#anyway can you tell i’m tired by these types of attitudes? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heyiwrotesomethings · 2 years ago

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She’s The Housekeeper Prt8: Penguin Park

Yor Briar/ Forger x She/ Her Reader

A/N: Prt7 Prt9 Here is the big chapter! I’m planning to do at least one more chapter to bring in Bond but after that I think I’ll be done with this story. I hope you all like this chapter! Thank you for reading! Word Count: 4,515

Another night filled with assignments.

Loid could hardly make it into the apartment building, he was that tired. For as much as HQ wanted him to continue this perfect family charade, they were not making it very easy for him to do so.

As he shuffled into the apartment complex, his ears perked up when he heard voices further down the hall. It was the neighbors again, and what they were saying stopped him cold in his tracks.

“That man from across the hall is working late again I see.” One snidely remarked, earning a round of acknowledging huffs from the other women.

“That poor little girl must feel so neglected. I rarely see the three of them together.”

“Yes, and don’t even get me started on the live-in housekeeper!”

All the women voiced exasperated sounds of agreement before diving in on the topic anyway. Loid stuck close to the wall and continued to listen in.

“So he’s definitely having an affair with her, right?”

Loid nearly choked.

“I wouldn’t be surprised. He seems the type. With how often he’s out god-knows-where, he’s probably got a handful of mistresses to hop between.

Hardly. Loid’s eye twitched and he rubbed at his face while still listening to the assassination of his character, and then (Y/n)’s as well.

“She is so antisocial!” One piped up, “She seems like a nice young woman on the surface, but whenever I offer to introduce her to the strapping young men in my family, she turns up her nose. Seems she only has an eye for married men who can fill her bank account.”

Loid covered his mouth in surprise. These women were ruthless in their gossip. If (Y/n) had heard any of this, he could only imagine how furious she would be, not to mention how Yor would feel as well. Even he was beyond offended on her behalf, but he couldn’t exactly cut in and tell them off, that would probably do more harm than good.

“Maybe he lost his job and he’s too embarrassed to go home?” Another speculated, “Can’t bear to face his heartbroken wife and money grubbing mistress without a paycheck.”

Loid’s hands fell to his sides in fists. He had been careless it seemed. He had been so busy with his other missions, that he had neglected his role here, and now rumors were flying like crazy. He’d have to do something about that, and soon. If it blew into some bigger conspiracy that got to the school, he hated to think how that would affect Anya.

Of course Anya knew that their family was… unconventional, she seemed to know that she probably shouldn’t call (Y/n) mama in public, even if she forgot at times. Loid could only imagine how the high society parents would object and cause a scene and how cruel their children could be as well once they heard... Loid couldn’t let Anya be exposed to such bigoted attitudes.

He slunk back from the hall and ran swiftly up the stairs to their apartment door, startling the trio coloring in the living room with his hasty entrance.

“We’re going out next weekend!” He declared, then directed his attention to Anya, “Where do you want to go?”

“Uh, Loid? You should sit down. You look ill.” (Y/n) suggested.

“Yes, you should get some rest.” Yor agreed.

“Ah, is that a penguin?” Loid asked, ignoring the two women to observe Anya’s drawing, “Let’s go to the aquarium then!”

(Y/n) and Yor shared a puzzled look, before Yor addressed Loid again.

“Not that I wouldn’t enjoy an outing, but what is this about?”

“We need to do everything we can to keep looking like a normal, happy family to keep up the appearances of our pretend marriage. An outing is just what we need.”

“Anya’s excited!”

“Then it’s settled.” Loid nodded with a smile.

The evening was mostly normal from there, until Anya was put to bed. Loid was honestly a bit fearful about explaining to Yor and (Y/n) what he had heard (minimal details of course), but even more so he was afraid of what he needed to ask of (Y/n) during that outing.

“Are you serious?” (Y/n) spoke tightly, her tone unusually high, “They really think you and I—?!”

“That is what I heard.” Loid affirmed, interlacing his fingers and rubbing his thumbs together.

“An affair! I can’t believe it!” She quietly screamed while Yor blinked owlishly at her side, still processing the accusation.

“They couldn’t be more wrong! …Well, actually, they are kind of right… but they’ve put together the wrong people!” (Y/n) ranted as she paced the room. She crossed her arms and turned on her heel to stalk towards Loid.

“So this is what the outing is for, right? For you three to go out and look like the perfect family to make them think we aren’t being… intimate?” (Y/n) shuddered at the word in that context.

“Yes, but… (Y/n), I was hoping you would come too.”

“That would look bad one hundred percent, Loid.” (Y/n) shook her head. “Or if you think you’ll ease suspicion by having me dressed up in that stupid uniform while I haul your souvenirs behind you all day, you can go—“

“No, no, of course that’s not what I’m suggesting, but what I am asking you to do won’t be easy nevertheless.”

“What is it?” Yor tentatively asked.

Loid sighed, and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Remember my friend, Franky?”

“Yeah, what about him?” (Y/n) asked warily.

“Could you please pretend to be on a date with him when we go to the aquarium?”

Yor’s mouth fell open in surprise, nearly breaking her neck with how fast she turned to look at (Y/n) and Loid braced himself for yelling, but (Y/n) was deathly quiet, expressionless. Somehow that was worse.

(Y/n) took in a few deep breaths through her nose, releasing one long, final breath before looking back to Loid with irritated and tired eyes.

“He knows it’s just pretend, right?”

“Of course.”

“And how long do we have to keep it up?”

“It will be most important to time an introduction with some of the neighbors in the hallway before we leave, after that, you two can treat it like any casual outing once we are there. We may have to plan similar outings in the future though…”

Yor’s head whipped back and forth like she was watching a tennis match. (Y/n) wasn’t really agreeing to having a fake boyfriend, was she? Rationally, Yor knew that if Loid was suggesting it, it was probably necessary, and it wasn’t like the relationship would be any more real than her fake marriage, but the idea of her partner going on a date with someone else made her feel the need to snap some bones to fight off the uncomfortable burning in her chest.

“I swear this just keeps getting more and more convoluted.” (Y/n) groaned, sitting down hard on the couch beside Yor who watched her intently, “I trust that you wouldn’t be bringing this up if you had any other options, so I’ll do it, but I swear Loid, if this lie keeps evolving like this I can’t imagine we will be able to keep up with it for very long.”

“I know.” Loid nodded solemnly.

“Um,” Yor cleared her throat, grasping at (Y/n)’s sleeve, “are you sure you want to do this, darling? I’m sure we could find another way.”

“As long as those old biddies see me as some untethered, marriage killing floozy, there really isn’t anything else we can do. As long as they think there is an affair going on, our family image will continue to appear tarnished.”

Yor frowned, sucking in her lower lip. (Y/n) stroked her hand comfortingly.

“It’ll be no different from the pretend marriage you and Loid have. You don’t have to look so concerned.” She promised, trying to ease Yor’s mind with a smile.

But it would be different. Yor didn’t think she could handle being in the position that (Y/n) had been in ever since this pretend marriage began. Watching on as her lover walked beside someone else, holding their hand... the burning in Yor’s chest grew hotter. (Y/n) was far stronger than her when it came to these things it would seem.

“If you’re certain.” Yor murmured.

(Y/n) squeezed Yor’s hand and brought her attention back to Loid.

“We’re going to need a story.”

“Right.”

***

“Loid, are you sick?”

“Maybe we should postpone?” Yor asked, ashamedly hopeful.

Loid shook his head as he fumbled with his sunglasses. He wasn’t sick, just severely sleep deprived from speeding through all of his missions that week to make this work. He couldn’t back out now. Especially not when Anya was so excited.

“I’m perfectly fine,” he said, staring down hard at his watch. He wiped his sleeve over the face to clean what he thought must have been a smudge, but it was still blurry. Nevermind, Franky would probably be up to meet them soon and he could already hear the neighbors gossiping in the hall so it was go time.

“Fall out, Forgers’,” he ordered, grasping the doorknob successfully on the second try and opening the door to let Anya run excitedly into the hall with Yor and (Y/n) following after her.

“Oh, Forgers’!” One of the neighbors blinked in surprise at seeing the family together, then her eyes found (Y/n) in her casual wear. She gave (Y/n) a tight smile, “And Ms. (L/n), of course.”

“Good morning,” (Y/n) waved, smile just as insincere.

“It’s rare to see you all together. What is the occasion?” One of the other neighbors asked.

“We’re going to the aquarium.” Loid shared.

“Oh, all of you?” The woman asked, side-eying (Y/n).

“Miss Anya insisted,” (Y/n) chuckled politely, “I couldn’t refuse, especially once my boyfriend caught wind of the idea. Ah, here he comes now.”

“Hello, my darling! Ah, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Everyone followed (Y/n)’s gaze to Franky as he strode up the hallway towards them with a big smile on his face.

“Oh stop it, you just saw me yesterday.” (Y/n) said with faux embarrassment.

