  You helped a bunch of younglings find their way into their robes when it was still dark out, tying sashes and fitting masks while holding back your yawns.  The walk into Nariss is close to three hours, probably more with all these tiny little legs, and you almost forget to change into your new digs before everyone grabs breakfast.
Even though your ragtag entourage leaves for Nariss just as soon as everyone finishes eating, you don’t reach the city until nearly lunchtime.  Mostly because the kids walk about as fast as the elderly holy women chaperoning the trip.  You and Naydee lag behind the group, forcing yourself to meander slow as fuck when you nearly sprinted this same exact path just a few days ago.  On the way there, you listen to children of all sorts sing happily as they walk, chatter about their excitement for the parade, complain about wearing the fabric mask they made themselves, and more than once, somebody takes a tumble onto the ground and is left in teary sniffles and dirt stained clothes.  Likely for this reason, the robes are designed to be two pieces—a long tunic with a hood and a separate pants portion to prevent tripping instead of a draping skirt, but the smallest ones are clumsy and find a way to fall anyways.
It’s a colorful bunch—a chaotic rainbow of babies running around, and you share easy conversation with your new friend about the plans for the day until she asks something that makes you nearly trip and join the dirty robe club.
“Sister Drya said your family is meeting you in the city,” she tells you, ignoring your immediate subtle toe stub and the awkward shuffle you have to do to make up for it.  “There’s going to be lots of people downtown, I’m worried it might be hard for them to find you.”
Your heart thuds in your chest and you feel a bit short of breath at being abruptly confronted with the need to lie, but at the same time, you kind of love it.  Having a secret, hiding the truth from others, and just the reminder that you’re almost guaranteed to see Din and the baby before midnight pours warmth and tingles through your tummy.  Everything together is a hit of spice, filling you with a kind of excitement that used to be foreign to you.  Having fun, experiencing new things isn’t quite over yet, but home is calling and you miss it with every fiber of your being.
“I don’t think so,” you eventually respond, hoping she can see your kind smile and the sentiment it carries even as light, shimmery fabric wraps right around your mouth.  “If I disappear, you’ll know why.”
Naydee’s eyes crinkle in the corners to match yours.  “Hopefully you’ll be able to see the fireworks first,” she nudges you, her skin glowing against the pale cream fabric she has wrapped around her own mouth and the hood laying delicately over her braids.  “They start at eight.”
The fireworks, you almost forgot.  You know what?  Today is a good day.  You hear yourself think the full sentence multiple times, and the words put a spring in your step after every single one.  The road gradually becomes wider and filled with more travelers, and you feel safe in the back.  Like some kind of sheepdog bringing up the rear of this migrating cluster of children, making sure none of them drift off by themselves and start eating grass or something.
Surprisingly, the kids manage to be relatively patient and well-behaved once they’re in line at the gates.  The Sisters shuffle them along one by one as everyone moves up slowly, taking even longer to get into the city than it did a few days ago.  The entrance is packed already—so many people visiting for the festival, and they’re all dressed in costumes or robes of sorts, or at least a mask.  Most are beautifully crafted, but some manage to look slightly scary even with the soft springtime color schemes.  It’s a completely different world, a different life for each person as you pass them by.  Your stomach is starting to growl by the time you finally make it to the front, and luckily the guards just let the kids through without any ceremony.  Just you and the rest of the caretakers in light robes need to hold still for the retinal scan, matching each other perfectly except for differing shades of fabric, skin, and eye color.  Once the gates open for you and you step through, though… it’s… Maker.
Extravagant, magnificent are both words.  Floral is another.
It’s like they hung up bouquets wherever they could think to fit them, and this is just the edge of the city.  As the group moves through the streets and closer to downtown, it becomes more and more overwhelming.  The air itself is a warm fragrance wafting all around you, sunshiney and breezy and perfect, flowers of all kinds lining the modern buildings and archways like they were planted there from the very beginning and it just took this long to bloom between the cracks in the concrete.  You wish you had names for all of them so you could list them—the only thing you can offer is the color and vague descriptions of the ones that stick out to you.  Tiny yellow ones that are so small, they need to be bunched all together in massive quantities to even resemble normal flowers.  Up overhead, elaborate arrangements of enormous blue and purple and pink ones, wrapping around each other and hanging down from rooftops.  Some don’t even have petals, it’s like they’re big green cups that are big enough to hold things inside them.  You’re fascinated by every single one, wanting to stop and smell them all individually but needing to keep up with the large group and not allow any stragglers to be left behind, including yourself.
About an hour later, when you’re almost in the middle of the city and there are people everywhere, it’s time to eat lunch.  There isn’t much to it because of how expensive it is, and you’d normally feel bad for accepting the small meal each one of the children gets, but you donated all of your credits to the Keja and left absolutely zero for yourself.  Good intentions, terrible idea.  Still, you pull your mask down and snack on some deliciously fried food, trying not to eye anyone else’s platter after you finish yours.  It’s so good and it’s gone in an instant; you couldn’t even say what exactly it was besides which stall you got it at.  Whether it’s just the brilliant atmosphere or if the food on this moon is really just that good, you’re not really sure, but you’re still slightly hungry afterwards with no extra money to sneak a snack.
Soon after, the kids all line up to get their faces painted, or whatever portion of their face is visible behind the cloth masks and hoods they’ve got on, and music blares from at least four different directions and none of the songs are even in the same language.  Depending on the part of town, it seems like the celebrations are all different.  It makes sense, considering most if not all of these individuals were victims of the Empire’s wrath, spread far and wide across the galaxy.  Here, they’re free, and they want everyone to know it.  Spring festivals of some sort are likely common for most cultures, at least those from planets with seasons, not like Arvala-7 where it was arid and hot year-round, and you’re assuming there are multiple things being celebrated today depending on which street you live on.  There’s chanting in different tongues, dancing and drums, outfits and masks from different cultures every single time you look.
At some point, the children spot a crowded street with flowery rails set up all along them, and you stand behind the tiny heads while everyone waits for the parade to begin.  You think your heart has just been beating slightly faster than normal all day today, but when you finally hear the sound of sirens blaring in the distance and cheers begin to pour out from the gathered crowd, it kicks up and you feel like you’re just as wide eyed at the spectacle as the waist-high babies all huddled together up against the railing.
A flurry of people and things pass in slow succession.  First, New Republic officers with their blaring holobikes, bright orange as always.  Then come large groups of people walking behind banners in languages you can’t read, some of them waving, some of them making different sounds and songs.  Bands marching in formation, dancers in dresses and masks and gorgeous flowers in their hair like crowns, and then brilliant hovering vehicles decorated in bright colors and festive depictions.  The craftsmanship and cultural significance is stunning to witness, it’s so insanely loud, there’s so much going on, and yet…
Through it all, you think of Din.  No matter the faces, the sights you see.  There’s someone juggling.  There’s either a very tall man and woman walking together or they’re both on stilts.  There are enormous balloons being led through the air, people are riding atop an assortment of animals you’ve never seen before, there are traditional costumes and spectacular stunts being performed.  Stalls with games and prizes line the stretches of concrete on the cross streets, people are laughing and celebrating and drinking in equal parts, everything is so lively and festive and fun, and yet, though it all, you think of Din.  Him and the baby, they’re always in the forefront of your mind, occupying your thoughts and making your tummy stir more and more as the time passes like the parade in front of you.  You don’t think this environment would ever be his favorite, and in some far away galaxy, perhaps if you lived other lives together and called a beautiful moon exactly like this home, then you might have to drag him out to see all the with you and the kid every year.  You’d have to bat your eyelashes and kiss his cheek and snuggle up to him all nice and pretty like, and he’d probably grumble and complain about it while wrapping his arms around you—all the people and the noise, sweet girl—but he’d go.  For you, he’d go.
Your thoughts suddenly stop short and you blink for a second.  Why… Why was that scene so vivid?  So wistful?  You used to preoccupy yourself with fantasies about Din all the time, back before you even knew him as Din.  But in every single one, it was sexual and likely came from a place of boredom, a lack of external stimulation.  Here you are amidst bustling surroundings, and you’re daydreaming about domesticity with him.  Why?  You want to travel the galaxy, right?  You want to see things you’ve never seen before, right?
For some reason, you think of the floor, and you miss it.
***
Day 5—5:04pm:
It’s late afternoon at this point and nobody can find the teens.
More people have made their way into the city and it’s starting to get extremely fucking crowded, especially where you are downtown, and the handful of them must’ve slipped away with all the excitement happening and how difficult it is to keep the young ones together now that the parade is over.  You don’t know how long they’ve been gone—one second they were walking around just slightly detached from the rest of you, you assumed because the boisterous younglings fucked with their cool vibe, and then the next Naydee is gasping out to you that they’re gone.
“Sister Drya is going to kill me,” she hisses, her dark eyebrows furrowed in self-admonishment and stress.  So many fucking people here, you know her pain.  “I was supposed to be chaperoning them, they were just here—”
She shakes her head under the loose, cream-colored hood, groaning and then speeding up her gait to catch up with the woman in charge, but you decide to grab her wrist before she can relay the bad news.  
“I can go find them,” you offer, speaking as low as you can with the blaring noise surrounding you.  “Before anyone knows they’re missing.  Is there a way to convince everybody to stay in one spot for a little while?  You won’t get in trouble, but I need to know how to find you again.”
Naydee’s eyes widen in surprise, and even though it’s likely a bit out of character for you, you have a feeling it’ll be a deceptively easy task.  Even with the masses right now and how atrociously big this city is, you already have a general idea of where they’re likely to be.  Besides, you’re not even sure your absence will be noticed if Naydee is the only one who figured out the teens were gone—the other Sisters can thrive without you while missing anyone else would be noticeable, and you owe your new friend a thousand favors for helping you out these past few days.  The least you can do is save her from the scolding of one of the scariest old ladies you've ever met.
“Be as quick as you can,” she finally agrees.  It’s a lot of trust to put into you, but you’ve had experience in reading the most unreadable man in the entire galaxy, some teenagers shouldn’t pose too much of a problem.  “If you’re not back in thirty minutes or somebody notices, I’ll have to say something.”
You nod, silently breaking away from the group without another word.  You think you can hear her announce to everyone that it might be best to eat dinner now to skip any long lines later—smart—but you’re out of their hearing range and line of sight almost immediately.
***
Day 5–5:17pm:
“Really?”  You raise an eyebrow since they won’t be able to see the way your mouth is twisted up underneath your mask, crossing your arms and tapping your foot against the ground to further illustrate just how not fucking impressed you are.
Seven teenagers freeze, and slowly—depending on how much bravery they can individually muster—they turn around on their stools to face you.  The atmosphere in the tavern is bustling and cheery, booze being passed around a large crowd that laughs and mingles, but your vibe is stone cold and quiet.  The contrast doesn’t feel wrong on you like it normally would; the negative and disapproving energy you’re emitting makes you feel powerful, untouchable, armored and strong.
“How did you find us so fast?”  One of the twin boys squeaks out behind a light blue robe, sounding worried.
“Had a hunch,” you grumble, glaring sternly at each of them in turn.  Your tone is dry, your voice sits lower in your throat when you’re pissed off.  All you had to do was look for the closest bar that doesn’t have any orange jumpsuits poking around waiting to card underage younglings, it wasn’t that difficult.  “You’re not exactly unpredictable.”
“Are you gonna rat us out?”  The other twin asks you, in a voice that’s oddly deep compared to his brother.
“I should,” you snap, quickly reaching out to push their drinks away.  “I should let Sister Drya rain down her holy fury on your asses, got good people all twisted up over you for nothing and I’m missing dinn—”
You don’t know why, but you suddenly cut yourself off and jerk upright, spinning around.
The sounds of glasses clinking and boisterous voices fill the bar, but they seem to fade out for a second.  Your eyes fly around the crowded space, your heart lodged in your throat and looking for anything reflective.  Every flash you see is a false alarm—belt buckle, wristwatch, cocktail shaker—
He’s here… isn’t he?
Only, there’s nothing.  Nothing is out of place, nothing jumps out at you the way you’re assuming it will.  You’re braced taut and ready to bolt at the first sign of a chase, but it never comes.
It’s so… unexpected, this feeling.  It’s not like you’re being hunted anymore, but instead, you’re the hunter.  You’re feeling the weight of him from this far away and it’s like he’s calling for you to come find him, teasing the wild adrenaline rush you get from just feeling his presence, as if he absolutely knows it happens.  Whispering soft in your ear and then vanishing the second you’re able to turn around, like he’s here but he’s not.  Playing with you from so far away.
This… this is a taunt.  
The whole thing at the inn was leagues below this, that was rudimentary.  Teasing, getting even, having fun with each other, whatever you want to call that, that’s what it was.  This is scarily sophisticated.  Fluid and practiced and the best kind of frightening, stark and dangerous compared to the carefree and upbeat setting surrounding you.  You’re not making it up, it’s not just you being paranoid.  You know him with your eyes closed.  You know he’s here somewhere watching you, just like you know the starlight that streaks across the pitch black horizon of hyperspace.  Not because you can see it, not really, not directly.  But because by it, even in the vastest and darkest and emptiest of voids, you’re suddenly able to see everything else.
“You okay, Nerida?”
The volume gradually comes back up and you blink, suddenly remembering where you are, who else is with you.  The chatter becomes slightly louder than it seemed before.
“Yeah,” you eventually say, slightly airy while continuing to stare emptily at the crowded room.  He’s not here, you don’t think, not anymore at least.  But you’re not stupid, you know what this means.  You’re already caught, there’s nothing you can conceivably do that will delay the reunion for the next—you look down and pull the loose sleeve up to check your communicator—seven fucking hours, there’s no way.  He’ll pull back and follow you, keep up with you from a distance and then snatch you away right when you let your guard down.  You at least need to get the kids back to their guardians before that can happen, though.
“Let’s go,” you quietly tell the group of foundlings, grabbing elbows and hauling them out of their stools.  “Naydee was the only one who knew that you were gone when I left.  Here’s to hoping she managed to keep it that way.”
***
Day 5–5:32pm:
Against all odds, you’re able to rally the wayward teens and successfully lead them through shoulders that are beginning to move closer together as the crowd grows and grows.  You stay towards the back and don’t look behind you once—not only do you not want to give the younglings an unnecessary reason to become paranoid or to question your actions, but you can still feel Din lingering.  Moving like a shadow, probably fitting in perfectly with the masked festival-goers, nothing drawing any attention to him with all the spectacular sights and noise occurring.
Soon you return to the same spot from before, and you and the teenagers seamlessly integrate yourselves back into the rest of the group without anyone noticing a thing is out of place.  When you move to stand beside her, Naydee’s bone-deep sigh of relief is palpable even behind the concealing fabric; she squeezes your hand incredibly tight in a silent gesture of thanks, and then pulls something from the deep pockets of her robe and passes it to you sneakily.  A purple fruit.  She must’ve saved it for you.
Maker, fuck yes.  It’s not much but it’s more dinner than any of the seven troublemakers get, but Naydee quietly assures you they’ll be able to eat something once they return to the Keja around midnight, just not the tasty expensive treats they’re selling at the vendors.  As the sun goes down, you try not to stain your pretty fabric a deep maroon as you chomp and feel your lips start to curl upwards.  It sounds so fucking stupid when you put it like this, but you keep going back to Din and revelling in knowing that he’s so close, like you’re just mentally checking in on him.  You don’t get the sensation by thinking, though—more like you just focus really hard on your heart and feel him there just a second afterwards.
Is that how pure, stupid, shameless love feels when you’re completely entrenched in it?  It’s not like it’s surrounding you, it’s not suffocating you or making you float.  It’s just a thing.  Like… a thing inside your chest, a physical thing you can search for and find, something you can point to on your body and say it’s right here, this is where my love for him lives.  Right at the bottom of your heart, right where it curves and beats strong when other hearts meet flat at sharp angles.  You do it over and over again, reconfirming its existence every single time.  You don’t know what else you’d call it.  Love is the only word.  To love, to know.  To hold in the heart.
Soon, you start to notice that people are slowly moving around your stationary group.  You look up and watch the crowd begin to walk, some of them giving soft smiles to the cute children as they pass by, but all of them following the same unspoken direction.
“Where is everyone going?”  You ask Naydee, standing on your tiptoes to watch the crowd migrate like a giant system, an organism or mechanism of thousands (or tens of thousands?) of smaller moving parts all traveling in tandem.  It’s fascinating—you’ve been to crowded places, you know what it looks like when a lot of people are packed into one area, but you’ve never seen what it looks like when they all move together.  They would normally be bumping into each other, slipping in between, fighting and never really getting anywhere, interacting individually and thinking separately.  Now they’re progressing in one single direction, so many with the same mindset and understanding of what comes next.  A second parade, almost, with New Republic officers directing the flow of pedestrians as they pass.
“The eastern part of the city!”  Naydee yells over the noise and points, and beyond her extended finger, you can barely see the light of a dusky body of water in the distance beyond the buildings.  “The fireworks are going to go off over the bay, but it takes awhile to get there!”
“Is…”  You blink for a second, suddenly caught off guard, trying to think back to the holomap the concierge pulled up at the front desk of the inn.  Surely you would’ve noticed it, but your sudden childlike hope makes you ask anyway.  “Is it part of an ocean?”
Naydee shakes her head.  “A really big lake!”
Your shoulders drop just the slightest bit in disappointment but still, you ache to see it.  You can’t even imagine—the fireworks are likely going to reflect across the water, giving everyone double the view.  And luckily, after all the children and caretakers are individually accounted for, you start to behind the slow-moving crowd towards the docks you know lie beyond.  
Naydee scurries ahead to keep the kids together, ushering them forward and preventing any drunk passer-bys from accidentally stepping on them, and you quietly bring up the very rear of the entourage.  You take the time to observe more than anything, walk in the back and experience instead of trailblaze.  So many people, so many stories to be told, so many differences and diversity around you.  Your face is partially concealed and you don’t move your head too much, just your eyes.  They flick around to take in everything, the crowd thinning little by little as you make it out of the confined space downtown.  You’re able to make out full bodies and outfits again instead of just heads and shoulders, allowing you to breathe just a bit easier under your mask.
And then at one point—and it’s almost a little startling because it happens all at once—the organizers must decide that the sun has officially gone down, because the lights come on.  All of a sudden, paper lanterns and bulbs flicker into existence all around you and the world decides it wants to glow, glint and twinkle from the inside out.  They’re everywhere, draping across rooftops and tangled around street signs and stuffed into the flower bouquets overhead, raining soft colors down on everything.  You’re in complete awe, trying to keep walking but also needing to look at as much as fucking possible in the suddenly luminescent city.  It’s so colorful, so vernal and warm and you feel like you’re… Like when you took a shower on the Crest for the first time and spent a few happy moments just playing with the water and soap for your own enjoyment, it’s as if all the brilliant rainbow of colors the bubbles would make under the fluorescent light decided to surround you at the same time.  You’re inside stained glass, blinking at the flowers and wondering if Din can even smell the air or if it’s filtered, processed and reduced to nothing under the helmet.
And that’s when you see him.
But with the way your chest rapidly constricts and you can count your heart beats as they pound, blaring white noise through your ears and adrenaline through your veins, it’s like he's just allowing it to happen.  You immediately understand that you don’t have fucking anything the second your eyes land on him; this isn’t a heads up that you caught wind of early, it’s not a gift or an advantage you’ve incidentally gained over him that you should be thankful for.  Being able to see him directly like this, being able to make out all these fucking details from this far away…  This just feels like you’re being informed of the endgame right before it comes.  If you were anyone else, if you were a real bounty and this was a real hunt, his armor glinting and reflecting the lanterns overhead would feel like a knife you're about to be on the wrong side of.
You have a decision to make, very quickly.  Either keep in this same direction, head straight towards him and just pretend like you are who you’re dressed as, a random caretaker for a bunch of rowdy foundlings during a spring festival on Nariss, or disappear.  Drop back, move through the crowd and use the distance you have between you right now as your only hope of getting away in time.  Neither one gives you a particular advantage—your chances of being caught have already skyrocketed exponentially just being able to see the reflection in his armor, the hovering shield at his side with big black eyes… staring directly at you.
You almost trip over your pantlegs, gasping.  Baby.  He beams at you and you think he calls out through the passing crowd, his tiny arms extending out, and your chest feels like you’re pulling organs as if they were muscles, cramping up and seizing with emotion.  You want to run to them even though you’re meant to be running from them, call out over the noise and wave even though you’re not supposed to.  You want to hold the kid again, squish his little forehead with kisses, walk around with Din’s hand pressed against your lower back and see the fireworks with him.
Your hands clutch at the draping fabric covering your chest, pulling and twisting it uncertainly.  What do you do, what do you do?
No matter what, you know it’s over.  Keep your head down and try to move past him, or break away from your group and try to escape—both are different paths that lead to the same result.  What’s the point of running when he’s the one chasing you?  The heart-pounding thrill is the only reason you’re even considering it, but his body stands so tall amongst the crowd, not moving while people ebb and flow like a river passing around him.
Except then you can hear his voice repeat the last thing he said to you in person as if he says it directly into the comm in your ear.  When you do see me… try to outrun.
You should run—run, it’s better than just hoping he doesn’t see you when you already know he does.
Unless…
Out of a trillion different possibilities, you soon realize that there is exactly one situation in which this could turn out in your favor.  You can immediately picture the scenario in your mind, but there’s just too many variables to conceivably rely on getting them all right.  This maybe has a… two percent chance of working?  Maybe?  Everything would have to go perfectly, just fucking flawlessly, but what other choice do you have?  Two percent is better than whatever odds you’re dealing with now.
You walk silently behind the group of foundlings as you approach closer and closer, keeping your head purposefully down as they skip and giggle and dance ahead.  He knows you’re here—he has to know, you’re counting on him knowing.  Walk right in front of him, pretend like you don’t see, make sure you keep left.  Keep left, keep left, keep your head down, keep your head down—
A leather glove suddenly catches hold of your wrist hard enough to tug you backwards.
Your gasp is audible over the sound of the crowd and you spin around, jerking your head up to look at him in fear.  Your heart slams as the beskar reflects your mask and hood back at you—you’re terrified and it shows, you can see it in your eyes.
You quickly try to yank your hand away, even as your index finger stretches up towards the communicator around his wrist.
“Miss Nerida?”  A child’s voice cries, and then small hands grab at you from behind as you bury the urge to actually fight him.  Your instincts are demanding you attack when his grip is this strong, but you just whine and struggle, slapping weakly at him with your free hand and feeling more of the younglings begin to pull at you, their high pitched voices calling more and more attention to the scene.
