#and decided to watch it instead of thinking im so cool for refusing to watch it

[leaderwonim]

SEASONS

⤻ pairing. popular!sunghoon x shy!reader (ft nishimura riki and hanni from nwjns)

⤻ genre. fluff, hints of angst, brother’s best friend to lovers trope (reader is heeseung’s sister) forbidden love kinda

⤻ synopsis. park sunghoon, the notorious playboy who just so happens to be your brother’s best friend, was off limits. heeseung had made it clear to you during your freshman year of high school, and the rule still hasn’t changed even when entering your senior year. but what lee heeseung doesn’t know won’t hurt him right?

author’s note: wrote this out of boredom after listening to seasons by wave to earth 🥹 i love that song with all my heart. riki is so unserious lmao i love him. COMMENTS & REBLOGS are always appreciated 🤞

“he’s off limits,” heeseung says as he swings by your desk, watching as you scrolled through your Instagram feed, a post of sunghoon’s passing by. “i saw you stalk him, you know.”

“i wasn’t stalking him.” you say, shooing your older brother away. “geez, have you gotten crazier since you’ve left for stanford?”

“first of all, i’m not crazy.” he flicks your forehead, deciding to be the annoying older brother he was and rummage through your things. “and i’d like to see you get into stanford yn, i really would. instead of being boy crazy with your psychotic friends.”

you roll your eyes at this, placing your phone down to look at your brother. “my friends are not psychotic. plus, your stupid rule about sunghoon started in freshman year of high school, can’t you let it go?”

“never.” heeseung steps off your bed. “i know him, yn. you don’t, you don’t know what he’s capable of.”

you blow the threat from your brother. if there’s one thing you’ve learned from living with lee heeseung your entire life was that ignoring him was easier than trying to pick a fight with him. he was stubborn as a bull.

heeseung and sunghoon became friends in the fifth grade after your family had moved, and he ignored your presence up until junior year of high school, where he ruffled your hair when you congratulated him on his graduation.

“thanks little lee,” he says, and it’s all park sunghoon has spoke to you, which hurt knowing that you’ve practically tried everything since middle school for him to acknowledge your existence.

“YN!” your mother calls from the kitchen. “oh gosh, i forgot to pack heeseung his lunch! can you drive to the university?”

your cheeks puff out, which makes riki who was currently on your phone screen, laugh.

“yah, listen to your mother lee yn,” riki snickers. “i’ll come with. i need to get out of my house anyway.”

you roll your eyes at his self invitation, hanging up as you quickly run down to grab heeseung’s lunch from your mom and your keys.

yn on top☝️

be ready in 5 nishimura, im omw

nishishi

ok.

yn on top ☝️

dry ass

“get in loser!” you call out. nishimura riki pulls his black shades down, eyebrows furrowed.

“the hell you call me?” he jokes, opening your passenger car door.

he starts to buckle his seatbelt as you drive, taking a sip from your stanley. “so why are you so excited? wait—i know why. you get to see park sunghoon in action!”

“yah!” you slap his shoulder with your free hand, turning the music a bit louder so you couldn’t hear him.

“oh don’t turn up the music because you can’t handle the truth. you just wanna see your brother’s hot best friend.”

“can you blame a girl?” you say, lips out in a pout. “maybe now that i’m 18, they’ll take me seriously.”

“nobody takes you seriously, y/n.”

“nishimura riki, you have 5 minutes to get out my car.”

turns out, nishimura riki did not get outside of your car. for a boy who was on the varsity track and swim team of your high school, he refused to walk the 3 miles that was left to go to the university.

“you almost forgot his lunch idiot,” riki laughs, handing heeseung’s lunch to you. “imagine you approach sunghoon thinking you’re all cool and then he asks why you’re here and you don’t even have your brothers lunch to defend you.”

“do you always wish death upon me?” you give him the stink eye, pulling him by his hands.

“little lee, did not expect to see you here.”

you knew that voice from anywhere, and you were almost afraid to turn around to face the owner of it.

“yah little lee, i’m talking to you.” it was park sunghoon in all his glory, his hair sitting all nice and pretty as he waits for your response.

“oh! uh—where’s heeseung?”

“ouch,” sunghoon places a hand over his chest. “i greet you and the first thing you ask is where’s your brother.”

riki cackles loudly, so loud that you want to slam his mouth shut and pretend you don’t know him.

“hi park sunghoon,” he greets, extending his hand.

although sunghoon finds the tall boy a bit of a cutie by his baby face, the way he was holding onto your hand made him already seem like a threat, so sunghoon’s expression is pursed into a poker face.

“heeseung is down at the corridor,” sunghoon says, turning back to you. “do you want me to give him that?”

you nod shyly, handing the lunch to sunghoon who smiles. “aish, the kid got into stanford and he’s still making his mom make his lunch?”

you could feel riki’s hand loosen from yours, his attention caught on two students who were currently dancing on the other side of campus.

“be right back!” he exclaims, running off to watch them.

“this jerk,” you whisper underneath your breath, smiling when you make eye contact with sunghoon again.

“he’s quite the character, isn’t he?” sunghoon questions. “who is he?”

he says that in such a bitter taste that makes your stomach flip, wondering why he was suddenly upset.

“nishimura riki, he transferred to hybe high from japan just this year. he’s really sweet but very chaotic.”

“ah,” sunghoon clicks his tongue. “is he your boyfriend?”

your words almost get caught in your throat, obviously shocked by sunghoon’s straightforward question. “what?! no!”

“oh,” he smiles. “that’s good little lee.”

“you should just call me y/n,” you groan. “little lee sounds so stupid.”

“it’s not stupid,” sunghoon says, flicking his hand. “it’s cute.”

“really?”

“like you.”

before you could even process it, riki’s already running back to the two of you, excitedly telling you about the amazing dance program stanford has to offer.

“let’s go! i have to go home and submit an application to stanford!”

sunghoon raises an eyebrow at the excited tall boy who was currently grabbing you, sending you a small wave and smirk when your eyes plead for him to rescue you.

“see you soon little lee.”

“YAH! ARE YOU AN IDIOT?”

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU IT WAS AN ACCIDENT?!”

you were currently scolding the japanese boy for ruining your chances with sunghoon earlier.

“it is not my fault lee yn!” he says, puffing out his chest. “plus, the dancers say there’s a party this weekend at stanford and they’ll sneak us in. we have to go, you can see sunghoon hyung again and i can see them!”

you pursed your mouth into a thin line, riki awaiting anxiously for your answer.

“let’s say i do wanna go, heeseung would never let me go to a college party, especially not with a boy like you!”

riki clasps his hand over his chest and pretends to fall over in pain on your bed. “how could you say that?! i’m a great guy. cmon yn, you can’t let your older brother dictate your entire life, you’re 18 now!”

although riki has said a million of stupid things, he was right about this. you were eighteen, and you didn’t need your older brother ruining your chances of getting a boyfriend.

“okay,” you say, watching as riki’s eyes lit up. “let’s go. who are your dancer friends?”

the weekend had came by quicker than you thought, and you waited until heeseung said his goodbyes to you so you could get dressed and do your makeup.

although you didn’t want to go overboard with the whole thing, you still wanted to impress sunghoon, because after all, there would be a bunch of prettier college girls at the party that were smarter than you in everything.

“wow.” nishimura riki’s mouth drops as he sees your dress and face. “you clean up nice lee yn!”

“thanks ri,” you ruffle his hair, which he swats away in annoyance. “let’s go, heeseung’s already there.”

“great, so are my dancer friends!”

the two of you blended in easily, riki’s height doing both of you a favor as you held hands and made your way through the crowd of dancing and drinking college students.

“little lee?” your face bumps into sunghoon’s chest, and you almost gulp when you look up at his height. “what the hell are you doing here?”

“well that’s my queue to leave!” riki chuckles nervously, throwing you a lazy thumbs up as he runs to the drink cooler.

“never will understand that kid.” sunghoon mutters under his breath. “but seriously y/n, it can be dangerous, why are you here?”

it’s the first time in forever that he’s addressed you by your first name, and you can’t help but feel giddy.

overconfident by the drinks you had pregamed with riki previously, you find yourself leaning closer to park sunghoon. “i came here for you.”

he blinks.

“here..” he states, glancing around the party. “for me?”

the confidence wore off in a second. you were now starting to get embarrassed, cursing yourself for saying such things in front of sunghoon who probably didn’t even like you.

“that’s sweet little lee,” he says, eyes crinkling. “but you could get into a lot of trouble if your brother finds you, you know? he already freaks about you enough, finding you at a party at his college at night will kill him at the spot.”

park sunghoon was right, your brother would absolutely rage if he had found out you snuck out to go to a party. in some ways, he was even more strict than your mom.

“hoonie!” the voice of a girl interrupts the both of you as she makes her way over, placing a sloppy kiss against sunghoon’s cheek. she hasn’t said anything to you and you were already starting to see red.

“oh hi! i didn’t see you there!” she extends her hand, grinning from ear to ear. “i’m hanni, president of the pi beta thi sorority!”

you notice sunghoon’s hands finding themselves around her waist. although he’s probably only doing that to stabilize her, you find yourself too jealous to speak.

“hanni, this is lee y/n, heeseung’s sister.”

“oh!” the girl gasps. “oh my gosh, i’ve heard just so much about you! you’re prettier in real life! what are you doing at a college party?”

now you can’t really keep being mad at her because she seems so genuine when she’s complimenting you.

“oh, my friend riki has dancer friends who invited us.” you say awkwardly, watching as sunghoon whispers something in hanni’s ear.

“well that’s awesome, i hope i’m gonna see you here next year!” hanni then waves her hands, parting away from sunghoon. “i’m gonna go say hi to your brother, toodles!”

you watch as she makes her way towards the outside, most likely to the pool. at least you knew where your brother was so you know how to avoid him.

“hanni is really sweet,” sunghoon says as you turn back to face him. “met her a few months ago.”

“oh really,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek. “is she your girlfriend?”

sunghoon laughs as if it’s the funniest thing in the world. “what? no—of course not. she’s just touchy when she’s drunk. she’s dating one of my frat friends, his name is yang jungwon.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, happy that sunghoon was still single. after all, hanni was a pretty and nice girl, you wouldn’t be surprised if she was able to pull him.

the two of you stand in silence for a bit, sunghoon staring into your eyes with his dazed eyes. you almost want to pull him in, close the gaps between yours and his lips.

“am i stupid?” he suddenly asks, eyes still in contact with yours.

“no, why would you say that sunghoon?”

“i still like you after all this time. even when i got to college and promised myself i’d find a girlfriend and move on, you’re always still at the back of my mind.”

his confession makes you wonder if you were hallucinating, not believing that the park sunghoon who you’ve been inlove with since childhood was currently telling you he liked you.

“i..” he doesn’t let you say anything else, choosing to lean in and kiss you instead.

it’s all great and feels magical until you’re pulled back harshly, the sound of your brother’s yelling filling your ears.

“LEE Y/N? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING AT A COLLEGE PARTY, AT NIGHT? KISSING SUNGHOON OF ALL PEOPLE? WE’RE GOING HOME!”

you want to cry in embarrassment when you realize everyone has turned their eyes to look at you, and sunghoon throws you a look of guilt and pity when he sees heeseung dragging you away.

“stop it, you’re embarrassing me.” you cry as you’re outside the party.

“me, embarrassing you?” heeseung scoffs, looking up into the sky before looking down at you. “do you know how much you’ve disappointed me tonight? first, you dress up in barely any clothes, then you sneak into a party with some japanese male exchange student, and then you KISSED MY BEST FRIEND?” you close your eyes at heeseung’s yelling, wishing for the earth to swallow you whole.

“what will i do with you?” he grumbles as he drives the two of you home. “you’re lucky mom is out of town for two days. if i drove you home like this, she would kill you. and is that fucking alcohol i smell on you lee y/n?”

you gulp, knowing full well that you probably reeked of alcohol and sunghoon’s cologne at that moment.

“i told you he was a bad influence.” heeseung says as a red light comes up, turning to you as his hands were still on the steering wheel. “he’s going to break your heart and crush it beneath his feet, and who are you gonna come crying to? me. i’ve seen it so many times before y/n, my own girl friends at college have got with sunghoon and all he’s done is crush their souls and spirits. you think you’re any different because he said a few sweet things and kissed you?”

“stop it.” you say, wiping your tears away. “you’re being mean, heeseung.”

“men like him don’t change, y/n. sure, he’s my best friend, but he’s not a good boyfriend. he’ll drop you the second he feels like you’re inconvenient.”

you let out your first sob at night as your brother pulls into your driveway. although he’s still fuming mad at you for going against all his rules, he pulls you into his chest, letting you cry it out as he rubs your back comfortingly.

“are you okay?” is the first thing nishimura riki says when he sees you at school, frowning at your bloodshot eyes. “i saw you get dragged away by heeseung hyung yesterday night. it was really loud.”

“gee, thanks.” you scowl at him, making him raise his hands in surrender.

“if it makes you feel better, sunghoon wanted to speak to you.”

your head suddenly peeks up at this, and riki almost laughs by how easily he could change your mood.

“really? even after last night?”

“mhm.” riki stabs a fork into his mashed potatoes. “but he didn’t look so happy, so if you end up crying after, i have ice cream at my house.”

you let out a laugh at the boy’s words, silently thanking the world for giving you such an unserious best friend.

and just like riki had said earlier, park sunghoon was waiting in front of your house by the time you got home.

“hey.” he says, hands in pocket.

“hey.”

“about last night,” he seems to be looking everywhere but you. “i’m really sorry about your brother.”

“it’s fine.” you say, shrugging. “he was just being overprotective as usual.”

“yeah.” sunghoon steps closer cautiously. “i meant what i said, you know. about me liking you.”

“sunghoon, i like you too.”

he nods slowly, expression still glum. “that’s the problem though. we cant be together, y/n, you know that, right?”

“why?” you breathe out. “because you want to keep playing girls at your college?”

his eyebrows furrow deeply. “what? no? i’m just—i can’t be with you!” he steps backwards. “i’ll ruin your life, you said it yourself, i play girls at stanford. what’s to say i wont do the same to you?”

“i have known you since you were 10 sunghoon!” you say, throwing up your hands exasperated. “i know you can change for the better. i won’t let you go away this easily, not when i’ve spent my entire life loving you.”

“really?” sunghoon whispers, eyes teary. “you’ve spent your entire life loving me?”

“i have.” you walk up to sunghoon, cupping his face into your hands. “and i’ll love you for my next life if i have to.”

he laughs quietly, head tilting as he admired your face.

“little lee,” he says softly. “you really are a gem, aren’t you?”

park sunghoon being park sunghoon doesn’t let you reply to his words, instead shutting you up with a long kiss on the lips.

“wow.” you say as you pull away, making the older boy giggle. “lee heeseung is so gonna kill the both of us after the life lecture he gave me last night.”

“can’t kill me if i move away to antarctica.” sunghoon smirks, watching as your expression changes in a millisecond.

“YAH PARK SUNGHOON! YOU ARE NOT MOVING ANTARCTICA AFTER JUST CONFESSING TO ME!”

[bloomries]

Hi I was wondering if you could make a part 2 worth the dateables for the “in another universe” fic. I just read it and it was amazing and now im crying 😭.

in another universe...

includes : diavolo, barbatos, simeon, solomon.

summary : what could have been, in a better universe.

warnings : gn! reader. angsty angst. death & mortality (solomon). prob a little ooc but shhhh. italics indicate the 'other universe.'

part one here.

DIAVOLO

...you weren't the prince of the devildom.

It was another day filled with princely duties, and another day you find yourself all alone. It was painfully empty in the large bed, and you knew you couldn't do a thing to fix it. Instead you close yours eyes and wish you could have woken up in his arms.

In a perfect world, you'd wake up in the arms of your beloved. Not Prince Diavolo, just Diavolo. You'd wake up to the feeling of kisses peppered against your face, and giggles would fill the room as you try to push him away but he won't relent. "G'morning my love," he whispers between kisses, "We gotta get up~"

"Noo," you whine, and he chuckles, pulling away to look at your cute scrunched up face. "Let's just call in sick and stay in bed allllll day." You peak an eye open to see Dia, who grins.

"Sounds like a perfect idea." And thus the day was spent burning making food, watching shitty tv drama, and cuddling- and of course kissing too.

But when you open your eyes, the coolness creeps in, and the emptiness of the room is unsettling. A knock on the door alerts you of Barbatos' presences, and he speaks from the other side of the door.

"Are you awake?... Lord Diavolo asks me to send his regards, he has another day ruling over the Devildom, and wants to let you know to not expect him until late." Pulling the sheets over your face, you decide to indulge in your fantasy world a little longer before facing the harsh reality.

BARBATOS

...i came first.

It's not that you didn't understand, no you knew perfectly well that Barbatos' job was very important and required him to be away from you for long periods of time. What you didn't understand was that he refused, almost too eagerly, a day off. Diavolo noticed he'd been working him too hard and offered a little vacation. You thought he'd take it, so he could spend what little time granted he could with you, but instead...

"I was thinking we could head to the human realm, and have a nice date there."