It was true, they had seen each other yesterday, and just about every day that week to get their story straight for today. (Y/n) had dreaded it initially, but Franky was easy to get along with, a bit of a scamp, but a good guy.

“You know me,” Franky grinned cheekily, kissing the back of (Y/n)’s hand, “even a minute without you is a minute too long.” He winked.

(Y/n) smiled wryly in response before sharing her well-crafted and practiced introductions. Easily meeting every prying question with tactful responses, sometimes letting Franky take the reins as well to really send the message home that they were definitely a couple.

They had decided they had been together for a year and a half, a long distance relationship because of Franky’s job. Hence why he wasn’t around. Not to mention how unprofessional it would be for (Y/n) to have her boyfriend over while she worked. The neighbors ate up the simple reserved, responsible young woman act she peddled with a spoon. She could see their view of her slowly change before her eyes.

“Oh dear, why didn’t you say you were being courted by this sweet man before?”

Ah yes, (Y/n) didn’t forget about Mrs. Matchmaker, who apparently decided awhile ago that, ‘No thank you, I’m not looking for a relationship,’ translated to, ‘I’m having too much fun chasing after a married man to meet your stupid nephew.’.

“My (Y/n) can be so shy, it’s incredible,” Franky chuckled while (Y/n) hid half of her face behind her hand and adverted her eyes, “she gets so nervous around people sometimes that she probably didn’t even think to mention me. Don’t worry, dear. I’m not hurt.”

“Franky!” (Y/n) quietly admonished, turning away.

She heard the neighbor women chuckle knowingly and rolled her eyes hard at the wall. If being a corpse cleaner stopped paying, perhaps she could try her hand at acting.

“As entertaining as this is, we had better be on our way,” Loid said, sensing it was a good time to wrap up, “good seeing you.”

“Oh yes, have a good day then.”

“Say hello to the penguins for me, little Miss Anya.”

“Good talking with you all.”

“Oh we nailed that.” (Y/n) smiled smugly as soon as they all piled into the car. Loid and Franky in the front while she, Yor and Anya sat in the back.

“You almost even had me convinced.” Franky turned to face her with a grin. “You sure you don’t want to have a nice, romantic dinner with me?”

“Pfft, yeah I’m busy that day.”

“I didn’t even say when!”

“Mhm, as I said. Busy.” (Y/n) laughed, Franky pouted but joined in soon after.

Yor’s smile was stiff as she tried to busy herself by looking out the window. Try as she might to remind herself that their relationship was an act, it still worried her that (Y/n) and Franky seemed to get along despite the circumstances. The sooner they could go back to their normal routine, the better, but she would still try to enjoy the day and not think about feeding Franky to the crabs and other bottom feeders piece by piece for placing his lips even just against the skin of (Y/n)’s hand. She didn’t know how (Y/n) made it until Yuri crossed the line before breaking down.

Loid parked near the subway station and everyone piled out of the car. While they waited for the train to pull into the station, Loid took drink requests and Franky went with him to be an extra pair of hands.

Yor watched fondly as (Y/n) and Anya guessed what kind of animals they would see. Her momentary mental tranquility was quickly brought down as the men made their return.

“M’lady,” Franky bowed, presenting (Y/n) with her drink.

“Thank you, my good sir.” (Y/n) gave a mock curtesy in return.

When it came time to board the train, Yor couldn’t help but maneuver in such a way that guaranteed the spot in the booth beside (Y/n), leaving as little space between them as possible.

“How are you holding up?” (Y/n) whispered.

“Hm?” Yor feigned ignorance, but she wasn’t fooling her partner in the slightest.

“Hey,” (Y/n) whispered under her breath, though Loid, Franky and Anya were well engrossed in their penguin talk and no one else in the subway car seemed to be paying them any mind, “I love you, you know.”

“I know…” Yor worried the hem of her sleeve between her fingers.

“Try to enjoy the aquarium. Then we can cuddle up with some hot cocoa when we get home.”

Yor managed a small smile and nodded. She did like the sound of that. Loid did say the hard part was behind them since they put on their show for the neighbors. Now they could just relax and enjoy the day.

Unfortunately, none of them had foreseen running into more of their nosey neighbors at the aquarium.

“Oh Forgers and…?”

(Y/n) sighed inwardly and stepped up beside Franky to make introductions again. Once everyone was aquatinted, Loid clapped his hands together, ready to move on from the other group and get to his mission, but Yor spoke up instead.

“Why don’t you join us? The more the merrier, right?”

(Y/n) and Loid only just barely managed to hide their shock and disbelief while the neighbors eagerly agreed to the plan. This was the last thing Yor wanted to do, believe her, but if they needed more opportunities to present themselves like a real family to get these people off of their backs, then so be it. If they needed to appear normal, they needed to be more chummy with their neighbors in situations like this, even if that meant…

“Let’s go look at the penguins, my dear. I know how much you love them!” Franky beamed, interlocking his elbow with (Y/n)’s.

Yor’s smile twitched. Franky was much too eager to continue the charade for her liking.

“Yes, starting with the penguins sounds perfect. Is that alright with everyone?” Loid asked, receiving murmured approvals in reply.

Yor could at least take solace in how much Anya was enjoying herself. However, it didn’t take very long before Loid said he needed to get more drinks and left. Then Franky slapped his hands against the enclosure guardrail.

“I got it! (Y/n), come with me!”

“Huh? But—“

Franky pulled (Y/n) away and the neighbors chuckled at their antics while Yor bared down harder on the guard rail to try to keep her sudden bloodlust at bay. Where was Franky taking her (Y/n)? Why was Loid so thirsty today? And where was Anya going—

And where was Anya going?

“Miss Anya, wait!”

But she had already disappeared into the crowd. Yor turned her head every which way, looking for any of the other adults

who were supposed to be responsible for this child along with her, but saw none of them. It looked like she was on her own.

“Excuse me,” she chuckled awkwardly, leaving the neighbors behind. Hopefully this wouldn’t reflect too badly on them.

Meanwhile, (Y/n) watched on as Franky tried name after name to win a giant penguin plush. After the next failed attempt left the man with his head in his hands (Y/n) chimed in,

“Why are you doing this anyway?”

“Why am I doing this? (Y/n), don’t you know how dates are supposed to go? If I win this thing and give it to you, that’s like, a bazillion happily dating couple points!”

“I don’t think we need to worry about it that much. We’ve already done a pretty convincing job. Just breaking off from the group like this is probably filling their heads with all kinds of ideas.” (Y/n) tried not to think too hard on that.

Also, (Y/n) actually wanted to enjoy all of what the aquarium had to offer. Anya looked so cute running around to visit all of the exhibits. She wanted to be a part of that, not be stuck at this booth all day.

Another wrong guess, she sighed inwardly and gave Franky a sympathetic shrug which was met with gearing up for another guessing attempt. She hoped Yor was enjoying herself at least. Hopefully Loid didn’t take to long getting back so he could distract her from her absence.

Yor was not enjoying herself, but she wasn’t worried about (Y/n) at that moment either.

“Miss Anya? Where did you go, Miss Anya?” Yor called out in between asking passers by if they had seen a little pink-haired girl.

Oh dear, where did she go? When was Loid going to come back? Why did Franky have to steal (Y/n) away? She needed help!

“Mama!”

Yor perked up and turned around. Immediate relief washed over her as Anya come into view in another hallway. That relief was quickly replaced with concern once she saw she was on the coattails of a stranger. Anya hastily yelled,

“Mama, I’m being kidnapped!”

Yor’s expression became steely as she began her pursuit. She caught up quickly and spun Anya into her protective embrace with dizzying speed. Glaring hard at the man, her foot found home under his jaw.

“What are you are doing to my daughter?!” She yelled, the force she exerted rocketed him through a ceiling tile, lodging his head within, his legs still dangling in plain view.

“Wow.” Anya blinked, watching the man’s legs sway.

��Oh no, I definitely over did it! I hope he’s not dead!’ Yor whined to herself.

She would need to find (Y/n) to help her take care of the corpse if that was the case. At least then they could be alone together.

“Are you alright, Miss Anya?”

“Mhm, thank you mama.” This would definitely help Anya’s papa with his mission.

“Ahhh, you had me so worried,” Yor sighed, resting her head atop Anya’s while she held her in her arms, “Let’s get back to the group now.”

“Okay mama.”

Yor was disappointed to see that (Y/n) had yet to return and surprisingly, neither had Loid. She put on the most convincing smile she could and apologized to the neighbors for the Forgers’ sudden scattering.

“Oh don’t worry about it dear.” One of the older women assured.

“It can’t be easy raising a little one. Especially when your husband hasn’t come back at all yet… he must be cheating on you. Who takes this long to get a drink?”

“How awful.” The other agreed.

“Um,” Yor felt strangely guilty that Loid was the one under all of this scrutiny when she was the one technically having an affair, “That’s not…“

“Yor, sorry I took so long.”