Your gaze flicks to the side, suddenly landing on a pair of New Republic officers helping direct the thousands of moving bodies from the closest street corner.  They’re looking at you, pointing and beginning to speak into their own comm units.  Din’s helmet snaps sideways to follow your gaze, and then he’s immediately dropping your wrist and stepping back, retreating as quickly as he caught you.  Though you don’t want to—though you don’t want to give yourself away even more, you want to pretend fully that he was a complete stranger and the children were right to try to help you get away—your eyes fall to your son in the hovering crib by his side and you feel yourself crumble just a bit.
Just a few more hours, kid.  A few more hours.
Children pull you away while your pursuers both disappear into the crowd, and you quickly turn to soothe the tiny babies instead of chasing after the one you miss so terribly.
“I’m alright,” you tell them, scooting them up and encouraging them to continue walking.  Blend in, blend in, don’t let anybody think anything is wrong.  “Come on, we’re fine, come on, we have to catch up.”
They take your lead as soon as one of the caretakers turns around and sees the small group crowding around you.  You think she asks what happened, but you just tell her a man mistook you for someone else and nothing more comes of it.  She’s able to settle the chaos better than you are, and by the time you’re continuing to travel forwards once more like nothing happened, the communicator suddenly flicks on in your ear.
“What did you do?”  He breathes out, his footsteps moving fast through his voice.  He’s traveling much quicker than you expected—is he still being followed?  The officers are gone from your sight, they might be going after him right now, weaving between bodies and calling out to the perpetually vanishing glint of armor as he navigates his way out of danger.
You look down at the comm on your wrist and your heart nearly soars with victory.  It worked.  It worked.  You just have to outlast a bit longer, don’t draw any extra attention to it—he’s preoccupied and he certainly doesn’t sound happy, but you hope that’ll be enough to make him slip.  Use his frustration to your advantage, let him think the only thing you were successful at was momentarily escaping him.
“The cops weren’t part of the plan,” you admit quietly, keeping your head down as your loose hood billows in the twilight breeze.  “Don’t get caught.”
There’s a few moments of just his breathing, his footsteps, and the noise floor humming through the comm, before he finally responds.  “You look beautiful.”
You stare unseeingly down at the concrete under your feet, still feeling your hand tingle from where he caught you.  The line abruptly mutes on his end and you just keep moving forward, onward, wanting to look back but knowing he’s already long gone.
***
Day 5–5:24pm:
Din is fucking furious.
He had you.  You were right there, right in front of him, and even if he hadn’t been subtly trailing you all day, seeing the red footsteps get covered and flicker out of existence just a few moments after you make them, he would’ve recognized you anywhere.  In black and white, in the fading light, with your face covered, children calling you by a different name and attaching themselves to you like they’ve known you forever—doesn’t matter, he would’ve known you.  Your eyes have always given you away, always so expressive and starry and soft, but able to see right through solid steel whenever you look at him.
But then you slipped from his grasp, and then more guards pushed him further and further away from you.  They must all be in constant communication, because every single jumpsuit he sees immediately spots him and starts following.  It’s fucking exhausting, and he thinks of you the whole time.
He waits in a dark alley with the kid and taps the side of the helmet a few times to bring up the time on his comm, but then relaxes just slightly when he sees the hour.  It’s earlier than he thought it was, he’ll be able to find you again.
Though, something tugs at him while he’s looking at the clock ticking away in front of his eyes, counting down each second that passes.  There was… a moment.  Back in the square, when he was holding onto you again, when you were looking directly into his once more—everything in his helmet— 
No, he shakes his head while the kid looks up at him curiously, it can’t be.  It was just a split second, it was gone so fast.
But he can’t get rid of it.  Though there’s no explanation, he thinks the display screen flickered.  The sky behind you looked different for a single frame, your footsteps weren’t bright red and visible anymore, your eyes weren’t grey and he stopped wondering what shade of fabric you and your friend decided to choose for you to wear.  It was silvery, he’s almost certain.  Like his armor, it only reflected the color of everything around it.
Color.  Everywhere.  Bursting for a blink of an eye, and then gone just as quick, before he could actually figure out what it really meant.
***
Day 5–6:59pm:
This water is quiet here, but it sparkles.
It doesn’t ever really get truly dark thanks to the enormous hanging moon and ringed gas giant dancing with Sanctuary II, constantly reflecting light back onto the surface and reacting with some of the trace chemicals up above the atmosphere, and you think the sky just might be the prettiest you’ve ever seen it.  Must have something to do with the equinox, the glimmering angles of light being played with by celestial bodies in this stunning system, but it’s a dream.  The Maker apparently couldn’t decide which colors he wanted tonight so he just splashed all of them together all at once, let them run and blend like ink in the gentle water below, like the various people who call this moon home.
That view in front of you, coupled with all the flowers and lanterns lining the streets behind you, and you’ve lost track of time the exact same way you hoped Din would.  You think you’ve stood for about an hour or so in this one spot, half-listening to excited chatter from the babies, mostly just gazing across the stretch of water and being able to just barely spot the docks in the distance, but it feels like it’s only been minutes.
You check your watch—the fireworks should be starting any second now.  You don’t know what to expect, just that in your experience, explosions tend to be loud.  You've decided you’re not going to plug your ears, though.  Tummy twisting with nerves and another inexplicable feeling you can’t quite put your finger on, you resolve to experience the unknown exactly the way it’s meant to be.  Fully, without worry or fear.
Then, lacking any warning or ceremony whatsoever, a single flare launches silent and high from one of the small boats skimming the bay, and the crowd seems to hold its collective breath as the dim light disappears into thin air for a split second, before—
It’s… quite possibly the most dazzling thing you think you’ve ever seen.  So shamelessly decorative just for the sake of it, not serving any other practical purpose besides celebration and visual spectacle, and you’ll probably never know another extravagance like it.  You grew up with dust pelting against tired eyes, you never thought they’d get to reflect such gorgeous bursts of color back up at the sky, glassy and childlike amongst a group of equally wide-eyed children.
As expected, a deafening boom follows closely behind the singular display, but just witnessing it is incredible enough to make you forget to brace yourself for the sound and you jump almost violently in response.  There comes a loud cheer from the people standing around you, a few delighted gasps and children who decide now is the best time to start crying, but then more flares begin to launch from the boats and the subsequent show will sear itself into your memory to replay over and over again.
Still, you think the endless sky and dark water below would have to light on fire to stop him from coming to mind.
Din.
You click the comm on, continuing to stare in stunned awe but wanting nothing more than to hear his voice right now, feel his hand rest on your lower back and the kid’s three fingers squeezing one of yours while the stars rain down from above.  You’re only continuing to run from him because it’s expected of you, that’s the reason you’re here, but it’s becoming harder and harder to argue with yourself.  “Do you always see in black and white?”
It takes him just a few seconds to respond, but he always does.  “Only when I’m tracking someone.”
The loud booms can be heard over the earpiece, happening maybe a second after they crack and sparkle above you.  You can’t tell if the latency is due to the electronics or if he’s just that far away from the source of the sound itself, but… you don’t think he is.  He feels close again, like he could just walk up right next to you any second, or maybe that’s just how he always feels now.
“Does that mean you haven’t seen the sky here?”  You ask after a moment.  This whole time, everything has been grey for him?
“I saw it,” Din murmurs, and even though it’s quiet and explosions are thundering loud enough to deafen more sensitive ears, his quiet voice somehow breaks through it all.  “When you left the Crest, I saw it behind you.”
For some reason, you suddenly feel like crying.  Whether it’s the way he phrases it or the sentiment in the words, you’re close to tears without even knowing why, looking up at the sky illuminating spectacularly.  He says it like he wasn’t the one who parked on this moon and told you to go on without him.  “Can you… turn it off for just a second?”
He takes a second, before clarifying for you.  “I turn it off and I lose your footprints.”
So that was the ultimatum.  He doesn’t want to turn it off until you’re back with him again.  Does he not understand?  Does he not know what you know?  Maybe you just happened to feel it first, this overwhelming physical sensation inside you whenever you think about him.  It’s like the exact opposite of a hole in your chest.  And it’s so odd, so counterintuitive.  Being comforted in his absence, feeling him with you when he isn’t.  Falling in love in the dark, knowing him without ever seeing him.
“You never needed them,” you say, reaching up to pull your mask down under your jaw and chin for a moment, wanting to freely breathe the freshwater and flowers while stars explode and fracture across the sky.  It’s a truth you’re acknowledging, something you’ll carry with you, something you fundamentally own at this point.  “You’d find me without the helmet.  And I’d find you.”
The fireworks continue to bleed into the water beneath them, multicolor splashes rippling into existence and disappearing just as quick.  You could’ve never imagined a more colorful, magnificent landscape—besides your waterfall on Naboo, of course.  That was a pure product of nature though, a place hidden away and untouched by people, completely sacred.  Light refracting against mist, natural glass that would shatter under your weight.  This is a celebration of life and family.  Loud in a different way, affecting you in a different way, but just as wonderful and touching.  A cultivated paradise, designed to be beautiful and safe only because they wanted it to be.
“Think so?”  He asks softly.  He sounds so deep and warm, but… a little distant.  You’re able to hear it in his words.  You don’t know why, though.  Doesn’t he believe you?  Perhaps… perhaps this isn’t The Way.  Perhaps this is part of a completely different oath, one where knowing and loving somebody isn’t the same thing as looking at their face, not at all.  Where you can have them exist entirely separate from each other, because this is love.  This is real, enduring, bone-deep love, and you haven’t ever seen his face, so how would he explain that?  How would the Mandalorians reconcile that?  You bear the mark of the mudhorn, you’ve moved through time and space with him, you’re a mother to his son, and you’ve never seen his face.  It defies both the Mandalorian oath and traditional understandings of love, or it meets them right in the middle, depending on how you look at it.
“I know so.”  For the first time, you think you might sound more confident and certain than he does.  Maybe he doesn’t fully get it yet, but then you suppose he’ll just have to trust you.  “Will you look at the sky?”
“I see it,” Din tells you, but you know he doesn’t.  Not the way you want him to.  And stars, you just want so many things for him, don’t you?  The sky, fresh air, water, light, food, rest.  You want him to see the galaxy the way you do—have a new appreciation for the gifts that are given just because you’re alive to experience them.  All the physics and mathematics aligned perfectly for it to happen—all the chemistry, the systems, the dynamics that dictate the universe, they all got together and crafted a world where you, him, and the kid all exist together at the same time.  You want him to know the significance of that.
“With color?”  You ask, knowing his answer before he seems to.
“I…”  Din wants to argue, or at least say it again.  He can’t or he’ll lose you, he already told you he doesn’t want to turn the setting off.  It’s such an unnecessary conflict, but you want to respect it so much that you’re willing to give up things of your own to make it happen.
“How do I fix it then?”  You whisper, so desperately wanting this one thing for him, this one grandeur to behold.  How do you fix this problem?  How do you convince him to look with you?  You’d offer to just go and find him instead of continuing to run away for the next few hours, but you know the show will be over soon and you don’t have much time left.  “Do you want me to come look for you?  It’ll be too late by then, you’re too far away.  Look at the sky.”
It’s silent for a moment—truly silent, even though colorful bombs are going off above the bay.  You don’t know why you’ve attached yourself to this so strongly, but it’s almost devastating when you don’t get a response.  You look away from the spectacle for the first time in an eternity, gazing unseeingly into the crowd of onlookers with a sudden sadness taking hold of you.  He won’t look, he’s too stubborn, he holds onto things too tightly.
But then, a flurry of flares start launching in rapid succession from the distant boats, screaming and crying on their way up and then igniting into showers of light, and the abrupt increase in activity manages to catch your attention once again.  This must be the end, they saved the best for last.  Every corner of the horizon flashes and sparks, and you’re mesmerized at how bright it is, how many colors they’ve managed to fit into one single frame.
“It’s beautiful,” comes his voice, and the smile that you break into feels just right for the brilliance of the view above you.  Maker, it is, isn’t it?  Now you can hear it—he sounds like he’s looking at it too, with color, in all its breathtaking glory, and you feel like you’re flying.  Like he picked you up and let you watch up close, like you can feel his armor under your fingers right now as he carries you through the sky.
It swells up inside you, a rising wave similar to the ones you can see in the distance, and you know you probably shouldn’t say it because it’s not in your best interest to say it right now, but you have to say it anyways.  It’s an unknowable compulsion, a need to connect and communicate directly with him but for your sake, not presently, not at this exact moment in time.
Luckily, you mute your comm just in time and simply give the words to him from very far away.
“Hurry up,” you say, sending the sentiment into the sky with all your love, and the conflicting hope that he won’t take the advice until a bit later on.  “Come and find me.”
***
Day 5–7:37pm:
After the fireworks are over, people start to drift off in separate directions, clearing the traffic and congestion from the streets around you.  Someone puts their hand on your shoulder and you blink a few times, spinning around and almost stepping on a bunch of tiny little feet by accident.
Stars, that’s a lot of children.  They’re all crowded around Naydee, who pats a few heads and almost buckles under the younglings clinging to her leg.
“Figured you would be long gone by now,” she grins at you from behind her mask, and you’re reminded to pull yours up over your face just from looking at her.  “It’s late—we’re going back to the Keja.”
“Oh, shit,” you breathe in surprise, but the noise of the gradually dispersing crowd manages to cover it up.  At least from younger, more easily distracted ears, but you think Naydee hears you.  Her dark eyes roll good-naturedly, looking happy but exhausted from the long day.  You’re going to have to say goodbye now.
“What happened to your family?”  She asks after a moment, and you think she’s being careful with the way she says it, likely because family is a difficult topic to navigate in general around some of the children hanging on her and begging for her attention.  “Have you been in touch with them?  If not, I’m sure you can come back with us.  It’ll be late by the time we get there, but at least you’ll be safe.”
You open your mouth to automatically decline her offer, knowing Din is still in the crowded city looking for you and wanting to stay where there’s lots of people.
But then… well, he would expect you to do that, wouldn’t he?
There’s more people here.  More danger, but better places to hide.  It’s the obvious choice, it’s the one that makes the most logical sense.  But you’d also be completely alone and you’re assuming the only reason he hasn’t snatched you up yet—which you know he could’ve done multiple times by now, is likely because you’re with a group of innocent foundlings, moody teenagers, and very stern older women.  He probably doesn’t realize you’ve told them about him and the kid, though you were slightly vague on the details.
It’s also a little over three hours to get back, but you’re banking on it being closer to four with how whiney and tired some of the small voices sound, others sounding like they’re an enormous sugar rush contained into a tiny little capsule.  Would he have the gall to try and get you right from under their noses?  Will he even know you left the city, or will he assume you made the smartest decision possible and simply account for it ahead of time?  No, you're overthinking it, just make a decision and stick with it.
“There’s also free food,” Naydee shrugs while you’re still considering, but… well, that settles that.  Almost three days of friendship and she already knows exactly how to win you over in the end.  Sustenance for your empty tummy, an escort the entire way there, and heavily guarded walls beyond.  Din will have to get creative in response—you flaunted your imagination for days, coming up with dozens of evasion tactics to outlast him, but this one just seems… incredibly practical.  Exploiting a weakness of his—isolating it, having it be reinforced by precedent, and then taking advantage of it.  You bet he’ll catch on, but still, it’ll make it more difficult for him, and you’re grasping at straws to hang on just a little longer.
“I…”  Quick, come up with something.  You clear your throat.  “The city is too crowded, I haven’t been able to find them.  I could just… tell them where I’m headed and see if they can find me along the way?”
Naydee smiles and nods.  “Sounds perfect.”
Yet, the entire walk back… you keep thinking you’re going to feel Din trailing behind you, waiting to feel the nerves twist in your tummy and your palms to sweat, but you don’t.  You keep glancing over your shoulder and then down at your wrist, needing to talk yourself out of addressing him through the comm to let him know exactly what the plan is.  You like maintaining a sense of secrecy from the new characters you’ve met on your adventures—Naydee, Karga, Peli—almost everyone you’ve been introduced to, you found a way to find a subtle enjoyment in hiding certain things from them.  But with Din, you don’t have any walls.  They crumbled nearly a full year ago when he silently pushed a cauterizer in your hand and took his armor off for you, and you’ve felt the inexplicable need to bare yourself to him in return ever since.  It would be to your extreme detriment to do it now, but you still have to fight the urge.
Even if you don’t feel him following, you still find yourself acting like he is.  Constantly turning back to double check the road behind you, drifting off in the middle of shallow, distant conversations with tiny foundlings who can’t tell the difference, keeping towards the middle of the pack this time to avoid being picked off towards the back.  The belltower at the orphanage is loud and will ring for quite a distance, so your timing has to be utterly pristine for this to all work out.  You eye your comm the entire way there, trying to stall just the right amount to avoid any realizations or fall into any traps he may be setting for you.
You eventually leave the city walls far behind you, and now you have no clue where he is.  You lost him, and maybe that’s why you feel your heart beat insanely fast the whole time.  He could be anywhere now.  Behind you, adjacent, parallel—you can’t decide where to look, but it keeps you wide awake and focused while the group tiredly travels back to the temple.
***
Day 5–11:32pm:
You can see it in the distance, the brick buildings slowly coming into view.  One might think your stress would have worked itself out by now, been brought back to a manageable level after four hours of walking, but you’ve been on red alert for the past hour or so.  Any movement or rustle that doesn’t come from the sleepy children or exhausted caretakers, you’re on top of it, snapping your attention to the offending tree or animal and not being able to relax even after affirming it’s just nature, it’s not shiny metal bounding after you in the darkness, ready to take you down.
The infants are all likely snoozing away in the nursery, and the Sister who volunteered to stay behind and look after them comes to greet the group at the gate as you approach.  Like always, two Brothers open the iron bars to allow you inside, and you feel the anxiety dig its claws into your tummy.  If Din is going to get you, this is the very last moment to do it.  These walls are guarded and you’re nervous for him, you’re nervous for yourself—you’re just fucking nervous.  Jumpy and worried, not being able to pinpoint him anymore and feeling all the more anxious because of it.
It doesn’t feel right.  Nothing feels right about this, but you can’t figure out specifically what’s wrong.  This was the exact plan, this was a way for you to just survive these last few hours and yet, it doesn’t feel right that you actually succeeded in doing so.  It doesn’t make sense that he’d allow you to return all the way here, especially when he was close enough to touch you earlier.  Din has had so much time to snatch you up, so many opportunities to lure you away, confront you—anything to catch you, and he hasn’t done it yet.  Why?  Either you truly did escape and he has no idea where you are, which doesn’t feel right, or he’s choosing not to get you for whatever reason, which also doesn’t feel right.  What’s he waiting for?  You can’t have won.  It was all too fucking easy, you’re expecting to see him around every single corner because he should be there, he shouldn’t have allowed this to happen.
When someone gently touches your elbow, you’re so on edge that you nearly whip around in surprise.
“Sorry!”  Naydee immediately apologizes, taking her hand back to lift her hood and remove the mask covering her face.  “Didn’t mean to scare you!  I was just going to say that the commissary is still open,” she offers, and you watch the small group of hungry teenagers break off from the group to make their way there.  “It’s going to take awhile to get the children ready for bed, so we’ll be in the dormitories if you need to sleep.  Otherwise, I’m not sure I’ll see you again.”
You stare at her and blink a few times, trying to readjust your focus.  She’s your new friend, she just said this was likely the last time you’ll see each other, but you can’t stop thinking about Din.  Imagine he’s hours away in the city right now, still looking for you.  You’re trying to evaluate your priorities here, but you truthfully never expected to get this far.  Inside the gates, surrounded by brick buildings and silent guards.  You know your way around here, you know hiding spots, you know how to outlast—it’s incredibly advantageous for you to be inside these walls.  What is he doing?
Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you give Naydee a quick hug and she happily accepts it.  “I’m sure we’ll meet again at some point.”
She smiles and nods, pulling back and letting a couple grumpy foundlings catch her robes and yank on them impatiently.  The loud group eventually disappears into the dorms, and the door shutting behind them cuts off the tired crying and chatty voices determined to stay awake, leaving you in silence that feels slightly unfamiliar after going without it for so long.
Fuck, you just need to breathe.  As soon as the dead quiet grips the air around you, you realize you need to relax.  You’re way too fucking wound up; you want to bolt at the smallest thing and the sudden silence of being alone multiplies it to the point where you have to remind yourself of its importance.  Breathe.  Focus.  There’s about fifteen minutes before the bells ring, fifteen more minutes and the chase will be all over.
Can you eat?  You thought you’d want to, but you think you’re too fucking antsy.  You can’t stay here alone, that’s for sure, but you also don’t want to be around all the children right now.  The commissary will have a handful of people wandering around, teens snacking and maybe a Brother or two standing guard.  It’s the best place to wait the clock out, so you make your way there.  The gentle breeze billows around your loose robes, your pantlegs swishing as you walk.
A few minutes later, you’ve got a plate of food in front of you but your mask is still up, and you’re just sitting there.  Towards the back of the large room, sitting by yourself at one of the tables and staring down at your communicator.  Five minutes.  You have five fucking minutes left before he finds you.  Can you feel him?  Is he closing in?
You sit up a bit straighter, taking a deep breath.  Focus on that feeling from earlier.  The presence in your chest, the weight that didn’t used to be there months ago—focus on that feeling and branch it outwards.  Can you feel him?
Something catches your eye.
Or no… it doesn’t, does it?  Nothing is out of place here, nothing is visibly wrong or amiss.  The only thing that’s changed from all the times before is how dark it is through the windows, and how there are only a few kids in here grabbing a midnight snack instead of being packed like usual.  Nothing else.
But there’s… there’s an acolyte in the far corner, standing guard with his back to the wall.  It’s not his presence that gives you pause—you expected him to be here, there’s always been at least one present whenever you’ve sat down to eat.  He doesn’t look any different from the rest of the Brothers you’ve passed by this evening or the days before—tall, silent, dark brown robes, hooded and mysterious—so why do you suddenly feel yourself break out into a cold sweat as soon as your eyes land on him?
Bubbling laughter and chatter echoes through the large room from one of the tables near the entrance—seven teenagers stuffing their faces with food and sharing animated conversation with each other now that it’s late and they’re alone—but your stomach twists and your fingers start to tremble as you slowly rise from your seat in the back.  You want to keep your head down and be casual but it’s impossible, you desperately need to keep looking at that silent guard in particular and your heart kicks up in your chest—
—and then it wrenches sideways when you’re carefully backing away from the table and the offending acolyte takes a single step forwards.
Run.  Everything in you screams for you to run, and it’s rarely done that before, but you can’t.  Not yet, you don’t want to draw attention, and the logical part of your mind rages against your gut instinct to haul ass.  He’s here—of course he is, the thought screams through your veins as you try to weave quickly in between tables, feeling light on your toes and readying yourself to run as soon as you can.  The dark figure seems to find a careful pace behind you, staying just far enough behind and walking in perfect silence, and you have so many fucking questions but you can’t even think a single thing beyond run away, run away.  Where’s the kid?  How did he get those robes?  Did he actually take his helmet off just to get to you in a room where anyone could confront him?