"Oh yeah?" You coo, leaning closer to him and grinning. "And what should we do there?" He hums, deep in thought. A nice restaurant, perhaps dancing involved, walking around a fairy-light lit park, being in each others arms. Yes, that sounded nice, and thus he informed of you such thoughts. "That does sound nice, it's a date then." You press a kiss to the corner of his lip- tease. He's quick to correct your mistake, placing a proper kiss to your lips.

"You... You rejected the offer?" Barbatos undoes the buttons of his shirt, glancing over his shoulder at you with a slight frown.

"Obviously. As much as I'd like to trust him..." He tsks and shake his head, pushing away the thought. "Nevermind. Shall we turn in for the night?" He slips into more comfortable clothing, giving you that cool, unwavering smile. Ah, you don't know how much more you can put up with this...

SIMEON

...you stayed the night.

"Goodnight." Simeon spoke in a soft, quiet voice, his smile kind. It makes your heart do somersaults. You bid him a goodnight as well, and as he goes to turn, you hesitantly catch his wrist.

"You know... You could stay the night... If you wanted." His eyes widen. Stay the night? Something inside him shifts, his eyes filling with what seems to be pity.

"I'm sorry... I can't..." He speaks, gently removing your hand off his wrist and giving you a weak smile. "Goodnight." And then he leaves, not a single glance back. Did you just ruin your friendship with five words? You just wanted him to stay a little longer, just be near you for a while more...

"Stay the night?" You nod, fiddling with your shirt. "Well... I suppose that would be okay." Your eyes widen in delight. Really? He'd stay? He chuckles at your obvious enthusiasm and allows you to drag him back into your room where you set up a spot for you to sleep on the ground.

Simeon shakes his head at this. "I'll take the floor." After a little arguing, you both end up on the bed, both too jittery with excitement of staying near your crush to properly sleep. As you try to close your eyes, try to calm your mind, however, you feel a pinkie brush against yours- and feeling a little bolder, you move your hand even closer. Eventually, your hand in Simeons, and his in yours, you both with small, dorky smiles as sleep comes for you both.

Tomorrow will likely involve a long talk.

SOLOMON

...we could grow old together.

"You're going to be the cutest grumpy old man." It was an offhand comment, something you didn't really think about, you were just teasing him... But then the mood in the air shift, and it got real quiet, and you were suddenly reminded that you wouldn't be growing old with him.

"Shit... Sorry." You, but Solomon waves his hand dismissively, forcing a smile as he claims it's no big deal. It is, though, it's an incredibly big deal. Not only feeling the despair of it, but Solomon too- if he could, he'd most definitely choose mortality with you than whatever he's got going on now.

Sitting in your own separate rocking chairs, holding hands. You reading a book while Solomon nags about 'children theses days' or something or another. Getting up and then having to help him because his knees are what they used to be. Listening to a song considered old, dancing close to each other and remembering all your beautiful memories together. Eventually dying together.

Ah... But none of that will happen. He'll eventually watch you pass away, and he'll try desperately to hold on to your memory but when your face fades away from his mind who will he become? Solomon gingerly holds back tears that sting his eyes. Damn his immortality, damn it all. He truly wishes he could give it all up for a lifetime with you- it'd truly be worth it.

[je5hko]

~ Beavis and Butthead headcanons!~

okay so i decided ill will post bnbh headcanons from time to time when im not posting art. The headcanons are random btw

TW: GAY PPL(/j), ANGST, GROSS STUFF, ABUSE, HOMOPHOBIA

Beavis eats his boogers, while Butthead has his own personal booger wall (behind the couch)

When they were kids, they would try to cheer each other up/ distract each other from their mothers yelling by making funny faces! Occasionally they would tickle each other as well!

Buttheads mother was absent most of the time, but when she was around she would ignore him. Refusing to believe he was her son. She would even tell him to stop calling her mom. (sobbing afterwards) But whenever Butthead cried, he received a slap on the face. "You are not allowed to cry” or "I’ll give you a reason to cry if you don’t shut up” is all she would say after hitting him. He quickly learned that expressing emotions is wrong, so he simply stopped.

Shirley on the other hand, would look after both of the kids. She was far from being a perfect mother, but there were times she would try to take care of them apart of being drunk all day. For example she occasionally would take them out to eat junk food, give them small presents like cheap action figures, making a vague attempt at showing affection. Basically trying her best at motherhood, but besides that she would often yell at them (mostly Beavis) slap them when they did something wrong etc.

Butthead was the one to learn basic hygiene even though he wasn’t a big fan of it, while Beavis struggled with it as fuck. The blonde would often use the sink/ bathtub instead of toilet, not bothering to clean after himself.

At 17 they tried to give each other stick and pokes. They ended up getting infections with the pen ink and rusty needle.

There are moments when their faces get too close, like when they're both trying to look at something on the TV or sharing a snack. Butt-Head gets flustered and pushes Beavis away, muttering something about personal space.

Sometimes Butt-Head finds himself wanting to do something nice for Beavis, like sharing his nachos or letting him choose what to watch on TV. When this happens, Butt-Head angrily tells himself to "stop being a wuss."

Beavis sometimes finds himself doing little things for Butt-Head, like saving the last chip for him or instinctively waiting for him before going anywhere. He doesn’t know why it feels important to do these things.

Butt-Head often convinces himself that whatever he’s feeling is just a phase or a result of being around Beavis too much, so he starts suggesting they hang out with others more often, though it never actually happens.

Beavis feels a strange sense of comfort when he’s sitting next to Butt-Head, often leaning in a little closer without realizing it. Butt-Head notices and tells him to back off, but deep down he doesn’t really mind.

Butt-Head is more aggressive in trying to pick up chicks than usual, using it as a way to distract himself from his growing feelings for Beavis. He convinces himself that if he gets a girlfriend, these feelings will go away.

Neither of them ever wears matching socks, not because they’re trying to be cool, but because they’ve lost so many pairs.

Butt-Head once wore the same pair of socks for two weeks straight just to see how bad they could smell. He proudly showed them to Beavis, who gagged but couldn’t stop sniffing out of morbid curiosity.

Butt-Head refuses to wash his hair more than once a month because he believes the grease gives him “natural style.” Beavis agrees.

There’s a cup in their room that has had mold growing in it for so long that it’s practically become a pet. They named the mold “Squishy” and take turns seeing who can get closest to it without gagging

They have a secret handshake that’s a combination of a high five, fist bump, and a quick flick of the middle finger, which they think is the coolest thing ever

Beavis and Butt-Head have an odd fascination with roadkill. They’ll sometimes poke at it with sticks or laugh about how “cool” it is.

Beavis sometimes wishes he was more confident like Butt-Head, not realizing that Butt-Head is just as insecure as he is but hides it better.

Beavis suffers from recurring nightmares about losing Butt-Head, being abandoned, or his mother. He tries to mask his fear with jokes, but these dreams deeply affect him.

They both have a subtle, unspoken agreement to look out for one another. When one is sick or down, the other steps in to offer support in their own way, whether it’s through humor or practical help

Beavis has a penchant for combining disgusting food items, like mixing pickles with peanut butter or dipping hot dogs in ketchup and ice cream. He genuinely enjoys these bizarre concoctions.

[wulfums]

5G family thoughts

Gnarly had genuinely horrible parents growing uo. He left at 16 and hasnt spoken to the since. So when Griddle happens (unplanned completely) he decided pretty fast that being a great dad is his new goal.

Since theres 3 of em in the throuple, theyre financially stable enough for Gnarly to quit his job that he hates and be a stay at home dad. I think he Loves it. He loves hanging out with his kids. He has some trouble connecting with Griddle since hes more introverted, but something they love doing together is watching youtube and doing their own ‘rifftrax’ on it once Griddle can talk. Gnarly is sooo encouraging and will laugh at every joke Griddle makes which helps Griddles confidence a lot. So its just something that they do together, even once Griddles an adult.

When Gnasty happens, it becomes obvious shes way more extroverted than Griddle. And she also ends up with Gnarly as her fav dad.

I think Griddle gets really upset when Gnasty first hatches because he feels like hes being ignored and replaced. Gnarly doesnt notice for a while because you know, babys need a lot of attention and Griddle spends a lot of time on his own anyways. But it isnt Just Gnarly paying attention to the new baby, its all three of Griddles dads.

Griddle just refuses to say anything, but Gristle walks in on Griddle crying in his room and is like :( Griddle…come to the living room. Tell us whats wrong.

So Griddle tells them he thinks theyre replacing him with his sister, and that they like her more and that no one ever plays with him anymore :( His dads explain that babys cant do anything for themselves and thats why, but they realize they maybe havrnt been spending enough time with Griddle and should have been checking on him more instead of assuming hes fine and assuming him saying he hates his sister is him being Difficult instead of him being scared of being replaced

So they start making sure Griddle gets time with all his dads. They also make sure to ask him if he wants to come do something, even if they know he wont, because getting a choice means a lot to Griddle. They give him some tasks to hell with the baby so he feels involved. His very important job is to read to his baby sister, which he takes very seriously!! Though this ends up with her only wanting her big brother to read her stories when shes toddler age. Shes like “Gwiddle is better at it, you guys suck at it >:(“ and that makes Griddle feel good and really helps him finally bond with her.

One of the fun Dad Things that Gnarly does is that he asks Gristle and Grim to make up small rules that they dont actually care about, so that when theyre both working (Gristle works at a pub, Grim is an author and the kids understand he needs to be alone in his office during worktime. So like hes technically home but hes at work.) Gnarly can be like “As the coolest dad, you guys dont have to follow those rules. But it has to be a secret, ok?” And it makes the kids think theyre getting away with something w/ their Cool Dad.

The age difference between Griddle and Gnasty is 4 years I think btw. And even once Griddle starts liking his sister, hes like “Ok but I dont want anymore siblings, ok?” To his dads. And Gnarly is like “Dont worry, im taking your other dads to the vet to get them fixed.” And that makes Griddle giggle (So when Gristle goes in for surgery when he elects to get his tubes tied, both Grim and Gnarly are like yeah hes at the vet getting fixed. Its just become a family inside joke.)

Idk I love this family…

[thesternest]

tag meme: my top 9 characters

i was tagged by @regallibellbright so with no particular order lets get into it

I have decided to not put any characters of my own here because then this list would be filled with my characters and nothing else

also only one per series since i want this to be an overall representation of my favorite characters

1.Phosphophyllite/Phos (land of the lustrous)

Phos is by far one of my favorite characters due to how they change throughout the series

also watching them suffer is what got me my permanent angst craving

phos is one of those characters that unfortunately due to being by far the most popular character in the series the fandom tends to dislike every other character in the series (particularly in this case since a lot of the other characters have mistreated phos in some way) which i think is a disservice to those characters

but phos is still my favorite

2.Blake Thorburn (Pact: Devils and Details) (no art for him because im too lazy to ask for permission to put him here and i dont want to put a piece of art on my post without permission)

ill be honest it was hard to pick if Taylor or Blake were going to be put here, since i didnt want to put two wildbow protagonists here, and while Worm was much more enjoyable for me to read i think Pact was a much more memorable story for me,

Since like blake struggled through the horrors, i struggled against decaying attention span

In general i gravitate toward fantasy stories more than superhero stories

3. Eve and aoi (birdie wing golf girls story)

hey remember a second ago when i was debating over which wildbow protagonist to put here because i didnt want to put both

Yeah fuck that these two are a pair because i love them both and refuse to seperate them

These two are genuinely one of my favorite protagonist duo's ever

like they are so funny with their insane antics and golf

4. Yuki Takamiya (thirteen sentinels aegis rim)

this one proved to be really hard to decide between Yuki, Okino or 426 since they are all favorites

i decided that it was best to fit one of the protagonists into this since it would be hard to talk about the other two without spoiling anything and needing a ton of context

from the second Yuki showed up i knew she would likely be a favorite

what i didnt expect was for her to be arguably one of the smartest characters in the game

I would say out of the protagonists she is the second smartest with Gouto being the smartest

Like i did not expect her route to be a detective story

5. Power (chainsaw man)

first person on this list who isnt a protagonist, and i did consider putting Asa instead of her and while i am undoubtedly more invested in Asa im also much more entertained by power

also i need to put one character who isnt a main character here lest i be seen as a basic bitch

6. Sayeon Lee (hand jumper)

we only have one season of her but this girl is so mentally unwell its like catnip to me

im eagerly awaiting the start of season 2

also to my surprise me reccomending vibes this webtoon caused a bunch of wormblr people to read this too so when season 2 starts i could probably talk to those people about it

7.Daan/ the doctor (fear and hunger termina)

this was a tough descision between Daan and Marina because while i love them both equally Daan has the better narrative in my head with his doomed by the narrative swag

8.Iwha (hero killer

she's cool when she murders people

9. Kikuri Hiroi (bocchi the rock)

girl who is doomed by the narrative

but the narrative is a slice of life so overall its not that bad

@n0brainjustvibes@tranz-regent@worstgirl-online i nominate you to follow in my example and list characters

Also feel free to analyse me like a lab rat for these picks in the notes

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

Can I join your game? The song that I pick is is your bedroom ceiling bored?, while the genre would be idiots to lovers and the group that I chose is Enhypen. Thank you! 💕

CUTE okay!!!

is your bedroom ceiling bored? | jake

It's 5:34 in the morning, and you can't sleep. instead, you're staring at the ceiling trying to get your brain to shut off, but you just can't. because, like an idiot, you're wondering what jake is doing.

you figure he's probably asleep, like most people are at this hour, but that doesn't stop your mind from picturing it: the way he curls around himself on his side, his hair falling in a shaggy mess onto his forehead, half-smiling even in a dream. you shouldn't be thinking about him this way -- shouldn't be as stupidly, recklessly, embarrassingly down bad as you are. and yet...

you pull out your phone, not surprised to see not a single notification from your best friend, whose sleeping image is the one destroying your mind slowly one minute at a time. you open up your messaging app and have to scroll to find your last conversation with him, which hasn’t happened in years.

the last text he sent was the one that said, “I love you. You know that, right?” just before everything went up in flames. just before the one and only fight you’ve ever had with him. just before you stormed away from him and refused to answer the phone when he called. and this was a week and a half ago.

you start to type.

im sorry.

i miss you. can we talk?

why can’t i stop thinking about you?

ultimately, it never feels like enough. frustrated, you sit up, sliding the covers off you and moving to the window. you wrench it open, stepping out onto your roof in the cool night air, and look up at the moon sinking lower in the sky, preparing for the hints of summer sun you see on the horizon.

“hi again,” you whisper at it. “can’t sleep.”

this has become routine for you. every once in awhile your thoughts about jake rose to a volume you couldn’t keep to yourself, so you’d mount the roof and tell the moon — even if it hung thin as a fingernail in the sky. and now that you weren’t seeing jake every day, you had a lot more time to talk about him.

“i really, really miss him,” you whisper, even though you want to scream.

🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕

across town, jake stirs and wakes from a fitful sleep. his dreams are all about you these days, and it aches.

no matter how much he fights the thoughts of you, or tries to be angry, he still wakes up thinking about you every morning. he’d hoped things would get better — hoped the hole you carved in his heart would relax, would heal. instead he finds himself suffocating in the dim light from his window, so he flings it open to welcome in the sunlight that will come peeking over the skyline in seconds.

“hi,” he says softly as it shines through the open window. “any advice for me today?”

but as always, the sun says nothing, leaving him alone to think.

and think he does — about how well he knows you. how spending his time with you is the best way for him to spend it. how he doesn’t care about your excuses for why you’d be a terrible couple.

“they’re the one,” he finally decides. “they just have to be.” and he races from the window to pick up his phone.

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

you’re still on the roof, watching the sun rise, so tired you can barely sit upright but also somehow knowing you won’t be able to make your eyes close if you go inside.

so you stare at your cellphone. you can’t even blame jake for not speaking to you. you wouldn’t want to speak to you either.

but oh, my goodness. you want to speak to him so bad. even the memory of his voice on the other end burns like an insult, like bitterness burns in your belly. you wonder if he feels the same way you do. you hope he does.

just as you make up your mind to call, his name pops up on your screen.

your heart beats — once, twice — hard in your chest before you answer it with a shaking hand. “hello?” you rasp.

“i miss you,” he says. “i’m coming over.”

for the first time in days, you smile.

[nekodere07]

I broke the code Pt. 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

AO3 link to the fic!

Joel we're booooooored

The soil crunches underneath Joel's boots as he beelines to the back of the wagon with a loud yawn, grabbing two empty barrels and wrapping them on either arms to his sides. Once he deems them firmly secured on his hold, he turns back to the entrance of the inn, heading to the creaking staircase that leads him to their room.

I can't believe you're doing chores of all things

what a moron

Taking a deep breath, he closes the door behind him with a soft click, having to physically suppress himself from slamming it right here and then. His eyebrow twitches as he attempts to filter out the mocking comments, rendering them into white noise whilst he heads back to their wagon.

They won't live it down if he slacks off, so he has to at least do his share of the responsibilities.

LOL

LMFAO

HAHAHA

blood

He's such a child, he should've just refused instead of listening to Etho

#obsessedmuch

Joel bites his lower lip and controls himself. If he retorts to what they're saying, he'll just be playing on the palm of their hands.