Everyone turned to see Loid walking up with a giant stuffed penguin in his arms, and a bitter looking Franky and a bored (Y/n) flanking him as they walked up.

“Taadaaa.” Loid smiled, presenting the plush to Anya.

“Penguin!” Anya joyously cheered, hugging the penguin that was twice her size.

“Wow, so cute! Where did you get that?” Yor asked.

“It was a prize from a penguin guessing game. Once I saw it, I knew I had to win it for Anya. I played over and over until I got it right. I lost track of the time though, sorry I was gone so long,” he added sheepishly.

Everyone else ate that up, except for Anya of course and then Franky further distracted from the group’s previous topic by adding his grievances.

“I can’t believe while I was working so hard to win that penguin for my lady, you were standing somewhere amongst the crowd, waiting to take away all my glory!”

“Miss Anya will take better care of that penguin than I ever could.” (Y/n) assured. She only wished Loid could have guessed correctly faster to save her from standing in place. She watched the nearby tropical fish exhibit for so long, she could probably draw out a prefect replica.

“Wow, you’re a better father than I thought.” One of the women blinked, mildly impressed.

“Oh, thank you.” Loid smiled.

‘I wouldn’t thank someone for a “complement” like that.’ (Y/n) thought to herself as she bit her tongue in an effort to keep any snark she held to herself. She turned to watch Yor and Anya play with the stuffed penguin and felt more at peace.

“I’m just a simple father trying to keep my footing as I protect my happy little family.” Loid spoke tenderly, working his magic on the middle-aged women.

Looks like today had worked out after all.

“Let’s go see the dolphin show!” Anya was already lugging the penguin towards the exhibit.

“Good idea!” (Y/n) agreed, happy to finally see more of what the aquarium had to offer.

“Come on, Forger! Speed it up!” Franky teased, fully aware of the antics Loid had been up to all day.

“Can we slow down a bit maybe?” Loid asked. The poor man was crashing faster than an airplane out of fuel.

Still, he wouldn’t trade this moment of peace for anything in the world. He’d enjoy every second of it.

***

Anya was enjoying her morning after her busy day at the aquarium yesterday, by showing her penguin around their ‘hideout’.

“This is agent papa, he can do anything.” She explained to the penguin as she moved around the living room.

“And this is agent mama, she’s super strong, but bad at everything else.”

“Am I that much of a failure?” Yor bemoaned.

“Of course not darling, you are good at plenty of things.” (Y/n) assured as she prepared breakfast in the kitchen.

“And that is agent mama, not to be confused with other agent mama, she keeps the hideout squeaky clean and makes the yummiest food. The three of them together are Anya’s most trusted lackeys.” Anya nodded to herself, a pleased smile upon her lips. Then she continued on her path, dragging the penguin behind her.

She was running out of places to visit. She knew she shouldn’t be in their rooms without permission… but it was much too tempting for the little girl.

“The most top-secret rooms of the hideout. Papa and the mamas’ rooms.”

What wonders could she stumble upon in her spy father’s room or her assassin mother’s room? Special knives? Bombs? Acid? Her fingers barely touched the door knob before she was quickly pulled away, feet dangling off of the ground.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” Loid yelled, more so out of worry for Anya’s well-being than anger. He had a lot of dangerous things in his room after all.

“How many times do I have to tell you to not go in my room without permission?”

The combination of the surprise of being grabbed and the tone of Loid’s voice caused Anya to burst into tears.

“I— Anya, don’t cry. There’s dangerous things like scissors and heaters in there and I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Loid spoke more softly.

“Yes, you shouldn’t go into mine and (Y/n)’s room either.” Yor added gently. Too many needles and poisons, acids and cleaners. They could probably blow up the whole apartment building if they weren’t stored properly.

“Papa and mama, I hate you both!” Anya wailed, running to the kitchen and hoping for a bit of sympathy from (Y/n). Unfortunately, (Y/n) was in the middle of carrying a scalding hot pan to the plates as Anya ran into her thighs at full speed.

Thankfully, (Y/n)’s grip and balance stayed firm, but the scare of almost dumping hot food and oil over the little girl lead (Y/n) to shout,

“Miss Anya! No running in the kitchen, I could have seriously hurt you!” She scolded.

“Anya hates mama too!” Anya bawled, “Anya’s going to run away from home!”

The three adults jolted as if they had been struck by lightning, each feeling more awful the longer Anya cried. (Y/n) tried to console, but Anya kept crying until Loid picked up the Penguin and hid his flushed face in its soft back.

“A-agent Anya, there’s no time for crying. World peace is on the line!” Loid said, speaking in a higher tone that would have had (Y/n) struggling not to laugh if Anya hadn’t just said she hated her twenty seconds ago.

(Y/n) saw Yor grab a robot and followed suit by grabbing Anya’s pink chimera plush.

“L-let’s wrap up the hideout tour and go on our next mission.”

“Yes, let’s go beat the bad guys!” Robot Yor agreed.

“We’ll teach them not to mess with us!” Chimera (Y/n) chimed in.

Anya sniffled, but that seemed to have appeased her. She wiped her nose and commanded the three of them to follow her lead to the candy store.

It was a rather embarrassing outing for Loid, Yor and (Y/n), but to see Anya smile and laugh so happily, it made having to go out in public with toys over their faces and silly voices leading to giggling strangers worth it.

#spy family x reader #spy x family x reader #yor briar x reader #yor forger x reader #yor x reader #yor briar #yor forger

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littledragondork · 1 year ago

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I want to infodumb about my OC Brigitte so that is exactly what I’m going to do :3

For starters, she goes by she/her pronouns but honestly wouldn’t give a shit if you referred by something else and she’s AroAce.

Technically, her full name is Brigitte Night-Torn Septim but she finds it to be way too much of a mouthful so she just goes by Brigitte Night-Torn

She was born 30th of Rain’s Hand and as such was born under The Mage Sign

She has joint problems and thus walks with a cane.

Despite the fact her dad is a 6’8” behemoth of a Nord man she is actually very short for a Nord/Imperial only standing at 5’1” and some change. Nobody knows why she’s so short but she jokes that her brother took all her height just as she took all his muscle (he’s 6’5” and has a very lithe build).

As stated: short but very burly, pretty muscular compared to the average not working person.

She has sectorial heterchromia, so left eye is blue but the right eye has a large brown section to it. (If her eye was a pie chart, about 65% would be brown)

Both she and her twin brother, Micah, are Dragonborn but only she really is the true Last Dragonborn prophesied because she was the one to land the killing blow on Alduin, was born first and dies last.

She is both Autistic and has ADHD, will infodump about Daedra and/or Dragons for hours.

Has a lot of social anxiety and often will go hours without talking.

Has a knack for magic and often uses it to assist on her heists or just to be an asshole.

Joined the Thieves Guild after a footpad from the guild tried to rob her and she beat him with her cane, took his valuables and hid using an invisibly spell and she knack for stealth, the rest of the guild was so dumbfounded that they just had to meet and later recruit her.

She is in a Queer Platonic relationship with Brynjolf

Absolutely cringefail, has accidentally made it a habit to fall into the Thieves Guild Cistern at least twice a month.

Girl can and would sleep though the end of the world, she’s a tired bitch (affectionate).

Has a major sweet tooth and her favorite food is chocolate cake and a hot cup of tea to go with it.

Pretty mellow with most things, when it comes to running the Thieves Guild, her go-with-the-flow attitude was a major adjustment and caused a few members of the guild a lot of confusion and/or stress for a short period of time.

Due to her dad being Daedric in origin (HOK!Sheo) she inherited what is essentially a “Daedra radar” so she can very quickly tell if an item, place or person has a Daedra linked to if in anyway or is of Daedric origin, and has a slightly extended lifespan (naturally her brother has the same abilities).

She is very mischievous and will pull (mostly) harmless pranks on people she knows will be okay with it. Her personal favorite is to slightly move furniture around and watch people bump into them and get more and more frustrated.

Has a habit of gently biting people she cares about, namely her brother and her Dads.

Her hobbies include: cooking, sewing, making weapons, making jewelry, and reading.

Character creation fact: I wanted her to have short fluffy hair early on because 1. I thought it would be cute and 2. The way I was writing her she sounded like the type who’d just cut most her hair off and call it a day rather than try to take care of a ton of it. I also initially made her dad be the one who has Heterchromia but changed it to her because I simply thought I’d look better on her

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blankspacebye · 6 months ago

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if the sun refused to shine, baby, would i still be your lover?

I’ve been loved for false versions of myself.

And in return, I’ve been despised for the things I told people through honesty. But it’s far, far more fulfilling, because it’s tiring, it’s tiring to act like a robot or the friendly-face template that smiles at every single person when it’s not exactly me nor my personality. For the sake of being nice disguised as a good attitude. Most of the time, people say that I’m more of the quiet type, not wanting to meddle in people’s business, so I don’t know who I am anymore. For attitude purposes, yes, it’s important to keep up a good face. But beyond that, it’s.. a little complex. These walls I keep from most people. These barriers I don’t let most people cross. Or, rather, not only me, but most people. We all have barriers. And breaking points.