Your feet propel you forward as soon as you make it out of the door, you break out into a sprint—just flat out bolting because you know how fucking fast he is and you need as big a headstart as you can get.
You race down the stairs and through the courtyard, the beautiful surroundings contrasting drastically with the way you’re running for your fucking life through them.  It’s not beautiful to you right now; you feel clumsy and physically unable to move fast enough no matter how quick you go, your eyes are wide and every nerve is on fire and you can’t even tell if he’s behind you anymore with how silently he moves, but you just trust that he is and keep barreling forward.  Your breath puffs against the clinging fabric of your mask as you keep sprinting, willing your legs to pump faster.  Get to the belltower at least, get to where you have the smallest chance of being caught by the people who guard this place.
As soon as you allow yourself to even conceive the possibility, two Brothers in dark hooded robes suddenly turn the corner a little ways in front of you and your reaction time is perfect—you jerk to a halt and take a single step forward as soon as they spot you.  Since your momentum already committed you to it, you just have to walk, keep your head down, move directly past them and hope Din disappeared from behind you in time.
Step, step, step—keep going, control your breathing, you’re okay, you’re allowed to be up late tonight and they shouldn’t stop you.  Walk right by…  Stars, you feel their silent stares as you casually pass, and it just feels so cold and analytical compared to the kind of danger Din is gives off when dressed in the exact same clothing.  He’s hard and tangible and an unrelenting force, where they just feel like ghosts that haunt this place.  The threat they present is impersonal and detached, but the terror currently chasing after you is so real that he can read your mind.
You wipe the sweat from your brow as soon as you turn the corner, and your feet are already starting to speed up on their own knowing you’re out of their sight.  Run, get to the belltower before Din does, you can see it standing tall about a hundred feet away.  The stairs leading to the door come closer and closer, but you hear something behind you and it propels you faster.  It’s like you can feel him right at your heels even though you haven’t seen him, snapping at your ankles even though your footsteps are the only ones you can hear anymore.
You scramble up the stairs and close the door behind you, spinning around and facing it even as you slowly retreat backwards into the moonlit tower, trying to stay quiet.  Breathing through your nose, eyes shifting around the enclosed space, continuing to back up and away from the door.  Where is he?  There are so many windows that allow you to look outside, but why can’t you spot his movement through them?  Wasn’t he right behind you?
Behind you.
There’s no reason or logic at all to it; you just react.  Spinning around and throwing a mean punch.
Din jerks back just in time to miss it, twisting and dodging at the very last second to avoid your next few hits—but… things seem to slow down, even if they’re happening so fast.  The moonlight cascades through the dozens of windows lining the circular walls and it shines just enough to reveal small glimpses of him.  With every aggressive strike from you, you see something else—you see a flash of his chin when you try to uppercut, you aim for his chest and you see a bit of his jaw.  When you go for his jaw, he steps sideways and catches your wrist, and you see the bend of his nose catch the light this time.
But then it’s like he finally figures out that you’re actually fighting him, and now he’s coming for you.  Trained and ruthless, not weighed down by any armor and lightning quick, launching perfectly aimed attacks that you’re only able to avoid from reaction and muscle memory alone.  You block or move whenever he strikes, you attack whenever you see an opening, you sidestep at the same time he does—
Until you land a spin kick directly to the center of his chest and snap your leg to shove him back, your heel smashing into that soft spot right above his stomach with dead precision and brute force.  He exhales sharply and takes a few more steps back to steady himself while you pause to catch your breath.
Din abruptly comes back and you fall into it with him again, keeping a sharp rhythm with each other that’s faster, harder, and way more real than any sparring match you’ve ever shared.  The hours and days in hyperspace you spent practicing with him are but a fraction of what he’s throwing at you right now, the combinations so rapid and blurred that you just have to trust your knowledge of him and his movement through the dark.
But then, your downfall.  Bells begin ringing an earsplittingly familiar melody above you, and it shatters your concentration—you falter just as he grabs you and sweeps your feet out, and though you know how to get out of that, you’re not quick enough on the jump nor counterswing to prevent it.  He takes you to the ground, hard, and then your wrists are being pinned together above your head and your mask is being tugged down.
Din’s mouth on yours makes you want to cry.
The whole thing is like coming home.  You spent a week surrounded by strangers and having them call you by a name not given to you, fending for yourself, and now here he is.  Someone who knows who you really are, someone that wants to care for you.  Tears come to your eyes even as they're pressed tightly shut, and Din kisses you like he’s never known anything else.  His mouth fits to yours as if the Maker made your lips before ever considering the rest of you, his bare hand clutching your jaw and forcing you to open for him, letting him lick deep inside after going so many days without it.  It might feel dominant and overwhelming if it happened to any other person, but through it, you can also taste his desperation and weakness, how soft he is even when he’s squeezing your jaw and squishing your wrists together too tightly.
Rigid steel that bends only for your touch.
He pulls back and your heart throbs at how moonlight continues to bathe just the smallest glimpses of him under the hood—never the full thing, never the whole face, but enough.  The quiet light that brushes the arch of his nose, how it bathes the hard line of his jaw so that you can barely see his scruff when he turns his head the right way.  His eyes are hidden in near darkness but there’s the faintest glimmer where they should be, and it’s the closest you’ve ever been to looking at him without the helmet.  You can see him, you can see shadows of his chin, his neck—dear stars, his fucking neck.  You’re pinned and paralyzed under him and the ringing bells, yet you feel like you just might float if he wasn’t holding you so tight to the floor.
“Where’s the baby?”  You finally lift your chin and ask, needing to raise your voice over the melody clanging loud throughout the tower.
“Making friends,” Din pants back down at you, and… stars, then you just start giggling.  Adrenaline turning into pure joy, imagining the kid wreaking havoc with all the other babies in the nursery right now.  It feels more light and airy than anything your body should know.
“What are you so happy about?” He asks, swallowing and then continuing on with the same quick gasps.  “You lost, I caught you in time.”
“Did you?”  You drop your head to the brick floor and ask, biting your lip as he stares back down at you.  Suddenly—
—Bong—
Din holds utterly still over you while you take a quick breath and wait for the next eleven bells… 
…but then break into a slow grin up at him when nothing but utter silence follows.
There’s a moment.  Just a single moment where the cogs turn rapidly under that shadowy hood, one where the faint reflection of light in his eyes flickers down to the communicator on your wrist that says midnight and back to you, one that solidifies the longer it takes for another bell to ring.  It’s not going to.
One o’clock.
You think he puts it together.  The one moment he was never able to figure you out—when you tried reprogramming the comms just a few days ago.  The one trick up your sleeve that you resigned to throw away and almost forget about because the circumstances for pulling it off were never realistic.  Fuck with the electronics and set the clock back just one hour—all you’d need to do is reset his communicator, the timecode is synced together.  He told you before that it’s connected to his helmet, but all the buttons still work.  Rapid, panicky thinking and a wild surge of bravery in the face of certain downfall is the only reason you were able to pull it off, and you’re perfectly willing to admit you just got lucky… especially when he’s still holding dead still over you.
But then Din moves so suddenly.  You can’t account for it because there’s no build-up whatsoever—it’s so fast, you yelp while he grabs your knees and throws them both to one side.  You flop over sideways and large hands reach up under the draping length of your tunic to yank your pants down over the curve of your ass, before he’s fitting his palm up between your legs and pushing two thick fingers inside you.
Your head thunks back against brick with how unexpected and merciless it is, but his other hand is grabbing your jaw and twisting, forcing you to look up, stare right into the dark shadow under the loose cowl.  The whole thing is too overwhelming—you’re trying to keep quiet but your breathing feels like thunder crashing inside this tall, echoing chamber.  He’s touched you so many times, he knows exactly how to do it by now, but it feels like so much more than that.  Probably because you can see the way Din’s mouth silently falls open as he feels you, stretching his fingers up and hooking them tight inside.  You can tell when he closes his eyes, the smallest glint slowly disappearing into nothingness while the hand around your jaw blindly moves up.  It catches your chin and lips, and then two fingers push over the bottom edge of your teeth to slip into your mouth.
Your entire leg twitches and jerks while you lay sideways on the ground and open up for him, your neck twisted at a sharp angle to keep your eyes on him and his fingers in your mouth, giving you something to bite to stop making noise.  Din makes room for himself inside you two different ways, and you just choke on his fingers and try to stay quiet, praying he’ll go deeper.
But then you’re not expecting his whole fucking arm to start moving the way it does—oh fuck, what is that?  First you just feel jostled and displaced, but then suddenly a wicked, deep, burning pleasure starts to roar through you, radiating outwards from the rapid motion of just two fingers inside you.  It’s not in and out, it’s up and down so hard and quick against your g-spot that your eyes cross and your hands go numb.
You think you grab at him, clutch onto his arm or chest and open your mouth to moan at the new and overwhelming sensation, but his hand pushes up against your chin and closes it for you, the bend of his fingers caught hard between your teeth but you don’t think he cares.
“Quiet,” Din hisses the word down at you while his arm continues to work, your toes starting to curl as the feeling overwhelms you.  Fuck, what is happening, what is happening?  It’s like he’s just shoving unfamiliar sensation at you so forcefully that you can’t even think straight anymore, not even ten seconds in.  You can only feel the pleasure, fire blurring hot and shapeless through your entire body as your eyes clamp shut, his fingers isolating that perfect spot and stimulating it directly, relentlessly.
Something dull and white hot presses up tight against all the muscles you have down there and you’re almost afraid of how strong it is.  You gasp and choke and he has to take his fingers out of your mouth and just clamp down around your entire jaw, sealing the whole thing shut with his large hand.  And then Din’s fingers leave your pussy too—and stars, you should be embarrassed by how desperately it clamps around nothing for as long as it does.  He’s not even inside you anymore but your body is on such a delay from the hot, twisting pleasure, and he doesn’t put them back in until your muscles are finished spasming.
Everything comes back full force as soon as he starts moving again.  Noise starts to come from your throat, humming in your vocal cords to deal with the arcing, swirling build, and so Din just moves his hand there instead.  He finds where it’s vibrating from your neck and he pushes up against it, trapping the sound right at the source.  He’s fucking perfect at it for some reason… how many times must he have done this to know how to cut noise out without stopping airflow?  You clutch at his wrist and silently mouth his name, feeling his arm work between your legs—faster, faster, harder, pushing you higher, higher—
Din pulls his fingers out again and this time, one of your thighs suddenly feels warm and wet while you spasm and you hear him growl out a ragged, “Fuck yes.”  Everything is sparks zapping through you long after his touch is gone, you cry out but it’s all trapped under Din’s expert grip.  His fingers soon push back inside you and you dig your nails into his forearm, your sounds muffled and quiet enough to hear his raspy groan.  
“Let me see it again,” Din breathes, his arm starting to work up and down once more, and you don’t even know what he’s talking about anymore.  What does he want to see?  You losing your mind again?  Being reduced to an utter mess in front of his shadowy but unobstructed gaze just because you managed to pull one over on him?
Fucking… apparently.  It’s what happens, after all.  You’ve never seen him like this before; whenever he’s worked up and taking it out on you, there was always something in it for him, too.  He’d hammer into you and rock your world until his eventually shattered, and then you’d both lay exhausted afterwards, equally affected and satisfied.  This isn’t like that—this is just cruel, targeted retribution on his behalf, coaxing the molten pleasure out of you with his fingers and keeping his other hand locked around your throat.  You blink helplessly up at him, your vision starting to blur by the time he leans down to whisper to you.
“I missed you, sweet girl.  Did you miss me?”  It’s so soft and quiet compared to the strength and relentlessness of his movements.  You can’t speak even if you wanted to, but when he finally pulls away to yank his hand out and you feel all your muscles automatically flex outwards and push against the sudden emptiness inside you, his voice groans long and satisfied while your thighs get wet again  “Yeah you did,” he breathes, pushing your shaky legs to the brick with his hand and watching you struggle through the aftershocks.
Did you just cum?  You don’t even know, that’s how fucked up you are right now.  The whole thing felt like an orgasm from the very beginning, just a boiling hot tornado ripping through every single cell in your body, never really having a peak.  If you didn’t cum, then why do you feel so weak?  You feel heavy, your limbs don’t work properly, and you barely even register Din pulling at the fabric of his own robes until he fits himself up against your entrance.
When you do realize it, though… your body burns with it, wrecked already but wanting him to take what he wants from you.
“Oh, plea—” you gasp but you don’t even have enough time to get the full sentence out.  He’s already pushing his hips forward, pressing you tight into the ground and opening you up after what feels like a fucking eternity without him.  It’s the hottest, slickest welcome you could give him, you hear it in the whispered curse his lips brush up under your ear, the wet noises your body makes that get louder the longer you hold the moan in your throat and bury your head into his shoulder.  He throbs thick and perfect inside your tight, spasming cunt, stretching you and smacking the rough ground near your head with how fucking good it is to be back, finally, finally—
Your hands grab uselessly at his chest while you try to acclimate, try to breathe while you’re blind with sensation.  It’s so fitting for him, isn’t it?  That your reunion should be just as physically debilitating as it is mentally.  Din’s voice scrapes on a groan like he’s dragging it across the brick ground as quiet as he can, catching when you clamp down on him and shuddering when you clamp down harder.  That’s just it—you don’t ever loosen, you just keep tightening and tightening around him, threatening to break and cum again.
This feels different from before, though.  It’s deep, purposefully so.  His hand reaches up to push the fabric of your hood back, lifting himself up over your body and wanting to start as deep as he can.  You feel him in a place you’d never be able to reach and that’s just the beginning—that’s before he starts thrusting into you, hitting a dull sensation at the apex of each movement so hard that it becomes sharp.  His hips don’t make practically any sound smacking into you because they don’t really smack, they just rock downwards and fuck you into the floor without needing to pull out really at all.  You know he’s just trying to keep it as quiet as possible, but what he lacks in speed and agility he makes up in power.
You don’t even realize you’re making too much noise until a palm wraps tight around your mouth and the room gets a little emptier.  Din keeps you all to himself on the floor, silencing as much as he’s working you up, smothering as much as he’s freeing you.  There’s no easing up, no dragging it out, no gradual build or climb—it’s just there all of a sudden, pleasure and pain pummeling you all at once, engulfing you in flames.
You reach up to grab at the loose fabric of the hood over his face, catching a fistful of it before his hand suddenly snatches your shaky wrist and pins it back to the ground.
Maker, you forgot—oh, you completely forgot about how many people could find you right now if they ever decided to look in the right place.  You’re not in hyperspace; your body is rocking against rough brick, you’re probably going to have a lump on the back of your head from how terrible you are at trying to map out heaven while holding still.  He’s pinned down what he can with one hand; your fingers are the only things that can move besides how tight you can curl your toes, but you feel your moans turn into words against his palm.  They garble indistinctly and you’re not really even sure what you’re saying, but Din decides it’s worth hearing.
“Shh,” he whispers, slowly lifting his hand from your mouth.  “Shh, tell me—”
“W-wanna look,” you hear yourself whimper, trying your best to keep quiet but wanting to scream it while he fucks you hard and slow on the ground, “—I wanna see, I wanna look at you—”
“Fuck,” Din gasps, and though his grip tightens on your wrist and you know he can’t do it right this second, the words seem like they shatter something inside him, “Keep—oh fuck, please, k-keep saying…”
“I want to marry you,” you nearly whine for him, feeling his hips kick up rapidly and start hammering in and out, in and out, in and—“I want to see your face, I wanna be yours, I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I-I—”
You think he drops his head into your neck to muffle his own sounds.  Though they start out rough and quiet and indiscernible, but they gradually become louder as he repeats himself over and over again, growling and fucking you rough.  You only catch it on the peak, when he pulls his mouth away from your skin and gasps them raggedly one last time.
“—ve you—I l-love y—”
He kisses you to stop himself.  But it’s not really a kiss, it’s more desperate than that.  Though it’s beautiful, it’s beautiful in a different light.  It’s not rejoicing at having you back with him once again; it’s a last prayer begging you to stay by his side forever.  He loves you.  He gives it everything—it feels even more concrete and simple than taking the hood off him and revealing his face would.  You told you that you'd know him without ever seeing him, and you did.  You picked him out and found him when absolutely nothing was giving him away, and this feels like a manifestation of that.  Even if you’re not in a place where he can show you his face, his beautiful brown eyes, something still feels like it changes.  He loves you.  You gasp into his mouth and his tongue sinks deep into yours, tenacious and brave and unyielding.  
When you finally cum, you almost bite him on accident.  
Everything surges hot and molten while he pulls back and keeps fucking you through it, and you can’t tell where you’re touching him anymore, just that his skin is blazing hot under your hand and he feels like everything the armor isn’t.  He loves you.  You’re looking into his eyes right now.  You can’t see any of the details, not really, but the moonlight flickers like silent stars moving through dark depths, staring right back at you and giving you an anchor for the euphoria rocketing through you.  He loves you.  Your nails dig in sharp and slowly drag downwards, scratching hard red lines into whatever thick muscle that is—
The back of his neck, making his hips stutter and when he cums for you, he does bite.
You lift your head just in time to feel his teeth catch your chin instead of your mouth, and his entire body shakes while you keep dragging your nails down the side of his neck and his throat.  Din fucking lives for it, he releases you and arches into the pain and owns your marks like he wishes you made them deeper, stretching his neck and lifting his chin into the moonlight and—
Maker.  You can see it, with direct light, you can see more of it than ever before.  You can see his soft lips and white teeth gritting the sound of your name as quietly as he can, the dark facial hair dusting across the lower half of his face.  A fucking gorgeous jawline and throat extended long over you, flexing hard with his cock pulsing inside you.  You can just barely see the bottom of his nose from under the brown hood, the dark curls brushing up under his ears.
Stars, you still never see his eyes, the fabric of his hood acts like a blindfold draped over them, but you think you cum again.  Even if it’s on accident, it’s mean—Din tries to keep from squishing you and his hand pushes down hard against your lower tummy while he shoves his hips deep one last time, and you cum while staring at half of his face in the moonlight.  Completely lovestruck.
How can he be this beautiful when you’ve only seen fractions of him?  You have everything but the eyes now, everything but the most mysterious thing about him, the reflection into his deepest self, but you feel like you’re hypnotized by every single feature you do see.  His tongue coming out to wet his lips, the vein pulling under his sharp jaw—he’s gorgeous, he’s gorgeous, and your body agrees.  It shakes and shudders under him and eventually, Din finishes and you keep looking as his chin slowly lowers, face disappearing into the shadow once more.
Stars.  He’s so handsome and no one has ever told him, fucking dreamy and the biggest grump you’ve ever met.  Without being able to see him, you already want to reach your hands out and touch him, drag your nails through his scruff and force him to extend outwards into the moonlight again for you.  Whenever he does end up showing you his face, you know right fucking now that you’ll never be able to look away.  For the rest of your life, you’ll be staring at him, apologizing blankly for your rudeness but not feeling sorry at all.
Din leans down and gives you a slow, gentle kiss, finally relaxing into a slouch and breathing hard with the effort it took to shatter you with pleasure.
“The kid is with the other foundlings,” he whispers against your lips.  “You… you’ll have to go get him, I need to grab my armor.”
You squeeze around his cock, pulling at the fabric of his robes and ignoring him for just a second.  He fucked you in robes belonging to one of the guards and nobody has mentioned it, you need to say something.  “Where did you get this?”
“I found it,” he tells you after a moment, kissing up under your jaw.  Oh fucking Maker, he feels so good and perfect inside you, shoulders so broad and crowding you on the floor, and his lips are plush and hot, brushing and fitting your skin like it’s just an extension of his own.  “Some guy was wearing it.”
It takes you a second.
“Mando,” you suddenly gasp in quiet horror, pushing at his chest and trying your best to detach his mouth from your throat.  It’s so much more difficult than it needs to be, but you eventually succeed.  “What did you do to him?  Where is he?”
He lifts his neck up just the tiniest bit, turning his face towards yours under the hood and holding still for way too fucking long.  He’s too close to see the expression he’s making, but you know the tone of his silence.  He’s in trouble and he knows it before you do.
“Ma—”
“They’re in a closet,” he admits at the very same time, completely monotone.
You don’t know which word to emphasize.  A fucking closet?  They’re?  Plural?  Instead of stressing any particular word, you decide not to do it at all and it ends up just coming out in the same exact blank tone as him.  “They're in a closet.”
“Inside the Temple,” Din continues on when you lay still as a statue underneath him.  His head slowly dips down once more, pushing his hips against you just the slightest bit to make you remember the cock still inside you instead.  Your eyelashes flutter with it—fuck, focus—“I didn’t know there’d be more than two.”  He kisses your neck so gently.  “It was an accident.”
You don’t say anything at all, your mouth pinching down at the corners because it should but your heartbeat galloping with how… fucking sexy he is.  You shouldn’t encourage this, this horrible behavior just to get close enough to catch you, but your curiosity overtakes you and you ask a question you’ve asked yourself before.  “Did they put up a fight?”
“Mm,” he whispers noncommittally, rocking his hips down once more.  “You did.”  Your nails dig into his chest, making him falter just slightly before slowly kissing your neck again.  “Did so good.  Fought hard, outsmarted me.  Pretty fucking girl.”
And then your eyes pop open as you feel it.  His cock suddenly beginning to harden once again inside you, twitching and gradually gaining a thicker shape, and for a moment, you actually fucking consider it.  He’s the only one in this galaxy that could not only ruin you on these sacred grounds, but then coax you into doing it more than once—stars, are you actually considering it?
“We can’t,” you automatically tell him, but it’s fucking pitiful.  Zero effort, absolutely no umph behind it, leaving it entirely up to him and how much he wants it.  Your logic reminds you that the kid is probably wreaking havoc in the nursery and there are tied up guards in the fucking temple that could be discovered any second.  You shouldn’t have even let him fuck you here in the first place, but…  “Mando, we can’t—”
His mouth opens against the crook of your neck and his tongue brushes velvet hot on your skin, tasting the glistening sweat there and not moving his broad figure a single inch over you besides getting closer, deeper.  Your nails dig into his collarbone, aiming for reason one last time.  It’s apparent that you’d be better off rephrasing, knowing the challenging streak in him and how much telling him what to do doesn't help.
“It’s not a good idea,” you attempt instead, breathless and trying not to move under his mouth and lazy hips.  “Not smart.  Bad idea to fuck again.”
Din’s body stops moving, even though he keeps getting harder.  His jaw opens and then his teeth scrape softly against your flesh, making you tilt your neck back and gasp.
“Later,” he lifts his head to state aloud, committing it to truth now that it’s been spoken and heard by another person.  “Later, I’ll fuck you on the ship, in our bed, when I can get you naked and have your taste in my mouth.”