Do they even have any, considering they're disembodied voices?

tbf he's obsessed so it can't be helped

pfft

True

its fun to see you getting flustered

YYYYYYYEEEEEEEEE

That's it!

“Listen here, you losers!” Joel growls as he slams his fist beside the wagon, producing a thundering sound whilst he takes a few deep breaths. “Grian kept on insisting like an idiot that we each have to contribute! Which was why I had to comply, otherwise he'll make me sleep outside. Etho just happened to butt in when I already decided to do it, alright?”

Suuuuuuure

keep telling yourself that

just admit it… you're obsessed with etho

Joel groans painfully, grabbing a handful of his chocolate locks and pulls as hard as he can, slamming his forehead towards the wagon for good measure. He can't lose his cool. Not when they're all exhausted from the long journey. His friends can't handle his ‘mood swings’ when he eventually gives in to the voices’ call.

if only the previous patrons were this entertaining to watch

🤝

Exactly

right?!

what do you mean?

oh the newbies didnt know

Now im curious

The least he can do is to not get in their way.

all the previous ones love to keep their distances

ugh

GROSS

imagine being a loner what a loser

L

L

It was difficult to see any intriguing events outside of battle

did someone say blood?

Not now

:(

i like joel better bec of dis

one way or another hell backstab them for sure

With a huge gasp of air, he does his breathing exercises and accompanies it with stretching both of his arms above his head, lowering it when he exhales before raising it again as soon as he begins the cycle again. He's already used to the voices’ antics—taunting him for as long as they desire—so he knows what to do whenever they pester him and eventually demand for blood once more, satiating their thirst with his assistance.

“Joel!”

He jolts violently at the call, swirling around to see Impulse jogging towards him, waving his arm with a big smile on his face. No matter what the dwarf says, Joel will always think of him as some sort of teddy bear. Considering he's so good-natured and how he secretly adores the warmth of the man's hugs, he's not really beating the allegations. But that secret is only between him…

what about us???

YEAH!!

…fine, them as well.

“Hey, Impulse! What's up?” Joel greets casually with a smile, swiftly tucking his hands to his pockets.

Impulse peeks over the now empty wagon and gapes, leaning back to stand to his full height as he makes eye contact.

“I see you're already hard at work! I'm very impressed.” Impulse compliments as he nods approvingly.

“It's good to stretch these muscles every once in a while outside battle, you know?” Joel shrugs his shoulders before stifling a yawn.

Impulse's smile seems to drop for a moment before it returns. Based on how fast it was, he ignores it and treats it as a trick of the light or something.

“But it's also good to take a breather.” Impulse advices thoughtfully. “Grian is already off to hunt down for his artificer friend, and Etho is sewing another one of his masks in our room.”

Joel's clammy hands are starting to soak his pockets.

“I'm cool. I still have to gather logs for our next journey whilst it's still bright out.”

“That's fair.” Impulse stops for a moment. “Hey, how about we check out this town's tavern later?” He nudges his head to the side, giving no indicator of the specific location.

“I would love to, but it's my turn for tonight’s lookout, remember? We can't afford me being tipsy and all.”Joel explains nonchalantly.

boooooooooooooooooo

it wouldve been fun

😭😭😭

If it had been any day, he would've probably accepted the offer. It's his best opportunity to escape his responsibilities and simply fool around. Unfortunately, they've been getting more and more restless recently, so he has to steer clear of people until their slowly rising bloodlust completely subsides. As funny as it is to annoy Grian, he has to restrain himself.

He can't risk another accident to increase the list of reasons to ban him from a settlement, after all.

“Oh, man. That's such a shame.” Impulse shakes his head and turns around, facing his broad back towards Joel. “I heard that they've been offering discounts for any drink during weekdays, and I thought it was a good idea to save money and enjoy their beverages at the same time.” He slumps his shoulders with a dejected sigh.

“Wait, did you just say discount on any drink?” Joel perks up, already feeling the saliva gathering in his mouth. “You're not pulling my leg, are you?” He raises a brow sceptically.

“I would never!” Impulse gasps in disbelief and faces Joel once more. “You know about me and my hobbies, man. I would never lie about such a thing.” He points out in a serious manner.

“That's true.” Joel places a hand under his chin, considering his later plans for a moment.

“How about we play a game?”

“A game?” Joel repeats.

“Yep!” Impulse pops the p. “Whoever empties thirty tankards last gets to pay for all our drinks. Won't they taste better when free?” He leans forward and holds out his giant hand with a smirk.

“I couldn't agree more.” Joel grins. “I'm in! You're so going down, Impulse!” He shakes the offered appendage with his own small one.

He doesn't remember anything after that.

AO3 link to the fic!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

[namuneulbo]

week ninety-six

ill tell u ab my bday in detail and then the rest is up to interpretation uwu!!

i picked up me, c and l from school at around 14:30. apparently w was there too? i saw his iconic orange car but but i was talking to l while he was walking outside so i didnt see him :c all of them knew but me TT

we listened to bangers in the car and we parked a bit outside of the central part of vasa so we walked a tiny bit. we walked around some stores. carlings, bikbok, cubus... we went to normal so i could get ear plugs bc i forgot mine at home but then we decided to go to tiger instead bc the queue was so long. they were cheaper there anyways. i looked at calendars for sooo long until i just decided on a pretty sage one. i think the layouts even better than my current calendar so its all good. it was worth the struggle of looking through all of the different calendars. its so good and it was so cheap compared to other stores. i also got some fake blood for halloween.

then we struggled to find a place to eat. l was stubborn ab wanting sushi. c and i wanted pizza. i was craving sushi more between those two so we decided to just split into pairs so i went for sushi w l. it was so good!!!!!!!

then we went for coffee and then i left to go to the cinema to watch oppenheimer w her brother. me, c and l waited outside of the club, right outside the fast food restaurant. the clock was 19 so doors were open but we decided to wait before entering to not seem,,, too excited. since yk,,, we know the ppl playing.

i just realized i never mentioned who we went to see. we went to see a the police cover band. its made up of three guys from our school, d, n and w (yes, that w).

well, as we were waiting outside, n and w walk out the fast food place... it was so funny bc we were just talking and c was facing the other way and me and l react at the exact way like we just make a lil "omg"-face at c and turn a lil quiet for a second. i got eye contact w william literally the second he opened the door but like we didnt wave at each other until him and n had gone a bit further away and c decided to turn around and wave at both of them. they took a further route to get to the club which was funny bc we like realized a bit later that like,,, they took the longer route??? why would they do that??? to avoid us??? it was just a bit silly TT

later on we get inside, we pay the entrance fee and buy alcohol. i got a beer. we sit down and our seat seemed pretty good until more ppl came lol. first set i saw mainly w bicep and second set i switched places w l and saw more face and neck/jaw action. during the interlude i realized his mom and his sister were sitting like.... right in front of us and i got a little nervous they mightve heard me saying something ab him at some point ...... like what if his mom has heard me go like "LOOK AT WS BICEP!!!"... :(

after the show im like "okay, lets go say something to them" but c refused to take the lead at first (w good intention i think, probs to push me to talk to them and not just stand awkwardly behind c as they talked w them). i was a bit scared at first but then i just yoloed and stood up from our seat as like a "lets fucking do this!" and we all collectively went to d first. hes the least scary and n had like,,, already left. d was SO nice TT it was like mainly me talking w him (and i think that was kind of like planned by c and l bc otherwise i wont really take the lead or initaitive). he greeted us first since he probably saw us standing there as he was talking to some others. he greeted us all w a fist bump each and then went like "okay now lets do one w all of us!!" and we shared a foursome fist bump. i love fist bumps theyre so friendly and nice TT then he was like "yeah so cool u guys came all the way here to see us!! i saw u guys singing along in the crowd and it felt so awesome!". THEN he turned to me was like "congratulations btw!" (WHICH IS SO CUTE STOP HE REMEMBERED IT FROM MY STORY I POSTED EARLIER TT) and i was like "omg! thank u! thank u! it was like perfect timing for u guys to play here tonight since like i like the police!" and i also told him they played my fav two songs. then he asked me a bit ab when we got to town and stuff. hes so nice TT

then the scary part. he left to road. ws standing like,, a two meters away MAX. hes talking to some others so i told c and l like "okay but lets just wait until they finish talking!!!" but they talked for so long and c was like "okay, either we talk or we leave" and i just come up w excuses for a bit and then cs like "l, yk he can hear us, right?" and i was like "yeah but im sure hed appreciate us waiting for our turn!!". after a while c once again threatens to leave so i just yolo it and walk up, i stand for like two seconds waiting for him to notice me and when he does i did a lil thumbs up and was like "u played well!!" and he was like "thanks" and then i told him they played my two fav songs and did like a lil pray/thank thing w my hands and he got a little intrigued and asked me which ones and i was like "invisble sun and dont stand so close to me!" and he did a lil confirming nod and i decided to end it there and just like told him it was really good. i also like,, had to think for the title for dssctm bc in my head i said the songs in the other order and bro my mind just goes blank when i talk to him.

anyways we leave, we walk up the stairs and i say a quiet "well played rizz" w a lil hand sign. then continue the bit a little more comfortably as we walked out and continue on ab how im such a rizz god (i am delusional, as u can tell).

we get home and i eat quickly before heading out to the bar to meet some friends. it was a short meeting and like everyone left but i got some sweet "happy bdays" and shugged a beer.

my mom messaged me in the car from vasa and says she talked to a guy who knew me named f (she misspelled his name, it starts w a p). she put a lil sus emoji too, the blushy one w a hand covering its mouth... anyways it was the drummer guy from my grade who works at the bar and apparently they talked for so long and i asked her like what they talked ab and she never answered but just continued saying how nice he was and how he knew i was in vasa earlier... idk if she was hinting something TT

sotw: lorna shore - ...and i return to nothingness

[paradoxical-catastrophe]

I’m here to scream about some of my favorite little tid bits about Kousei and his twin

- So since Riley made an oc to take place of Joker (named jester) I did one for Akechi!!!! Except as I usually do I make it Different enough to have plot holes. But!!! The plot holes are being fixed!!!!

- he is trans ftm while his twin is trans mtf

- his persona is apollo while his twins is artemis <3

- im drawing parallels between the twins story and the gods story because I thrive off symbolism

- because self insert I’ve decided the two are from Texas so I find it funny to think that they have the most atrocious southern accent. Or at least Kousei does

- they grew up speaking Japanese because their mother was Japanese… but they really struggle writing it and I think that’s funny

- boring jail palace? NO!!! The palace is built on Kousei feeling ruled by his past self’s actions. There are two cognitions, a younger version of himself named Chief and a current version of himself named Inmate. Hhhh… and I know technically someone can’t spend much time in their own palace but my oc my rules I add whatever I want

- Kousei knows of his palace but refuses to let anyone take it down, he doesn’t believe he deserves to be helped

- there’s also a graveyard, a small fenced off area that’s attached to Inmates cell by a metal door, with the graves of those involved in the Incident in his past

- oh yeah I never talked about that. Ok so the Incident. The twins mother suddenly went missing one day, and Kousei has suspicions that it was his father, so he starts studying to become a detective, and starts collecting evidence, enough to plan an arrest. But he hesitates too long, and soon the info he has about Risks becomes out of date. During the bust, the father shoots several officers and then burns the place down

- hoshino doesn’t know the entire story, and Kousei refuses to tell her, so she grows up disliking the police and adults. However, to kousei, his ass was saved by his coworkers. He could have easily died without them! So he grew up trusting and believing in law

- they then move to Japan to move in with some of their family on their mothers side. The twins grow more and more distant, to the point hoshino grows actually terrified that kousei would hurt her

- everything after that isn’t fleshed out, im working on it..

- he has Trauma but it’s okay <3 (he’s not okay he was involved in a horrific case gone wrong due to his own weaknesses)

- ‘I was weak back then? I was too hesitant?? Fine I’ll be egotistical instead’ no girl that’s not what u should do (it’s ok he can be a little messed up as a treat)

- instead of ‘prim and proper’ like akechi, he built his popularity on being ‘relatable’ and such. He’s vocal about interests, he is a bit timid and shy and easily flustered, he has ‘slip ups’ and stutters on tv, etc. He is entirely built on being understandable and seemingly open

- Also he follows Jester around like a lost puppy

- poor Hoshino, who’s apart of the Phantom Thieves, watching her brother who’s investigating them but also follows Jester around and is clingy

HEY YOU WHO HAVENT PLAYED P5, BELOW HERE IS SPOILERS, DONT READ FURTHER

- ok so technically apollo is his ‘second’ persona but for those who don’t know spoilers I shall pretend apollo is his persona… because he’s cool

- but his personas and outfits!! Are cool!

- the one he initially shows the phantom thieves is actually dark which I find cool. The outfit resembles a samurai’s outfit with a chain sickle, black with red splotches. But it also has hints of bold color and skulls, small little hidden designs. The persona is a sugar skull with a snake coming out of the head. It’s supposed to be a mix of his mothers Japanese history and his fathers American/Hispanic history!!

- meanwhile his second one (the ‘black mask’) isn’t dark at all, it’s not based on hate. It’s white and god-like, with gold metal accents and a golden scythe. It’s based on his growing ego, his hate to his past weakness. He addresses himself as superior and a deity

- instead of ‘call of chaos’, his version is akin to worship. He summons shadows that he inflicts this on, and it’s like brainwash to the extreme. They take hits for him, sacrifice their health to heal him, etc. This also makes him extremely egotistical and cocky he’s so silly

- third semester he chills out slightly… but he spends most of his time being pissy and angry because… he’s watching his twin being lured into this false reality, ofc he’s gonna be angry and accidentally take it out on the others

- also I have a rough story that after Sae’s palace the PTs also take down kouseis behind his back but I have to rewrite that bc I sketched it out before Shido’s </3 tbf during all of that I had bigger more pressing plot holes to fix

- so anyways I wrote out the boiler scene please take some of these pics of it. Most of it is word for word of the scene but I changed some things <3 I’ll actually write it out someday I just wrote the dialogue…

Dozing off. Gets cool idea for oc. Frantically jots it down on my phone. Is now awake. Rinse repeat

[demadogs]

i hate people who think theyre so cool for not liking or refusing to engage in insanely popular things like has it occurred to you that it might be insanely popular……… because its good?

[noteriii]

im in love with your shxtou x reader fics, i was wondering if i could request shxtou and him getting jealous of his body pillow cause his SO is cuddling the pillow and not him, he would get so pouty about it omg (preferably gn if you can pls)

sorry for answering this so late!! here's a short drabble, anon. i try to make all my shxtou fics gn but i hope its cuddly enough for you!

shxtou x gn! reader

synopsis: its just you, your boyfriend, and a body pillow that looks just like him.

you laid in the warmth of pillows and blankets, music bouncing between ear to ear as you read something over your phone. glancing up from your screen every so often, you see a purple haired idiot yelling into his microphone. sadly, he was your purple haired idiot. cuddling into the warmth of his bed, you let out a dramatic sigh in attempts to gain his attention as your own annoyance builds. when he had asked you to come over, you expected kisses and hugs and all the mushy couple stuff in between. not sitting in his room silently as you read newest game theories whilst he played a few games with friends. 

when your attempts to gain your boyfriend’s attention fail, you huff and sit up from his comfy bed covered in stuffed animals you both had collected over time. stretching your arms up and letting out a quiet yawn, you let your eyes wander around the room boredly. that’s when you see it. a solution to your lack of cuddles from your beloved boyfriend. sitting in his closet was one of the first made, double sided, official shxtou body pillows. you smiled to yourself inwardly, attempting to hold in your giggles seeing the more raunchy side of the pillow (something both you and your boyfriend had a very fun time designing). swiftly making your way across the room, you snatch the pillow and hop right into his bed, cuddling into it. you make yourself comfy in bed again, choosing what you opted to be “naptime music” to play through your headset whilst you rest your eyes for a bit. under the sheets and between every stuffed animal, you hold the pillow to yourself closely, taking a deep breath of what you can tell is your boyfriend’s cologne on the pillow that’s been mixed with his clothes. the fabric is cool against your skin and much softer than him, but you decide it will do as you let your eyes close. 

your short nap is interrupted, however, when you feel the bed next to you dip and a new warmth against your back. shoto wraps his arm around your waist to pull you close against him, his chest to your back. gently, he tries to turn your frame around to face him in attempts to finally give the cuddles you so wished for. instead, you keep the body pillow close to you, nuzzling into it further. your boyfriend notices your obvious pettiness and urge to ignore him, a pout crawling onto his features. “yn.. turn around..” he tells you in a quiet tone, whining. you continue to ignore him, hugging the pillow as if it were him. “come on, love.. why the body pillow when you have me?” shoto says lightly, gently poking at your sides. “the pillow doesn’t ignore me for two hours to play games.” you mumble a reply, refusing to let his whining get to you. with your words, your boyfriend immediately pulls you closer to him. “i’m sorry yn, please,” he repeats, words spoken right against your skin. “you have the rest of my attention all day if you just let go of the stupid body pillow.” he tries bargaining with you. “that’s not a very nice thing to say to body pillow shoto, shou.” you tell him, letting out a small laugh. hearing it makes the boy behind you smile. “he’s not as good looking as me, come on yn.” your boyfriend jokes, poking at your sides once again. you laugh and turn your head to face him. “i dunno, shou. i think the body pillow has better qualities, if you ask me.” you joke, watching him pout once again. “yn! just give me cuddles instead!!” shoto whines. giving in, you let out a small giggle and turn around. finally, your boyfriend wraps his arms around you properly and you do the same, legs tangling together as you nuzzle into his chest. grumpily, he grabs the pillow you were just hugging and tosses it to the floor.