But in all things, we’re only humans.

“You must love yourself before loving others,” is a phrase too much, too often. Do you want to be yourself or do you want to be loved?

And if anything, I didn’t quite know myself, just to “fit in” to what everyone wanted from me. And there’s this fear of being seen and loved. To put up a certain currency to be bought; if anyone were to be attracted to you or not. If anyone wanted to talk to you or not even at all.

So will you stay with me, even through the harshest winters and seasons? Even when I can’t grasp my crops anymore and the garden’s gates are closed? Would you love me by then, if the sun refused to shine when I revealed the worst, most childish parts of myself that didn’t deserve any excuse?

Will we talk about tomorrow if I can stop your heart from breaking tonight? What if I become the one to hurt you, and break your heart by then? What if you were the victim to this story I keep telling myself, and I’m the one that doesn’t make anything work out?

And this feeling.. is actually an unfamiliar ceiling. A house that I didn’t know and was too scared to enter. Myself. Even if how you’ll fail and you just know that you’ll fail yet you still put your heart on your sleeve anyway. That we acknowledge that feelings take work but barely do we have the courage to do it.

It’s a constant choice. It’s a choice, every single time.

Humans are born to hurt; and here’s the thing, I’m a pretty indifferent person. I don’t care if anyone were to leave me behind — yes, it hurts, but nothing is temporary. People can love us but not like us, to the point that maybe giving your heart out to the world may feel empty. Indifferent. Nothing. Scared.

I have this complex relationship with everyone because making friends is really overwhelming for me; I’m not used to many people, and having lived as a total introvert (more like, I don’t prefer to be around people), it’s hard keeping up with different connections the more we grow up. Which mask to be used, and if I can be loved in silence. Love is a burden to some and a strength to others.

And things don’t always just.. happen. But they do happen. Things begin and end, we will say ‘hi’ and ‘goodbye’, but there comes the question about what about us? It’s always about the other people, but what about us? It’s not about “Do they like me” but “Do I like them?”

Start saying no. Start saying, “yes I’m just not in the mood to communicate right now, can we try next time?”. Basic communication also requires honesty, not some energy-currency we have to constantly give to everyone. (People pleasing energy much?)

Yes, they love you. But do you love them? It’s.. already a different context and it requires digging into more questions.

But we can’t live in the hurt forever. We can.. work through the fear. Yes, it will be disappointing. Yes, it will feel as if you were doing nothing. Feeling nothing and unworthy. Yes, it will be confusing, and you will question whether you were worthy of this love or not.

We aren’t predictable, we aren’t mind readers, no one is.

What if ‘like’ and ‘love’ were merely reactions, like the ones we give out to people on social media? If something is funny, if something is relatable or worth liking and loving, to the point everything is overwhelming yet we keep scrolling and looking out for things to like and love, consuming things for our good, when we know it’s already a little too much and past the healthy sleep hours?

As the sun rises it doesn’t choose who to shine on, and everyone is bathed under the same, warm light.

But most likely, the more we let ourselves be seen, it’s just that.. feeling of acceptance and wanting to be better for ourselves, not to be loved.

The level of acceptance of, the you that no one else can see anymore. Like peeling an onion, deeper and deeper into its layers, some things you fear seeing in yourself. Because I did, and I found the worst parts of me and things I can’t even admit out loud. Secrets I can’t bear but can’t tell anyone. Layers of hurtful memories, triggers, and other evil things we might think upon others; because if we’re capable of love, we’re also capable of hurt.

We aren’t kindhearted people. That’s a first. No matter how much we deem ourselves as kindhearted; there’s always this, something, sickening, disheartening fact that you might want to hurt others for the sake of yourself. You might disappoint some loved ones for which means of prioritizing yourself. Another fact; we aren’t responsible for anyone’s feelings and it’s not selfish to prioritize ourselves. Everyone has egos, everyone has private lives, and we aren’t children anymore.

It’s alright to be loved and welcome light into your world. It’s okay to feel okay and healed. Everything won’t be alright, but that’s exactly why it’s alright. Some people wants to love, and others are too hurt to be capable of it. We shouldn’t shape ourselves to specific puzzle pieces just to fit the mold. Don’t be the sun either, because we aren’t divine beings that will save everyone from feeling unloved. Even yourself.

I think love isn’t grand gestures or expensive solo dates you take yourself to. I think it’s just deciding to get out of bed, if you can’t be nice to people then don’t — just, don’t hurt anyone on purpose. Be nice to yourself, drink a glass of water, eat snacks, pray, or so. Not all wounds will heal with time, but.. if you love yourself enough, yes, you will choose to heal and choose love all the time.

And maybe, if we tried a little harder, we’d love ourselves even if the sun refused to shine.

And maybe, one day, there will be a single hand we’d love to be held. We’re all broken people, messy — even. Love seems like a concept too good to be true.

But at least, it’s a concept I’d like to know every single day. Getting to know different kinds of love, different versions of love, different faces of love and healing, that I’ll slowly take for myself. First and utmost. So that love doesn’t feel like walking on eggshells but instead, a comfortable lullaby that sings you to sleep in the dark, every single time.

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one-abuse-survivor · 9 months ago

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Hi ! i'm the anon with the abusive triangle fecta made of my mom, my father and my step-father and who should probably get a nickname because that's a looooooong thing to type. let's go with ballerina anon, but i can change it if you've already got a ballerina here ;). this isn't even really about my family life but more of a rant on how mistreatment is so normalized at my job idk??

__________________________

i work with 6-8yo children in summer camps and i'm also a "teacher" to form people who will work at summer camp with children. As such, i have learned the main 7 ways to mistreat children outside of the big three types of abuse (making the child follow a rhythm that's not adapted to them, or making them do activities they don't want to for example). I love what i do so much but it is so terrible to see that most animators (that's what we call my job here and i don't know the word in english) willingly mistreat the children or abuse them. I can't even report them to our superior because when i do, i get told i'm too sensitive or looking too much into things. i try to do what i can to make it better for the children, but there’s only so much i can do and my positive comments and attitude don't hold that much weight in front of the other animator constantly degrading them… My directors told me i was obviously a reference and trusted adult figure for the kids but that i should let the others have a bigger chance at connecting with the children, but what can i do ? of course children would rather give me their drawings rather than to the boy they know will make fun of it.

It's true I'm hyper protective of my kids and it probably has to do with my own history of abuse but I can't stand seeing an 18yo picking on a 6yo because she felt tired and chose to lay down calmly on the padded carpet instead of playing ball. It goes against everything I stand for. I hate that I sometimes have to choose between mistreating one child or another because my colleagues can’t be bothered to do their jobs. I shouldn’t be told i’m too sensitive because i want those kids to be treated like actual people. i shouldn’t be told i’m overreacting when i cry because this boy a whole lot bigger than me comes into my room and yells at me because i refused to let a 6yo roam around unsupervised.

i love my job, there’s no question about that. i love taking care of my kids and there’s nothing that makes me feel more useful and gratified than a 6yo looking me in the eyes on the last day going, “you know, i’m not going tonight. I’m not leaving you. Even in 200 years i’m not leaving you” or a 7yo giving me a letter so that i would not forget about her and to tell me that she loved me a lot lot lot and i’m the best teacher she’s ever had anyway. i wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world but at the same time, i’m so tired of seeing how they are treated by some other animators. At this point, i don’t even care if that’s caused by my own trauma because the kids i work with usually don’t come from a very comfortable family background and they deserve someone to actually care for them. I’m so grateful that i can help make their holidays just a little bit brighter and distract them from their problems but i wish i could do so much more.

Hey! I haven't got a ballerina anon, I'll add the tag :) I'll try to find your other post, but if you happen to have a link you could send me I'd appreciate it!

Gosh, this hits so close to home. I feel you so, so much, nonnie. Feeling helpless in the face of another adult mistreating a kid is a horrible, horrible feeling, especially when you've already done everything you can to stop it from happening and the mistreatment is not "bad"/overt enough that you can get authorities involved. It's just bad enough to make kids feel awful and scared while adults dismiss it and sometimes actively encourage it.

I know you wish you could do more, nonnie, but please never forget all that you've already done for these kids. Do you remember what it felt like to have a teacher or trusted adult who treated you with kindness and appreciation when you were a little kid going through trauma? Because I do, and it sticks with you. Years and years into the future. Even into adulthood. I still remember some of the adults that were around me when I was 6-10 and who always showed me kindness and patience. I've held on to the memory of them because they've always been living proof that those kinds of people exist and I can find them again, and be one of them myself.

You can't change a system from the inside. You can't control other people's actions. But everything you can do, you're already doing, and so much more than that. Remember to be proud of yourself for that, because you deserve to be. And who knows, maybe one of the kids who have been in your care will grow up someday and know that they want to be like you.