Tingles rock through your body and you squeeze around his cock just as he pulls it out and tucks it back into his pants.  Your lungs quiver when you inhale—it’s shaky, but it reminds you of how long it’s been since you’ve been able to breathe correctly.
“Later,” you finally agree, combing your fingers through your hair and glad you have this hood to cover your freshly fucked dishevelment.  He came inside you and you don’t want to be leaking and getting your nice pretty robes all wet and stained, but then of course, without any prompting, Din quickly scoots back on his knees and drops his head down to take care of it for you.
***
Commotion.
After Din helped you clean up the way he sometimes likes and then disappeared to change back into his armor, you put your mask and hood back on and tried to look as casual as possible walking to the nursery.  Your knees wobbled slightly and you couldn’t stop smiling under the mask the entire walk there, but when you arrived, you just saw a dim room with sleeping infants—not what you were expecting.  Soon, however, you hear it: down the hall, distant and coming from the dormitories, you hear a loud commotion.
Fuck, you’re nearly wincing with every step you take now, and not because you’re sore.  Well, you… are, a little bit, but in a great way.  No, you’re just dreading the ridiculous shinanigans you already know are well underway, wondering if Din actually dropped the kid off in the dorms from the beginning or if he somehow migrated his way there to cause trouble.
When you walk inside, the first thing you see is a handful of crying and shouting toddlers, and while you can’t immediately spot your favorite floppy-eared monster, you don’t have to see him to know he’s probably standing tiny directly in the middle of this tense showdown.  Automatically, you’re taking a few steps forward to rescue him, but then you stop as soon as you see what the other babies are so mad about.  A large piece of chocolate leftover from the festival levitating just beyond their pitiful little reaches.
Hm.  Who could possibly be responsible for using demon powers to steal snacks and hold them hostage from a sizeable group of hostile children.  A mystery that may never be solved.
It makes you take a second.  The sheer… the… stars, you can’t even think straight—how fucking typical it is just hits you right in the chest, sends your heart into orbit.  Of course.  Of course this is what he’s gotten himself into without immediate supervision, of course this is the shipwreck you’d walk into, and you’re holding back a chuckle before making a single move to intervene.  In the midst of everything, you can hear adults approaching distantly from behind you.
“—don’t know where it came from, I was helping the younglings into bed when I heard the ruckus and I—”
The voices gradually grow louder, and you snatch the floating piece of candy out of thin air and whip around right before Sister Drya and Naydee walk in.  Their hushed, concerned conversation is cut to an abrupt end, and you clear your throat as they take you in, standing in front of chaos central continuing to go off behind you.  Do you… look as freshly disheveled as you are?  You’re not supposed to be here, you know, but hopefully the only strange thing is your presence itself and not anything concerning your appearance.
“Nerida,” the older lady suddenly announces, the name alone holding so much expectation, and the younglings missing their candy have now turned their ire towards you and the crinkly food wrapper hidden in your fist.  “What is the meaning of this?”
“Ah, yeah,” you stand up a little straighter, letting the chocolate casually fall out of your grip behind you, and a stampede of feet suddenly kick up to recover it.  It’s fine, nobody will know, it’s fine.  “It’s just…”  Your head tips behind you to the cause of the uproar, feeling a bit sheepish yet so incredibly fond.  “My… kid.”
Sister Drya stares at you for a few seconds, before tipping sideways and staring at the culprit.  “That is your child?”
You turn around just in time to see him, now abandoned by the angry mob of children, finally notice you.  All of a sudden, his pitch black eyes light up something bright and sunshiney, and you just start beaming in return.  What an adorable little creature, apple of your eye and pain of your ass.
“Yep,” you sigh, dropping into a squat and watching him barrel towards you, catching him right before he can trip over his brown potato sack and scooping him up into your arms.  “Hiya, bug,” you murmur with a grin, lifting back up and plopping him in his favorite spot in the universe—your left hip.  “You making friends?”
He giggles and it’s like sparkles and bubbles fill the room instead, wrapping tiny arms around the largest surface area he can get and clinging.  He laughs with a tiny open mouth, bless him, clearly not understanding the sarcasm, and suddenly your eyes feel just the slightest bit wet.  No, you’re not crying, don’t be fucking ridiculous, but you missed him like hell and he’s just the cutest fucking thing—why do you feel like crying?
“Sorry about that,” you apologize to the two women while slowly turning around, brushing your thumb over one of his cheeks and smiling as it squishes.  “He’s… uh.  Not great at sharing.  We’ll work on it.”
Takes after his dad, you purposefully leave out, just a different kind of sharing.  Din hasn’t shown you his full face yet and the kid performs magic tricks to taunt a roomful of children a fraction of his age for a single piece of chocolate, completely different kind of sharing.
Sister Drya says something in response, but when you look up to address her, all you see is Din standing silently behind her and Naydee, slowly dropping his hand from his helmet to his side.  They don’t seem to notice he’s there and you automatically try your best to pay attention to the Sister speaking to you, but your eyes get caught on the silver reflecting in the dim light beyond.  Fuck, he’s a presence.  An immediate distraction, taking all your focus with a single glimpse.  Seeing him fully armored again, staring at you from the silent shadows behind everything… you melt a little bit, knowing that you’ve seen more of what’s underneath than anyone.  Your shoulders settle and your entire body burns warm, wobbly like the air around a fire, and one of the kid’s hands leaves you to reach out towards his dad.
You watch the metallic helmet tilt sideways after a moment, saying everything without saying anything.  Come on, make up an excuse, let’s get out of here.
Looking at him in the quiet shadows, you’re reminded once again about how much you love him, how much softness you have inside you for a man so hard, so guarded.  And, for the first time, a voice in your head finishes a poem you didn’t realize you were writing, adding its own verse and bringing everything back around to the beginning.  He loves you, too.  How much he lets his guard down for you, the way he’s revealed more of his face to you than not.  You love each other.  You’re family.
So, all at once, you decide to mess with him, because that’s what family does best.
“Don’t be shy, come say hello,” you suddenly urge his silent figure, taking a step forward and speaking directly to him.  “Sister Drya, Naydee, I’d like to introduce you to my—”
It’s remarkable, you see it happen in front of you.  Like he has powers of his own, Din just literally fucking disappears.  Like magic, he’s nowhere to be found within a blink of an eye.  You know he’s capable of it; he’s done it plenty of times during the chase just to fuck with your head, but you’re staring straight at him when it happens this time and it might just be the funniest fucking thing you’ve ever seen him do.
Sister Drya and Naydee both turn around to an empty hallway bathed in shadows and you laugh.  A deep, shameless, loud belly laugh.  Where the fuck did he go so quick?  You were staring straight at him and you have no fucking clue.  He’s just out, and you’re left alone with his child and the unspoken understanding that he’ll just catch up with you later.
You’re giggling even as you shake your head and give the women your genuine thanks for keeping you and feeding you these past few days, grabbing your backpack with all your belongings and eventually using three green fingers to wave goodbye to them.  The very first thing Din says when he seamlessly joins you outside the Keja later is, “That wasn’t funny,” which just makes you laugh harder.
***
About a half hour has passed, and you’re walking along a dirt road, cradling a very happy baby in your arms and giving the grown man next to you an incredibly hard time.
“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, your back twinging slightly at the way you’re leaning about as sideways as you can get without falling over.  You think you’re basically just the hypotenuse between the ground and Din, who easily supports almost your entire weight with your backpack slung around his far shoulder and readily allows you to rest against him.
“They’re fine,” he grumbles in response, squeezing you tight to his side.  You just have to focus on moving your feet; it’s like he’s practically carrying your upper-half anyways.  “I gave them the night off.”
“You stuffed them in a closet,” you hiss, feeling his shoulder shrug under your cheek.
“I gave them the robe back,” he says, not really defending himself and more just throwing it out there to see if it helps any.  “I’m sure someone’s found them by now, they’re fine.”
Your eyes suddenly go wide, absolutely mortified at the thought.  “Wait.  What do you mean you gave the robe back?”
He shrugs once more, apparently not seeing the problem yet.  “I borrowed it, so I gave it back after I put my armor back on.”
If you could plant your feet on the dirt road and screech to a halt, you would, but all your weight is already resting on him and you’re working solely off his forward movement.  You just hope your tone holds the same amount of shocked disapproval your body language would’ve conveyed if you weren’t so completely attached to his hip like a parasite he adores.
“You fucked me wearing it, though.”  Your voice is strangely flat, so fucking confused and horrified by the mental image of him just tossing the soiled garments haphazardly somewhere in the temple behind you, or even worse, leaving them somewhere respectful, and Din soon stops in the middle of the deserted road.
“Oh,” is all he says, emotionless and blank through the modulator.  Did he not even consider this?
“I had to promise them I was a virgin just to sleep there, you know,” you admit, and you can tell that’s brand new information to him with how still he goes as you continue to lean against him.  You’re getting the feeling that he probably knows a lot more about your experiences on this moon than you think he does, but can tell that this is brand new information to him.  “And you locked three of their holy men in a closet, chased me across the temple grounds, fucked me in one of their robes, and then.  You gave it.  Back.”
Din stays perfectly silent for quite some time.  You can never go back to that place, you know this for a fact.  You’re banned forever now, it’s what you deserve.
Never one to be outdone but not actually having anything to say for himself, Din suddenly decides to just scoop you into his arms and boost up into the sky without a single word like an actual fucking maniac.
You squeal and damn near drop the baby because of it, but he cinches you tight to his chest and refuses to loosen with your struggle.  Eventually, after you realize he’s completely locked you in and you won’t fall to your death with this poor innocent child in your arms, you glance over the shiny pauldron on his shoulder and watch the kid’s crib disappear by the abandoned road as Din takes you higher and higher.
The crib—he forgot the crib—
“D-Din,” you stammer out through the whistling air, stiff as a board.  Stars, you have such a different sense of adventure than him; an explorer and a daredevil, one who gets a thrill from discovering the existence of the edge of a cliff and one who’ll take a running dive off of it without thinking twice.  He’s hit with blaster fire some days, he faces down death completely fearless like it owes him one every single time, and you’re stiff as a fucking board while he carries you through the sky.  It’s stunning up here, it’s exciting and wonderful, but you’re so scared that you can barely even look.  He’s giving you the most fantastical view, everything your budding adventurous streak could ever ask for, and your terror is crushing.  It would be different if you could hold on, but you’re responsible for not letting the baby slip through your arms and you just have to trust that he won’t let you slip through his.
You raise your voice.  “Din?!”
“I won’t drop you,” he automatically reassures, and well you sure as fuck hope not, but there’s something else.
“What about the crib?”  You call out over the wind whipping, tucking the baby tight to your chest and settling your hands over his ears to avoid them flapping and whacking you repeatedly in the chin.
“We’ll come back for it,” he responds, just as easily.  Maker, you wish decision-making came that easy to you, that commitment and choice should be so simple as to just fly away from things on the ground and promise out loud to come back for them.  You know he will, but still, his spontaneity shocks you after spending the past week thinking every decision through meticulously, and you’re taken aback by the casualness of it all while soaring through the sky, committing such spectacular feats without a single thought beyond it.
Soon—incredibly soon, which honestly kind of blows your mind—you spot Nariss glowing in the distance and then you’re flying overtop of the city, slowly dropping altitude in the middle of a quiet little side street.
Din carefully allows your feet to settle on the ground before letting go, but you still stumble a bit stupidly after flying so high without any sort of safety measure besides him, prioritizing the steadiness of the baby in your arms instead of your feet underneath you.  His gloves catch at your clumsy body and pull you along with him without another word, leading you out of the quiet alley and into the middle of a beautiful, luminescent street.
What’s he doing?  He seems slightly hurried, and you’re clueless but you go with it, clamoring along behind him to wherever he’s leading you.
Though, you suddenly remember one of the very last things you told him last night right before he steps up in front of a vendor.
“Caf,” Din grunts, sliding a few credits towards the man standing behind the counter. “The… biggest one you have.”
Okay, well.  You could just about fucking cry.
“Y’sure?” The vendor asks skeptically, jerking his head at the large thermos behind him.  He’s balding, wearing a white outfit with his eyes scrunched up and forehead sweaty, likely working all day.  “It ain’t fresh.  Closin’ up soon, was just about to trash it and go home.”
The helmet turns to gauge your response to the news, the sharp angles and contours looking so sleek and dangerous as they reflect the colorful lamplights, but just filling you with comfort beyond anything in the entire galaxy.  He’ll take that armor off for you tonight and you’ll sleep next to him.  He’ll call you by your given name, or the fond name he’s given you, and you’ll cuddle your baby on a metal floor in hyperspace with him, and all will be well.  Even if he needs to leave again soon—even if you don’t get to go with him, you’ll always have these small eternities with each other, and that’s more enough for you now.
You’re completely zoned out while staring at him, and Din turns back to the vendor before you can even remember the conflict he was attempting to defer to you.
“Yeah, just empty the whole thing in there for her,” he mutters, and you want to marry him.  It’s been a long week, and in your haze and delight of being with him in this gorgeous setting, your brain turns to cavewoman mush.  Big man, makes me happy.  Strong man, loves me, knows me.  Provider, makes me feel good, protector, loves me.
Din hands you the large cup of steaming caffeine, clueless to your grunted inner monologue but knowing better than to reach out and grab the kid from your other arm.  You’re just fine like this, hands full, the little frog snuggled up against your side and blinking up at your face instead of any of the shiny or glowing things around you.  When you look down at him, you can see the world through his eyes—quite literally, they’re reflective and gigantic—and his father’s hand quickly finds its preferred spot on your lower back.
“Try to drink it quick,” Din advises you gruffly, pulling you snug into his side and sloshing the big cupful of piping hot liquid in your hand.
“It’s a thousand degrees,” you protest, trying to balance your three favorite things in the universe all begging for your direct attention at once.  “It has to cool down.”
He gives a dismissive hm in response, and you frown even as your heart soars with how tightly he’s gripping you, how little leeway you have to even move without him.  Part of you is so thrilled at being reunited with him that you consider snarking something back at him, excitement making you brave.  He could probably chug boiling hot liquid in thirty seconds and doesn’t see the point in letting it sit any longer, and you could make some stupid joke about filtering it through his helmet or having a built in bendy straw but you decide to keep it to yourself.
So then you just stand there together, under stringed lights and flowers everywhere, and he waits.  Holding you glued to his side, completely silent and clearly just waiting for your caf to stop steaming so threateningly in your hand so you can drink it.  For some reason, the fact that he’s wanted by the New Republic doesn’t really register at this second—you’re not looking for cops, though he may be.  You’re just lost in this beautiful, fancy city that’s on the edge of finally quieting down after a long day, and you’d like to see more of it with him next to you.
“Well, do you wanna just…”  You ask, tilting your head around at all the vendors.  “Shop around for a bit?”
“Shop… around,” Din repeats slowly, sounding the words out like they’re not common Basic.  Admittedly, they do sit a bit awkward in his voice when put together like that, describing a phenomena he’s likely never even considered a thing before, but it’s so fucking pretty here and you’d like to show him something this time instead of the other way around.
“Yeah, like,” you shrug a shoulder, tipping your head in a random direction.  Anywhere, you’ll go literally anywhere with him, the three of you can go explore.  “Just wander around, and look at all the pretty things.”
From where you’re standing right now, you can already see glittering crystals and jewels being sold at the tent across the street, there’s a booth dedicated entirely to floral arrangements and crowns next to it, you can hear a distant quartet playing melodically in the distance and a couple is being painted by an artist on the corner.  Bars are in full swing at this point, as if they weren’t all day, and even though the merchandise is all different, the multicolored tents look slightly similar when they’re underlit with multicolored lights.  It’s less slightly lively than it was in the daytime, but also… more beautiful, in a sense.  Muted, softer, more romantic.
“I don’t have any more credits,” Din admits casually, finally turning to look around at everything.  You get the feeling that he’s just now seeing it, even after spending the entire day here.  “That stale caf was the last of it.”
Money well fucking spent, you can assure him of that.
“It’s okay,” you tell him automatically, gently bumping your hip into his.  “We don’t need credits, we can just look.”
So that’s what you do.  Even though it’s completely not his fucking style, for the next hour or so, you just walk around downtown with him and sip your caf, looking at anything and everything new and experiencing it with him.  At first, you think he’s just entertaining you, following you while you discover new streets and attractions, but then he points out different things and you know he's looking, too.  There are large animals harnessed up and pulling carts for people to ride, there's an enormous spinning wheel set up in the distance, its colorful lights flickering out as soon as you ask what the fuck that is and why anyone would ever get inside one.
You eventually end up finishing your caf around the time he’s leading you back through a quiet, abandoned alleyway, and you hand him the empty cup to throw away in one of the trash cans on the corner.  The conversation has faded to a comfortable quiet and you don’t really need to ask—you go willingly, not requiring anything beyond his hands on you and the baby dozing in your arms.
“Come on, sweet girl,” he murmurs, gently sweeping you up into his.  You sigh, glad he’s giving you a moment to prepare yourself this time, holding the sleeping kid securely to your chest and resting your head on his shoulder.  “Let’s go home.”
After you’re comfortable, Din rockets up from the ground and climbs high up into the canvas sky.  He disappears with you and the baby into the pastel clouds above, making it back to the Razor Crest in probably about an hour, maybe less.  You and the baby do nothing more than climb into the comfy floor blankets while Din starts up the engines, and you think you’re dozing off together by the time he makes the pit stop to collect the crib and the jump into hyperspace.
You think he might shower?  You’re not sure—you just know he moves up behind you in bed at one point without any armor, burying his face in your hair while you cuddle the sleepy kid to your chest.  It’s dark in the hull, Din’s palms are bare and warm as they slide around the front of your body and he breathes you in, and there isn’t a single place that can touch you here, not a single place you’d rather be.
Home.
***
Tumblr media Tumblr media
@followwhereshegoes​ Thank you for the stunning artwork! 💕To anyone interested in possibly doing an art collab in the future, please message me!!
8K notes · View notes
finniestoncrane · 2 years ago
Text
Tattletale
Dano!Riddler x Female!OC, word count: 2.1k Final chapter here! (also on AO3). Chapter 1 is here. Chapter 2 is here. request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff
Tumblr media
Eddie didn’t sleep very much, not that he usually did. Between the nightmares, his work and his plans, very rarely did he have a chance to get the rest he required. He was running on fumes most days, fuelled only by his rage, his passion, and now his lust. But it was more than that. And while it was difficult for him to let the truth in, allow himself to embrace the vulnerability of accepting that he cared deeply for her, he couldn’t deny that there was something pushing him to act faster than he had planned. And that something was also the reason he was awake trying to make pancakes for the first time in his life.
“Morning, Eddie.” She was rubbing her eyes, stretching up so that the t-shirt she slept in revealed more of the underwear she had borrowed from him that she might have meant.
“Morning.” His voice squeaked, cracking awkwardly as he died inside.
“You’re cooking?”
“Making pancakes. Do you like pancakes?”
“Totally!”
She took a seat at the tiny table, cross legged on the chair, thighs thick and soft and welcoming. Thankfully, she was too busy fiddling with the ends of her hair to notice his lingering gaze, but both of them looked up when the smell of burning started to fill the air.
“Oh…shoot.”
“I’ll have those! I like them crispy.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Honestly, Eddie. This is the first time in a long time that someone has made food for me. Ever in fact, maybe. At least since I was able to use a microwave and reach the freezer!”
He frowned slightly as he set the plate down in front of her, grabbing the other and sitting across from her.
“Sorry, that was supposed to be funny…but it was just sad. I don’t know, a lot of my stories are like that. Weirds people out sometimes.”
“No, no. I get that. I don’t have a lot of…good stories either.”
“Hmmm…” a satisfied moan as she grinned, stuffing some pancake into her mouth.
“Are you ok?”
“Of course! These are great, I was just thinking how nice it was that we were brought together. Like fate?”
“Like being cornered in a VIP room and threatened.” He realised the words might come across as harsh and shot her a smile, looking up over the top of his glasses as he dug out a fluffier bit from the middle of his pancake.
“Fate!” She playfully slapped at his arm. “We’re very similar people, I just knew there was something about you. Something to trust, or put my faith into. I don’t know, I’m babbling. I just feel like we’ve known each other forever. That’s silly though. I’m sorry.”
“I grew up in the orphanage.”
She looked up from her plate and he avoided her gaze directly, too busy wondering where that had come from, why he was suddenly opening up. That would only complicate things. There wasn’t much that could come from it, and yet he kept going, he wanted to.
“I saw kids come and go, saw them leave happily, saw them die in the conditions. I felt guilty every day, that I was allowed to survive. I thought, briefly, that it might have been because I was strong? But I learned quickly that I wasn’t. I was weak. But for some reason, I was spared. And I believe that was because I was supposed to be here, doing this, doing…everything.” He gestured to his apartment, the notes on the wall, his jacket, question mark cypher on the front, hanging on the back of the door. “And there’s something intriguing about the fact that you think we were meant to meet too. So no, I don’t think it’s silly. I think it’s very likely.”
Reaching across the table, she took Eddie’s hand in hers, rubbing the back of it softly with her thumb, tracing the veins that stood out, tickling over his knuckles as she smiled at him and made that sound, that hum, the soft note of pleasure. His fingers untensed, palm opening up, threatening to turn over to take her hand in his, but he pulled back.
“Uh…let me show you what I worked on last night.” He got up quickly and she followed behind, much to his dismay, as he was very aware of how heavily he was breathing, fully conscious of the fact she was close behind him, face slightly sticky from the syrup, legs exposed, wearing his t-shirt, his underwear, smelling almost sickly sweet.
“This uh…this is…” he shuffled some papers away, throwing a notebook into the drawer, drawing her attention back to the notes scrawled onto loose sheets of paper. “This is what I have. I’ll be going after Falcone, I always was, but I’ve managed to successfully organise…rally everyone. It actually works out better this way, you’re a blessing.” He blushed, turning his body away from her, unaware of her own cheeks reddening behind him. “There’s…more to it, but basically it’s-”
“Wait, The Batman?”
“Yes!”
“Is it…a good idea to involve him?”
“It’s hard to explain it, but he’s already involved.”
“Wow, Eddie. You’ve got some good connections.”
She moved behind him, walking over to the window, staring down the block towards Falcone’s club. He watched her, eyes only briefly lingering on the creases where her cheeks and thighs met, mostly taking her in completely, sad that it would soon be over. She didn’t need to know about the bombs, about the sea wall. About how well his plans fit in with election night, the final nail in the coffin for Gotham’s corrupt elite. She really had made things better. It was like she was returning his favour to her.
“Eddie, I’m really…” She turned from the view, leaning against the window sill, one arm rubbing the other, uncharacteristically shy. Eddie took a few steps towards her, closing the gap, her own confidence seemingly instilled in him now, shock at his own movements. “…it’s been so weird and wonderful getting to know you. And even before you knew me, you were so willing to help. A complete stranger!”