"stupid body pillow.." he grumbles before holding you close to his chest. you smiled to yourself, laughing.

your boyfriend was jealous of a body pillow.

[books-and-catears]

I liked the one about a ghost MC it was a really cute idea! I wanted to request something similar, where the MC who has a the appearance of the Japanese slit mouthed woman. She is a regular human and you can decide if she got the scar's from an accident or not, but she always where's a face mask to hide it and eats alone rather then with the brothers. When she's asked why they say "People can't eat when I they see my face." But one day she finally trusts the brothers enough to show her face.

OH MY GOD I KNOW THIS GHOST. If I'm not wrong, this ghost is called the Kuchisake Onna, kuchi meaning mouth.

This is so wholesome I love it. Your asks are so adorable :')

It has been forever since the accident. And yet the scar makes it feel like yesterday. Two scars running up towards your cheeks, making it look like you're constantly smiling. You hated mirrors at this point, without your mask especially.

You hear loud talking from the dining room downstairs as you stare at your meal on your study table. When was the last time you ate a meal with other people?

"What do you mean you won't eat with us MC?" Mammon and Asmo parotted every other day.

"People can't eat when they see my face." You left with that reply, refusing to answer the follow up questions.

Yours was a face only a mother could love, they said. Some screamed, some smiled sympatheticallly, the others nervously scattered away from the last time you tried to eat out by yourself. The restaurant requested you to leave since they were losing customers.

You walk up to the stairway, watching the brothers in their usual chaos. Maybe - just maybe, they won't be repulsed. Surely they've seen more horrifying things than you?

"Um..." You cleared your throat loudly. All of them stopped and looked at you. You usually never showed up until half an hour after meals.

But today you called out to the one of them. "Would you mind eating with me tonight...?"

Lucifer

"Of course I wouldn't mind MC."

He promptly got up with his plate as if he was already prepped for this day. Swiftly follows you into your room.

He sat down across you and began eating normally. "Thank you for inviting me in MC. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Nothing just..." You said untying your mask. "It felt like a good day." The mask fell off your face into your lap.

You paused and stared at Lucifer. He only looked shocked for a split second before a hidden rage clouded beneath his eyes. "Did someone deliberately-"

"No it was an accident. I was getting my teeth fixed when the lights went out and I moved. And something cut through my- well you can see." You explained.

"I see. Well that's quite unfortunate." Lucifer said and began picking at his plate.

You felt uneasy as chewed your food."You can leave if you feel repulsed. I wouldn't force you to-"

"No such thing MC. I was just thinking of consulting Satan and Solomon. Surely they know of spells that can heal your scars if you want them gone." Lucifer replied promptly. "And it's going to take a lot more than scars to scare us demons away."

"Lucifer...thank you." You said quietly.

"If possible I'd like to eat dinner with you from now on, MC. Frankly it's much calmer and it's a relief from my brothers."

After a long time, you laugh without your mask on.

Mammon

"I'll be right there, MC!"

Hurriedly grabs whatever food he has making a mess and jumps to his feet. He is in such a hurry, it's a miracle he didn't drop half of his dinner.

He plops down across the table from you, grinning ear to ear. "Of course you'd choose the Great Mammon to eat with ya!"

You nodded and chuckled, "Of course. But would you choose to eat with me?" Your pulled your mask away from your face.

His eyes went wide and then watery in the same instant. Is he..crying? "I-Im sorry..." You feel horrible so you hurry and tie the mask back up. Mammon grabs your hands and holds them down.

"I'm not crying stupid human! I'm just...you..you must have been in pain..when that happened." He said. "Who did this to you..."

"It's okay it was an accident, Mammon." You try to calm him down.

"Then why do you hide it? It's not even your fault!" Mammon said pouting. You looked down, "People get uncomfortable..."

Mammon shot up from his chair. "WHO DARE MAKE YOU FEEL BAD ABOUT IT? Show me I'll get them all! Noone messes with my human! I'm yer protector ain't I?! You never have to wear that thing around me!"

You blushed as he moved forward and hugged you, burying your face into his shoulder. "Mammon..."

You knew he was the best protector out there.

Leviathan

"I'm coming right away, don't worry MC!"

Stumbles around with his plate at your sudden invitation. His day has come. He is the chosen one.

He struggles to sit down, feeling estatic and nervous at the same time. "I didn't think you'd want to eat with me of all people, MC..."

"After tonight, maybe you'll feel that way about me Levi..." You said, taking off your mask. His face lit up as he let out a loud "Woahhh!"

Thinking he was scared you tried to hide it again before he screamed, "MC you look just like my favourite character from that horror romance anime "I fell for my best friend's scarred smile! That's so cool!"

You blink at him, blushing. What is with him and his oddly specific anime names!? Levi was oblivious to your shock ,going off at his own tangent. "You could pull off the perfect cosplay, come to my room tomorrow I can design it for you and then I'll make my own to go with it and we can go to the next convention-"

"Levi Levi calm down you'll run out of breath!" You couldn't hold in your laughter.

He stared at you awestruck,"So cute...why would you hide that cute face MC?" You shake your head, "Not everyone sees it as cute Levi."

"Well sucks for them to be such stupid normies." Levi blushed and scoffed.

Levi was the best friend everyone deserves and you were glad to have him.

Satan

"I'd be delighted to join you MC."

Was slightly taken aback at first but quickly composes himself and his dinner and follows you. His pace faster than usual.

Pulls out your chair for you like a gentleman and sits down himself. You smile and blush at the action. "So how was your day MC?" He asks like a gentleman, avoiding the elephant in the room, choosing it normalise it. You let the mask fall off your face.

"Oh..." Satan sat up straight, his shoulders stiff, his eyes going wide in anger. "Who dared to-"

"No no no Satan it was an accident!" You had to explain the whole thing for him to calm down. Then he nodded and held out his palm. "May I see how the deep the scar is MC?"

That was new. Noone has wanted to touch your scars before. When you nod, he reaches out and runs his fingers softly across your scars. "Hmm don't worry. They're not too deep. I can have them gone in a matter of days. That is if you'd like to me to."

It's like he knew. As much as you hated that scar, it kind of helped you see people's true intentions. You looked down unsure. Satan held your hand. "It's normal to get attached to scars you have for too long. None of us here will treat you any differently with or without it."

You smiled at him and held one of his fingers playfully. He laughed, his cheeks turning pink. "Ah now that's a smile I'd love to see everyday. May I have dinner with you more often MC?"

"Of course." His words and his presence were always calming to you.

Asmodeus

"I was wondering when you'd ask MC!"

Daintily picks up all of things and paces after you. He was excited but he restrained himself but he didn't want to scare you off.

Sits down close to you, smiling gleefully. He's just happy to be there with you. Grabs something off your plate with a fork and holds it upto your mouth. "MC come here let me feed you!"

It was probably the most nerve wracking to open your mask in front of him. The Avatar of Lust, the most beautiful being in Hell, and you- ugh, what's the point? You've come this far, let's get it over with. You put your mask down, bite off the potato off his fork.

You'd think Asmo would probably gasp and act all dramatic and hysterical. But instead he cupped your face, his eyes filled with worry and tenderness. "MC how long have you had this...?"

"A little over three years." You answered honestly. Asmo looked like he was about to cry. "You've been hiding away your pretty face from people for three years..." Asmo pulled you in a hug. "Noone deserves that. It's too lonely."

"Oh I'd hardly call it pretty-" Before you can even retort, he is glaring and pouting at you, holding your shoulders.

"I think I know beauty a little better than you, MC. And I say you're gorgeous and I'm going to eat with you everyday now." Asmo huffed to which you laughed.

Everyone deserves a hypeman like Asmo in their lives.

Beelzebub

"Oh? Me? Sure MC!"

Is surprised but happily goes along with you with all his food. You know he loves you when he gets midway from eating just to eat in your room.

He sits across, already muching away at his food. "Thank you for asking me to eat with you MC." You nod and tentatively take your mask off, trying not to draw too much attention for it.

Beel looks up shocked, his mouth full of food but he stopped chewing. He involuntarily reaches out to touch you, "Does it hurt MC?"

You shake your head. "It's years old Beel. It's okay. " Beel looks genuinely relieved at that and goes back to eating again. He doesn't seem bothered by it at all after that.

"Say MC will you be free next week? I could use your help in the new workout I'm doing. I need to train particular muscles for the big game they said." He switched to a whole new topic just like that. "Also this means I get to eat with you every day right?"

You felt warm inside. You were more than just your scar and Beel made you feel like that by hardly saying anything at all.

Belphegor

"...me huh? No I wouldn't mind."

Has a smug grin on his face as he gathers up his meal and slowly heads upward with you, making sure his brothers see how you chose him over the others. Cheeky cow.

He sits leaning into you cause he's too lazy to sit up straight. "So what's the special occasion MC? A face reveal?" Wow this one is direct.

He is staring right at you, as you pull off the mask slowly, thinking if it was a bad idea. His eyes grow wide for a split second before his fingers are already near your mouth feeling the scars.

"Deliberate or accident?" He asks. "Accident." You answer. He nods, "Good. I'm too tired today, wouldn't be able to take appropriate revenge." His fingers never leave your face.

"Is that why you keep it covered? You're embarrassed of it?" He asks. You think about it for a while. "I think I accepted it, it just seemed to make people uncomfortable and scared, if I smiled or opened my mouth to eat." You answer.

He smirked. "Then smile more. Let their cowardly selves feel uncomfortable. It's their problem that they can't see how cute your smile is."

That was surprisingly thoughtful. You smiled at him. "Thanks..."

He smirked back, "Also I'm going to be eating here from now on. My brothers annoy me."

He's cheeky but he has a good heart. Smiling never felt so easy.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

@lulubellule-kfp your oogway sucks tai lung and kai are flawed/hurt not pure evil rant has changed me spiritually, and honestly, I can’t even give Oogway credit for ‘intervening’ with Tigress.

Oogway is presented as the Wisest and Kindest and Best.

(btw this is very biased and emotional and hammered out in ten minutes and i do love the movies tbh some stories are surface level deep and that's cool)

Oogway is maybe better understood as Thinks He's Wise, Charming Rather Than Kind, and Flawed Like Everyone Else But He's Also The Most Powerful So He Gets To Decide What's Right And Wrong.

his biggest flaw (to me) is in imposing his own idea of the world on everyone else, no matter what the cost, and never self reflecting on how it might be serving him- Even as it hurts and destroys so many others

(grain of salt- we the audience are limited in what we 'know' by what we've been shown so far) (kai and tai lung did do bad things, they did choose to hurt people... and so did oogway. and not having that acknowledge is frustrating. not bad or wrong but, frustrating)

When does Oogway finally do something to help Tigress? Why, after one of Po’s randomly spilled menus happened to flutter into his hand.

Oogway, being dead set on his own philosophy of /there are no accidents/ he orders takeout and chuckles when it gives Shifu food poisoning. The valley is in danger from a rampaging violet dude who’s destroying everything and everyone one in his path but hee hee destiny.

Tigress puts HERSELF forward, willing to fight Boar in her master’s place- and Shifu cuts her off. If she can’t fight like him, then she can’t be ready to fight at all, apparently. So Shifu decides to send a scroll asking for help fighting Boar, and Oogway, deciding that it also wasn’t an accident that Tigress asked to fight Boar, tells Shifu to send Tigress with the scroll instead. Shifu agrees “DO NOT FAIL ME” and Tigress does her thing collecting the Cleaner, Comedian, and Dancer.

(Sidenote: The difference between Tigress instantly seeing how amazing each of them are even though none of them use moves like hers, verses Shifu refusing to accept that there is any other way of being good than HIS way until he literally sees it happening is hmmm yes well, good job mentoring him Oogway, that’s a perfectly healthy mentality to be clinging to, how the heck did Tigress end up more emotionally balanced than the guy raising her) (im gonna give credit to the people running Bao Gu orphanage or actually maybe just the fact that Tigress spent part of her childhood around so many people not like her but who learned to accept her as a friend)

When Shifu gets pissed at Tigress for ‘failing him’ (even while he fails to listen when she tries to tell him how amazing these four people are actually, Shifu would rather die than be wrong. Healthy!), Oogway does go talk to Tigress…… to fire her up for fighting Boar. Alone.

Which is, apparently according to him, the Thing The Universe Wants To Have Happen, and that’s why he’s going along with it. Because he sure as heck didn’t sTOP Shifu from raising Tigress under yet another painful crushing weight of expectation, like he already did with Tai Lung. Nooo, it took a random flyer flying into Oogway’s claws before he was like you know what, maybe Tigress completely giving up her sense of personal identity in a desperate bid to win the love of her father figure is wrong actually. Wow who'd have thought!

Or does he even care about that. Does he only care now because ‘the universe’ seems to be saying so? TIGRESS LOOKS BASICALLY GROWN UP IN THE SHORT HOW LONG HAS OOGWAY WATCHED SHIFU MAKE THE SAME MISTAKE WITH HER THAN HE DID TAI LUNG AND DONE NOTHING? TO HELP?

Oh yeah and then, when Tigress gets the tar beaten out of her by Boar because she’s still trying to use the forms Shifu insisted she should be using (even as it is literally getting HER killed), Oogway not only doesn’t do anything to help her, he makes Shifu stand there and watch as he almost loses ANOTHER student, ANOTHER (almost) ADPOTED CHILD.

And? AND???? Oogway could have healed Shifu whenever he wanted? Just like he could have TALKED TO TIGRESS whenever he wanted! For fucks sake if he’s so in tune with the universe and so wise, why didn’t he just wander around the nearby villages and FIND the other Five himself? TIGRESS FOUND VIPER AND MONKEY WITOUT ANY DIRECTIONS OTHER THAN AN OCCUPATION TITLE! THEY WERE RIGHT THERE!!! MONEKY’S BACKSTORY SAYS HE AND OOGWAY EVEN MET BEFORE!

'oogway knew shifu and trigress needed to go through all this in order to grow as people'

PAIN ISN'T THE ONLY WAY FOR PEOPLE TO GROW. SOMETIMES PAIN BREAKS PEOPLE! SOMETIMS CHALLENGES AREN'T WORTH THE SUFFERING IT TAKES TO SURVIVE THEM!

and SOMETIMES IT LEAVES PEOPLE WEAKER THAN BEFORE- SEE, SHIFU BEING UNABLE TO OPEN UP FULLY WITH TIGRESS AS A FATHER THE WAY HE DID WITH TAI LUNG, BECAUSE-- OH WOW, THAT ENDED BADLY AND SEEING THE SIMILARITIES BETWEEN TAI LUNG AND TIGRESS HURTS AND SCARED SHIFU!!!!

it's almost as if all three of them could have used the guidance and support of a wise and kindly older friend.... instead of series of tests and trials to 'help them' become whatever they were 'meant to be'

Oh but oogway was saved by pandas and now theres a panda orphan being raised in the village nearby (am i really supposed to believe oogway wouldn't notice PANDA right next door to him) and if a flyer from his dad’s noodle shop leads to shifu getting food poisoning then everything must be part of the grand plan to someday make a panda oogway’s ‘true heir’ or whatever.

Hm? What’s that? Po’s only an orphan because a warlord killed his mom and destroyed his home? And all that happened ALSO because of a dumb prophecy and an obsession with destiny?

Oh wow that also must be the universe talking and totally not be a thing oogway maybe could have helped with or something.     

(i don't think oogway was trying to hurt people or be selfish. but intentions are only useful in so far as they might make you change course once you see the damage you are un-intentionally causing, and ooogway... seems to have failed that spot check. which, you know, fair, most of us do. he just happens to be causing a lot more damage than a normal person would be capable of)

Oogway's pacifism is both extreme and twisted.

He won't 'fix' mistakes or accidents because he believes it's all part of some future destiny... but inaction is also an action with consequences, and who is he to decide the destiny of others by even deciding they have one?

Well. He's the most powerful guy around. It's not like there's anyone around to challenge him or prove him wrong.

....Po, sweetie, now that you're enlightened an all, could you go to the spirit realm and kick oogway's butt a little? for me? thanks dude love u

On the other hand, Po and Tigress being the anti-Oogway and Shifu respectively gives me life.

like yes! always try to be better, always try to help! be accepting of others differences and pain and traumas and do everything you can think of to be there for them when they need it! Admit when you fail! Admit when you mess up! Make friends and reach out- Ask for help when you need it too!

You don't have to be perfect to be a friend!

It's better to know and accept that you won't ever be perfect, actually, and still decide that you are worthwhile. And that so is everyone else.