I hope you can find ways to take care of yourself when you're feeling burnt out from dealing with all of this.

Sending a virtual hug ❤️

#Ask #Ballerina anon #Trauma mention #Abuse tw #Child abuse tw

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yikimiki · 3 years ago

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thinking so fucking hard about loser/stoner eren and popular/mean girl reader............ how she'll tease him and bully him at school but when they're fucking its always the opposite way around........ he has such a grip on her and shes so whipped for him that the pent up teasing just comes out during sex and he is just being so mean to her

This is a different au from the other loser eren asks — aiming more towards stoner!eren x popular!reader!! Also this got really long?? It’s a mix of headcanons and drabbles so hold on

warnings: smut, dirty talk, mean dom eren, rough sex, crying, creampie, multiple rounds, spanking, hair pulling, mentions of drugs (weed), degradation, use of “bitch”, “slut”, “whore”, “cocksleeve”, no prep, ass play, size kink, dumbification, mentions of spitting, dubcon (just to be sure)

No but imagine... Eren is this outcast, unbothered type of guy that doesn’t give a fuck about the social hierarchy of college or whatever. For some sick and twisted reason, you are particularly interested in him — there’s something about his baggy clothes, long hair under his cap/beanie and his “fuck everything” attitude that gets you going. But you can’t really show that you’re attracted to a complete loser like him, it would ruin your reputation, so you have to pretend as if you love teasing him, mocking him. Which, like, it’s totally funny.

It works for some time, until you are alone in a room with him. It happens in some weird college party that you almost didn’t go to, when you decide to take a break from dealing with your drunk friends and find shelter in a bedroom somewhere. It takes you some time to find one that it’s not locked or... being used, but eventually you open the door to find Eren, just scrolling through his phone with a blunt hanging from his lips. This time, considering it’s just you and him, you skip the provocations and ask him what he’s doing alone in there, you sit next to him in bed and listen as he complains about some friend that dragged him to that obnoxious party.

“I was just passing some time before I found an excuse to leave,” he says, locking his phone and putting it on the nightstand. The smell of weed is filling the stuffed air, and Eren takes another hit before putting his blunt out. “And what are you doing here? Got tired of ruining everyone’s night and decided to ruin mine?”

“It’s always more fun with you.” You smile, one hand landing on his shoulder. Eren tenses under your touch, bright green eyes trying to see if you’re just making fun of him again. Still, there’s something else burning at the bottom of your irises that he has never seen before, something that makes his stomach clench in anticipation. “Besides… now I have you all to myself.”

“What are you getting at?” He asks, but his voice sounds lower, eyebrows furrowed in doubt. You two are close, so much closer than ever before, and he can feel your gentle breathing on his lips when you lean closer. His heart picks up, and his hands are fighting to touch your body. “If this is some sort of prank, I swear—“

“It’s not a prank,” you whisper, looking down at his lips. Eren swallows dry — it’s funny: even after months of teasing, this is the clearer reaction you’ve ever received from him. “Can I kiss you?”

Eren has never heard you ask for anything — especially from him. It takes him some time to warm up to the idea (and to make sure you’re not just fucking with him again), his cock stirring awake in his baggy pants, before he gives you a curt nod. You smile, leaning in and joining your lips in a heated kiss.

And you swear you have the upper hand for some time. You sit on his lap, run your fingers through his hair and watch as he becomes pudding under your touches — just groaning and sighing against your lips as his rough hands squeeze your ass, making you grind your pussy down against his hard cock until you’re soaking through the fabric. But then something in the air suddenly switches and Eren is turning you around, trapping you beneath his large body as his lips eagerly move down to your neck, hands practically tearing your top open so he can suck on your tits.

You whimper and ask him to slow down, but he’s not really listening at this point — if you’re giving yourself to him, he’s going to make good use of his time. Especially when he thinks you should learn one thing or two about how to properly behave, about not always getting what you want, but what you deserve after teasing him for so long. All those months of pent-up frustration are getting to his head, turning into a power trip as he notices that he’s so much stronger than you, that he can do whatever he wants and you’ll just have to take it. And he’s gonna make sure you’ll take it all.

In no time, you’re completely naked, clothes mindlessly thrown around the room and Eren is looking at your body like he can eat you whole. He asks you to “Turn around,” as he takes off his own clothes, and your surprised at the eagerness in which you follow his command. You don’t know what’s going on with you — all those bitter comments you’d throw at him are now long gone, barely a ghost at the back of your mind when you feel him shuffle closer to you. Eren pulls your hips upwards, presses your face down against the mattress and spanks your ass so hard you swear you see stars.

“Eren!” You cry out, both from pleasure and surprise. “What are you—“

“Shut up.” His hands come down against your ass once more, making you whine. “You never fucking stop talking, such an annoying bitch.” Your skin burns as he lays down more hits against your ass cheeks, your hands helplessly holding onto the bedsheets. “This is what you wanted, uh? Wanted me to snap, to treat you like the needy whore you are.”

“Y-Yes,” you stutter. Your pussy is so aroused that you just feel yourself dripping down your thighs, the coldness of the air making you shiver. You never needed someone as much as you needed him. “Eren, fuck me,” you sob.

His large figure leans over you, one hand yanking your hair back as his face stops next to yours. You can feel his cock — huge, throbbing, heavy — in between your sensitive ass cheeks, and the notion that he’s about to stretch you out so wide makes you whine. “Didn’t fucking listen, why don’t you get some fucking manners and try again?”

“Please, Eren, f-fuck me,” you utter, arching your back against his cock. You never noticed how big and strong he is, but now that he’s towering over you, you have no choice but to feel yourself shrinking beneath him. “Please, please.”

He scoffs. “Needy bitch,” but he releases your hair and pushes your face down against the mattress, using his free hand to align himself with your dripping cunt. “Not so fucking chatty now, are you?” You barely have time to answer before he’s pressing his cockhead against your pussy, your hole fluttering around his length as he continues to push in. Eren is huge, definitely the biggest you’ve ever had, and the lack of prep only makes you feel the stretch even more. “Shit, look at this tight fucking cunt,” he breathes out. His hands are squeezing your ass so hard you just know it’ll be sore in the morning, but you don’t care. “Can’t believe you kept this from me for so fucking long.”

You have half the thought of apologizing, but you can’t do it when he bottoms out. By the time that his cock is fully inside you, you can barely utter out an incomprehensible string of “S-So huge, E-Eren— too much— fuck, so big, I can’t take it, I can’t...” before he’s moving his cock in and out of you.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” He asks, spanking your ass once again. The noise is so much louder this time, your moan following it shortly. “Fucking annoyed me for months just because you wanted to milk my cock like a desperate little whore,” he seethes, grabbing your ass forcefully as he drills into your soaking cunt. Eren is going hard and fast, so much so that you feel as if your brain is rattling inside your head, tits bouncing against the mattress as he continues his unforgiving pace. “Always knew you were a slut, I just didn’t know you’d be so fucking— shit — so fucking insufferable.”

“I’m s-sorry,” you whine, tears streaming down your face because of how good it all feels.

He scoffs. “Not yet. But you’ll be sorry.”

And boy how sorry you are. You had no idea that Eren would have that ridiculous amount of stamina, but you don’t even know how many times you’ve cum by the end of the night. Eren fucks you full of his cum again and again, spanking you and pulling your hair every time you misbehave and can’t keep it in like he tells you to — because “you’re such a dumb bitch, can’t even listen when you’re full of cock”.

He makes you cum on his fingers, on his cock, on his tongue, even makes you desperately grind against his thigh to get yourself off just because he likes how dumb you look. He fills every whole he can — spits in your mouth, fucks your throat, fingers your ass as he’s fucking you from the back and promises that next time it’ll be his cock. He’s just so mean, so revengeful of every time you annoyed him that he can’t be nice even if he tried. It’s just too good to have almighty little you turned into a stupid slut for his cock, crying and begging for him to fill you up one more time.

“Listen to me,” he hisses, making you turn your head to look at him. Your eyes are glazed over, barely able to find his with your orgasm building up again. “This is all you’re fucking good for,” he says, and his cock throbs inside you. Eren’s cum is seeping down your thighs, coating his length and making his slide easier as he continues to pound inside your abused cunt. “You’re made to be a cocksleeve, this pussy is made to take my cock. Do you understand?” You agree with a whiny yes. “Gonna stop fucking annoying me now? You can just ask and I’ll fuck you whenever you want, okay?” You nod, only half there, and for the first time that night he calls you “Good girl,” before stuffing you full of his cum again.”

Anyways???? Idk what came over me but yeah. Popular girl reader that is a complete slut for loser eren when theyre fucking. I rest my case.