“I feel like I know you better than I know most people, truthfully.”
“I feel the same. I feel a lot for you, actually.”
Eddie’s heart pounded in his chest, three days ago, had he thought that she’d even know his name let alone be in his house, smelling of him, his bed in turn smelling of her. Her body, washed in his shower, fed with his food, kept warm by his blankets. He’d have laughed at the very idea, scoffed, pretended to be thankful that he had his space all to himself, even though, more than anything in the world, more than revenge, righteousness, civility, he wanted someone to hold, to be held in turn.
And before he was aware of it, he had closed the distance, her body leaning to his, standing on her toes to reach up to his face, his hands holding her, balanced, softly pressed onto her hips, as their lips met. He couldn’t breathe, his breath had hitched in his throat, never really making it out and nothing making its way back in. But he felt that if he died in that moment, then he’d truly die happy. With her hands around his neck, fingers gently stroking his hair, his palms on her hips and waist, thick and soft, gently grinding against him. The kiss, soft, passionate, flavoured with genuine feelings.
Nothing had felt like that before. No lusting, no secret and shameful trips to the club, no murder, no planning, no puzzles, no imagined scenarios where he was safe, happy, loved by parents, warm in a house. There had been nothing up to this point in his life that had filled him with such a strong sense of belonging, of being wanted, cared for.
Bravery inspired by that hum again, the tuneful and vibrating symphony of her pleasure and agreement against his own mouth, inspired him to let his hands go, free to wander. Up her back, through her hair to pull her closer to his mouth, the other on the side of her waist, thumb stroking and gently teasing the t-shirt she wore up, until his fingers could feel the warm skin underneath.
Finally, the lack of oxygen caught up to him, and he pulled back, gasping desperately for air, giggling when he finally found his breath. She was laughing too, brushing her hair behind her face, biting her lip and shuffling her feet. With her hand in his, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles, letting her sink into him, an embrace that almost knocked him off his feet and had him standing, speechless, arms around her, head buried into her neck as he watched the streets out of the window.
“Maybe we can make it out together, huh?”
“Sure.”
“Escape somewhere, even just for a little while. See if we can make something of this.”
“Of course.”
As they drew back from their hug, he kissed her forehead, telling her she should get dressed, that the shower should heat up quicker than it did the night before. When he knew she was in the bathroom, door locked, shower on, he went over to his desk. From the bottom drawer, he pulled out a clump of greetings cards, ones he had picked up here and there, a stash so he never ran out. Inside, he wrote out a message in his best handwriting, which was still closer to a scribble.
“I’m sorry that it had to end this way. Please know that it was not my intention to deceive you. Your kiss meant so much, your friendship meant more.”
He sealed it in the envelope, holding it in his hands as he suppressed a surge of emotions. By the door was a backpack, one he had filled for her earlier. He placed the card inside, right at the back. Appearing at the door in a towel, she startled him.
“What’s that?”
“Oh! It’s a uh…backpack. I filled it with some clothes, money, just enough that you can get out of here.”
Her face contorted in instant anguish.
“Aren’t we going together, Eddie?”
“You need to go first, before everything. I can meet you after. I’ve got a place you should head to here, in Bludhaven.” He passed a scrap of a map with directions on the back to her, sneaking one glimpse at her body, went and wrapped in the towel, as he did so.
“And you’ll be there, tonight?”
There were more moments in between her question and his answer than there should have been. Her uncertainty growing with every second that passed, as he tried to decide whether his lie was worth it.
“I promise.”
It was hard for her to believe him, his eyes looking sad, hurt, behind his lenses. She left anyway, trying to show her trust in him. She boarded the right train, walked the right distance, arrived at the area under the bridge at the exact right time. Taking a seat on the bench that looked out onto the river, she waited patiently for Eddie. Phone off silent, checking it constantly. Deep down, past the knowledge that either something had gone wrong, or that he was lying, she focused on the part of her that knew he would show up. He was on his way. He’d been held up. He was coming.
But he wasn’t. For hours, she sat in the spot he had sent her to, backpack slung over her shoulder, nervously switching it from left to right as she paced, and sat, and sighed, holding back tears. And after almost 100 texts, an equal amount of unanswered phone calls, she had finally got an answer, but not from Eddie.
“Who is this? Are you an associate of Edward Nashton?”
“Who are you?”
“This is the GCPD. If you are a known associate of Edward Nashton then you’ll-”
In a panic, she threw the phone into the river, grabbing the backpack and heading back to the station. If Edward was in trouble she would help. But at the station, the crowds were gathered, watching videos, news footage on phones, some people screaming, some crying, as news of the floods, of the devastation and death in Gotham. Falcone was dead, The Riddler was in custody. Known associates, those who had acted to his instructions, were being hunted and detained.
She paid for a ticket back to Gotham. Eddie had done her a favour, he had saved her. And she would at least try and do the same for him.
40 notes · View notes
percabeth4life · 2 years ago
Note
whats are your "stupidest"(crack, maybe fluff?) HCs for the Pjo Titans?
Kronos has little brother syndrome. He just can’t stand being the youngest and ignores it at every opportunity. His siblings only have age on him, and will never let it go.
Hyperion was the big brother of everyone in Tartarus, they all would’ve come out with major trauma related to the dark without him, especially Krios. He lit up the darkness the entire time they were down there and while they teased him for it they’re very thankful.
Iapetus got bored in Tartarus very easily and tended to play games of “how fast can I piss off my siblings”, you know, as siblings do. The “I’m not touching you” game was very common. He got re-nicknamed “the pierced” because he got stabbed several times for his actions.
Okeanus will try to adopt any child (or adult) that stands or floats still too long near him. He has thousands of kids, clearly he loves children. He and his (ex)wife are banned from having more kids because their lovemaking kept drowning people, so he has to use alternative methods to get kids.
Prometheus is very clever, extremely clever, and like all too clever people he has a habit of doing insane things just to prove he can. He’s committed insurance fraud several times just to prove he can. Don’t trust him with your credit card either.
Koios is literally just on vacation the entire time things on going on. He got out of Tartarus and went to the beach to relax.
Krios liked origami, especially those little star ones. He has buckets and buckets filled with them. He makes decorations out of them in his free time, and his siblings have a lot of customized ones that they don’t have the heart to get rid of.
The Titanesses are hanging out at CCs Spa (it got rebuilt) the entire series. Girls trip.
55 notes · View notes
cinnaminsvga · 5 years ago
Text
Dumbo | Jungkook (M)
Tumblr media
→ summary: you know what they say about boys with big noses...
{or alternatively: jungkook has a big dick but he doesn’t know how to use it, but luckily you’re there to help.}
→ genre: humor/crack, smut → warnings: they talk about dicks a lot (i.e. jungkook has a big dick), DICK MEASURING CONTESTS (aka jk gets his dick appraised... just boys bein’ boys), explicit sexual content, semi-public exhibitionism, handjobs, blowjobs, sub!jungkook, whining, light dirty talk, mild pain play, mutual masturbation, jungkook has piercings, accidental edging (you’ll... understand), oc doesn’t have a gag reflex lol → words: 17.2K → a/n: @jincherie... you are my enabler and i will die on this hill only if you die on it with me. but of course i know you will die with me. because we only have one braincell and if either of us die, we both do. thank you for commissioning me to write this btw... even though i was already writing this so you just basically sent me money for free. ANYWAY... WORLD IS FUCK BUT I LOVE RHA!! ALSO JUNGKOOK HAS A BIG DICK!! EPIC!!
Tumblr media
The club lights make it difficult for Jungkook to see anything. He doesn’t understand why club owners can’t just jack up the lighting for once; it isn’t like you’re going to be able to find a hook-up through echolocation or something. Though, judging by the way people seem to be groping their way through the masses, perhaps there really is no need for illumination anyway.
Jungkook normally hates this kind of scene. Drinking is all good and fun, especially when he’s with his hyungs, but going to overly crowded places makes his skin crawl with anxiety. It takes almost three shots during pre-game for him to get anywhere near this kind of place and it’s all thanks to Seokjin. That hyung thrives in these kinds of environments, like a clipped butterfly relearning how to fly.
“I’m gonna get shit fucked wasted!” Seokjin hollers, his arm looped carelessly around the only other person who hates being here as much as Jungkook does. He watches passively as Yoongi tries to bite a chunk off of Seokjin’s hand, but despite his inebriation, their eldest hyung is able to dodge it quickly.
“Not before I kill you, then everyone else in this place, and then myself, first.” Yoongi growls, nudging Seokjin off his smaller frame. If the world hadn’t been swaying underneath Jungkook’s feet, he might have offered to help his small hyung do the deed. If there’s anyone who hates nightclubs more than Jungkook, it’s Yoongi. Jungkook is frightened to know how Seokjin managed to convince Yoongi in the first place, and he’d prefer not to find out what sort of terrible blackmail the elder must have under his sleeve to accomplish such an arduous feat.
Just as Yoongi is about to connect his steel-toed boot up Seokjin’s freshly bleached asshole, Jimin returns from the bar with three glasses held precariously in each of his fists. Jungkook wonders yet again how this is possible due to the sheer tininess of Jimin’s hands, but then again... What can’t Jimin do when it comes to alcohol?
“I’m back! Here you go, Jungkookie,” Jimin says, seamlessly handing Jungkook a glass of what he hopes is just a regular beer like he asked. Knowing Jimin, he probably ordered the strongest shit they have. He peers at it suspiciously, but it only takes half a sip for Jungkook to confirm his guess. He grimaces, nearly coughing out a lung at the strength of the poison running down his throat.
“That tasted like fucking metal polish! What the fuck, Jimin?”
“I know! It’s great isn’t it?” Jimin smiles angelically, handing Yoongi one of the drinks. Yoongi looks at the swirling piss-yellow liquid as if it holds the secrets to the universe. It appears as if he’s decided something when his eyes light up.
“Oh my god, this drink is gonna kill me,” he says, not an ounce of fear in his voice. Jimin nods, not even trying to hide his deception.
“I promised the bartender a blowie if he could give me the strongest shit they had,” Jimin shrugs. “Dude literally went to the back room and took out this bottle that looked like it came from Napoleon’s secret stash of hooker piss.” He sniffs the drinks thoughtfully. “Yea, I could believe that.”
“I hate this!” Jungkook cries at no one in particular.
“Tough shit! We’re in this together!” Yoongi groans, downing the entire contents of his drink in one go before promptly being swallowed whole by the crowd. Seokjin hoots, hastily waving goodbye to Jungkook and Jimin before following Yoongi and diving into the sweaty masses like a seasoned Olympian.
“I hope they don’t die like last time,” Jungkook sighs, forcing himself to take a big gulp of his drink. It sears against his throat like a brand, which probably has an inscription saying “Jeon Jungkook has bad taste in friends.”
Jimin shrugs his shoulders. “Well, like Namjoon said a while ago, we’re gonna meet by the bar in 2 hours to check if everyone is still alive and we’ll find out then. Okay, Kook?”
Jimin has reminded him of this for the umpteenth time, though he can’t blame him for being extra careful. Last time the whole gang went to the club, Hoseok had gotten stuck in an elevator at his hook-up’s place and had cried for 5 hours straight before one of them thought to look for him. The time before that, Taehyung had ingested two times his bodyweight of margaritas and he had found himself in Japan the next morning with an extra $500 in his pocket.
Yeah. They’re idiots, but at least they’re idiots who will try not to make the same mistakes as last time. Key word being “try.”
Jungkook looks around the club, but he can’t find any awkward looking lanky people anywhere. “Where is Namjoon-hyung, by the way? Haven’t seen him since we split up.”
“Who the hell knows?” Jimin laughs, the sound drowning out when the DJ suddenly decides to play a death metal version of Dance the Night Away by Twice. Jimin’s eyes light up. “Ooooh shit! This is my song! See ya later, Kook!”
“W-wait, those drinks! Aren’t they for the others––“
“Bitch, you think these are for them?” Jimin begins to double fist his alcohol with the thirstiness of a man in a desert, or a twink confronted with two dicks. Either or.
To Jungkook’s horror, the crowd has seemingly grown thrice in size since they’ve arrived and he watches as Jimin’s body is slowly getting consumed by the masses, though he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He leans into a random guy's back, a look of bliss on his face. He salutes lazily at Jungkook. “Anyway. See you in 2 hours, Kook! Try to have fun!”
Try to have fun, his ass.
Unlike Jimin, Jungkook doesn’t particularly feel like being crushed by sweaty hormonal bodies; instead, he chooses to head to the bar. He surreptitiously dumps his drink into the trash, feeling kind of bad for discarding a free drink, but Jungkook doesn’t want to get shit-fucked wasted like the rest of them are. Perhaps he’ll be the designated driver today, even though his vision is still kind of swimming. Well, he could probably walk in a straight line if he used all his brainpower. Which isn’t a lot, but you know. People learn to make do.
It takes him a while to find an empty stool by the bar and he is unlucky enough to be squished between two couples who don’t seem to be aware that public indecency is a crime. He has to endure being jostled for five minutes straight until the bartender finally notices him and allow him to order his can of coke.
(“Sorry, kid. The banana milk is all sold out. Some girl ordered our entire stock for her friends a few hours ago.” And just like that, Jungkook wants to die all over again.)
He does not know for how long he sits by the bar. Well, that’s a blatant lie, because he knows that he’s been sitting there for 18 minutes and 34 seconds exactly. He’s checked his phone religiously every 2 minutes to see if 2 hours have passed already, just so he can ask one of his stupid friends to go home with him. Perhaps he could coerce Jimin into turning in early for once (which is a pipedream, not when the DJ seems adamant to play Jimin’s favorite Christina Aguilera song 70 times in a row.)
So in short, Jungkook is miserable. He could go home by himself, but also he doesn’t want to end up having to walk to the police station the next morning to bail his friends out after one of them inevitably destroys public property again.
Fuck. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown away his other drink.
He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that one of the couples beside him have already left and that another person has taken their spot. He is jarred from his musings when a well-manicured hand is placed delicately on his shoulder, urging him to swivel the barstool around to face his soon-to-be acquaintance.
“Hey,” you say, a sultry smile on your lips. Jungkook feels his mouth immediately fill with cotton as he stares at your beautiful face, the dingy lighting of the club doing nothing to suppress the wicked glint in your eyes.
“Uhh… hey?” Jungkook replies, as charming and verbose as ever. If it isn’t obvious enough, Jungkook is a little lacking in the girls department, or at least, when it comes to girls-who-are-blatantly-flirting with him department. He normally isn’t this socially inept around the opposite gender, but given the connotations of this circumstance, his overactive male brain can only be restrained so much before it starts wandering towards dangerous territory.
It doesn’t help that the neckline of your dress is bordering on obscene, and Jungkook is afraid that if you move one more inch towards him, something very embarrassing might happen to the both of you (probably more so for him, if he’s being quite honest.)
“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the club and thought I should introduce myself,” you explain, gaze unashamedly trailing down his body. Jungkook can feel the heat from you radiating in waves, burning him from the inside out as he tries not to melt into a puddle in a pathetic attempt to get the fuck out of there.
“You saw me? But it’s… so dark in here…” Jungkook wants to fucking murder himself. That’s what he decides to say to you? God, no fucking wonder he’s a virgin. Good looks really aren’t everything when he doesn’t have a brain controlling the rest of his body. There might as well be a fucking hamster running laps inside of his skull for all he knew.
Thankfully (or unthankfully––God knows Jungkook’s stress levels aren’t lowering any time soon), you find his response funny enough to warrant a chuckle. You bat your eyes salaciously at him, which Jungkook didn’t even think was possible. People can be sexy? When they blink? Apparently, you can do that.
You shrug your shoulders. “That’s true. You caught me in a lie, I suppose. I actually knew you were coming even before you arrived.”
Jungkook chokes on his own spit then, nearly spraying you with his saliva like the dog that he is. His eyes bug out of his sockets, his body going tense with nerves. "You... you knew? What... What does that even mean?"
You point over your shoulder, gesturing vaguely at the crowd on the dance floor. "I'm friends with Seokjin over there. He mentioned you were coming with him to the club tonight so I decided to tag along."
"You know Seokjin-hyung?" The alarm bells in Jungkook's head start ringing wildly out of control. Nothing good ever comes out of being friends with Seokjin, especially since his presence alone has the power to make the creases in your brain to smoothen. Take it from someone who's been there, done that.
"Yep," you say, popping your 'p.' "I met him in my first-year English course, though I still don't know why a third-year like him was taking it in the first place."
"It's because he doesn't know how to read," Jungkook says plainly.
"I can tell. He uses voice-to-text exclusively and Siri can never spell Asian names correctly," you shrug your shoulders. "Either that, or he just doesn't know how to spell your name."
"Yea. I'm permanently John Jung Cock on his phone," Jungkook replies. He shakes his head. "Hold on, we were talking about something before this."
"Oh. About how I casually revealed to you that I was stalking you through our mutually insane friend?"
"Y-Yea, basically." Jungkook doesn't even understand what the fuck is happening right now. "I mean! Not exactly? Like, for all I know, you could've just asked hyung who he was coming with and he mentioned my name and––"
"Listen, kid. I straight up just told you I'm stalking you. Let's skip the foreplay and get to the meat of it: I'm literally following you," you say, without an inch of regret, embarrassment, or morality in your tone of voice.
Jungkook, who despite being filled with so much fear and tension enough to kill the small hamster inside his brain, is somehow able to keep his calm in front of the psychopath in front of him. Either that, or he's already in the middle of a stroke and he's lost all his fine motor skills.
"I... I don't know what to say."
"You don't need to say anything, baby," you murmur, leaning even closer to him until your chest was practically pressed against his. The thin layer of your dress and his well-worn cotton tee does nothing to help the situation (both in general and the one in his pants). He can feel your every curve, can smell the sweet perfume you're wearing; you were enveloping his senses. If he tried hard enough, he could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired with how close you were.
He knows he should probably be running away in terror right now, but he finds himself stuck resolutely to the barstool, unable to move. Maybe Jimin was right... Maybe he did have a fear kink or something.
("Isn't that just called masochism?" Jungkook asks, brows raised.
Jimin only laughs, patting him on the back condescendingly. "Nah, dude. You just straight up wanna die by the hands of a hot person, and I can respect that homie. We all have been there.")
“W-what do you want from me?” Jungkook asks, sweat lining his brow. You’re still looking at him like he was a meal, but he finds he probably doesn’t mind being devoured by you.
Your wicked grin returns, full force. “I just want to play, Jungkook. But why don’t we discuss this… somewhere more private?”
Thunk. Was that the sound of his heart dropping out of his ass, or his brain pressing against the left side of his skull, or his dick hitting the roof? Jungkook isn’t sure, but he does know he wants to see where this night will take him.
He lets you lead the way, squeezing through sweaty bodies and elbowing a stray hand or two. Jungkook swears he feels a guy grope him on the way out, but before he can even sock the guy in the jaw, you’re already one step ahead of him. You hiss menacingly at the dudebro, raising your long acrylic nails in a show of dominance like you’re from some wildlife documentary. The guy audibly whines, running away from the two of you with his tail between his legs.
Jungkook stares at you incredulously. “How the fuck did you––”
“I’ve gone to tango classes with that dude. I have his mom’s phone number,” you explain nonchalantly. Instantly, Jungkook feels himself hardening in his pants.
You manage to get to where the washroom stalls are. You brazenly walk past the line of girls at the women’s section, but Jungkook is even more confused when you also pass by the men’s section. You turn the corner, where a bunch of tables and chairs were being kept. Then, you begin to knock down some of the extra chairs stacked against the wall, which is where Jungkook discovers there is an unused wheelchair accessible washroom.
“Why is this washroom being kept hidden?” he wonders aloud, sneaking guilty looks over his shoulder. No one seems to have noticed that the two of you are blatantly trespassing property, but you don’t look all that stressed about it.
You look at him weirdly. “Dude. You can barely walk in this club without getting groped, poked, or doped. As much as I’m all for accessibility, I don’t think wheelchair-bound people are gonna have much of a good time here.”
Jungkook feels as though he should be saying something profound about the need for establishments to be accessible or something, but the strain in his pants really wasn’t doing many wonders on his verbosity right now. Maybe next time.
You make quick work of the barricade and you get the door open in no time. You push him hastily inside, making him yelp as he tries to find his way around the darkened room. You flip the switch on somewhere behind him, illuminating the washroom to find… a toilet. That’s it.
“Well, they certainly didn’t think about interior decorating,” Jungkook says, laughing nervously as you click the door locked. He turns, watching as you pull the black elastic that was on your wrist and begin to tie your hair. You smile cheekily at him, the implications of what is about to happen very much apparent.
“Nah, they didn’t. But the room gets the job done and that’s all we want, don’t we?” You purr, taking the two short steps you need to get close to him once more. You trail a well-manicured nail down his chest, circling around his nipple teasingly but not doing anything more. His breathing turns more shallow, and he knows for sure that his eyes must look crazed to you right now.
You bring your finger lower and lower, grazing the top of his belt buckle and staying there. You look up at him, licking your lips as your gaze trails down to his own. Once again, he feels paralyzed as you take him in and he wishes for all the horny gods from above that you would finally end the torture and finally close the distance.
Taking some pity on him, you rest your lips against his throat, suckling gently enough that Jungkook knows it won’t leave a mark. His hands instantly come up to grab your waist, as if urging you to go harder, to make it hurt.
You smirk against his skin, deciding at that moment to bite down, hard. Jungkook yelps, before the sound morphs into an unabashed moan. His cheeks pinken, embarrassed at the volume of his voice.
“I-I…”
“Don’t worry, Jungkook…” you whisper, soothing the bite with your tongue. You pop off his skin, your lips slightly redder than before. “I’ll take good care of you, darling.”
See, Jungkook doesn’t doubt you in the slightest. As for his own skills at taking care of you when the time comes… now that’s a little bit of a gamble.
Jungkook isn’t a virgin, per se… He lost his virginity during his last year of high school to some girl he met at a party, and suffice to say, he didn’t last long. He’s had a few girlfriends in the past, but none of them ever wanted to get with him once they saw his dick. You see, he had a bit of a problem…
He wasn’t small, by the way. Don’t get him wrong. In fact, he was kinda––
Jungkook is pulled away from his thoughts when you suddenly drop down to your knees, your hands grabbing onto his thighs for support. He’s almost worried that you’d injured yourself from how fast you’d dropped, but you don’t seem all that bothered by how deftly your fingers moved to unbuckle his belt.
When you get it loosened, your hands stop by the button of his jeans and you look up at him with expectation. Jungkook almost whines when your hands drift back to your lap.