TLDR: oogway's ability to find inner peace and ascend off to retirement even while everything around him is going to heck is a very inward-facing thing, which says a lot about him. I think maybe he needs to re-do his spiritual enlightenment, i think he missed a spot. But if his only goal is to break away from earthy attachments and pain and people in general, well, gold star for that. He succeeded. I sure as hell wouldn't want to.

funny thing is, i only ended up watching kfp because my depressed nephew is into taoism and wanted someone to talk about the movies with. thats not destiny tho, oogway, that's just being a friend

[jangofctts]

Thing for Trouble (boba fett x fem!reader x din djarin) (part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)

Rated: explicit 18+

word count: 7.6k

warnings: threesome, smut, thigh riding, oral female receiving, handjobs, unprotected sex (dont be a deadbeat, wrap that shCMEAT), light choking, throne fucking, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampies, pet names, sub? din? more likely than you think (also lmk if I missed any tags!)    

a/n: yall im sorry this is such garbage but kjkwejh here we be. I hOPE YOU ENJOY THE CIRCUS. thank you to everyone who’s encouraged this so COME GET YALLS MANDO MEAT  

There isn’t much when he it comes to Tatooine and fun things to do. There’s pod acing, drinking, Sabaac tourneys, more podracing, gambling and scavenging. Unless there’s a festival or some wild event, you’re stuck with boredom and whatever you can scrounge up for fun in the palace. 

Now, don’t get it wrong—if you had it your way, you’d spend every waking hour trialing behind Boba, but you don’t want to smother. Fennec too—while you enjoy her company, you know that half of the reason she sticks around is Boba’s order for your protection. Kinda ruins the fun when you know she probably only tolerates you because she’s being paid to. Eh whatever—doesn’t stop you from tagging along on as she runs errands in town—besides, today you actually have a reason to be here instead of loitering like a lost puppy. 

Fennec tells you to be safe and com her the second trouble rears its ugly head and disappears into the weapons shop—muttering about her prized rifle being jammed or something. You don’t know, all you hear is that you have the entire afternoon to yourself to hunt down your oh so elusive prize. Star cherries.    

The markets are always vibrant. Jam packed with people from each and every corner of the galaxy, hundreds of booths and stalls selling their wares that varies from foods to jewelry to even bounty services. Tempting as is it is to peruse the sparkly rows of dainty necklaces and rings or inspect the vast array of beige ponchos and manilla undershirts—you have a purpose. A once a year chance you refuse to let go to waste.   

The shabby booth is tucked near the end of the street, the mountain of the little red fruits looking comical compared to the withered old lady who sits beside them. She flashes you a gap-toothed smile, the crowfeet wrinkles surrounding her eyes scrunch with the movement. “Ah! I was wondering when you’d show, dear.” 

“Hello, Mrs. Feraan,” you greet, bending at the was it to kiss her wrinkly cheek. The old vender was one of the first kind souls you met here when you arrived on Tatooine. In return for a couple compliments or an offer to be the lab rat to test her new recipes for pie or tarts, she hooks you up with the best of the cherries—handpicked with love. “How’s business today?”

She waves her hand in dismissal, her silver rings glinting in the sun. “Same as always, child.”

Eventually you work your way through the pleasantries and a couple, long winded tangents. The sort that only old people can flawlessly spin and keep you engaged. Trials and tribulations to earn your prize—you don’t mind sacrificing a couple hours.

Finally you’re allowed to walk away—cherries in hand and exceedingly eager for your sweet snack. Unfortunately, suffering through Mrs. Feraan’s old childhood laments is not the only bump in the road you have to face.       

Granted, it is your fault—not looking where your feet are taking you—

Your temple crashes into something agonizingly hard. You swear you hear a quiet bonk when your skull collides with the mystery material and fucking hell—you probably have a concussion from the force of it. 

Unbothered by your probable brain injury, you’re far more concerned with the cherries spilling onto the ground and so, as you flail and dramatically topple over—the brunt of your fall is cushioned by your shoulder. Something pops and yeah, ok, maybe you just tore a ligament but—kriffing worth it for the cherries you miraculously saved from their dusty graves.     

Your temper flares as you spot the dirty brown boots pointed in your direction. Maneuvering yourself up so you don’t also get trampled by the crowd, you bare your teeth and put on your best impression of a terrifying force of nature despite the fact you’ve been knocked flat on your ass. “What the fuck—“

The words shrivel up and die upon your tongue as your eyes slide up the stranger’s legs, broad shoulders sporting the shiny armor that twinkles in the midday suns. They then settle on an all too familiar helmet. Well, sorta—you’re familiar with a certain red and green one, not the equivalent of a wearable disco ball.

You squint as the stranger’s head dips to look at you crumpled at his feet. You dust yourself off and point an accusing finger. “Fuck is your problem standing in the middle of the road?”

The stranger quirks their head. “You ran into me—maybe you should watch where you’re stepping.”

The raspy voice is a striking sound. Mellow and silky even as it passes through the vocoder and dresses it in static charm. Some of your anger melts away—maybe this is the friend Boba was talking about—it’d make sense. They’re wearing the same type of armor…  

You shake your head and shove down your pride. You don’t think Boba would appreciate you chewing his ear off. “Sorry—you’re right.”

As you readjust your clothes and precious cherries you introduce yourself with a tiny smile. Yet just as you're about to ask him his name he interjects with a step forward. You flinch away but all he does is sweep back a strand of hair from your forehead, revealing a little nick in the skin. You hiss as his fingertips scrape against it--great, an actual head wound. “Are you alright?”

Maker—here you are, after yelling at him and he finds it in him to be compassionate. You wave away his concerns. “Y-yeah--peachy.” 

He apologizes with a dip of his head and words soaked in regret and fuck--now you feel bad. You wrack through your brain and search for last ditch attempts to fix this little mishap and settle with a half baked idea. It’s dumb--but hey, if it works, it works.  

“Seriously, it’s fine. But I mean, if you’re so worried, how about you walk me home and we call it even?” You propose, sticking out your hand to seal the deal. If your assumptions are right, he’d just be tailing you the whole way home anyway. “I’m headed towards the palace, so if it’s not too much out of your way then—“

He hesitates and interrupts by taking your hand. “Alright. Deal.” 

You smile. “Lovely.” 

On the return trip, Din is quiet—tells you his name and responds to your conversation fillers with interested hums—but other than that he remains on the silent end. Intriguing with a rounded softness unlike the armor he wears--a man of mystery much like  a certain someone who awaits you back home. Well--Din is less grumpy--by a long shot...but still. It’s easy to spot some of their shared similarities.  

                                        -=-=-=-

Upon arriving at the castle you part ways with Din before he reaches the throne room--you’re not too excited about showing off your new battle scar yet and while it was an accident, making an entrance with Din will make it far too easy to link the injury with him. Besides, you don’t wanna risk scaring off your new friend if Boba decides to showcase that tightly sealed lid of anger and brutality. 

Instead you take the long way around the palace. Soon, muffled voices carry through the long corridors, growing louder as you work your way back from the kitchens. You round the corner, catching glimpses of Boba and your new friend through the pillars that prop up the low ceiling. You don’t meant to spy, but you do so anyway, hesitant on interrupting.     

That is...until Boba cocks his head to the side and settles his eyes onto the pillar you hide behind. “It seems we have a little shadow with us today.” 

You suck in a breath as your heart skips in a thrumming pace. Boba addresses you by name and crooks his fingers in a lazy motion for you to step out into the light—revealing yourself to the small party of two. “Come here, little one.”

The low light catches off of Din’s helmet with a glittering sparkle when he swivels his head. The tiny, warped figure of yourself reflects in mirror-like pieces of smelted beskar as his shoulders pull tight with recognition. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the smile that threatens to crack across your face at bay. Boba is no fool—he excels in the subtleties of shifting eyes and clenched fists to hide anxiety or closely guarded information—sickeningly familiar with your own quirks and tells, but—  

There’s no reason to reveal Din’s little secret—not yet. Boba called him a friend but you truly have no clue what the depths of that word entailed. Friend could mean anything from a casual acquaintance, to an old childhood bond, and or anything in between. You sigh and brush past him, mentally congratulating yourself for keeping a cool mask of indifference etched into your features. If Din wants to open that can of worms then so be it—you weren’t the one offering to walk random people home. 

You step onto the dais and slide your free hand into Boba’s outstretched palm. The worn leather tickles up your forearm and locks over your elbow, silently demanding you to sit on his lap. There’s plenty of room to both sit on the throne but no—Boba prefers you tucked against the cool metal of his cuirass. You grunt as the bowl of star cherries you cradle dangerously dips when Boba adjusts your weight over his thighs.  

His fingers pull back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and then spider along your jawline. The ends of his mouth quirk as Boba pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, capturing your undivided attention. “I don’t like it when you lurk in the shadows, little one. You’re allowed to listen.

You huff. “I know—but lurking is fun.”

Boba releases your chin with a scoff. “Foolish, girl.” You dip your chin with a sheepish grin as heat rushes to your cheeks. You briefly forget about the tiny nick adorning your right temple, the only thing you were trying to keep hidden—but Boba is all too quick to notice. “What is this?”

He pushes your hair out of the way of the cut, inspects it, then curls his fingers around your jaw to demand an answer. You refuse to let your eyes wander over to Din—what a dead giveaway that would be—and instead muster up enough courage to hold the weight of his stare. 

“I tripped at the markets,” you say—not a complete lie. “It’s just a little scratch—no biggie.”

Boba squints in suspicion and grumbles a soft hm. You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh—he won’t argue about it right now. Not a battle worth his while when you’re keen on keeping the full truth behind a wall of teeth and anxieties. Boba’s hand falls away, gestures to Din who still stands stiffer than a stature, then lays it over the golden armrest. “I’m sure you’ve noticed our guest—“

Din tips his head in acknowledgement. 

“The rightful ruler of Mandalore,” Boba continues. “Din Djarin.” 

Din Djarin…despite already knowing his name (or half of it, at least) you like the way it rolls off the tongue—like how it’s seemingly made to be repeated and carved into the walls of some ancient script. Your knowledge on all things Mandalorian is…limited to say the least but you know enough about the rumors. 

“Isn’t Mandalore supposed to be haunted?” You don’t mean for your words to be a pointy jab to the ribs but regardless, it strikes a tender chord within the Mandalorian. You wince as Din shifts his weight and clenches his palm—a long story. “Sorry—I—I’m sure your home is lovely, all I know about it are dumb ghost stories about evil wizards and laser swords.” 

The blood under your cheeks burn red hot. Great. Not only are you a complete bantha brain, you’ve also managed to sound like an impudent child. Boba soothes a thumb over your thigh as you curl into yourself—bastard. He thinks this is funny.        

“It’s not my home,” Din responds, albeit tentatively. “Never been.”

Your brows furrow. Alrighty then.  

Boba snorts and shakes his head. He mutters something in Mando’a and lazily waves his hand, dismissing the line of conversation entirely. It was turning into a dumpster fire anyway—   

With a slow exhale, you remove yourself from the discussion and instead tuck your head under Boba’s chin. The beskar is cold against your cheek but it feels nice against the sweltering midday heat.  

Their conversation fades in and out as you rest your head over Boba’s cuirass, listlessly picking through the bowl of fruit for the ripest ones. You sigh—the next cherry you bring up to your lips is intercepted as Boba’s hand clamps around your wrist and redirects it into his own mouth. You don’t find it in you to be grumpy about the stolen treat when Boba’s tongue slides over your sticky fingers. Still holding your wrist captive, he sucks the tip of your thumb into the warm heat of his mouth and curls his tongue around the digit. Your index finger is given the same treatment before your hand is returned. The beginnings of arousal spark to life below your belly, and fuck—that shouldn’t have been so…so…hot. 

Din’s smoky baritone fades into background noise as the entirety of your attention zero’s in on Boba’s mouth. You purse your lips and suck in a shaky breath, then return your hand to the bowl to fish out another fruit. You don’t need any guidance this time around as you bring the cherry to his mouth—the crimson juice spilling down your palm and part of your arm as his teeth pierce the fragile skin. You breath hitches as Boba dips his head, catching the bead of liquid running down your arm with the tip of his tongue, then swiping s a slow trail up, and over the lines of your palm. He plants a careful kiss there, then breaks away. 

Before you have the chance to reach for another one, Boba plucks a cherry from the bowl and rests it against the seam of your lisp, inviting you to partake in this little game he’s created. A wicked smirk curls over his mouth as you accept—the tart flavor of the fruit spilling over your tastebuds as you chew and swallow. A little wine escapes you as his leather-clad thumb rolls over your bottom lip, bushes past the barrier of your teeth and seats the digit into your mouth—all the way down to the third knuckle. 

You hardly notice the moment Din’s voice tapers off into silence—much too enraptured with the taste of leather and the smooth feel of it over your tongue. You gag slightly when Boba’s thumb reaches the back of your throat, then retreats just as slow. The string of saliva that still connects the digit to your wet mouth, drips over your chin and part of your lip, eliciting a jagged, echoey breath that crackles through Din’s vocoder. 

Boba grins—something that better belongs on a sneering jackal just about to pounce on unsuspecting prey with needle sharp talons, rather than his face. His eyes drift up to address his guest. “Do you see something you like, Mand’alor?”

Din’s head jerks, averting his gaze to anywhere but the throne. He murmurs a weak apology and shifts his weight to his other leg—acting as if he were to look at you a second time, it’d burn him to a crisp or force him to confront Boba Fett’s wrath. Obviously, neither thing would happen, but Din still remains unsure with his foothold in this situation.   

“I see how you look at her,” Boba drawls—not an accusation, just a statement brought to light. Boba’s hand drops to your thigh, the warm weight of it resting just past your knee as Din swallows his nerves and returns his gaze. “It’s alright—a pretty little thing like her is bound to turn heads.” 

A blush hotter than wildfire licks up your cheeks as Din nods in agreement. “She’s beautiful…you’re a lucky man.”

Boba’s grip on your thigh hoards you closer to his chest. He is and he’s fully aware of that fact, but there’s no need to admit such a thing when it’s so blatantly obvious. A lull in the conversation creates a palpable tension—nervous energy and a choice to let this is fade into nonexistence or…or breathe life into that flickering ember of unsaid desires.     

Your heart leaps into your throat when Boba shatters the silence and addresses you. “You’re awfully quiet, princess…what do you think?”

He’s placing whatever this is into your hand and leaving you to call the shots. You’ve always been a troublemaker and there’s no will or way as to why you’d stop now. You look between your lover and Din as a smile curls over your face. “I think…if he’s so interested—why not give him a show? After all, he did bring me home—he deserves some reimbursement for the trouble.”

Boba’s shoulders jolt with a chuckle. “How chivalrous.” You shiver as he strokes the back of his finger down your cheek. “Fine, as you wish, little one—go play.” 

Giddy excitement bubbles through your chest as Boba offers Din to take a seat on the edge of the dais. Din still has an option to escape, to slip through the cracks and pretend this never happened—but stars, you hope he stays. Din takes a step forward, then another—and another until he’s standing before the throne. He studies the raised edge and gingerly takes a seat. 

You abandon your bowl of cherries onto the forearm of the throne and slip off Boba’s lap. You drift over to Din, his gloved fingers clenching and unclenching as they rest over his thigh plating. He’s purposefully avoiding your eye as you kneel beside him—still locked onto that niggling fear that this could be some sort of trick or test in resolve.      

Smiling sweetly, you skate your hand over his knuckles—guiding his large palm to your waist and then under and up your loose shirt and bra. Din mutters a curse as you place his palm over your breast. “I’m glad you stayed.”

Pleased with his reaction, you peel off your shirt and bra, breath hitching as Din pinches your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Same—I think…”

With a bit more bravery backing his movements, Din pulls away briefly, shucks off his gloves and encompasses both your breasts. They’re warm and calloused, riddled with silvery scars that stand out against his brown skin, a storybook of past battles—won and lost—all equally important to the fibers of his being that stitch him together into a whole. His hand whispers down the length of your ribcage, no doubt feeling the thrum of your heart beating wildly against the cartilage and bone. It tickles over the swell of your hips then—        

“You said you wanted to give him a show,” Boba drawls behind you, a sharp twinge of hostility lacing his words. “So enjoy the show, Mand’alor, ’nd keep your hands to yourself."

Din recoils at the verbal reprimand and drops his hands speedier than a flash of lightning. You frown and throw a glare over your shoulder. Bastard. Boba quirks a brow and runs his thumb over his lip, the edged sparkle in his dark eyes taunting you into challenging him. You huff and turn a cold shoulder. 

“Sorry, Din,” you purr, scrounging up any and all back up plans to keep you both entertained. “Seems my king isn’t as generous I thought.”

Din withers a bit at the catty remark, keeping his lips sealed tight as Boba growls your name in warning. You don’t pay him any mind. 

You puff up your cheeks and release the air in a steady stream, as your eyes scrape over Din’s armored thigh. Ok—you can work with that. It wouldn’t be breaking any rules…not technically. You step away, paw at your waistband and let the breezy fabric pool over around your ankles, your underwear quickly joining the pile. 

Now bare, you return to Din’s side, his careful inhale distorted into choppy static as you straddle his thigh. He lifts both hands, intending to grab at your waist, but pauses midair. No touching. You lips tilt with a smirk as he clenches his fists and pins his hands to the cool stone instead, an attempt to curb that urge to reach for you. His shoulders knit together when you mold your hand in the gap between his shoulder pauldron and cuirass to give yourself some sort of balance—obviously not used to a soft touch.  