#eren smut #eren jaeger x you #eren yaeger headcanons #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut #eren x reader #eren x you #eren headcanons #aot smut #snk amut #attack on titan smut

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hanmine · 3 years ago

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[ 𝟏𝟎:𝟎𝟗 𝐀𝐌 ] — 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐉𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍 (𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍)

“you really ain’t speaking to me, huh?” draken stares at you, eyebrow raised as you make breakfast. maybe, under any other circumstances, you’d have smacked him with the hot frying pan in front of you—but out of the goodness of your heart, you spare him from sporting a nasty scar to your cousin’s wedding next weekend.

it’s the type of sacrifice lovers make, and you and draken are lovers—even if you really don’t think he deserves it right about now.

“this some bullshit,” he grumbles. “you really going the full mile with this? silence and all? i can hit you with silence too, i got no issues—” he’s cut off by the cupboard slamming loudly as you grab plates, and he purses his lip.

how disrespectful, he thinks, mood turned sour from your attitude.

and suddenly, your wrist is grabbed, pausing you effectively from plating the eggs onto the plates. you glare at draken, and he glares at you—because what are lovers if not cut from the same stone? and you and draken are certainly lovers.

“you gonna keep sulking, or you wanna talk this through?” he furrows his brows, tired of your attitude, and tired of the silence. draken misses your voice, and he wants to hear it, even if it’s you screaming at him about his flaws—because love prevails, and a few moments of enduring your tantrums are worth the finer things in life with you.

so he tells himself, at least.

“you don’t deserve to talk things out with me,” you growl, and he keeps a steady gaze as he grabs the pan from you, plating the food you’ve made for the both of you while maintaining eye contact throughout.

“i don’t deserve you in general,” he answers smoothly. “never stopped you from being here, did it?”

“ken. you can’t speak to my family that way,” you say seriously, and he pauses, releasing a shaky breath before setting the pan down and turning to you. you stop yourself from staring at his biceps as he crosses his arms—days in the shop have done him will, he’s broader now, more sculpted, a man now. but, deep down, he’s still the same old ken, the same old boy you fell in love with years ago.

“they spoke to you that way, that’s fine then? you gonna let them walk all over you like—”

“we were in the midst of wedding prep—”

“they got no right—”

“ken! who cares what they think? who cares? it’s just you and me, isn’t it? you always say that, always say nobody matters in this relationship but us, why’s a little jab my aunt make turn you into a pissy teenage girl on her period? we’re the running gossip right now,” you glare, and his kisses his teeth in irritation, veins in his arms bulging as he tenses.

draken’s long realized he’ll never be the favorite son in law, or nephew in law, or cousin in law, or any in law, really. and he’s okay with it, really he is.

but sometimes things settle deep under your skin, and it’s an itch you just can’t get to, no matter how hard you scratch. there comes a time when bygones can’t just be bygones any longer.

“well, i said i was sorry,” he says, voice oddly monotone. “drop it,” he says simply. taking his plate, he leaves you standing in the kitchen to watch his figure retreat, and a small, lingering feeling in your gut eats away at you as he sits down in his spot at the table.

your heart yearns to smooth the wrinkles creased between his brows when he sits and waits for you to join him. even under the tensest of circumstances, draken refuses to eat without you—you feel your emotions cave, and you fall under the weight of your heart pushing you to him.

“ken,” you say softly. he doesn’t respond. “kenny,” you murmur, pressing your palm to his cheek, turning him to face you. “baby, i’m sorry,” you whisper, leaning your forehead to his. “i’m sorry i dragged this out for so long. i was upset, i just can’t stand when they talk about you like they know you. they don’t. that stunt gave them more leverage,” you mumble.

“well they were gonna speak anyway on me,” he mutters. “always do. what’s a little extra fire to the flame?” he shrugs.

and for a moment, it dawns on you how selfish you’ve been. thinking about your family, and your feelings, and your image, and yourself. you haven’t thought about draken, about his feelings, and guilt eats at you with sharp fangs, sinking into your skin and leaving deep gashes.

“what’s on your mind?” you murmur, cupping his cheeks. “what’s going in on that head of yours, baby? i can’t know if you don’t tell me,” you press softly, and there’s almost a wetness to your boyfriend’s eyes. he looks so uncharacteristically small, so uncharacteristically defeated.

“‘s a wedding,” he mumbles. “everyone’s so excited for the wedding,” he says hollowly. “wonder if we’ll get the same for ours.” and before the lone tear can slip, you catch it, swiping it away with your thumb from his lash line, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“we got plenty of people excited for us,” you whisper.

“i don’t got a family to be happy for us, and yours isn’t exactly starting a fan club for me—”

“we got plenty of family, you and me,” you say thoughtfully, carding your fingers through his hair. “they don’t have to be family to be like family.” your index glides over his tattoo, and you remember a time draken had almost grown out his hair to cover it, just to win the hearts of your relatives over.

you’d argued a piece of yourself would get lost with it, and hesitantly, he’d put the idea off. and maybe, slowly but surely, if he’d covered those parts of himself, he could’ve stolen their hearts with a little elbow grease and a whole lot of sweet talk.

but those parts of him stole your heart, and maybe it makes you a little selfish once more to put your heart first over your family’s, but what’s a little love without some selfishness?

“your aunts clutch their purses when they see me,” he rolls his eyes.

“they used to,” you correct. “c’mon, it was a little funny,” you giggle at the memory, and he glares at you. “it was horrible,” you quickly correct yourself, face turning serious.

he sees the mischief in your eyes anyway, and he rolls his, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” he squints at you, and you roll your eyes as he hints at your first meeting yet again.

“would you drop it? i couldn’t tell if you were on my side, you both were thugs,” you defend yourself. and yeah, maybe falling for an ex gangster turned mechanic wasn’t exactly at the top of your list of plans, and getting saved from being mugged on the way home wasn’t supposed to spark a forbidden romance, but life happens, love prevails, it’s the type of sacrifice lovers make.

and you and draken are lovers. against all odds, you’ll always be lovers.

“you can have my wallet, just please don’t hurt me,” he mocks. “i was just tryna hand it back, jeez,” he rolls his eyes.

“let it go, already,” you roll your own, smacking his shoulder and stealing a bite from his plate as he scowls at you. and slowly, the tense air dissipates, and all that’s left is the soft spots you hold for each other.

you love draken, and he loves you, and even if the world pulls you both apart, you just keep reaching for him, as he does you. not even your aunt’s concerns can keep your hands from meeting, clasping around each other’s tightly.

“i’m gonna marry you, no matter what your stuck up family says,” he mumbles.

“and i’ll say yes, no matter what my stuck up family says,” you assure, and when your lips meet, heated and passionate and soft and full of love, you wish your aunt could watch true love take place—much unlike the unhappy marriage she sits through.

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metalandmagi · 2 years ago

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Other things to focus on in this season of HSMTMTS, because I’m kinda tired of seeing nothing but Rina vs Portwell in the tags.

1. Kourtney and her anxiety plotline. I love that they turned a “haha teens can’t survive without their phones” joke into something that actually means a lot to her, since she can’t communicate with her mom when she’s panicked. I even went back and watched Camp Rock (for the first time in forever), because they said it’s her comfort movie, and now I see why.

2. ELTON JOHN CASWELL!

3. Maddox and Jet’s relationship. I LOVE SIBLING STORIES! Their past is infinitely more interesting to me than the love triangles. If love triangles are your jam, that’s great, but I LOVE SIBLING DRAMA! I think it’s partially because they give me Connor and Zoe Murphy vibes from Dear Evan Hansen.

4. Ashlyn’s “make way for Belle” attitude. I was really annoyed with her at the beginning of the season, but now I think this is a valid arc for her to go through. When you’ve spent a lot of time playing side characters, then suddenly get the lead (when you’re not someone who is normally cast as a “princess” type), then get put in the ensemble during something you saw as your big break, it can be...a lot to process. She’s had an entire season of Big Red telling her how amazing she is (and she IS amazing), but something every theater kid needs to learn is that every show is different. You will not always be the lead. You will not always be in the background. Nothing is certain in theater.

5. ELTON JOHN CASWELL!

6. Ashlyn is definitely going to be bi now. Realizing you have feelings for someone of the same gender while you’re already in a very happy relationship is a crazy journey to go on, and I want to see her deal with her feelings (but I swear if she and Big Red break up, I’ll cry).

7. Everything going on between Ricky and Jet. I love that Ricky is a full fledged theater kid now, and he sees so much of himself in Jet. I love that he’s trying to bring Jet into this world (and yes, Ricky is also a bi disaster, you love to see it).

8. ELTON JOHN CASWELL!!!!

9. I really hope they don’t drop Carlos being angry at always being an inanimate comedic character and trying to change the cast list. I wonder if this will come back at some point now that they are specifically trying to stir up drama.

10. I don’t have anything against Val’s character. I like Meg Donnelly, and I was super excited for her to be in the show...but she isn’t serving too much of a purpose right now other than to push Gina and EJ’s plotline foreword. I want to see more of her.