You snort, amused. “What? You think I’m gonna do all the work here, buddy? Come on, strip for me.” you say, sitting on your haunches as you wait for him to move.
The strain in his pants was getting downright painful at this point, so Jungkook is more than eager to follow your orders. Still, his hands are shaking the entire time, so it takes him a few extra seconds before he can finally unbutton his stupid jeans and pull down his stupid zipper. Even through his loose boxers, the outline of his dick is very apparent, with a small wet spot already staining the front of his boxers a darker blue.
“Uh, I have to say a disclaimer first though,” Jungkook squeaks, suddenly shy under the intense gaze you were pointing straight at his dick. It twitches slightly, and your eyes follow it like a cat ready to pounce. “I’m… kinda on the bigger side, so I just want to ask if you’re sure––”
“Baby, I was sure even before I came to this club,” you say, trance-like. Your fists clench and unclench by your sides. “Now, shut up before I change my mind.”
“But––” Jungkook doesn’t get to finish his sentence, stunned to silence when you quite literally rip his boxers off of him like a magician trying to prove something. His dick springs up half-way, still not fully hard as it’s always taken him a little bit more goading before he can get to full mast. Yea, he was that big.
You stare at it for a moment, going cross-eyed as you stared at his tip head-on like some sort of perverse gun barrel. You don’t move for so long that Jungkook is afraid that he might have freaked you out with the size of his cock, though you wouldn’t be the first in a long shot. He’s about to apologize, prepared to pull up his pants in shame and walk home with half a log in his crotch. He’s already shifting his jeans back up when you place a hand on his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.
“Wait. Are you, like, only half-hard right now?” you ask, voice quiet.
Jungkook flushes. “Y-yeah… It gets a little bit bigger when I’m fully… You know…” he says, trailing off.
You’re still looking at his dick, but after further assessment, Jungkook realizes that you don’t look horrified in the slightest. In fact, you look pleased. “Jesus fuck you’re huge! Like… almost abnormally so.”
Jungkook literally feels like he’s going to die (and he hates that it’s kinda making him even hornier). “I guess so?”
“That’s a fucking log! You could stand on that thing!”
“I don’t think that’s possible, but––”
“Seokjin had told me you were huge, but I didn’t believe him because, well, the way he described it was that you had a literal third leg hiding under there. Who would have thought that Seokjin isn’t full of shit after all,” you say, awestruck.
“I’m really not that big––wait, Seokjin has talked to you about my dick? What the fuck? Since WHEN?” Seokjin was just out there in the world? Telling strangers about his dick? That hyung is seriously getting smashed WWE style the next time he sees him, and it’s NOT going to be sexy.
You wave him off. “Oh, don’t worry. He doesn’t just tell anyone. He let it slip because he was defending your honor,” you shrug.
In the midst of Jungkook’s mental breakdown at the realization that one of his closest friends just told a random girl that he’s got a meter long King Kong dong, he doesn’t notice that you’ve already stood up from where you were kneeling. You pull down the toilet seat cover, seating yourself on it and rubbing your reddened knees with a pout. “Ouch. Damn, I’m not used to kneeling for men anymore. Sorry, where was I? Oh right!”
You snap your fingers together, smiling gleefully at Jungkook. “So! I dragged you in here to give you my proposition, you see. I have a deal to make with you.”
Jungkook looks down at his cock, which was still red and dripping pre-cum, before turning back to you. “And this has something to do with… my dick?”
“Precisely!” you cheer, glad that he seems to be on the same page as you when he was in fact, not. “Sorry about tricking you, by the way. I’ll suck your dick after this if you’re still game, but only if you agree with my plan.”
“Your plan?”
“Yep,” you say, popping your ‘p’ once more. “You see, I have an ex-boyfriend. His name is Lee Taeyong, ever heard of him?”
Jungkook vaguely knows the upperclassman, though he can’t say he’s ever spoken to him. “Kinda. What does he have to do with me?”
“Well, if you really heard of him, then you’d already be one step ahead. Seeing as how it’s not already connecting for you––” you point to his dick, poking the sensitive head with the grace of a 5-year old at a petting zoo, “––then you don’t know that Lee Taeyong has the biggest dick on campus. Allegedly.”
“Allegedly,” Jungkook repeats. He still doesn’t follow.
“Well, I wouldn’t know either because I’ve never seen his dick, so––”
“Wait wait wait. Wait.” Jungkook’s hamster brain is running a mile a minute. There have been way too many absurdities spoken in the last five minutes and he doesn’t think he’s drunk enough to deal with your insanity right now. “Let’s dissect this one at a time, shall we? First of all, how can you not know how big your boyfriend’s dick is?”
“My ex-boyfriend. And we only dated for like three days, and I don’t fuck until a week has passed, okay? I don’t play like that,” you say as if you didn’t just lure Jungkook to this dingy washroom only to give him blue balls and trauma.
“Okay, whatever. So what if he has a big dick? What does that have to do with me?”
You roll your eyes. “How can you not understand yet? I’m on the hunt for our university’s biggest dick, of course! And you, Jungkook, might just be my ticket to the number one prize.”
There is a long pause. Jungkook stares and stares at you, waiting for you to shout “Surprise! You’re being pranked, bro!” and for all the cameramen to come out and shower him in confetti and dollar bills or something. But no, nothing like that happened. He just continues to stand there with his dick out, while you sit on a dingy toilet seat with your legs crossed comfortably as if you were just two friends having a regular conversation.
After a while, Jungkook comes to a conclusion. “You’re being serious.”
You snort, annoyed as if you were the one being inconvenienced. “Of course I am, dude. I don’t stalk just about anybody to see their dick. I’m not that insane.”
Jungkook feels as though your judgment on sanity should probably be taken with a grain of salt. “S-sure. Right. You’re definitely not insane.”
“And you have a big dick! I’m glad you can see where I’m coming from,” you say, nodding sagely. You peer at his dick once more, brows furrowed as you think deeply to yourself. “Hmm… Yea, I’d say you’d be at least equally as big as him. If all else fails, I can split the winnings and get half the amount of money if you––”
“No,” Jungkook says.
You raise your brow. “Yes?” you try.
“Yes–I mean, what? No!” Jungkook repeats, shaking his head furiously. "Are you even hearing yourself? You expect me to get into a dick measuring contest with your ex just so you can, what? Get revenge on him or something?"
"Not for revenge." You lean closer to him, face inches away from his dick but you don't seem perturbed in the slightest. "It's for money," you whisper, grinning slyly.
"Money," Jungkook repeats.
You clap your hands excitedly. "Exactly! So Taeyong and I didn't actually break up on bad terms. We only got together to make Doyoung, his crush, jealous enough to confess his feelings. But now, that dumb bitch thinks that now that he's with Taeyong, he can make fun of me for not being able to handle Taeyong's dark horse cock––"
"Can you please stop talking like an insane person," Jungkook pleads. His comment remains unheard.
"––so we made a bet that Taeyong doesn't actually have the biggest dick on campus and that I'm dating a guy with an even bigger meat thermometer than he does," you finish, snapping your fingers with a flourish. There's a twinkle in your eye: it's misplaced excitement coupled with extreme insanity, Jungkook realizes.
"That's good and all, but there's just one problem."
"What?" You tilt your head, confused.
"We're not exactly dating, are we?"
"Details, details... What Doyoung and Taeyong don't know won't hurt them," you say, shrugging your shoulders.
Jungkook rolls his eyes. "Of course," he says, leaning against the grimy bathroom wall. He goes to tuck Jungkook Jr. back into his pants, his dick finally softening after the last ten minutes of psychological torture courtesy of yours truly, but you're quick to slap his hand away, making him yelp in surprise.
"No! I like looking at it," you say. You stare at his dick with rapt fascination. "It's kinda like looking at a weird, deformed baby leg. Beautiful, but haunting all at once."
Jungkook huffs, staring at you in equal parts disbelief and awe. If he thought Seokjin was mentally unhinged, then you're definitely on your way towards uncharted psychotic territory. It was kind of amazing how you could just say shit without any brain to mouth filter, in your own twisted way. "Listen, lady. I don't even fucking know what your name is, but I am not helping you win some stupid bet and showing my dick to even more strangers than I have to, okay?"
You consider him, lips pursing slightly. "Why, do you have any other plans this weekend?"
Jungkook falters. "I... No, I don't––"
You shrug your shoulders, as if that's the end of that problem. "Then it's settled! I don't see why you can't just do this out of the goodness of your heart?"
"For the last time, I won't do it even if––"
"I'll split the prize with you? 50/50? That's $1000 for having a huge dick! Every incel's wet dream!"
Jungkook pauses in his rant, choking on his spit. His jaw drops comically, unsure if he heard you right. "Did you say one... grand?"
Hook, line, and sinker. You know you caught him the moment his eyes bugged out of their sockets. You smirk, crossing your arms triumphantly as you gaze upon his desperate and broke college ass (and dick). “So? Having second thoughts?"
Jungkook is quiet for a moment. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He tries to wrap his head around the number, unsure if he should be worried about how ready he is to drop his pants for money. Have I completely lost it? Am I that much of an idiot? he wonders, but then again… He’d be an even bigger idiot for letting free money go down the drain.
“Where is this money even coming from?” he asks, even though he knows his guard is already dropping quickly.
You wave your hand flippantly. “Oh, Doyoung is filthy rich. I imagine that $2000 is nothing to him,” you say, picking at a hangnail. “It’s not much money to me either, but my pride is mostly at stake here. If you want, you could take all the money as a prize, so long as you make that bitch eat his heart out.”
Jungkook feels his dick twitch and he knows that you notice. “Two… thousand…” He accidentally moans, gripping his thighs to prevent himself from nutting. “That’s…”
You tilt your head, arching a brow. “Not enough? I could put in an extra $500 if you’re really against this whole thing. To be fair, I wouldn’t wanna expose my coochie to a random person either––”
“Two thousand five hundred? Are you fucking insane?” Jungkook exclaims, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, but it still feels like his lungs are on fire.
“Okay, three grand it is but I’m not going any higher than that,” you huff, shaking your head. “Mr. Jeon, you really do drive a hard bargain, though I always notice that well-endowed men tend to think they deserve the universe, so I’m not surprised.” You chuckle to yourself, as if anything about this situation is worth laughing at. Jungkook feels like that one time he had inhaled an entire helium balloon in one breath when he was younger: kinda nauseous but also kinda euphoric. Is it bad that his dick is stirring awake right now? Hello?
You put your hand out, looking at him expectantly. “Well? Do we have a deal or not?”
Jungkook takes a deep breath and accesses his options carefully. Does he:
Give up his low self-esteem for money and enter an actual dick-measuring contest with some stranger;
There is no other option. Jungkook wants money.
He exhales, a migraine already throbbing incessantly in the back of his skull. He thrusts his hand forward, gripping yours harshly in a firm handshake. “I’m in,” he says, without missing a beat. Your smile brings a shiver down his back, and he can’t help but wonder if this is what Judas felt like when he betrayed Jesus, except he’s betraying no one but his own self-worth.
Well, he always did wonder how much his life was worth and three grand doesn’t seem like that big of a stretch. Oh well.
“Nice,” you chuckle, seemingly vibrating from excitement. You slip behind him, grabbing his phone from the back pocket of his jeans (which were still, by the way, pooled around his thighs because his dick was still out. Just to remind you guys in case you forgot. OP doesn’t want you to ever forget about it.) You flick open his phone, cackling maniacally when you realize he doesn’t even have a password on.
Jungkook squawks. “Hey, what are you––”
“I’m saving my number on your phone,” you explain. He can barely see what you were typing into his phone contacts, but he doesn’t miss the way you attach a heart emoji beside your name. You open his texts, sending yourself an octopus emoji that just so happened to be Jungkook’s most frequently used emoji. You snort. “Octopus emoji, huh? Seems appropriate… Can’t help but think it was a sign that this might have been destiny.”
“I just like takoyaki…” Jungkook defends himself sulkily.
“Yea? Well I like cock,” you say. You pause, furrowing your brows. “Oh, I meant to say chicken. Same thing.”
You hand back his phone, grabbing your small purse that you had thrown aside onto the washroom floor. You straighten your dress, looking to all the world as if you hadn’t just offered a stranger three grand to show his dick. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Jungkook. I expect to see you soon, maybe this weekend if you’re free. I’ll text you the details of when we’ll meet next. Toodles!” you wave, sending him a flying kiss for extra measure. Jungkook’s eye twitches, and he wonders not for the first time tonight if he was trapped in a coma and was slowly passing away.
Just as you are about to head out the door, you stop in your tracks, turning back to face him. You give him a curious expression, gaze dragging downwards until you were staring down the barrel of his dick once more. “Hey, sorry about leaving you hanging like that, by the way. I would love to help you finish, but I have a ride to catch. Raincheck?”
Not waiting for an answer, you saunter away with a spring in your step. The door swings back closed, leaving Jungkook alone for the first time in what feels like forever: just him, his dick, and the promise of three thousand dollars on the horizon.
“I’m so fucking stupid,” Jungkook groans, sliding down to the floor. He fists his cock in his hand, groaning loudly when he feels the pleasure jolt up his spine like electricity. As he listens to the sounds of his heavy breathing and the slick mess in his hands, he can’t help but wonder if Jimin was right… Maybe he did have a thing for insane hot girls who were out to kill him.
x x x x x
After Jungkook cleans himself up, he marches out of the washroom with as much dignity as he can muster. Which is to say that he walked out of there with his head bowed in shame, meekly navigating the crowded club in search of his friends.
It isn’t hard, considering that Jimin was currently hanging on the fucking ceiling from a disco ball. A group of men stand at the bottom, all of them eagerly eyeing his fat ass as Jimin dangerously humped the shiny ball of metal like his life depended on it.
“Okaaaay guys! The moment this disco ball drops, whoever catches me first gets to fuck me tonight so try your best to grab me~!” Jimin singsongs from his perch, howling madly as all the horny motherfuckers scramble all over each other, desperate to catch him lest he meets his maker.
“I. Hate. My. Life.” Jungkook sighs, striding past the group of men easily with his superior upper body strength. “Move, incels. This twink isn’t letting any of you simps touch his ass. He just likes the attention.”
“Aww, Jungkookie! Don’t ruin my fun~! Unless you wanna catch me and we can finally fu––” Jimin screams mid-sentence, just as the cord holding him and the disco ball snaps. All the guys step over themselves to catch him, but Jungkook is stronger and faster. He catches Jimin mid-air, snatching him in an instant and hoisting him over his shoulder. Everyone cheers and hollers, clapping for him as Jimin continues to giggle hysterically into his back.
“Yay! Jungkookie is gonna fuck meeeee,” Jimin pats him on the ass, but Jungkook ignores him. He goes around the club, searching for the rest of his friends until he has five dangling bodies hanging off his body like some six-headed freak.
Well, it’s soon going to be five-headed after he beheads Seokjin, whom Jungkook is certain just vomited all over the back of his jeans.
“I can’t fucking find Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook grits his teeth, his nose assaulted by the stench of Namjoon’s armpit as the elder contorts himself into a more comfortable position. “Stop fucking moving, you long-legged bastard. Why’d you have to be born with such good body proportions?”
“And why are you so hot, Jungkook?” Taehyung swoons from somewhere underneath Hoseok, who seems to be either passed out or dead; Jungkook didn’t pause to check for a pulse.
“Pretty sure Yoongi went home,” Seokjin slurs, a second wave of nausea hitting him as he struggles to keep the alcohol inside of him a bit longer. “Ugh… Said he saw his roommate and they went home together.”
“God, it better be his fucking roommate and not another person trying to sell his organs again.” Jungkook sighs. “Either way, we’re all going home. We’ve done enough damage for tonight.”
“Jungkookie, did you have any fun at all tonight? Didn’t see you around,” Namjoon quips, managing to wriggle out of Jungkook’s grip and fall face flat on the curb. He whines pathetically, not making a move to stand up again. “Ugh. I didn’t even drink a lot tonight so why...?”
“It’s because you’re Namjoon,” Jungkook supplies helpfully. He lets the rest of his friends down, making sure they are leaning against the wall for support (or sitting against the wall in Hoseok’s case). “Alright, I’m calling cabs. Seokjin-hyung, I’m staying over at your place tonight.”
Jimin, who was already slowly falling asleep where he stands, perks up in attention at that. “Wait, you’re coming home with me and Seokjin? Are we reaaaally gonna fuck?” Jimin tries to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, but to Jungkook, it just looks like he’s having a stroke.
“I’m done nutting for tonight. We are sleeping once we get home and that’s it,” Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms.
“OOOOOOOH? JUNGKOOK GOT FUCKED AT THE CLUB!”
“GET IT BOY!”
“OH SHIT HE FINALLY USED HIS PURPLE-HEADED YOGURT FINGER!”
“DAMN DUDE? DAMN? DAMN?”
“AW, YOU FUCKED SOMEONE WITHOUT ME?”
Jungkook swears he had heard Hoseok speak amidst the yelling from his friends, but his hyung still remains mysteriously hunched over and dead to the world. “None of your businesses. Anyway, a cab is coming soon and I swear to God, if any of you piss or vomit in that poor man’s vehicle, I will make sure none of you live to see the light of day, okay?”
Jimin turns to Taehyung, who just happened to be beside him. “Not gonna lie, but I kinda jizzed in my pants just now. That was kinda hot.” Taehyung only nods in agreement.
An hour and thirty minutes later, Jungkook manages to get the last of his idiot friends home, leaving only him, Seokjin, and Jimin as they tiredly trudge up the steps to the apartment. It takes an additional twenty minutes for Seokjin to figure out where he’d left his keys, only for Jimin to raise his finger for them to wait as he hid behind some bushes while unbuckling his jeans. When he comes out of the bushes, pantless, he has a key raised with a victorious smirk on his face.
“Don’t ask where I keep this,” is all he says and Jungkook is glad that he had rejected Seokjin’s offer to permanently move in as their roommate.
They all stumble into the apartment, with Seokjin falling immediately onto the couch. He curls up into a little ball, snoring the moment his eyes shut. Jungkook wants to shake him awake, eager to interrogate him about what happened between you and him just a few hours ago at the club. Even if he wanted to wake him up, Jungkook is sure nothing can rouse the elder; this fact is confirmed when Jungkook dumps water on him, only for Seokjin to keep sleeping soundly like a baby.
“Well, hyung is dead. Guess it’s time for me to die too,” Jimin says sleepily, the horniness and insanity from the club already wearing off. He pats Jungkook gently on the head, pointing towards Seokjin’s room. “Sleep there. I’ll hand you an extra blanket because I wouldn’t trust that hyung’s sheets. Let’s sleep, yeah?”
Left with no other choice, Jungkook heads to Seokjin’s bedroom, jumping onto the unmade sheets and pretending not to notice the crusty unknown substance on the corner of the bed. He can’t fall asleep, not when he’s left haunted by the weight on his chest (and dick). Jungkook fiddles with his phone, staring wide-eyed at the name displayed tauntingly on his screen.
Y/N L/N.
He was gonna have a nightmare tonight, that’s for sure.
x x x x x
Jungkook wakes up early, much to his chagrin. He’d really like to stay dead to the world for much longer, but the smell of coffee brewing and bacon cooking is kind of a hard deal to pass up. Jungkook shifts in bed, cringing when he realizes he went to sleep in his jeans, and more importantly, that his pants felt a lot stickier than he remembered.
He lifts the blanket up, confirming his suspicions. “Fuck!”
Well, guess he didn’t have much of a nightmare last night after all.
He shucks off his clothes, disgusted by the mess he finds in his underwear. He hobbles over to Seokjin’s closet, cringing when he finds only one (1) clean pair of shorts left, which just so happened to have “PEE IS STORED IN THE BALLS” stamped on the back in cursive font. Beggars can’t be choosers, he supposes.
Jungkook tiptoes out of the bedroom, confronted with the sight of Jimin pouring three mugs of coffee and Seokjin still slumped over the couch, a substantial amount of drool dripping down from the side of his mouth and forming a puddle on the floor. Jungkook takes a photo, saving it for later.
“Morning,” Jimin smiles from the kitchen, offering Jungkook one of the cups. Jungkook is certain that Jimin has no recollection of the events from last night, though such is Park Jimin’s way of life. He drinks to get fucked up, then he forgets, and then the cycle repeats itself anew. Jungkook wonders how Jimin always manages to wake up without a hangover, though God might have just given him a super liver in compensation for his lack of height.
“Hyung is still dead,” Jungkook states plainly, walking over to Seokjin and peering at him closely. Jungkook sticks a finger into his agape mouth, collects some of his spit, and then proceeds to give him the wettest willy of his life. Still no response.
“Let me try,” Jimin says, sauntering over to Seokjin with one of the cups of coffee. Jimin leans down, hums gently into his ear. “Hyung, wake up. We have coffee for you!”
Seokjin mumbles incomprehensibly in his sleep, snuggling deeper into the couch stuffing. Jimin tilts his head, still smiling. Then, he dumps the scalding cup of coffee all over Seokjin’s crotch.
In an instant, Seokjin screams with the pitch of a banshee, swinging his arms wildly about and nearly knocking himself out with his own fist. Jungkook and Jimin watch passively from the sidelines, waiting for the elder to finish fanning his nutsack before greeting him a pleasant morning.
“WHY ARE YOU BOTH LITERAL DEMONS?” Seokjin hollers, jumping to his feet with his scorched balls and all. Taking pity on him, Jungkook walks over to the fridge, tossing his hyung a bag of ice. And by toss, it’s more like he pitches the bag straight into his dick with the ease and speed of a seasoned baseball player, eliciting another round of pained howls.
“YOU––ASS––” Seokjin seethes, clutching the bag of ice to his nether regions. He sits down on the adjacent loveseat, expression contorting as he cups his balls gingerly. “God, it’s almost like you guys don’t think I deserve basic human decency.”
“That was just a small part of my revenge for you, after you gave my contact details to an insane woman,” Jungkook sneers, miming a punch onto Seokjin’s handsome face. Seokjin doesn’t even flinch, too busy staring at Jungkook’s legs.
“Hey, are you wearing my thot shorts?”
Jungkook looks down at the neon pink monstrosity around his hips. “You call these your thot shorts?”
Seokjin shrugs. “I got dicked down in them once. You should try.”
“Oh, did I hear something about revenge? I smell tea in here,” Jimin says, coming back from the kitchen with his own cup. “Well, I have coffee but same shit. What happened?”
“This––” Jungkook points an accusatory finger at Seokjin, “––asshole sent my location information to an insane stalker lady last night after he told her that I had a huge dick!”
Seokjin squints at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Y/N! She said you told her about how big my dick was and when she asked you where I was, you told her I was going to the club with you last night!”
“Oh.” Realization dawns on Seokjin’s face, which was quickly replaced by incredulity as he stares at Jungkook. “I assumed she asked for your contact details because she had a crush on you. I was just trying to get you some pussy, bro.”