You lower yourself and hiss through clenched teeth. It’s fucking freezing. Goosebumps rush up each limb as the wet warmth of your cunt meets the frigid beskar—the chill much colder than you initially expected. It’s one thing to touch the beskar with an open palm and another thing entirely to feel against such an intimate part of yourself. Din’s visor drops to look between your legs as you give your hips an experimental roll. 

It’s different. You’re used to hardened muscle and fabric, or your own fingers while pleasuring yourself. Your breath hitches as Din’s thigh twitches, the smelted seam of the cuisse bumping against your throbbing clit. 

“Sorry,” Din mumbles, “Didn’t mean—“

“It’s ok,” you smile, rocking your hips to ease into the sensation. “Just surprised me.”

The pace you set is slow, careful not to overwork your nerves as your arousal blooms and metastasizes like simmering coals low in your groin. With each lecherous pull of your cunt against his thigh, the beskar begins to warm to the temperature of your skin—the wetness between your thighs abating the friction and making the surface slippery. A low gasp escapes you once you find the right ridge and angle that just grinds perfectly against your aching clit. Your fingers dig into the cowl of Din’s cloak. 

“Shit—feels good.” Like your voice and little moans jumpstart Din’s ability to move, his large hand drifts to the front of his trousers—an already sizable bulge tenting the dark brown fabric. You squeak as Din's leg jolts for a second time, a burst of dizzying ecstasy wracking up your spine with the choppy movement. 

You suck in another raspy breath as your attention drops to his hand that cups his cock and palms himself through his trousers. You chew your bottom lip and clench your fist gripping his cowl, still gyrating your hips over the beska as Din hooks his thumb into his waistband and pulls them down, slow as molasses. 

Fucking hell—he’s bigger than you initially imagined. Flushed a rosy brown, and half hard already, twitching as Din wraps his fingers around the thick length. Din lifts his head, gauging your interest or disapproval—but kriff—who the fuck would ever be unhappy with that sorta heat he’s packing? You bite your bottom lip, scouring your brain for ideas to convince Boba into letting you taste Din—but your plotting is abruptly cut short. 

Boba sits up and off the throne, his presence looming over your shoulder as he lowers to one knee. You shiver and arch your neck, exposing more of your vulnerable throat as Boba runs the fingertip of his pointer finger down the side of your cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself, princess?”  

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as Boba opens his palm and cradles your jaw. You groan and roll your head back onto your shoulders as Boba snakes one hand around your hip and jolts you forward and down—disrupting the slow rock with a catastrophic interference. Unrefined bolts of plasma shoot up your spine as desire licks up thighs—you need more. 

Boba dips his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You grunt when his teeth sink into your flesh, worrying a bruise into your skin. Boba laves his tongue over the throbbing area, then licks a wet trail up to the shell of your ear, all the while you continue to grind on Din’s thigh. Boba nibbles your earlobe and whispers your name—the sound sweeter than any symphony could ever hope to make. Like smoke over deep water or the surging crackle of energy just before a thunderstorm high up in the mountains. 

“You’re allowed to touch…” he says with a rough chuckle. “Go on.”

Your noise of agreement is quickly muffled as Boba interrupts you with a feverish kiss—all open mouthed and breathless as his tongue curls around yours. Your chest heaves for precious air as Boba retreats just as abruptly as it began. With a satisfied smirk ghosting over his lips, he taps you below the chin and returns to his throne to continue observing.         

Dropping your eyes between Din’s legs, his cock, hardened to its full glory and held casually in his  calloused hand, is truly a sight. Your pulse thrums in your ears as Din rolls his wrist and pumps his length, the velvety skin shifting over what looks like fucking beskar underneath. It strains towards his navel as you watch with wide eyes, mesmerized with the way he touches himself. 

Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you touch your hand to his wrist.  Din shudders like your skin is made of sizzling embers that’s broken off the tail end of shooting star—like you’re something too luminous and dangerous to be handled by someone like him. You lift your gaze, smiling into that darkened void of the visor and gracing him with a toothy smile. “Will you let me touch you, Din?”

He nods and utters a breathy yes. 

Fuck yeah.    

Din sucks in a stuttered breath when your hand circles around his thick length. His hips jolt into your palm as you slide your fist to the base then all the way back up. Precum beads over the tip, dribbling down and coating your knuckles with sticky wetness. It eases some of that friction as you fall into an easy rhythm, matching your rocking hips with each pump of his cock. 

Din’s stuttered moans fill the small space between you, dragging you closer to your release that’s suddenly so close. He whines as you abandon his length to chase after your high, your arousal leaking from your center and dripping down the sides of the beskar. Din takes his cock into his hands, fisting himself to your little show of breathy wines and rough jerking of your hips over his thigh. 

Din says your name attached with a broken moan and it’s over—    

Everything seizes up tighter than a jaw clamp as your tumble off that jagged peak of searing, white hot pleasure. It’s raw, sparking off like a blade to metal, burning you from the inside out as you cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your thighs shaking as you curl inward as if he punched you in the fucking gut. It feels like he did. Maker—the cool beskar against your throbbing clit is like you’ve been thrown to the mercies of an electrical surge. 

It doesn’t help either that Din is still pumping his length, hips stuttering as he brings himself to his own euphoric high. The air in your lungs seizes when a fragile groan, light and airy passes through the vocoder. Din rocks his hips into his fist, once—twice and then he’s throbbing and cumming into his hand. Hot ropes of his release splatter up his chest plate and parts of your thighs, his helmet nearly knocking into you as he hunches foreword from the intensity of it.     

Too exhausted to keep yourself upright, you smash your cheek against his cuirass, involuntarily twitching as the last little waves of pleasure prickle through the rest of your nerves. You whine as you watch Din move his hand to collect some of your wetness coating his thigh. He brings two fingers stained with your slick to the lip of his helmet, pushes it up with his thumb just far enough to sink the two digits into his mouth. He groans out a quiet fuck, and repeats the action, swiping his fingers through the mess you’ve made and feeding it to himself. Your cunt clenches as you catch a sliver of his pink tongue that twists between his thick fingers.   

He groans and rolls his head back onto his shoulders. “Please—can I taste you? Fuck—I-I need my mouth on you.” 

Stars—the mere idea of it stokes the dwindling flames into a blaze of want. You look up at Boba and puff out your bottom lip. Pouting and begging hardly ever gets you what you want under normal circumstances—Boba Fett is more stubborn than a rancor—but you hope just this once he’ll be lenient.   

Boba holds out his gloved hand—summoning you to his lap without a lick of protest on your end. Din however makes a sound akin to a whimper when you leave him. Boba gathers you in his arms for the second time, the leather a strange sensation as it spiders down your ribcage and around your hips. You can feel his hardness poking into your backside once you settle against him—his chest plate a cold shock to your naked flesh. You shiver and bury your nose into the crook of his neck, poking your tongue out to taste him. Boba’s cock twitches under you as your teeth sink into him with a cheeky nip.   

“Is that what you want, little one?” Boba rumbles in question. His right hand glides lower, grabbing a handful of your thigh and squeezing. You groan and keen out a whine of affirmation. 

Boba cocks his head towards Din. “Well? You’ve got your wish—don’t keep her waiting.” 

Din shakily stands—hesitating with removing his helmet for enough time that you notice the silence that follows. The vocoder crackles as Din sighs. “Do you trust her?”

“With my life.” Boba states it without a second thought. Your heart twists, golden light spilling from  your lungs and staining your insides with devotion and fuzzy affection. You press a soft kiss over Boba’s jaw.   

“Is she…” Din speaks a word in Mando’a you have no hope to decipher—either no direct translation or he’s purposefully left you in the dark. 

Based on the way Boba almost imperceptibly tenses, you guess the latter. Boba responds with a grunt and an unsure dip of the chin. The answer is complicated—that much you can gather…you push it to the back of you brain for now. 

Din nods, inhales, and steels his nerves. Plastering his hands around the shiny helmet, he tugs it off with a slow reveal of dark, patchy facial, plush lips and wavy brown hair that falls around his olive skin. And oh, his eyes—soft chestnut brown eyes that hold such ache within them—lost things, broken bones, wearing his wounds like decoration upon his chest. Forged in the flames of war, risen from the ashes with murder and mercy rolled into one.      

You wish him a kinder future. One that doesn’t end with pain and a blaze of an unchecked wildfire—the same way how all heroes end up as martyrs.  

Though—right now—you can be the beginning of softer things for Din. You smile and invite him closer, a vortex of anxiety peppered with arousal as his eyes flit over your naked body. He sets his helmet to the side with care and drifts to the foot of the throne—fuck, he’s broad. Why hadn’t you noticed that before?   

Your mental berating is severed when cool air meets the wet heat of your cunt as Boba hooks your thighs over his knees, spreading you wide as far as your hips allow. Din’s unfiltered moan at the sigh of you, sends a volt of electricity through every vein. Din lowers himself to one knee, and then the other, shuffling between yours and Boba’s legs. 

“Can I touch?” He asks, soft brows raising in question. 

Boba lazily raises two fingers in a motion of permission. Your chest tightens at the sight of Din’s boyish grin—warm palms settling over the sharp bend of your knees. His thumbs trace soothing circles over the skin and right as Din decides to swoop down, Boba catches him by the hair atop his head and yanks. Din grunts—the long, arched line of his neck a tempting sight as he swallows. “No marks.” Din’s jaw clenches, but nonetheless, he agrees to Boba’s command. 

Boba hums in satisfaction and untangles his fingers from the mess of Din’s soft curls. Din’s brows pinch together for half a tick but smooth out in the next breath. No use being irritated—especially right now.   

As directed, Din leaves not a scratch. Instead he scrapes the blunt edges of his teeth along the insides of your thighs, threatening to catch soft flesh between them—but he knows better than to act on the urge. He laves his warm tongue over each freckle or blemish he finds, leaving no patch of skin undiscovered as licks a steady trail to his prize. Din mouths a warm kiss over the crease of your thigh, and smooths his calloused hands over your hips, settling for a moment to trace little circles with his thumbs onto the soft protrusion of bone there. Seemingly satisfied, he then shifts them closer to your aching cunt. His hot breath fans over your cunt as he uses his thumbs to glide through your folds, almost curious with his exploration. He makes a little hum of appreciation low in his throat when the pads of his thumbs part your soaking folds.    

You whimper and bury your face into the crook of Boba’s neck, his warm palms a much needed comfort as they tickle down your ribcage, then sweep back up to cup your tits. You cry and arch— Din’s tongue is scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your cunt all the way up to your clit. Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through your abdomen. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—kriff. 

Fuck, you need more.   

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are transfigured and molded into a vicious loop—beginning with those adoring brown eyes, the color of freshly tilled earth and the warmth of sunlight over dappled aspen leaves in the balmy summer afternoons. It ends with soft lips—rose petal pink with devotion crystallizing in his mouth like sugar—madness and uncertainty and lovesick desire is all that he is and you’re not sure if you’ll come out of this unscathed.    

He sinks two deliciously thick fingers into your clenching hole and curls them, only to retract them a moment later to shovel more of your wetness onto his tongue—as if simply using his mouth wasn’t enough for him. Like he needs to savor every drop of your arousal like the golden ambrosia the gods feast upon in their palaces of cloud and endless twilight. 

That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade away like a hand through fog—but you’re going nowhere. You’d stay here, suspended in time forever if the choice were up to you. 

You whine and arch off Boba’s chest plate as Din strokes and curls his fingertips, plucking little gasps and moans from you easier than breathing. He zeros in on that little spot that makes your leg go all jittery and forces out high pitched mewls that echo through the throne room. You’re careening towards another high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure. 

“Stars—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must sting—at least a little bit. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth. 

Your release zips through your body like a flash flood—quick and fatal that leaves you gasping for air and struggling not to let your head dip below the waves. Your high seeps into each limb until they feel heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to work through the muddled thought and remember where exactly you are. You groan and toss your head back as Din keeps going.    

“Another one—let me—“ He moans, opening his mouth as wide as it’ll go so he can devour more of you. You can feel the mixture of saliva and your own arousal dripping down your cunt and over your thighs, some of it pooling on the throne or onto the floor. Your thighs shake as Din pushes you towards another high.        

You squeak as Boba’s palm sweeps up your sternum, locking his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. The tip of his nose nuzzles into your cheek—silently demanding a well earned kiss as his hips rock into your ass, grinding his cock for the barest scrap of friction. You moan into his mouth as Din doubles his efforts, raw and bordering that serrated edge of overstimulation and ecstasy.  

Goosebumps rush over your arm as Boba places his lips right beside the shell of your ear. You feel the sticky heat of his breath fan over your throat and shoulder, and the way his lips skim your ear when they move to form the syllables of his words. “Such a filthy princess…”

You clench around Din’s fingers and moan a half garbled, “Boba—“ 

His weathered palm encompasses the entirety of your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “If only you could see yourself…dripping all over my throne and another man’s tongue.” Boba clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Depraved creature—cum for your rightful king.” 

Wildfire chars your insides as it begins in your core and sweeps through your body. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you buck and squirm in their arms—no mercy as the prickly waves of your orgasm make you hypersensitive to each touch. Even the hold on your hip, while innocent in nature, is blistering as if you suffered from a fever. You shudder as a salty tear rolls down your cheek. Boba catches it with his tongue as your ears pick up Din’s raspy praise—thanking you while spattering reverent kisses up your thighs. 

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you do spot the apparent wetness soaking through the front of Din’s trousers. Fuck—he—he came again while eating you out. You whimper and rest the back of your head over Boba’s shoulder.  

Your belly flinches under his scratchy facial hair as Din travels up, seizing and worshiping every inch he’s freely given before intercepted. He catches your nipple between your teeth, tugs a bit then moves to the other, lavishing equal attention with adoring lips and sweet whispers. When he reaches your collarbone, you’re boxed in against his chest plate and Boba’s. A blush blooms under your cheeks hotter than stare fire as Din gingerly sucks your earlobe into his mouth and breathes out a muted moan of your name—committing the very essence of you to his memory for the rest of his days. 

Your heart squeezes tight like a clenched fist when he mumbles another thank you. Plucking up a smidge of courage, he risks planting a kiss right on the corner of your mouth. You blink—despite the sweetness of the gesture you wince as Boba snarls a curt phrase in Mando’a. Din peels himself away with a minuscule frown and slinks away.          

Yet before you have the chance to remedy the situation of wounded pride and territorial jealousy—Boba tightens his hold on your hips and flips you both, so that now your back is smashed against the seat of the throne, a bit crumpled and sorta folded in half. Your hips hang off the edge as Boba holds the majority of your weight, grinding his clothed cock between the apex of your thighs. 

“Don’t forget, princess—” Boba barks, slithering a hand up the column of your throat. You breath hitches as he lightly presses his palm down. “—what belongs to me.”

Reaching between you, he slides his gloved fingers through your slick folds and sinks two of them inside of your clenching center. You jolt as his thumb scrubs over your clit, still sensitive and edging towards too much. 

“You want me to fuck you here?” He asks, shifting his hold to grip your jaw instead—the rounds of his fingertips digging firmly into the flesh and bone. “Say it.”      

You gasp and scrabble weakly at Boba’s shoulders as he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit. “Please, Boba! Please fuck me—I need it.” 

Boba folds over you, his breath fanning hot and hungry against your cheek. He devours your mouth with a discordant edge, like he’s trying to prove to the entire galaxy you are unmistakably his despite the fact you’re already wound so tightly around his fingers. Boba wrenches himself free and tears at his robe and trousers to free his thick length, leaking and flushed a rosy brown at the tip. He doesn’t keep either of you waiting as he removes his fingers and replaces them with something bigger.       

You both groan as he lines himself up with your entrance and sinks into you, a delicious stretch that leaves you shivering beneath him. “Fuck—so wet for me.”

The first roll of his hips makes an obscene noise that showers shame down your throat, but it’s quickly kicked to the back of your brain as he slams back into your cunt—obliterating all thoughts save for him. Boba’s lip curls over his teeth as he claws at your thighs and yanks them over his shoulder, crushing you even further between the throne and the weight of his body. Each stroke is a liquid fire, tearing you apart at the seems while at the same time stitching you back together and leaving your body begging for more. Like this, it’s as if he’s reaching the deepest part of you, pounding into your cunt and hitting every nerve with deadly precision. Your legs prickle with the stretch as you squirm beneath him, stuck with the brunt of rough thrusts and violent stamina with nowhere to go.   

“Bein’ such a good girl for me." He hums into the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulders. He sucks a mark there and tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of you neck, forcing you into a steeper arch. “Maker, you look so fuckin’ pretty stretched around my cock.”

Your walls clench tight around him as you dig your nails into the fabric of his cowl. You voice cracks with airy moans—attempting to work through the haze of lust and respond. All that tumbles from your lips is a pathetic whine of his name—so close to that precipice again.    

The friction of each thrust scraping against your clit, the way he fills you and the possessive hand curled over your throat. You wiggle an arm between your bodies and rub the little bundle of nerves in a frenzied half-circle. You wheeze as Boba increases the pressure over your throat. 