11. This season is really showing how much pressure you can put on one person before he snaps. Let EJ take a nap.

12. I feel like there could have been an opportunity for Ashlyn to be kind of upset at not being cast as Elsa, specifically because she and Gina have always had the more sisterly bond. I feel like they’re so much farther away this season.

13. What’s up between Kourtney and Jet? They keep dropping little “blink and you’ll miss it” interactions between them. Don’t know if it’s a couple thing or a friendship thing, but I think it’s kind of cute!

So anyway, I’m happy the shippers are having fun, but this is where I’m at right now...

#hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #i think i'm the only one who didn't see the elton john reveal coming #i'm over here looking for gifs of young jet and maddox in a sea of rina and portwell

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

Text

— there’s always a price to pay when you get your hands on a work of art.

PAIRING: tattoo! artist megumi x reader

REQUEST. tattoo artist au + mutual pining + size kink, praise kink, thigh riding + reader is shorter than megumi and isn’t shy

WARNINGS: feral megumi, scratching, vaginal sex, size kink, praise kink, mature content, slight overstimulation, sexual tension lol, unedited story

NOTES: ah thank you so much for this request, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Here is my third contribution for FERAL MEGUMI FRIDAYS! and oh wow tattoo artist megumi uh no thoughts head empty

WC: 5.4k+

The tattoo saloon loomed over you, the neon signs almost blinding in the darkness. You could feel your heart pick up its pace in your chest as you hitched your bag up higher, the excitement settling in your toes. Mustering up the brightest smile you could have, you cleared your throat and pushed the door open, the tiny bell on top jingling to signal your arrival.

Your eyes roamed around the walls covered with intricate drawings, the leather seats dark and kept in pristine. Now that was rare – your leather couches always wore out in just a few weeks.

Making your way inside, grip on your sling bag still tight, you bit your lip as you peaked behind the counter. Empty. No one was there, and the nearby opened rooms were empty as well. Scratching your head, you scrunched your nose in confusion. You were sure you got the right place.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to leave, then stopped in your tracks when a dark-haired man exited a door you hadn’t even noticed at first.

He was tall – taller than you; his arms stretched until the sleeves of his black hoodie were pulled down, revealing a sliver of black tattoos that marked his skin. Upon hearing your awed gasp, his cold blue eyes fluttered to yours, the man – who was absolutely handsome despite his frown – froze in his spot.

You waved a hand to him, your smile bigger than ever. “Hi!” So you would be working with this cute guy? Maybe job-hunting wasn’t such a bad experience, after all.

“Hey,” he drawled out hesitantly, approaching you with his ink stained fingers pointed at you. He was still frowning, which was a damn shame, since you were sure he’d look even hotter if he smiled. “So...you’re Y/N.”

“Yeah!”

“And you...” he tilted his head to the side, inquisitive eyes studying your form. You would’ve felt conscious with the way his brows furrowed, eyes unreadable and lips pressed into a thin line, but you were sure you dressed to impress on your first interview. You admitted, however, that maybe wearing a white collared shirt with a pink tennis skirt made you stand out like a sore thumb in the heaviness of the studio. “...want to be a front desk man here?”

“Yeah!”

“What makes you think you’re qualified for this?” he crossed his arms on his chest, and you didn’t miss the slight bite of his voice. So he was handsome – but cranky. Great. “You don’t look like you fit in here.”

“Judging someone’s appearance and inferring that it has any relation to their credentials isn’t such a professional thing to do, you know,” you raised your chin proudly, jutting a pointer finger to his chest. He clearly didn’t expect this because he scowled and took a step back, while you fought the grin that threatened to paint your face. “Would you like it if people told you that you’re not qualified to be a lawyer because of your tattoos and piercings?”

He scoffed, “I don’t want to be a lawyer. As you can see, I’m a tattoo artist. And to answer your question, no, I don’t give a fuck what people think about me.”

“I can tell,” you muttered to yourself before smiling back up at him. He was too easy to read; his brow quivering and lips firm at your faux enthusiasm. “But yes, I do believe I’m qualified! I’m a fast learner and I’m even quick on my feet! I’m really good at talking to people too so I believe I can help schedule client appointments really well and guide them with this whole process.”

“Being front desk man doesn’t mean serving the clients tea and biscuits.”

“I know.”

“You know?” he snorted with a roll of his eyes. He then gestured you to follow him all the way back to the front desk. You expected he’d teach you about how to handle the appointment books or pick up phone calls, but instead he plopped down on the leather couch of the waiting area, his legs crossed on top of the other.

Your eyes followed the patch of pale skin exposed from his ripped jeans before you looked away, not wanting him to see that you found him attractive despite his less than welcoming personality.

“What exactly do you know about this industry?”

“Nothing, to be honest, but I’m not here to be a tattoo artist or anything. I just really need a job and I assure you I’ve got plenty of experience and knowledge when it comes to manning front desks or counters,” you stated confidently, “I know I look out of place, but I really need this job.”

The man only narrowed his eyes at you. Contemplation was written all over his face, probably wondering why you couldn’t just work somewhere else. “Why come here, of all places?”

“Because it’s the only one that has a flexible schedule,” you sighed, “I can’t work shifts anymore because I’m too busy at university. From when I talked to your boss – Geto, was it? – he said that the salon was open 24/7 and I could work until before my classes start. He’s not really strict about that kind of thing.”

“So you mean to tell me,” he leaned forwards, looping his fingers with one another while his ice cold gaze slithered over your desperate ones. “You’ll be at university for half the day, sleep until midnight, and then come here to work and attend class a few hours later? Isn’t your schedule a little irregular?”

“Oh no, it’s not like that! I also have mock classes after uni and it lasts until late at night, then I help clean at the local shelter. They’re running out of volunteers and the dogs are really adorable and take my stress away so...I make sure to come by when I have time.”

“You are one odd creature,” he noted loudly, almost as if he wasn’t completely aware he vocalized his thoughts. Well, at least now you knew he wasn’t the type to think his words over, which either made him more entertaining – or insufferable the longer you worked with him – if you began working anyway. “You could’ve used your spare time to rest. Do you even eat?”

“Yeah, I have a granola bar right now with me! I actually brought two,” you pulled out the snack from your bag, “You want some? I only got the oats, though.”

“Keep it to yourself,” he rolled his eyes, slapping his hands over his knees before rummaging over something behind the counter. “Fine. If Geto said he’s okay with you, then you’re hired.”

“Really, that easy?” your eyes widened, but then you chuckled when this strange man glared at you in response. He sighed as he pulled out a piece of paper, a pen on top of it. The papers read something about application forms and credentials, and you beamed, happily writing your information away with a slight bounce in your toes.

Unable to keep your happiness to yourself, you looked back at the bored man, wiggling your eyebrows playfully. “Huh. I was kind of expecting you would grill me – you’ve got that scary look in your eye. Let me guess, you often scare clients off?”

It seemed he could never get tired of glaring at you, because his eyes fuelled with heat as he leaned against the wall.

You hated to admit that he looked ridiculously handsome like that – the guy wasn’t even doing anything remotely attractive in the first place!

“I’m the most booked artist here, and I ask that you don’t get too comfortable with me. You haven’t even started working here and you’re already riling up on my train,” he groaned when you merely laughed in response. He made quick work of signing something in your form before handing you a key. “Here’s for your locker. Come to work tomorrow. Geto won’t be around for a week so I’ll be the one judging your performance. If you fuck up in the slightest – I won’t hesitate to fire you, you understand? We always have Yuuji coming around anyway, you’re really not that needed for the front desk.”

“Oh,” you nodded at his harshness, unsure whether to feel threatened or amused. “O-okay. I’ll do my best then. I look forward to you – ah, wait, what’s your name?”

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

“Oh, that’s a pretty name,” you muttered to yourself, uttering his name over and over again until it rolled smoothly on your tongue. “Shame you have a shitty attitude along with that handsome face, though.”

“You trying to say something?”

You faced him, about to laugh when he scowled at your not-so-subtle comments. Waving your hands to him, you made your way out the door, your smile only irritating him further. “No, I wasn’t. I’ll be taking my leave then – see you tomorrow!”

Seems like working in a tattoo studio wouldn’t be so bad.

You came to work the next day early and pumped with adrenaline. The idea of meeting the moody tattoo artist caused you to be giggly and happy the whole day, not even feeling the exhaustion of a long day of hard work as you made your way inside the shop.

Clocking in at exactly two in the morning, you proudly tugged your name badge on top of your left breast, patting it for good luck.

The bells jingled, making you look away from your tag. “Good morning – oh, where’s Megumi?” The man standing in front of you was taller than Megumi, his head nearly knocking over the doorframe if it wasn’t for his poor, slouched lanky frame.

He had white hair that brushed atop his cerulean blue eyes, and your eyes widened because wow, he was beautiful.

“Hey, you must be Y/N! Megumi told me you came around yesterday but he didn’t tell me the counter girl was this pretty,” He was in front of you the next second, his nose nearly grazing over yours that had you leaning back into the wall for space. “Hmm...he didn’t tell me that at all.”