“Yeah, Kook. Not gonna lie, but I’d be dicking down girls left and right if I had a dick as big as yours,” Jimin says, eyeing the bulge in his teeny tiny shorts with interest. “In fact, I’d probably be a top if I had a dick as big as yours.”
Seokjin laughs, nearly shooting out phlegm from the strength of it. “Oh god, don’t tell me. You couldn’t get your dick hard again? Don’t worry bro, if I had a dick as big as yours, it’d take ages for it to fill up too.”
Jungkook flushes, stomping his foot in embarrassment. “That! Wasn’t the problem! The problem is––”
“––that Jungkook nuts too quickly because he doesn’t have any practice,” Jimin tuts sadly, patting the younger with a pitiful expression. “Don’t worry, Kook. Hyung is open to giving you some pointers.”
“That’s not it either!” Jungkook screams, groaning in annoyance. “She came up to me because she offered to pay me $3000 to enter a dick-measuring contest!”
Jimin and Seokjin tilt their heads in tandem, still not getting it. “So?” they both chorus, giving him a blank-eyed stare.
“Are you guys out of your mind? I got bribed into showing my dick to some strangers like some kind of weird prostitute!”
“It’s not prostitution if you’re not engaging in sexual activity,” Jimin muses, taking a long sip from his coffee. He shrugs his shoulders. “Honestly, I don’t see how this is a problem. You show some girls your dick, and you get money. Dudes would kill to be in your position.”
“Oh my God, don’t tell me,” Seokjin leers at Jungkook, and the younger almost can’t stop himself from landing another blow against the elder’s abused crotch. “You got roped into some bukkake orgy and now you’re asking your hyungs to help you? Don’t worry, Jungoo… You came to the right people. You see, Jimin and I have some experience with––”
“LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Jungkook jams his fingers into his own ears, screaming hysterically to drown out the sounds of Seokjin and Jimin’s combined laughter. Jungkook pouts at them, glowering pathetically. “Seriously, hyungs! Do you not see how fucked up this is? Who follows a stranger to a club, pretends they’re going to give you a blowjob, only to offer 3K for you to show some strangers your dick?”
“A regular Friday night if you ask me,” Jimin says, shrugging once more. Jungkook stares at him, realizing that maybe it was the wrong idea being friends with these two lunatics in the first place. Knowing Jimin, he’d probably been in much more lewd and compromising situations than Jungkook will ever have. Rumor has it that Jimin had once done a keg stand while having his dick sucked while on vacation in Japan.  
“Well, if you were really against it, then you could have just said no?” Seokjin points out, wagging a finger at him. “I know Y/N, and yeah she’s kind of demented, but she still knows that no means no. Surely, you haven’t considered the fact that you are 1) a pushover and 2) horny for her?”
“Well, yea––No, what––No!” Jungkook splutters, stammering wildly. His two hyungs grin salaciously, gazing at him knowingly. Jungkook can only groan, as he knows that they kind of have a point. He’s always been too weak for girls and money, so when you put those two things together…
“I might be addicted to the BBC tag on Pornhub, but you my friend… You’re in it for the BBCC,” Jimin snickers, patting Jungkook comfortingly on the back. Jungkook groans into his hands, slumping onto the loveseat beside Seokjin, whose icepack had long since melted and caused the seat to be uncomfortably damp.
“BBCC? I’m almost too afraid to ask.”
“Big black credit card,” Seokjin pipes up, wrapping his own arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, bud. We all have been there.”
That’s the problem: somehow, Jungkook finds himself much too ready to accept his fate, eagerly awaiting when you’ll text him next.
x x x x x
After a much-needed shower at Jimin and Seokjin’s place, Jungkook tiredly makes his way to the nearby bus stop, ready to go home and sleep the entire weekend away. Screw his Biochemistry midterm on Monday––if he really is going to whore himself out to you, then he’s going to need all the self-care and therapy that he can get. His phone itches in the pocket of his shorts (yes, he’s still wearing the thot shorts), and he wonders if he should text his therapist and ask for an extra appointment later in the day.
Just as he’s about to pull out his phone, he senses it vibrate once, twice. He freezes in his steps, walking out of the way of busy pedestrians on the sidewalk and into a random clothing store. He sees the lone cashier staring at him from the corner of his eye, but he does not check if her gaze is filled with disgust or disgust. Probably disgust, he surmises.
Flicking his phone on, he sees two new messages from you and his heart immediately starts to hammer in his chest. No one has ever made Jungkook equal parts scared and excited, though he imagines you might have that effect on most people, what with how you look like the type to tie up unsuspecting victims to harvest their organs in your summer cottage up in the mountains or something. Or maybe that’s just Jungkook projecting.
from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey! sorry for taking so long to text you. my roommate tried to make cheesecake at 3am last night and i had to supervise in case he burned down the apartment.
from: y/n l/n ❣️ anyway, i was wondering if you were free later? some time after 5 maybe? let me know!
You already want to meet so soon. Jungkook exhales heavily through his nostrils, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself. Alright, this is fine. Jungkook is a big boy: he can handle going to a girl’s home without losing his mind. You didn’t say anything about this being the actual dick-measuring contest yet, so he can only assume this is just you asking for something else. Maybe to talk more? Maybe he’ll get a down payment for the prize money? Maybe you’ll follow through on your raincheck? God, is it wrong for him to have his dick plumping up in his shorts when you haven’t even done anything to him yet?
(On the contrary, you could say that you have done a lot for him over the past twenty four hours, though maybe not in the way most people would expect.)
from: jjk yeah i can meet you at 5. what’s this for?
from: y/n l/n ❣️ oh, nothing! i just wanted to talk to you about the actual competition and stuff. plus, i want to actually measure your dick, just so i can see how much you’re actually packing down there ;)
from: jjk ….yeah, fine. whatever.
(This really isn’t a “whatever” type of situation, but honestly, Jungkook doesn’t really know what to say anymore. He’s officially lost his singular brain wrinkle. He’s smooth brain McGee over here.)
You follow up by sharing your location with him, and he’s surprised to find that you aren’t that far away from where Jungkook was right now. He really did mean to go back to his apartment first and get changed into something more… morally acceptable, but since he hasn’t been arrested yet for public decency, he should be okay with going to your place in Seokjin’s thot shorts.
There’s something invigorating about going to your place, dressed the way he is… Maybe the shorts are somehow giving him brain hemorrhage by indirect association with Seokjin. Either that or Jungkook simply loves torturing himself by embarrassing himself constantly. Well, at least he showered and combed his hair before leaving his hyungs’ place.
He inputs your address into his phone map, taking his sweet time as he walks the short distance to your apartment. As he passes by the buildings and street corners, he can’t help but think that he might have been around this area before. He tries to rack his brain, forcing himself to remember why this route seems so familiar.
“Oh right. Yoongi-hyung’s new apartment should be around here,” he muses to himself. He wonders if his hyung had gotten home safely last night. He should probably text him to make sure, but he’s got a literal dick appointment to attend to first, so he’ll remember to check up on Yoongi once he finishes up with you.
Does that make him a shitty friend? Probably. But would Yoongi do the same if Jungkook was in his shoes? Probably.
Yeah, Jungkook and his group of friends aren’t exactly role models for a sensitive and loving relationship, though that’s not much of a surprise to anyone.
He arrives at a decent looking apartment complex, complete with its own little water fountain at the entrance. He walks through the automatic sliding doors, peers at the shiny caution tape barring him from using the elevator. He stares at your address on his phone, groaning loudly when he sees “1603” much to his annoyance.
“No wonder she had such great thighs,” Jungkook mutters angrily to himself, preparing himself for the long and arduous journey his glutes are going to endure.
Years later, Jungkook finds himself at your door, his lungs jumping out of his throat as he struggles to catch his breath. He hunches over, elbows digging into his thighs as he wipes the sweat trailing down his neck. He can see your door just near the end of the hall, but just as he’s about to crawl his way over––
“Oh. Oh my,” a familiar voice says from behind him, and Jungkook looks over his shoulder to see…
“Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook exclaims incredulously, mouth gaping at the sight of his thought-to-be-dead hyung coming out of the elevator. He splutters for a few more moments before pointing an accusing finger at Yoongi. “You used the elevator?”
Yoongi raises an eyebrow, turning to look at the elevator with a thoughtful look. “Oh right. The elevator works. The maintenance people just forgot to remove the safety tape from last week.” Yoongi looks back at Jungkook, gaze lowering to his legs. “I see that Seokjin has provided you with his thot shorts.”
Jungkook doesn’t even try to cover himself, used to his friends seeing him in varying degrees of undress. Like, what was Yoongi going to do? Take a photo of him and post it to his Twitter for his thousands of followers to see? He wasn’t that cruel...
Snap! Yoongi pockets his phone quickly, clearing his throat. “So,” Yoongi walks up closer to him, peering at Jungkook curiously. “What brings you to my apartment? Not that I’m happy to see you, but I assumed you and the rest of our idiotic gang would have died of alcohol poisoning the night before.”
“...It’s a long story,” Jungkook says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Say... Where did you go last night, by the way? I tried to look for you, but Seokjin said your roommate brought you home?”
“Yeah. She went to the club with a bunch of her friends. She offered me a ride with her because she knew how much I hated it there,” Yoongi says, frowning. “Fuck you, by the way.”
“What the fuck? What the hell did I do?”
“I don’t know. You’re wearing Seokjin’s shorts and my ape brain told me to retaliate out of instinct,” he explains. He takes another long, good glance at his shorts. “Color me surprised that they fit you, by the way. I’d assume your huge ass would be making it rip the seams, or perhaps your dick would be saying hello.”
Jungkook pats his junk proudly. “I know, right? Big guy decided to cooperate, for some reason.”
“Will you guys stop yapping it up out in the hall? I’m pretty sure Mrs. Sy can hear you two idiots from the first floor,” a voice from behind Jungkook hisses, causing the two boys to jump up in surprise. Lo and behold, your head is peeking out from behind your door, a perfectly stenciled eyebrow arched in annoyance. “Well? Are you two coming in or what?” You return back to your apartment, assuming that they’d soon follow.
Yoongi looks at Jungkook. “Wait. You know Y/N?”
Jungkook looks at Yoongi. “Wait. You know Y/N?”
Yoongi squints his eyes. “She’s my roommate. She’s a mutual friend of––”
“––Seokjin,” Jungkook finishes. The two of them pause, a metaphorical light bulb glowing above their heads.
“Ah.”
“Ah.”
“I see. The demoness has roped you into some hare-brained scheme, hasn’t she?” Yoongi nods sagely, rubbing his beardless chin. “Can’t say I feel sorry for you since I have to live with the wench.”
Jungkook grimaces. “Man. She’s insane around you too?”
Yoongi shrugs, walking over to your shared apartment. “I’m dating Seokjin, remember? Everyday, I suffer. Everyday, I feel my arm.”
When Jungkook steps into your apartment, he can’t help but be a little surprised. Of course, he shouldn’t have expected to see a medieval torture chamber in the middle of a metropolitan city, but he wouldn’t put it past you to somehow make it happen. Instead, he finds a fairly cozy-looking home, with comfy couches and filled bookshelves, complete with a small balcony that had a few fresh herbs growing in little pots. It looks…
“Yoongi-hyung. You definitely decorated, didn’t you?” Jungkook snorts, fingering the little kitty-patterned throw blanket draped on your couch. It’s soft and expensive, and definitely something only Yoongi would buy. The elder doesn’t even bother looking embarrassed; he just throws Jungkook the middle finger as he walks towards the kitchen.
You come out once more from one of the connecting rooms at the other end of the apartment, presumably your bedroom. You motion for Jungkook to come in. “Yoongi, you’re gonna bake all day, right? Mind if you let Jungkook and I speak alone in my room?”
Yoongi waves his hand disinterestedly. “Whatever. If you guys are gonna be freaky in there, I’m gonna start playing clown music to drown you guys out, alright? And I mean the remix versions with the extra clown honks.”
You roll your eyes. “Yea, yea. We get it. Grandpa needs his special time alone too.”
Jungkook’s heart jumps when you don’t even bother correcting him. Does that mean you guys really were going to do something freaky? Hopefully, Yoongi has learned to differentiate screams of terror from screams of pleasure, though it’s hard to tell if he’d care otherwise.
He follows you into your room and immediately notices the perfectly made bed and the neatly organized desk. Your curtains are drawn close, but the sheerness of it allows the mid-afternoon sun to brighten the room regardless. Your bedroom smells faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, and he notices the small scented candle still smoking from when you’d put it out.
Nothing in the room indicates that he was inside the room of a psychopath, though maybe Namjoon or Taehyung would argue that anyone who makes their bed every day might be a little out of it. Jungkook continues to stand awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do next except to stare.
You plop onto your bed, giving him an expectant look. “Well? Are you just gonna stand there by the door and have Yoongi see us measure your dick or what?” That gets Jungkook to move. He closes the door, pausing for a second before locking it for good measure. Then, he takes the short two steps that he needs to stand right in front of you.
You crane your neck, appraising him silently as he fidgets from the weirdness of it all. Your gaze trails down and Jungkook is not surprised when you stop to stare at his neon pink shorts. You snort, thumbing the edge of his shorts lightly. Jungkook shivers even though you’re barely touching him and he knows that you notice.
“Trying to get back at me for leaving you with blue balls yesterday?” you muse, letting go of the thin material. Jungkook wants to bring your hand back to his thigh, but he forces himself to keep still.
He looks down. “Not really? But I mean… Is it working?” He can’t help the hopeful lilt in his voice.
You laugh, patting him lightly on the thigh. “No worries, Jungkook. I did promise you a little something last night, right? I admit it was shitty of me to leave you like that, despite what you already might think of me. You probably think I’m just some insane bitch, right?”
Jungkook stares at you. “Do you want me to be honest or...?”
You roll your eyes, but you seem more amused than anything. “Save it. I know I’m weird. But, a promise is a promise…” You trail off, winking at him. “Besides, this works out for the both of us, right? I wanted to measure your dick before we meet up with Taeyong and Doyoung tomorrow, and I can help you blow your rocks right after. Seems like a deal?”
“Is it bad that I’m so ready to have you suck me off that I’m honest to God accepting your offer without any sense of dignity?”
You consider him for a moment. Then, “Nah. I know dudes who would do worse things for three grand and to have their dick sucked. I’d say you’re just doing you.” You place your hands back on his hips, thumbing around the garter of his shorts.
Jungkook groans, not even flinching when you rip his shorts and boxers off in one rough flourish. His soft dick dangles heavily between his thighs. “See, I’m not entirely comforted knowing that you agree with my moral dilemma.”
You clap your hands together, excitement glittering in your expression. “Who cares! Let’s get you all hard and ready, shall we?”
Jungkook squirms under your gaze, getting dick stage fright. “H-hey… This isn’t like porn… I can’t just get hard when I want to, you know? I need… stimulation or some shit.”
You nod, humming thoughtfully. “You’re right… And I remember you said something about taking a long time to get fully hard, right? That’s gonna be a problem indeed.” You lean forward, “So. Tell me, Jungkook. What are your kinks?”
If Jungkook was drinking water, he’s sure he’d be doing a spit take right now. Instead, he just chokes on his own saliva, coughing out his lungs at your sudden inquiry. “M-my kinks? What for?”
“To get you hard, duh.” You leave featherlight grazes around his thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It stirs something inside Jungkook, but not enough to do anything yet. You tsk, your brow crumpling as you decide what to do next. “What if I…”
You dig your nails into the meat of his thighs and inadvertently pull him closer. He stumbles forward, his breath knocked out of him despite how little you’d done so far. “W-wait,” he wheezes, shock running down his spine. “I––”
You smirk at him, digging harder until you’re sure to leave white little crescents littered around his thigh. “Aha. I guessed you’d be into that. You liked it when I bit you yesterday, didn’t you?”
Jungkook can’t even answer. He’s trying to keep his breathing steady, squeezing his eyelids shut. He hears you shuffling in front of him, and he soon senses your body press closer to him, alerting him that you have stood up. You wrap your arms around his neck, bending his head down until he can feel your breath fan across his lips.
Are you going to kiss him? But the contact doesn’t come; instead, your hands snake up to his hair, massaging his scalp for a moment before tugging on his roots harshly. It pulls a whine from his lips, the response surprising even himself. “S-shit,” he grits his teeth, urging you to do it again. He opens his eyes slightly, sees you watching him with rapt attention.
You lick your lips, looking at him like a meal ready to be eaten. The heat in his stomach builds, but Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed anymore. He doesn’t really have any more room in his brain anymore other than his unabashedly horny thoughts.
“Pain slut, huh? Somehow, it suits you.” You sound breathy, as if you were the one being pleasured instead. It makes Jungkook’s cock twitch a little, coming to life in front of you as you continue to assault his nerves.
“Do you like pain everywhere?” Your hands leave his head, coming down to the edge of his shirt. It’s a silent request, and Jungkook allows you to lift up his sweater, leaving him completely bare before you. You throw it somewhere to your right, eyes raking him up and down. Something about you still being fully clothed makes Jungkook’s inside light on fire, and it rushes blood down south before he can even understand why.
You chuckle, looking at his hardened nipples with interest. “Pierced? What a naughty boy you are.” You flick him there experimentally, and when Jungkook’s breath hitches, that gives you a go sign to do more. You fiddle around with the rosy bud some more, circling it with the pads of your fingers until Jungkook was a whining mess before you. “Sensitive… What a prize you are, Jungkook.”
Jungkook keens at the praise, even though he knows you didn’t really mean it in a good way. He finds himself wanting to please you: to get himself hard for you, to make you want him like how he wants you. He honestly can’t tell if you’re enjoying this as much as him, other than the way you’re watching him closely like a hawk.
He’s nearly half-hard, his cock jutting against your stomach. You peer down, figuring out your next move as he holds his breath, afraid he might do something wrong. Your fingers move once more, tracing shapes across his stomach and causing the muscles there to contract. He anticipates your next movements, his dick steadily throbbing.
“I suppose the easiest way to get you hard is to touch you here, right?” you murmur lowly. You grip him by the hips all of a sudden, your thumbs placed firmly into his Adonis’ belt. You inch closer and closer to where he wants you the most, and you watch him amusedly as he clamps down on his bottom lip, unwilling to sound desperate so early in the game.
(Was it early though? He’s been thinking about this exact scenario since last night, even plaguing his dreams. Still, it wouldn’t look cool if he just… busted a nut just from having his dick out. Even he knew that was kinda sad.)
Despite his best efforts, perhaps the desperation is apparent on his face because you eventually do take pity on him. You wrap your fingers around his length, not moving just yet. You smile secretly to yourself when you hear Jungkook exhale and swallow audibly, but you’re waiting for something. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently as if you didn’t have his dick in your hands.
“What do good boys say when they want something?” You’re fishing, but your teasing tone breaks Jungkook down enough to release a ragged moan. He places his hands on your shoulder, using you for support as you slowly inch your hand down to the base of his cock.
He can’t keep the whine out of his voice when he says, “P...Please. Move?”
Your grin is wicked. “Of course, baby.”
Yeah, if you keep this up, Jungkook is going to come embarrassingly fast and he doesn’t think you’ll be quite pleased with that.
There is pre-cum leaking at the tip of his cock, dangerously close to pooling over and dripping all over your carpet. You are quick to swipe it off with your thumb, dragging it down his shaft for an easier slide. Jungkook’s abs tense, his teeth clamping on his bottom lip so aggressively that he almost splits it open. His grip on your shoulders tighten, but you don’t mind. You keep stroking him languidly, not going fast enough for Jungkook’s liking, but the concentration on your face is enough to make Jungkook release a stilted moan. It doesn’t take long until the wet squelch of your hand jerking him fills the room, coupled with the sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing.
“You’re really wet,” you chuckle, watching with fascination as your words urge another drop of pre-cum to collect at his tip. “Are you always like this?”
“N-not… Really?” It takes a while for Jungkook’s brain to connect, caught between wanting to keep his eyes shut and wanting to stare at your cute hands trying to wrap around his dick. Your fingers can’t even circle the girth of his cock, the realization almost making Jungkook come there and then.
He’d never been one to be overly confident about his penis size, to be honest. He doesn’t really go around proclaiming it to the world, and his meager body count doesn’t help the fact that most people are unaware of the extent of his package. He isn’t itching to tell people either, but he’s starting to see why people would be envious of having a large dick. The sight of you struggling to pump his cock really makes for a pretty picture.
“Ugh, my arm is getting tired,” you complain after a while, getting frustrated when you realize that Jungkook is almost fully hard, but not quite. “Jeez. Your dick is so huge that it really takes a minute for the fuel tank to fill up, huh?”
“I-I’m sorry?” Jungkook wheezes, nearly crying out when you flick your wrist in just the right manner. Your hand pauses by the head of his dick, squeezing tightly enough not to be painful, much to his disappointment. Jungkook is still too shy to ask for more.
You let go of him all of a sudden, causing a guttural whine to escape Jungkook’s lips. Ignoring him, you nudge him back a few steps, Jungkook complying wordlessly. He’s still confused until you reach over to your bed, grabbing one of your pillows before dropping to your knees. Jungkook’s jaw drops, spluttering incomprehensibly as you cushion your knees with the pillow.
You look up, giggling amusedly. “Reminds you of last night, huh? Not gonna lie, I’ve been itching to have your cock in my mouth, though I’m not even sure if any of it can fit. That’s not gonna stop me from trying.”
Oh God. Oh Geez. Jungkook is going to die, isn’t he? He vaguely remembers his dream from the night before, how your pretty pink lips had stretched over his dick, barely going past his head. He whines pathetically, another string of pre-cum finally dripping down and landing on your thighs.
You hold him by his hips, preventing him from moving as your hot breath fans across his wet head. You lick your lips, taking one glance up at him before giving his tip a quick peck. It’s nothing to write home about, but the way Jungkook’s breath catches is enough to encourage you to do more. You suckle his head a little, suctioning your lips and moaning slightly at the bitter tang. Your eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling nondescript patterns as you greedily engrave his taste into your mind.
The image of you enjoying yourself is enough to get Jungkook fully hard. He feels like he’s on fire, from his flushed cheeks all the way to his groin. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, unsure if you’d allow him to pull on your hair.
You must have noticed his plight, because one of your hands leaves his hips to grasp his own, bringing it to your hair. You pop off his dick for a second, lips already redder than before. Jungkook wishes he could kiss you, but he’s still so unsure. “You can pull my hair, but if you push me down further than I’m willing to go, I’m stopping immediately, okay?” Your voice is authoritative and your gaze is steely, but it only prompts Jungkook to moan in reply.
He nods, nearly getting whiplash from how quickly his head bobs. You smirk, appeased by his obedience. You return to your ministrations, rewarding him by going further down and bobbing your head at a snail’s pace.