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demands as devastating ripples begin to spark through your core, a live wire an inch away from a puddle of water. “Tell me—“

“You! It’s you—“ You sob, desperate for another release only he can give. “I’m yours—“

Boba snickers and gives your throat another squeeze. “Cum on my cock.” 

There we go. 

You seize and cry out, violent shivers forcing your back to arch high off the throne and into his chest plate. It tears through your being, quick and deadly through your core, spreading to every nerve and shredding through it with molten pleasure. Boba’s voice is a gravelly scrape that vibrates next to your ear, sprinting towards his own deserved euphoria. Your climax still boiling through your blood, is dragged out as Boba continues thrusting—an endless echo that leaves you incredibly oversensitive sore. For the next few moments, his thrusts are too sharp, the grip he has on you too abrasive—but then he’s cumming too. A couple more rough jabs and then he’s seating himself deep inside your cunt, his warm release coating your insides with thick ropes. 

You’re panting breaths fill the air between you, settling like fresh snow over a silent wood. By the time Boba pulls out, leaving behind a sticky trail of his cum and your arousal over the throne, you’re toeing the line of hazy unconsciousness. 

“Such a good girl,” Boba praises, threading fingers through hair and tracing the lines of your face. The the soft drone of his voice mixed with Din’s gentle baritone, murmuring something you don’t catch, casts a dreamy haze over your reality. You’re not afraid that this could back fire and blow up in your face—to move inches from two serrated blades, each seeking for a taste of blood and flesh, is always a risk. But yet, the calloused hands and the sweetness of brown eyes reach through chaos and silence to offer you salvation. You take it with a smile. 

You should invite Din over more often…you think, as you slip into content sleep. 

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sorry if I missed you AH!!!!

[sukirichi]

earned it [06]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. attempted murder and suicide, angst ig i feel nothing at this point because NAOYA 😭

notes. i’m rolling with the earned it jokes that reader is shippable with everyone so HAH enjoy this chapter because I didn’t enjoy the last LMAO (IM SO EXCITED FOR TOJI TO APPEAR!)

series masterlist

Your muscles throbbed, the pounding of your heart felt even through your skin. You’ve spent hours in the training room, taking punch by punch, landing blow by blow – yet no matter how hard you tried, you kept falling on your ass. At this point, your backside was beyond sore, skin drenched with sweat and clothes sticking uncomfortably to the surface. Meanwhile, your ‘savior’ barely felt the need to catch his breath, instead gazing down at you with disappointment written all over his face.

“Why do you expect so much from me?” you panted, fists clenched on the mat. “Didn’t you tell me you just needed me to get your money back and that’s it? I didn’t ask for you to do anything so stop telling me I’m indebted to you all the time.”

Naoya clicked his tongue, clearly disappointed by your lack of resolve. Above you, he swept up his cane and finally balanced himself. You previously thought he didn’t struggle because he looked so calm and composed, easily overpowering you even with his injury, but his lips were strained, jaw clenched tight that perhaps he was just good at concealing his pain. It made you shut up and watch his every move; his back faced you – probably to hide whatever fleeting moment of vulnerability he had.

“I won’t always be there to save your sorry life,” he said calmly, “You need to learn how to be strong on your own no matter how tough it gets. Now if you’ll keep complaining instead of finishing your training, I could happily lock you up and force you to do my dirty work for me.”

“Then why don’t you go ahead?!”

“I don’t want to,” Naoya responded without missing a beat. He easily closed the distance with a few staggered steps, his head tilted to the side as he surveyed you.

You wondered what went through his mind. Did he see a weak woman? A woman who must be so helpless, so useless that you stayed there, legs too tired and muscles aching too much you couldn’t move? There was no telling with Naoya, and his guarded gaze didn’t help either. Satoru had always been difficult to read at most, but with Naoya – it was practically impossible.

Even as he cupped your chin and twisted it sideways, his eyes narrowed over all your features like he saw something you didn’t, he was too guarded.

“I need you in taking down Gojo Satoru. In order to accomplish that, I have to use his weakness against him. You showing up won’t be enough. No, I want to hurt him…and what better way than to take what was once his, right? Dangle right in front of his eyes what he let go of, make him regret his actions?” his smile turned dark, and for the first time since you’ve met him, you got a glance of what his heart really looked like.

It wasn’t true that Naoya was heartless – no, he just had a dark, sinister heart that didn’t beat the same tune as others. He played his own music with the bones of his enemies, drinking their lifeline from a gold cup and drowning in them, his ominous laughter the perfect antithetical melody of what could’ve been angelic hums.

“Don’t you want that?”

His question made your heart skipped a beat. This whole time, you’ve been so hell bent on achieving something, but what you wanted to reach had never been clear. You were too driven by emotions, by the pain Satoru’s absence had caused, and now that the opportunity was presented before you, you faltered.

“I don’t know what I want.”

“Well, if you ask me what I want…” he tilts your chin up with his finger “It would be to see you strong enough that even you would be capable of taking me down. So be strong, keep fighting – I’ll be there with you every step of the way. You only have one job, and that is to live. I am not allowing you to give up at the slightest of minor inconveniences.”

“And if I get weak?” you questioned with an oscillating tremor, the bite of his cold skin against your heated ones spiking. “If I want to give up? Would I fail you then?”

“I don’t think you’re someone who cares about failing others, so don’t fret whether you’d please me or not,” Just like that, Naoya’s scornful tone had risen again. He let go of you until you dropped down to your palms, blinking back at the sudden change of atmosphere. “Like I said, just do what you need to do, keep going. Don’t look back or be afraid to take the next big step because I’ll always be there right beside you.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“I’m not asking you to, princess,” he snickered, already half way to the door that only he was allowed to go in. Even though you’ve been staying in his manor for quite some time, there were still some things Naoya didn’t trust you with, leaving you only more curious to find out the secrets within.

“Only time will tell. But once you’ve made your decision, know that my ring is always waiting beside your table,” his voice echoed through the large room, stopping in his tracks to look at you once more. This time, he had no haunting features, only the cold emptiness likened to staring back to an infinite void of nothingness.

“I expect an answer when I get home.”

You still remembered the day you decided to wear his ring. Naoya had come then, tired and aggravated from matters he didn’t bother explaining. You stood on his doorway, lips shut tight as you nervously fiddled with your ring, unsure if whether you should tell him or allow him to piece the puzzle himself.

Thankfully, Naoya was a lot more observant than you gave him credit for.

His eyes slid over your face before he followed the motion of your fingers, smirking as the jewel glinted under the bright lights of his home. Wise choice, he’d once told you, and you believed it.

Your life hadn’t been the same ever since. Your spontaneous marriage equated to hellish training of perfecting your image as his trophy wife, spending hours in his secret laboratory and discussing business plans through a glass of wine. Naoya wasn’t around much to teach you everything and it pained him to be your own trainer too so you had to ask help from his guards, refusing to give up and fall down even as your muscles screamed at you to take a break. For Naoya, with Naoya, giving up and running away felt like a myth; a buried solution in the past that should never be brought up again. But now that he was gone, you did exactly that.

You’d given up. Satoru had made you run away.

“Miss,” a deep voice cut you from your thoughts. You tore your gaze away from the  glowing night city of Milan to turn to Satoru’s right hand man, the tall figure looming rather shyly instead of imposingly. “You haven’t eaten since we got here. Would you like anything? Mr. Gojo will cover your expenses.”

“I want to go home.”

He froze at your deadpan statement. Finally meeting your gaze under his lashes, Geto pursed his lips. “You know we can’t do that, Miss. It’s unsafe back in Japan.”

“And who’s to say Toji won’t follow us here?” you snapped, pushing your weight off the Cleopatra set and uncrossing your legs. “Why can’t your stupid boss just activate the account and give it back to us? I think we’ve made it clear we’re more than capable of handling our finances, and I’m pretty sure Satoru doesn’t need any more money when he can afford all this.”

“Mr. Gojo…has his reasons for everything he does.”

You laughed bitterly. Maybe it was the fact that Satoru had left this morning for whatever business he had that you didn’t have anyone else to let your anger out to that you’d swiped your gun under your thigh holster and dashed his way.

Geto’s back slammed against the wall, the cool barrel of your gun pressed to his jaw. He swallowed nervously, eyes darting to your weapon, and you laughed heartlessly. “Oh, please, do tell because nothing makes sense,” you crooned, flipping the safety off and letting your heated gaze meet his rather docile ones. You almost felt bad for him. Almost.

“I could easily put a bullet through your head and hijack his plane. I’ll be gone before you know it and who’s to stop me from doing that? Why should I stay here any longer with you?”

“Because your husband asked you to,” Geto responded softly. You stepped back with wide eyes, yesterday’s event crashing all over you once again. He must’ve sensed you no longer held any hostility because he used his pointer finger to move the barrel away from him, gently peeling your hands off his suit. “Because you know, if you go back to Japan, there will be nothing waiting for you there.”

You balled your fists. “I will kill Fushiguro Toji myself. Then I’ll kill Satoru.”

“Even if he used to be your lover?”

“Especially because he used to be my lover.”

Okay…maybe your plan of escaping and returning to Japan hadn’t worked out that well. Exhaustion finally crept up to your senses that you passed out not long after attacking Geto – who reassured you to no end he wasn’t mad you tried to kill him – and days have passed ever since. You hated to admit it, but being stuck in an overseas hotel wasn’t so bad. Geto’s presence was a lot more comforting than his master’s that you didn’t mind having him watch your every move. Plus, he was really nice to immediately follow your every whim. You wanted hot chocolate? Extra pillows? A really expensive wine that you refused to pay for because you were petty and dramatic? He provided it all without question.

Except he probably should have, because you’d stripped off to your underwear, head tipped back to take one final swig of the nearly empty bottle as you slid deeper into the tub.

Your fiery nature of rolling your eyes at Satoru every time he came around (which was rare, for some reason) couldn’t fool anyone – not even yourself. The moment Geto retired to the living room, you would bite the pillows to muffle your cries, thinking back to when Naoya was still alive. It was an endless torment of what if you had stayed, what if you had pushed the rubble off him, what if you just saved him?

Would he still be alive? Would he have survived? Would you be back with him in the Zen’in Estate instead of holding your breath under the tub in a desperate attempt to conceal your tears?

It hurt so bad. It hurt everywhere.

Your lungs begged you to rise up and breathe, but you stayed still under the water, eyes shut tight and hands clenched around the tub’s edges so hard your knuckles turned white. Soon, you grew dizzy and your grip slipped away. Finally, fucking finally, you were falling, falling way too deep that your legs bent inside the tub. Bubbles erupted from your lips in one last breath. At the back of your mind, you let out a sincere laugh for you’d meet your husband soon. He’d be disappointed, probably scold you all the way to the afterlife – until strong arms pulled you out of the tub and into someone’s chest instead.

“Shit, what are you doing?! You could’ve drowned!”

You coughed out water and fisted Satoru’s button-up shirt that had now clung to his skin from the water. Looking around you, you were still very much alive, the uncomfortable twisting of your heart a painful reminder of that. Above you, Satoru sat you in his lap while he remained cross-legged on the floor, muttering curses under his breath as he wrapped a towel around you.

Scoffing, you pushed his hands away, though you kept the towel anyway to lessen your shivering. Why the fuck was the AC so damn strong here?

“Dying seems like a better option, don’t you think?” you snarled at him, teeth chattering from the chill that had begin to seep in.

Momentarily, you worried on how much of a hot mess you probably looked like. Smudged eyeliner, wine-stained lips, unbrushed hair and remnants of the wine mixing with the once clear bath water – you shook your head at the thought and glared at Satoru.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“I was out contacting friends to ask for help. We’re going to need a hundred pairs of eyes watching anywhere that Toji could possibly come through.”

“Is this your pathetic idea of ‘keeping me safe’? Locking me up in this stupid hotel and having your man watch me all the time?” you pushed yourself off him, the sudden motion of standing up giving you wobbly legs. Satoru reached over to steady you but you slapped his hand away, your glare warning him to not take another step.

Seeing his face, seeing him worried as if he didn’t just cause your life to turn into absolute hell, you wanted to grab the wine bottle and smash it right at his pretty face. He had no right to look at you with pity.

You hated him, utterly and terribly despised this man with your entire being.

“What are you really planning, Satoru? Why can’t we just come back home and attack Toji with all we’ve got? Why don’t you just give back our fucking money so we can end all this for once and for all and I can leave?!”

“Because I don’t have the money!”

“What?”

“The money…” Satoru’s back slid off the wall, his palm coming up to thread through his hair. He sounded weak, defeated. “I don’t have it.”

“Gojo,” you snatched him by the collar, teeth bared as you demanded, “What do you mean you don’t have it?”

Satoru paled. “When I stole the money from the Zen’ins, the figures were all fake. They’re not real, there’s no actual money hidden behind their accounts and it was too late before I realized that,” his lips trembled as he continued, “Whatever Toji placed in there, it’s not his actual account where he hides everything and it would make sense too because I stole it too easily – almost as if they wanted me to take it. A few hacks here and there and it was immediately wired to me but after meeting you…” Satoru shook his head, chin dropped down low. “I checked again and the account never existed. It’s a fake one. The digits are just there for show.”

“So then why would Toji want it? Why did my husband have to die for nothing?!”

“I don’t know, okay, I don’t know anything!” he argued back until your faces grew closer, his nose brushing with yours.

Somehow, you couldn’t pull away. His knees had drawn up, forcing you to rest on his thighs as you both breathed heavily, your grip on his collar almost havered.

“Whatever the Zen’ins are hiding, that’s beyond me. I may be in the business for far longer than they have, but they have always been notorious with their possessions that I’m not surprised even I can’t find where it really leads back to. Whatever Toji is hiding there, your husband must’ve known something about it. Why else would they fight tooth and bone over it?”

“If there was, Naoya would’ve told me about it.”

“He would if he trusted you,” Satoru suddenly grabbed your wrist and shook it until you stared at your ring. “How are you even so sure he could trust you with that information? Have you forgotten you’re just a pawn to his game and you’re nothing but a bed warmer?”

“Don’t you ever speak about us that way. You don’t know how much he cared for me.”

“If he really did, then why didn’t he tell you why his cousin is after you? He’s using you as bait, Y/N. I’m not the bad guy here. That man you’re so deeply in love with? I can’t guarantee he’s better than me. We’re all men in the mafia, love is the last thing we would care about.”

You pushed yourself off him.

His words stung too much, not because it was a lie, but because you know there was some sort of truth ringing behind it. You trudged out of the bathroom and sat on the bed, unstirred by the fact you dripped all over the carpeted floor. From behind you, Satoru’s rushed footsteps echoed, but you didn’t care. You simply threw on a robe with your back turned to him.

“And you’d know that better than everyone right? Considering how easy it was for you to leave me?” When Satoru didn’t respond, you chuckled humorlessly and sat on the bed. “What Naoya and I had…it was a friendship that healed my soul. I don’t…I don’t know what to do without him.”

“Friendship?”

You smiled sadly. “I wasn’t actually in love with him, idiot. Men like Naoya don’t know what love is, but he sure does know how to protect family.”

The notion of talking about him, of accepting that maybe he really was gone…somewhat reliving.

Satoru was the last person you wanted to talk to your late husband about, but Geto – which is the much better company – wasn’t around, and you hugged your knees to yourself, refusing to let Satoru see through your vulnerability.

“You know, I trusted him more than I did myself. He was always there for me, no matter what. His soul was dark, angry, corrupted – he’s not the man I would fall for, but despite all that, he was the friend I needed,” you buried your face in your knees, voice muffled as you cried, your heart shattering again and again and again.

The ring on your finger had never felt so heavy ever since you wore it.

“I loved him as much as I hated you.”

Satoru was silent, so much so that you wondered if he was even in the same room at all. You sat there crying, too hopeless to even try to conceal it anymore. Shivering, you close your eyes and forced the image of Naoya’s last moments away from your memories, desperately praying to whoever had mercy that you could just forget all about it.

“Geto told me you tried to kill him,” Satoru murmured after a beat, “You could’ve easily escaped and went back to Japan if you wanted to, so why didn’t you? Was it because of me?”

You remembered what you tried to do today.

Just like that, Naoya was alive once more. You were brought back to the day of your wedding when he’d clasped your sweaty, clammy hands in his, rubbing some warmth in them before pressing a kiss at the top of your knuckles. He’d asked you to promise him something then – an entire contrast from his constants orders over your well-being – and it was a promise you’d momentarily forgotten; a promise you’d broken out of mourning.

“Naoya once told me,” you reminisced through dry, cracked lips and even more shattered heart, the picture of his disappointment as clear as day. “Death was the only place he can go where he would never allow me to follow.”

It took a lot, but it somehow got better. After allowing yourself a faint moment of weakness where Naoya resurfaced in your mind to remind you of our promise and your purpose, you felt stronger, somewhat steadier with each step you took. You were still wary around Satoru, although that was a given.

His friend, Geto, was really nice, on the other hand, and you couldn’t explain why you always lowered your guard around the formal dark-haired assistant.

You and Geto were playing chess when Satoru barged in out of nowhere, a plate and a syrup condenser on his hand. “So I got you breakfast,” was his greeting, nodding at Geto once as a silent order to give you two privacy. You pouted as the latter left, but soon your attention had been diverted to the heavenly aroma filling in your senses. Seeing your approval, Satoru hid a smile behind his dark sunglasses. “Still like pancakes?”