Jungkook’s sanity is barely hanging onto a thread. He wants to thrust into your wet mouth, never having felt this sort of pleasure in his life. He’s beginning to understand why Jimin is such a slut, and he wonders why on earth he’s been denying himself things like this. His eyes are half-lidded, but he’s determined to watch you as your masterful tongue brings him to the edge of hysteria.
When Jungkook doesn’t think your mouth can go further down, you surprise him once again. You go lower, and Jungkook feels your throat swallow around him until he nearly screams. Drool pools in the inside of his mouth, as if Jungkook’s body doesn’t know what to do with the pleasure. His legs nearly give out, but your hands keep him mounted.
His toes are curling, thighs trembling. “Fuck,” he whines, unable to stop himself when he thrusts a little into your mouth. “Shit, I didn’t mean to–”
You glance up at him. Your eyes are tearing up, but otherwise you look unperturbed. You flatten your tongue on the underside of his dick, tracing the vein there as you slowly come up for air. You swallow the mix of saliva and pre-cum in your mouth, licking your lips like you’ve just had a 5-star meal. You look absolutely debauched, though Jungkook knows he’s probably not doing much better.
“No gag reflex. It’s fine,” you shrug, as if you’d just told him about the weather. Your voice sounds hoarse, roughened by the assault of his dick on your throat. “Are you close?”
Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, but– “Yes,” he says. He’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon, sweat dripping down his neck. You observe it drip down his body, as it curves down his neck and to his chest.
“You aren’t coming until I say so, got it?” You warn. He nods, cock twitching in desperation for your mouth to continue what it was doing.
But instead, you reach back to your bed, and Jungkook finally notices the tape measure that you’d left there. Oh right. Jungkook is brought back to reality, suddenly remembering why he’d gone here in the first place.
“This will only take a second, baby,” you whisper lowly, and Jungkook’s conscience is shot out of his head once more. Call him baby one more time, and Jungkook is sure to bust his load. He’s worried he might gain a Pavlovian response to the word; getting hard every time someone so much as utters “baby” for whatever reason.
You unravel the measuring tape, placing the end of it near the base of his member. You drag it over his length, whistling in awe as the number keeps growing and growing. “Shit, you really are huge,” you gasp in amazement, peering closely at the measurement to make sure you aren’t reading it wrong. “Nearly nine inches. Are you insane?”
Jungkook chuckles in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s… nothing?”
You snort, shaking your head at the pure audacity of this boy in front of you. “No need to humblebrag, baby. Unless you want me to degrade you, then stop being coy with me.”
At the word “degrade,” Jungkook’s erection twitches with interest. Of course, you notice. “Oh? You want me to degrade you?”
Jungkook’s face heats up, forever astonished by your brazenness. “N-no! That’s not what I–”
“You want me to call your cock pathetic, huh? Is that what you want?”
Jungkook whines, shifting from foot to foot as he tries to avoid your lustful gaze. “I…”
“Want me to call you names, huh? Took your cock so long to get hard, struggled so much to get it up. What a useless dick that you have…” you trail off, covering your mouth behind your hand to hide your grin.
Jungkook feels like he’s about to fall over. The pressure in between his legs is reaching his breaking point, and Jungkook really doesn’t want to embarrass himself by coming untouched. He has a sinking suspicion you’d enjoy it if he did, however.
Your hand slides back to his crotch, cupping his erection once more. You run your palm along him once, enjoying the way his breath hitches. He’s undeniably close and it fills you with pride knowing that you did this to him. “You’re close.” You say it like a fact.
Jungkook squirms. “Please… Faster… I’m so close, Y/N. Just a lil bit more, please…”
“I love it when you beg,” you laugh, sounding a little mean. “But since you’ve been nice all this time, I’ll let you.”
Your hands speed up, twisting and pulling him in ways that Jungkook isn’t sure are possible. He’s full-on panting like a fucking dog right now, humping shallowly into your hand like he’s lost his mind. He’s so unbelievably close, the heat in his stomach climbing higher and higher until––
“SHIT! Y/N!”
You stop, confused. That shout didn’t sound like Jungkook. You turn to your closed door, ears straining for the sound again. “Yoongi?” you call out. “Did you say something?”
Muffled footsteps come rushing closer. Your doorknob jiggles, but Jungkook had thankfully locked it when he’d come into the room earlier. Yoongi huffs from behind the door, banging loudly on the frame. “Y/N! Help! I fucking dropped the cheesecake!”
“He dropped the cheesecake,” you repeat dully to yourself. You share a look with Jungkook. The banging doesn’t stop.
“Y/N PLEASEEE THE KITCHEN IS A MESS!” Yoongi screams, uncaring of whatever he was interrupting. “YOU OWE ME! I PAID FOR YOUR RENT LAST MONTH SO YOU GOTTA HELP!”
“I hate that bastard,” you sigh, defeated. You let go of Jungkook reluctantly, giving him an apologetic look. Jungkook wants to cry. “I’m… really sorry for leaving you again like this. I…” you hesitate, looking at the door then back to him. “I do kind of owe him, so…”
Jungkook exhales shakily, bending down to the floor to pick his shirt up. He dresses quietly, cheeks burning. Why must you keep torturing him like this? He thinks his balls might explode at this point. “It’s no problem… I’ll just take care of myself at home.”
You peer at him, feeling incredibly guilty. “I have a connecting bathroom. You could use it if you want?”
“That’d be great, thanks.” Jungkook says before hurriedly rushing out of there. He refuses to look at you as he slams the bathroom door shut, breathing slowly through his nostrils in an attempt to calm himself. He waits as he listens for you to leave before his hands scramble back onto his dick, loudly crying out as he tugs himself to completion.
His legs give out from under him as he slides down to the floor, spurts of hot cum flying past his fist. Wave after wave of pleasure tingles down his spine as he slides up and down his cock. After his dick shoots its last droplet of cum, Jungkook slams his head against your bathroom wall. He’s exhausted.
He closes his eyes, thinks about how his life has led him up to this moment. Jizzing in some near stranger’s home while one of his best friends cleans up his fallen cheesecake.
“Jesus fucking Christ I hate it here,” he says. He gets up unsteadily, washing his hands of his mess.
x x x x x
Fully dressed and unsatisfyingly sated, Jungkook exits your bathroom with a flush down his neck. He keeps his eyes averted from you, but not before glaring heatedly at Yoongi as he turns to leave. Yoongi cocks his head to the side, annoyingly unaware of what he had done.
“You okay, dude? You look like a bull ready to pummel me,” Yoongi snickers, bemused by Jungkook’s flared nostrils. “Seriously. You okay?”
You slap Yoongi on the thigh, huffing angrily as you stay squatted on the floor, your other hand busy wiping off the cheesecake from the floor with a paper towel. “Shut up. You’ve done enough shitheadery today.”
Yoongi looks at the mounted clock on your fridge. “It’s only 7PM. My shitheadery doesn’t clock out until 10PM today.”
Rolling his eyes, Jungkook waves his goodbye. “Well. I guess I’ll see you guys,” he murmurs, inching closer to the door. He walks out in silence, no longer bothering to hide his pouting. He takes the elevator down, ruminating on his existence. When he reaches the ground floor, his phone immediately dings with a notification.
from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey. please don’t hate me. i’m really sorry. raincheck?
Jungkook snorts, stopping in his tracks. It’s always just rainchecks with you. He types up a quick response.
from: jjk it’s not your fault. it’s fine.
from: y/n l/n ❣️ you sure? you got off well by yourself at least, right?
from: jjk yeah. don’t worry about it.
from: y/n l/n ❣️ if you’re down… i could help you through the phone? when you get home? :( i just feel really bad. like, genuinely. yoongi is an asshole.
The offer sounds interesting, but sadly, Jungkook is out of juice for the day. He’s got a lot of stamina for many things, but it turns out he’s out of practice when it comes to his own dick.
from: jjk nah it’s fine. thanks though.
from: y/n l/n ❣️ i hope you’re still down for the contest? doyoung texted me while we were busy a while ago and said that they were free tomorrow after 12?
from: jjk no worries. i’ll be there.
from: y/n l/n ❣️ <3 ty you’re the best!! <3
He groans, slapping himself in the face. God, he is so fucking whipped.
x x x x x
The next day, Jungkook wakes up with a burning headache. He feels hungover even though he didn’t drink at all the night before, and Jungkook wonders if his brain had somehow deflated overnight with how hollow he feels. He grabs his phone from his bed stand, sees a new text from you reminding him of what he’d promised.
You had sent him an address to another apartment complex just a few bus stops away from where he lives and he assumes this must be either Doyoung’s or Taeyong’s place. He shuts his eyes for another few moments, trying his best to remember how to live.
It’s already nearing noon, so he needs to get going if he doesn’t want to be late. He shudders to think what you might do if he ghosts you. Despite how guilty you were yesterday for leaving him mid-nut, he doesn’t think that debt will cover him if he chooses not to show up to the dick-measuring contest.
On the bus, he fidgets in his seat, picking at the rips in his jeans and doing anything to keep his mind busy. He keeps thinking that someone knows what he’s up to, paranoia eating him from the inside out as he darts his eyes left and right, hoping no one can actually read minds. The bus is relatively empty, with only him and an elderly couple sitting near the front. They seem none the wiser, though Jungkook fears what they would think if they knew what he was up to.
He almost wishes he was wearing Seokjin’s thot shorts, as the skimpy excuse of clothing had somehow given him some sort of confidence the day before. Gone is that false sense of (misplaced) bravado; instead, Jungkook is filled with anxiety at the prospect of showing a couple of strangers his dick.
(A fairly human response, but that doesn’t help Jungkook’s current case.)
He arrives at the apartment complex in record time, and he sees you standing by the entrance. You look well-rested, your hands fiddling with your phone. Jungkook has only ever seen you when you were wearing that revealing dress from the club and your pajamas from your home, so he’s kind of shocked to see you look cute in your simple white dress and jean jacket. Not that you didn’t look good those other times, but seeing you look like a normal university student is astonishing, for lack of better word.
You almost look like a regular girl just waiting for her date to pick her up.
“Hey!” You greet him cheerily when you see him approach, waving at him. He waves back, the apples of his cheeks dusted pink from his previous thoughts. She’s not your date, you weirdo. Wait, she’s the weirdo. Get it together man! This shit is fucked up.
“This is their place, I assume?” Jungkook asks, looking at the building. It appears almost identical to your own apartment complex, minus the mini water fountain at the front. Ah, the wonders of living in a concrete jungle.
“Yep,” you nod. You start walking towards the entrance, with Jungkook following closely. “You ready? God, I can’t wait to see Doyoung’s stupid face. He’s gonna be so pissed!”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jungkook mutters, vibrating with nerves.
You both make your way to the apartment, with you humming quietly while he sweats profusely beside you. At least one of you is having fun, he thinks grimly to himself. You reach apartment 322, knocking three times before a boy with neat black hair opens the door.
“Y/N! Good to see you,” the boy says, reaching for a hug. You hug him back enthusiastically, ignoring Jungkook’s bemused stares. If this boy is either Doyoung or Taeyong, aren’t you supposed to… hate both of their guts? Or at least, not be friends? What even is going on?
When you step back, you point at Jungkook offhandedly. “Oh yeah, this is Jungkook. The guy I’m dating.”
Jungkook nearly chokes on his own spit, but luckily the boy doesn’t notice. Right… You guys are supposed to be dating. It’s not real, though. Get a grip! “Hi, I’m Jungkook,” he wheezes, shaking the other guy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you…”
“I’m Doyoung,” he introduces himself, a small smile on his lips. “Nice to meet you too. I’ve heard… a lot about you, so to speak.”
Jungkook squeaks, earning a chuckle from Doyoung. “No need to be embarrassed. I think we’re way past that point now. Sorry for roping you into this, by the way. But when Y/N wants to fight, well… Let’s just say I’m not going to be the first one who backs down.”
“Says the dude who couldn’t even beat me at arm wrestling,” you snort, pushing past Doyoung and walking into his home. Doyoung rolls his eyes, gesturing for Jungkook to come in.
“Props to you for dating her, by the way. I’ve been friends with that demon since elementary school, so I know what she’s like. You must be a guy with strong willpower,” Doyoung says.
“I’m… Sorry for saying this, but I’m kind of confused? I didn’t know you guys were friends,” Jungkook says, examining Doyoung’s apartment. It’s a lot bigger than yours, though he does recall you saying that Doyoung was filthy rich. It’s a lot more modern looking for sure, as Jungkook can see that Doyoung has two industrial-sized refrigerators in his kitchen. What kind of university student needs two industrial-sized refrigerators?
“Yeah, we are. She actually only dated Taeyong because she knew we both liked each other but I was too stubborn to make a move, so she did the only thing she knew how to do: be an asshole,” he explains simply. Jungkook nods, needing no further clarification.
“Jungkook! Come with me,” you pop out from one of the doorways deeper in the apartment, beckoning him closer. You point at Doyoung, “And you. Get Taeyong ready. I’m gonna need a few minutes to get Jungkook in tip-top shape!”
Doyoung chuckles, shoving Jungkook towards you. “Well, that’s my cue. I’ll introduce you to Taeyong later, I guess. He’s in my bedroom, so we’ll come out in about 20 minutes? That should be enough time, right?”
Yeah. Right. Jungkook walks numbly towards you, arms rigged by his sides as you pull him into Doyoung’s spare bathroom. You lock the door close, whirling around to face him with your hands on your hips. You’ve rolled your sleeves up, appearing like a demented surgeon preparing to dissect him. “Well! Strip!”
Jungkook is clumsy when he unbuttons his jeans, his entire body feeling like it’s being weighed down by pounds of lead. He shucks them off, leaving him in his boxers (thankfully, with no holes in them. He made sure to double-check before he left this morning.) You appraise him silently, thinking of what to do next.
Before Jungkook can say anything, your hands are already on his chest, pointer fingers placed near his nipples. His piercings are visible through his thin shirt, much to your appreciation. You circle them lazily, much like how you did yesterday.
Jungkook can’t relax long enough to enjoy it, however. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched behind his back. He’s trying to stop thinking about what’s going to happen, trying to enjoy your touch. He grits his teeth, swallowing thickly.
“I… I can’t do this, Y/N.” he mumbles. “I don’t think I can get hard. I’m too nervous.”
You pause in your movements. “You’re nervous?” you purr, voice lowering. Jungkook stops fidgeting to stare at you, sensing the shift in your demeanor. “How can I alleviate that, hmm?”
“What?”
You pinch his nipples, hard. He gasps, whimpering right after from the jolt of pain. “I think I know how to calm you down,” you murmur, staring him down like he’s nothing more than a delicious snack.
“You want me to hurt you, huh? Is that it? Answer me, slut.” You say those words, but there’s a small bit of hesitation in your expression, like you’re worried if he truly likes it. When he nods enthusiastically, urging you to go on, you smile softly at him. His heart hammers in his chest, a small case of butterflies beginning to erupt there. You look kinda cute, even if you have his nipples in a twist.
“If it’s too much, just say ‘dumbo’ and I’ll stop, okay?” Jungkook nods once more, eager to get going.
You smirk, letting go of his nipples and gripping his hips instead. Your thumbs stay innocently above his boxers. “Do you like it when I call you names too, huh? You like being pinched and prodded?”
Jungkook whines, already turning needy. The anxiety from a while ago slowly drains away, leaving only lust to cloud his mind. “N-no, I just…”
“No?” You laugh, your thumbs catching on the garter of his boxers and pulling them down until the tip of his cock peeks out, already in the midst of getting hard. “Then what’s this?”
“Nggh…” Jungkook can’t say anything, can only stare helplessly at you.
“Pathetic. You have a nine-inch cock but it’s good for nothing except earning me a bit of money. Shame, isn’t it? Would be nice if you knew how to use it, then maybe I’d let you fuck me,” you say, edging closer to him until your lips find his exposed collarbones. You suck harshly, giddy when color immediately blooms at the spot. You thread your fingers into his dark, fluffy hair – and tug.
It’s too much all at once – Jungkook isn’t ready for any of it at all. He’s panting, whining, drooling a little. He shimmies his hips a little, his boxers sliding down his thighs and onto the marble floor. His cock springs free, already dripping pre-cum but still only half-hard.
“Ah, there it is. Your big useless cock. My, my… Already dirtying Doyoungie’s floor with your slick, huh? You gonna make the floor wet, baby?”
Jungkook garbles something; did he say something? Who knows. All he knows right now is that 1) you’re making him lose his marbles and 2) he’s embarrassingly close. He’s never gotten this hard so fast in his entire life, and he might be suffering from blood loss or something. His head feels light, like he’s floating. His entire body is thrumming, senses filled with nothing but you.
You gently lead him closer to the bathtub where you sit, still paying no attention to his weeping arousal. Your mouth is dangerously close to it though, but you make no move to hold him in your mouth. Instead, you hike your skirt up until it reaches your waist, revealing your white panties. Jungkook zeroes in on the darkening patch, a shuddering breath leaving his lungs. He’s screwed.
“Show me how you pleasured yourself yesterday, when you were in my bathroom,” you say, caressing the front of your panties. You grind against your palm, eyelashes fluttering as your jaw drops into an ‘o’. You exhale through your nose, laughing breathily. “If you do well, then maybe I’ll show you what I did when you left, hmm?”
Jungkook has never moved faster in his life than he did then. He takes his erection into his hands, sighing with relief when he begins to pump. He moves slower than he usually would, unwilling to finish so soon after getting this far. He’s already wound up from your teasing (and if you count the past few days, then let’s say he’s been edged long enough.)
You study him with sharp eyes, focusing on the movement of his hands. “That’s it. It must be easy jerking off with how wet you are, huh?”
“Y-yeah.” Jungkook speeds up, flicking his wrist and focusing on the sensitive tip of his cock. His attention is pulled when he sees you shift from the corner of his eye. His grip stutters when you push your panties to the side, giving him a full view of your glistening core. He licks his lips, aching to put his mouth there but only if you’d allow him.
“Why’d you stop?” You stretch your leg out, using your foot to urge his wrist to keep moving. “Come on. I want to see you.”
You circle your clit leisurely before dipping your fingers into your pussy two fingers at a time, wet enough for the slide to be smooth. Jungkook quickens his pace, wanting to match your speed. He watches, mesmerized, at the sight of your fingers pushing in and out.
The obscene sounds coming from the both of you is loud enough to mask Jungkook’s desperate mewls. He’s going faster now, wanting nothing more than to cum all over you and your pussy. You’d look good in his cum, the pearly droplets would look good in contrast with your perfect skin.
Your thighs are shaking, your own breathing shallow as you quickly approach your end. You’re moaning in tandem with him, your arousal coating your fingers generously as it begins to run down the back of your hand. You’re scissoring yourself, but it’s barely enough when you compare it to Jungkook’s cock. No, nothing would be enough to prepare you to take him. He’d ruin you, and the thought of him breaking you is enough to help you tip over the edge.
“Fuuuuuuck,” you moan, eyes screwing shut as you are wrought with the strongest orgasm of your life. More wetness drips out of you as you rub frantically at your clit, riding your high. You look at Jungkook through your eyelashes, lips parted. “Fuck,” you repeat.
Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. He knows he shouldn’t cum but the pleasure is skyrocketing at an unparalleled speed. His balls tighten, the heat in his abdomen building until he can’t hold back even if he tried. He shudders once, twice, before jets of his cum spills from over his fist, some of the droplets making their way onto your thighs. He moans at the sight, doesn’t try to change his trajectory as his mind is completely hazed with lust. “Shit, I’m–” Jungkook grinds one last time into his hand, before promptly slumping down onto the floor.
“Jesus, that was a lot of cum,” he hears you say, but he can’t bring himself to look at you. He’s ashamed, having cummed without your permission. He can feel his dick softening underneath him, and he dimly remembers that hadn’t been the plan at all. He was supposed to get hard, have his dick measured, and then finish if he was allowed. And now, he ruined everything because he couldn’t hold himself back.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly, hiding behind his cum-stained hands. He cringes when the mess enters his eyes, wiping his palm somewhere on his leg. “Fuck. I messed everything up. You were just… It was too much… You…”
“Should’ve used your safety word, Jungkook.”
“It wasn’t because it was bad,” Jungkook’s cheeks flush, “It was… too good.”
You kneel beside him, cradling his chin and forcing him to look at you. He had been afraid to see disappointment in your eyes, so he’s absolutely surprised to see you look… amused. You’re even giggling a little.
“Sorry. I went a bit overboard. Even I get horny sometimes,” you shrug, wiping a bit of cum away from his forehead. Your own fingers are slick with your own cum, so really, you were just making a bigger mess of his face. Jungkook can’t say he’s opposed to a little mess. “You just looked so good that I couldn’t help myself.”
“You… enjoyed yourself, too? I’m not insane for thinking there’s something between us?”
“Honestly, you’re at least a little bit insane,” you laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “What? I’m cuckoo, and you know it. The fact that you got turned on by me even after all I’d done to you… Really puts you into perspective, huh?”
Jungkook grumbles, but he’s no longer frowning. “I guess. My friends tell me I have a type, and I guess you fit the bill.”
You laugh wholeheartedly at that, and it brings a smile to Jungkook’s face. He likes it when you laugh, he decides. “Same here. I guess you’re my type, too.”
You peer down at his flaccid dick. “Too bad about your meat flute, though. Unless you can get it back up in the next 2 minutes, then I don’t think you’re getting that three grand.”
“Please don’t call my dick that,” Jungkook says before shrugging his shoulders. “And it’s no worries. I had the biggest nut of my life and that’s good enough to me. Plus, you said you’d give me one thousand dollars if I agreed to help you out, so you better not back out on that.”
You snigger, patting him gently on the shoulder. “Yeah, whatever. But not before we get out of here and you fuck my brains out, got it? You need to work for it, baby.”
Is it bad that his cock was already beginning to stir once more? Unprecedented, as it usually took Jungkook ages to get back up. Maybe you really were the one for him.
“Deal. Let’s get out of here?”
When the two of you finish getting cleaned up and leave the bathroom with no evidence that you had even been there, Doyoung doesn’t even bat an eye as you walk past him, eager to get out of the door. Taeyong is lounging on the couch with his dick… mysteriously still in his pants, as if he had no intention of taking them off in the first place.
“Sorry, we need to leave. There’s an emergency we have to attend to. See you, Doyoungie!” You tug Jungkook along, who waves his own hasty goodbye.
The door clicks shut, leaving the couple alone once more. Taeyong grins up at Doyoung, “You really are amazing, Doyoung. How’d you know she’d end up with him?”
Doyoung flicks open his phone, showing Taeyong his text messages with none other than Kim Seokjin himself. “All according to keikaku, my love. Kim Seokjin always wins.”
8K notes · View notes