“Trying to get into my good graces now?”

“I’m just trying to cheer you up.”

You rolled your eyes but snatched the plate from him anyway. “So I talked to my lawyer,” you begun, pouring syrup all over the fluffy bread until it was almost spilling to the sides. Beside you, Satoru’s snickers were barely muffled, to which you ignored wholeheartedly. “They’ve already processed my inheritance over Naoya’s possessions and assets. Once we return to Japan, I’ll be the next leader of the Zen’in Clan, much to the disappointment of his elders, of course, but they can’t do anything about it,” you informed him with your fork hanging in mid-air, the words falling thickly. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“That we’re back to being enemies?”

You offered him a sarcastic smile. “Naoya lied about strengthening his alliance with your family. He doesn’t actually give a fuck about you.”

“I figured that much,” he snickered to himself, shifting his weight until his elbows rested on his thighs. “Listen…a friend of mine is flying to Milan tonight to meet us. They have strong connections with banks all over the world and they brought in some information about that hidden Zen’in account. I think we’re finally getting off to somewhere and finding out what really is in there,” Satoru gauged for your reaction, but you kept eating – more like stuffing the pancakes inside your mouth for you were finally free of having to act perfect without your husband.

Satoru’s hand landed on top of yours. “I promise…I’ll give it back to right where it belongs. As soon as it’s wired back to you, I’m setting you free.”

You stared at the unwanted figure over you, and you snatched your hand back, waving a bread knife below his lashes. “You can’t set me free when I was never yours,” you sang breathily, the tip of the blade hovered right at his lips. Satoru raised a brow at you, but you quickly retrieved the knife back with widened eyes. “Now that you mention it…I think Naoya told me something about his family stashing secret weapons and even heirlooms through offshore accounts and buried under islands. He was a little sleepy during that time but I remember it,” pushing the plate away from you as you lost your appetite, you clutched your palms under your chin in thought. “He said he was looking for something he lost as a child, possibly an heirloom.”

“He’s doing all this for heirlooms?” Satoru immediately coughed his words back when you glared at him, raising his hands in surrender. “I mean, I was just saying. I didn’t think he was a sentimental type of guy.”

“The question here is what both Toji and Naoya could’ve both wanted from that account. It’s not just an heirloom, obviously there’s something there worth more than money,” You argued and slapped your knees, heading straight to your (unfortunately) shared room. “Whatever. I’ll get this over with as soon as I get the money back.”

Satoru, as always, was hot on your heels. It annoyed you how he trailed over you like some sort of puppy or shadow – Naoya had always been too classy to not give you space.

The difference between them just kept getting more and more uncannily obvious.

“Whoa there, stop. Did you really think I’d give back the money to you and that’s it? Are you forgetting the fact Toji is out there to kill you just so he can have his hands on it?”

“He can have the money for all I fucking care,” you shrugged and sat on your bed, scrolling through numerous piles of emails and records that Naoya entrusted you to keep. Surely you could find something. “I just need to find whatever Naoya’s spent his whole life killing for.”

“Why don’t you care about the money? Didn’t Naoya expect you to take over his business?”

Your thumb froze over a file. Suddenly, your throat grew dry, and you quickly flashed Satoru a stinky eye. “I-it’s not my main concern.”

“It’s not safe for you. If Toji finds out—”

Got it. You bookmarked an email Naoya had forwarded you around three years ago and resent it to an old friend, pocketing the phone back to your pyjamas before Satoru could see. “I’ll handle it. I’ve been doing well so far before you came into our lives again,” you finalized, stopping for a bit as you waited for that all-too familiar footfall matching with yours, only for the room to be coated in silence.

Satoru stood there on the other side of the room, eyes deep in thought before he sighed. “I’ll meet you at the hotel restaurant tonight. We have a lot to discuss on what our next move should be,” nodding once, Satoru left the room.

The hotel room was eerily silent.

Dinner came around faster than you expected. With Geto out to run some errands for Satoru, something about ‘establishing bases’ or whatever, you were locked in your room, using Naoya’s black card to get enough amount of clothing to last you for your stay here. Even though Satoru had promised he’d take care of everything, you didn’t want to be in his debt for any longer. You weren’t his, you were Naoya’s, and you shot down his curious looks when heaps of shopping bags had been delivered to your door.

An hour later, you left the room, struggling to zipper the back of your dress. Satoru was already in the living room buttoning up his suit jacket, just as handsome as ever (though you’d never tell him that.)

His hands froze in the last button once his eyes landed on you, and you huffed at him, too distressed to even act cute or bothered while pointing to your dress. Satoru strode to you in three long steps, his cold fingers brushing against the dip of your spine when he clutched on the zipper.

You had to bite your lip down to prevent the shivers from spilling through, his lips dangerously close to your ear as he whispered, “You look great.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

If Satoru was bothered by the lack of sincerity in your voice, he didn’t comment on it. He removed his hands from you and watched as you slipped black velvet gloves through your arms – just in case you had to end up killing someone; leaving fingerprints was a risk you couldn’t take.

“Did you really get dressed to kill?”

“I came here to negotiate,” you corrected, “I’ll do everything I can to find out whatever’s behind that offshore account. And you, sir,” Frowning at him, you pulled Satoru closer by the tie, perhaps a little too harshly since he nearly knocked his head with yours. He was quick to steady himself as you fixed his tie, flattening it down with your fingers. “You need to know where you should stick your nose in. This is more my business than yours so don’t get in my way acting all hero and shit. I assure you I can handle myself.”

“You’re really going to berate me for worrying about you?”

“You can no longer worry about me,” you disclosed, snatching your black purse from the counter before doing the come hither motion at his shock-still figure. “Now let’s go. We have a case to crack.”

“Case to crack? You sure sound like a detective.”

You snickered, but made no further comment. The elevators dinged and you arrived at the restaurant, which you really regretted not visiting soon enough because the place was grand. Red carpeted floors, golden chandeliers, soft jazz music playing in the background as the lights dimmed down low, the faint clinking of utensils against plates and light chatter of the guests so heartbreakingly nostalgic.

It seemed that even after his death, Naoya had every intention to never leave your side. The setting reminded you too much of your never-ending late night fancy dinners.

Naoya being Naoya, he didn’t blink twice in flaunting his money and renting out entire restaurants all for himself, claiming that he just ‘wanted to have an intimate moment with his wife.’ Sure, it mostly consisted of you discussing what move you should make next, but it was the most affectionate gesture you’ve received after spending years in the quiet and cold environment of the Zen’in Estate.

The outside world wasn’t any better when you and Naoya were marked as targets by the entire government, so it made sense, that only with him that you’d find comfort in.

You must be so out of it you never even noticed Satoru leading you to your seat, a warm meal that should’ve been comforting right under your nose. It was too much – too similar that you headed straight for the wine, ignoring Satoru’s questioning gaze. You noticed from the corner of his eye that he opened his mouth too many times in an attempt to make light conversation, but this dinner wasn’t for you to rekindle your old flame.

No, you were here to wait for his ‘friend’ and review important matters. You were determined to fulfill that purpose alone and only that alone that you never once made eye contact with him, even standing up to reach the salt shaker near him instead of asking him to pass it.

Just as you leaned back to your seat, the music grew louder. A foreign man walked to the stage where he was basked in the spotlight, all heads turning to him when he tapped the microphone, sending little echoes all over the hall. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s loosen up tonight with a drink and bring our lovers out here on the dance floor,” he sang while swaying side to side, snapping his fingers to the beat that had turned into calming to sensual. “It is a fine evening, isn’t it? Come on, don’t be shy, the night is still so young!”

You dropped your fork beside the plate. “Did you know about this?”

“I swear, I had no idea.”

“Those two attractive lovers in table 42, the dance floor is still much too spacious!”

“Pretty vulgar for a five star hotel,” you commented under your breath and dabbed the pasta sauce off your lips with a napkin, slapping it down the table as you stood up – much to Satoru’s surprise who’d tried to make himself invisible from the host’s eyes. Stupid him; did he really think he could blend in with his sunglasses and snow white hair?

If you were to be honest, you’d rather choke on shrimp than dance with him, but you had an image to upkeep. If you couldn’t gather with the crowd and pretend to be one with others, both your true natures would be fished out even with innocent eyes. You were left with no choice but to be comfortable in the dance floor, sighing deeply as you placed your hands down on Satoru’s wide shoulders. He furrowed his brows at you but said nothing else; strong, cautious hands sliding down from your back before they settled at the curve of your hips.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Mister. I won’t hesitate to stab a fork through your jugular right here.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I know you’re not my little angel anymore.”

Angel. It was what he used to call you back then – when you were still but an innocent, naïve being who never believed in monsters until you fell for one.

He was right; you were no longer his angel. The woman he loved had been left abandoned in the street, the purity of her soul tainted with anger and heartbreak that soon bathed in blood and the need for revenge. His angel was no more – the woman he danced with was nothing but a replica of the face and body he adored the most. Now, you danced with him, not as his angel and neither as his rival’s wife, but simply as a woman whose kindness had long vanished into thin air.

Satoru danced with the devil.

And he should be disgusted just as you should be repulsed with how sickeningly smooth and graceful he was in everything he did, but the wine – yes, it was the fucking wine – messed with you that you actually enjoyed it. Your bodies moved in rhythm and syncopated with the beat, the romantic high notes of the violin and the tender embrace of deep trebles like a classical painting coming to life and you were its subjects to be expressed.

Perhaps…you were just sad. You grieved and mourned too much you’d momentarily forgot what love was, in turn making you forget what it felt like to be constantly unsafe and peeking over your shoulder in case someone tried to kill you.

Satoru just felt so warm, so safe and alive that you found your head dipping lower, your muscles relaxing around his soothing and undeniably tender touch, the space between your bodies diminishing until you surrendered to the power of your desire. You were so close, your ear about to press on his chest to listen to the blissful sound of someone’s reassuring heartbeat along with the music, and then you saw him.

A tuft of blonde hair, a chiseled face, a nude cream suit and a deep blue shirt beneath – what the fuck was he doing here?

The spell was broken in an instant.

Satoru must’ve been under the same trance for his hand trailed lower to pull you closer, your chests grazing with one another before you placed your palm flat on his body, lips thinned into a grim look that resonated with the sick, twisting feeling in your guts.

“I,” you croaked out, clearing your throat when it went dry. “I need to go to the ladies.”

You left Satoru without another word, bunching your dress up to run to where he had disappeared. He was still walking coolly and inspecting the paintings hung in the empty lobby with faux interest – although knowing him, the bastard probably did enjoy classical pieces and studied about them in his free time; which he didn’t have much to begin with.

As if sensing your presence, he stopped right in front of a replica of The Sleeping Venus, his hands dug deep in his pockets. “The shape of being is the visual demonstration of a state of being in which idealized existence is suspended in immutable slow-breathing harmony. All the sensuality has been distilled off from this sensuous presence, and all incitement; Venus denotes not the act of love but the recollection of it. The perfect embodiment of Giorgione’s dream, she dreams his dream herself,” he narrates in his baritone voice, “A little cordial, is it not?”

You took your gun out from your thigh holster and lowered it right at the back of his skull. “Don’t move another inch.”

“No need to be so hostile in a public setting, Y/N. I’m only here to look out for you and making sure you’re not forgetting who you are. Killing me isn’t part of the plan.”

“Neither was murdering my husband,” you growled, pushing the barrel harder against him, though the man didn’t budge before you. “I know that it wasn’t Toji who set off the bomb, Kento, you did.”

“We simply saw an opportunity that couldn’t be wasted. Two notorious mafia leaders in an unsuspecting supposed safe environment?” The fact he didn’t even deny it left you speechless. Kento spun around until your gun rested between his eyes, and he languidly pushed his glasses up his high nose as he looked down on you. “We could’ve killed two birds with one stone had you not been in the way.”

“You guys are out to kill me too now?”

“Don’t act too surprised. The Organization isn’t patient enough to wait for both leaders to die.”

“So you killed my husband?!” you argued, “He was my friend, I told you not to touch him!”

“Only in the exchange that you hand him to us,” Kento echoed, jogging your memory until you were kept up to date. “But it’s been five years and what has happened so far? You’re fraternizing with the enemy and even manufacturing drugs for your so-called husband. Now that he’s dead, you’re here in Italy, looking as stunning as ever as you wine and dine with a former lover,” Kento tilted his head to the side to study your appearance – smiling at how you seemed too bright and fashionable for a woman in supposed mourning.

“I hardly believe you’re actually affected by this at all.”

“How dare you! I’ve proven to no end my loyalty of the higher-ups!”

Kento didn’t bat an eye at your outburst. If anything, he stepped closer to your weapon. “Kill me if you wish, Y/N, but know the moment you put a bullet in my head, the Organization will place you on the same pedestal as Naoya’s and Gojo’s. I wouldn’t recommend such methods considering we’re already at unease on whose side you’re really on. If you do this, you will be our enemy.”

“I did everything for the Organization. What else would you want from me?”

“The contract was easy. We want both leaders – whether dead or alive – in our custody. If you don’t hold your side of the deal, it’s not only your life that we’ll take from you,” Kento pulled out a red coin that made your heart sink deep into your stomach for it served as a threat over the consequences of your actions.

He lowered your gun with the coin and smirked at you, his lips right beside the shell of your ear as he purred, “I suggest you be careful with what step of action you take next.”

“Oi, Nanami, you’re here!” Satoru’s voice suddenly boomed in the hallway. Nanami was as unbothered as ever from taking a step away from you, nodding to your gun which you quickly concealed right before Satoru arrived. You were frozen – rendered immobile with the flashing red metal from his palm – that you couldn’t even protest against Satoru wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I see you’ve met Mrs. Zen’in already.”

“Hmm, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Madam,” taking your hand in his, Kento’s eyes were nothing but eerie as he kissed your knuckles. “Shall we start our discussion?”

SUKI RANTS! Nanami quoted Sydney Joseph Friedberg (an art critic) in one of his dialogues. A little backstory on the painting was that the portrait was originally made by Giorgone, who had a student and also his lover (if I’m not mistaken) called Titian. Giorgone never finished the portrait because he died from the plague but Titiane finished it for him, symbolizing that Y/N still has a mission that connected her from Naoya even after his death and she has to finish something he started. The portrait is of a nude woman that symbolized oneness of nature and that the woman isn’t posed for the gaze of men, but rather they are dreaming, hence the quote: “Venus denotes not the act of love but the recollection of it. The perfect embodiment of Giorgione’s dream, she dreams his dream herself.” Nanami said the painting’s meaning resonated with Y/N’s situation too much since she wasn’t in love with Naoya, but she had a recollection of their moments that still represented their relationship, and that Naoya’s dream (goals) are also shared by Reader. I was gonna ask you guys what your theories are on that scene but I think this makes me sound cooler if I explain it so *lip bite emoji because I’m still broken over Naoya’s death*

taglist open (lmk if you want to be added/removed):

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[macdenlover]

I have so many thoughts about the gang buys a roller rink im gonna dump them all here (i only watched it once so this is just my raw first impression)

First of all they’re all liars the whole gang were never that sweet and innocent a day in their lives. Mac and charlie used to throw rocks at cats when they were young, they spread those rumors about psycho pete in high school, they bullied ingrid nelson for being fat, they teabagged cricket in and made him eat literal shit, dee set her college roommate on fucking FIRE and thats all i can think of from the top of my head but im sure theres way more.. anyway that episode was 1000% just them remembering everything wrong.

They definitely convinced themselves that they were better people when they were younger and that they were never actually that mean to dee but obviously that’s not true. She had a back brace all throughout high school and you expect me to believe they were NICE to her??? Dee just decided to stop taking shit from them after they humiliated her for the last time before she left and they remembered that as her completely changing overnight for no reason. I think even though dee was always a bitch she wasn’t mean to them directly since they always left her out and she was constantly chasing for approval. They definitely never offered her a share of the bar and they probably didn’t even want her working there when she got back. i know my girl had to BEG for that job they are LIARS!!

Charlie and Dennis’s backstory seemed the most realistic imo. Charlie huffing spray cans at work and saving all that money even though he barely knows how to count… he is so autistic I love you so much little guy. and Dennis not knowing what his dad does for work but showing up in his little blazer to the roller rink and bragging about his little job to the rest of the gang anyway ..IMMACULATE I love it when they add to the lore of dennis having no idea that he’s a complete loser because he feels so cool compared to the gang.

also I know damn well Mac did Not look like that!! and he would have been absolute trash at selling drugs. His hair was messier, his beard definitely didn’t connect, none of his clothes fit him, and he was cutting the weed with oregano for sure. he had to sell it in secret because all the other dealers in the area wanted him dead. and he was bossy all the time i wish they made him more bossy WE WERE ROBBED. we were also horribly robbed of him refusing to go by ronnie anymore and making everyone call him mac instead. but i did like the part about him putting a gun handle from the trash in his pants to look badass okay that was funny THAT was mac.

overall the episode was good kinda? but i wish they told it more like the gang does a clip show where they all remembered different versions of events i think that would have been way funnier than me having to do all this mental gymnastics to make the episode fit in the timeline of the show but whatever..