“Oh, thank you. You are...?”

“I’m Gojo Satoru, one of the senior artists here. Since Megumi isn’t here yet, let me give you a tour!” Before you could react, Satoru already had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, his other arm waving and pointing to all the hung paintings and labels on each door. You found it odd that he treated you like you were an old friend, but you weren’t going to complain. Nice co-workers were always welcomed.

“Here is the holding area where clients wait to get their session done. This is Geto’s studio and right next to that is his office where he does all the finances and all that jazz, while this is my studio. Cool, isn’t it?”

Your mouth fell ajar as Satoru led you inside his studio, the walls painted the same aquatic shade of his eyes, but what caught your attention was the galaxy themed tattoo designs he made. They came in different shapes – a volcano head, a dragon, a worm, a four-armed monster – but inside them were all galaxies with sparkling and burning stars. You could see everything and nothing all at the same time.

“Whoa, you made all this?!”

Satoru’s chest puffed out proudly, “Yeah, I did. I’m flattered by your reaction, I really am, but you haven’t seen Megumi’s yet. There’s a reason our salon boomed even though he’s only been working here for two years.”

At the mention of his name, your interest was piqued, all ears and curious smiles directed to Satoru. “Oh, can I see Megumi’s studio?”

“You can – if you book an appointment.”

“But I don’t plan on getting any tattoos,” you frowned.

“You’ll never get to see his work then,” he chuckled to himself, the sound growing louder when you visibly deflated. What was the point of getting your hopes up like that then? “Megumi doesn’t like letting others in his studio without permission or an appointment.”

“Why not?”

“He’s just iffy about it,” he shrugged, “Don’t bother trying to decode his personality anymore, Megumi’s very hard to understand. Though if I were to make sense of it...” he rubbed his chin, eyes looking out into the distance. “I guess you could say Megumi’s not the type to be showy when it comes to his work of art. Did that clear it up?”

You blinked back blankly. “No, not really. But it’s fine – I don’t plan on getting to know him anyway.”

That was the biggest lie of your life.

The moment Megumi came around a few minutes later, a loud groan upon your animated greeting over his arrival, your chest bloomed with a different kind of fluttery warmth. He rarely came out after that, clients swarming in to both his and Satoru’s studios, but each faint glimpse of his door cracking open that allowed you to see him focused as he worked, you could no longer deny the heat burning down your legs.

You crushed on the grumpy tattoo artist.

And the more you came around work, greeting him zealously and teasing him to no end that he’d look hotter if he smiled, your crush only intensified for him – completely unaware that he too, couldn’t get his thoughts off of you even with his door closed.

In fact, he kept his door closed all the time because your voice distracted him too much.

“Hey, Y/N, you free?”

You looked up from the textbook you were reviewing, slamming it shut when Satoru’s head peeked out from his studio. He was still wearing gloves with a pen between his fingers, most likely still in the middle of a session.

“Yep! We don’t have appointments yet and I’ve already closed it for non-appointees. Did you need me to get you something?”

“Yeah, could you get Megumi for me? He isn’t picking his phone up and one of our special clients are coming soon. I’m packed right now so I can’t fetch him. I’ll send you the address and you get him, yeah? Just open the counter if you need money for a cab.”

You blinked owlishly at him. On one side, you’d be more than glad to see Megumi again. He hadn’t arrived despite it being four in the morning already, and you were worried, but you also didn’t have his number to ask how he was doing. Progress with Megumi was...slow, to say the least.

He still holed himself up in his studio, coming out only for bathroom breaks, although you noticed a drastic improvement when he finally began to mutter an almost shy “good morning” under his breath for the past few weeks.

It wasn’t much, but you’d have to make do.

“Uhm, when is this client of his coming? Should I run...?”

“Yeah, you need to fucking run. They’re coming in an hour and a half!” Satoru exclaimed, flailing his hands around like a madman.

Even after working with him for some time, you still couldn’t believe the older man was practically a man child, even asking for head pats sometimes. He would lean down with a pout, using a squeaky voice to call your attention, which always succeeded in Megumi fake gagging before he locked himself inside his studio.

“Forwarded you his address. Really sorry for the inconvenience, Y/N!”

“It’s okay!” you jumped out of your seat in an instant, not bothering to take your name tag off anymore as you left the salon, hailing the nearest cab.

Megumi lived quite far from the salon, which had you wondering why he chose to work there when there were plenty of salons in his area too. His place looked shady, as well, his apartment in a high-rise building with endless graffiti and several drunk stragglers hooting for you.

You ignored them all, taking two steps at a time from his staircase, your hands on your knees as you panted for air. Why did he have to live on the tenth floor?

“Megumi! Megumi!” you banged your fist on the door, throat parched from your sudden cardio session. You were sure you burned ten calories just from that sprint, and you sighed in relief when Megumi swung the door open, still looking handsome – and sleep-deprived – as ever in his black shirt and black skinny jeans.

“What?” he demanded. After seeing that it was you, he quickly snatched a water bottle and passed it your way, closing his door behind him. “Y/N? What are you doing here? How’d you know where I live?”

“Satoru said you had a really important client. You weren’t picking your phone up so he sent me to come get you.”

“It’s my day off,” he grumbled, answering your silent questions, your worries dissipating into thin air. Once you’d satisfied yourself by basically dunking the entire bottle, Megumi rolled his eyes, his hands flat on the small of your back while he guided you downstairs. The sudden touch flamed your cheeks; a stupid smile on your face. You were shameless, though, leaning back closer to him in the darkness of the early morning. “Why does he send a girl out of all people?”

“Something wrong with that?”

“It’s unsafe. My neighbourhood isn’t the best and who knows what would’ve happened to you if some goons came out?” Megumi hailed for a back, surprising you when he let you get in first and paid for the fee despite your outstretched hand prepared with the bills. “I can’t believe Sukuna chose this day to come of all times. I can never get a damn break.”

“Sukuna?”

“A special client. He’s a really huge tipper and comes on odd schedules – I didn’t think he’d come now.”

“Yeah, I checked the papers and he wasn’t there,” you frowned to yourself.

Megumi pressed his head against the window, eyes closed as his chest heaved up and down rhythmically. With the sun slowly shining from behind you, the golden stretches of it outlined his sharp features you adored, and you rested your chin on your palms, eyelashes fluttering at his beauty. “You know, Megumi, you’re really pissy sometimes – but you’re quite nice, aren’t you? I’d say you were even worried for me.”

He cracked one eye open, those blue eyes still shining with irritation, but make no mistake since his ears were flushed red. “I’m not. I just don’t want to be involved in a police investigation if they find your body near here.”

“How sweet of you.”

“Shut up.”

You and Megumi were beginning to get closer. You couldn’t pinpoint where he started to grow more comfortable with you, but it was definitely there and it was painfully evident that even someone stupid like Satoru noticed the sexual between you two.

He would always sniff the air whenever you and Megumi sat next to each other during lunch breaks, a wide grin on your face while Megumi buried his face in his hands, groaning because he knew the moment Satoru opened his mouth, nothing but dumb comments would come out. And dumb comments they were; the white-haired man merciless as he teased Megumi for acting like a cute little kid around you.

You never took it to heart, though. It was Megumi you were talking about; he was hot and cold; sweet then distant from one moment then an entire person the next.

Not that you minded, it only added to your fuelling crush on him, but you couldn’t control the way your heart fluttered every time Satoru whispered that he did like you, excusing that Megumi just wasn’t the best with words. Apparently, Megumi had spent too much time holed up in his apartment and studio that he had zero to little knowledge on how to talk to pretty girls – especially one that was clearly attracted to him as well.

Satoru encouraged you to go for it – that you should confess or break the ice first otherwise Megumi would never do anything about his raging boner every time you came around.

You only flushed at his statement, but you couldn’t deny that you too felt the same way.

One morning where Satoru and Geto were out restocking supplies, you and Megumi were left alone in the salon. Of course, he still resorted in the comfort of his studio, muttering under his breath that he wanted to try some designs before disappearing. Only this time, he left the door slightly open, the lights peeking through the slight crack.

Walking up to him with muted footsteps, you leaned over his shoulder, glancing over a sketch of...you? “Are you drawing me?”

Megumi yelped at your voice right next to his ear, throwing the paper away on the other side of the room before glaring at you. You laughed at his reaction, because how was it possible he was both so criminally sexy yet adorable? He looked terribly gorgeous today, as well, wearing a short sleeved black hoodie and black sweatpants, looking so comfortable and boyfriend like – and you couldn’t even begin to express your appreciation over his new lip piercing.

“Why do you always sneak up on me?” he snapped, “Didn’t I tell you I wanted privacy?”

“Then why aren’t you pushing me away?”

Megumi sighed exasperatedly, turning back to organize his pencils before glaring at you. “What do you want? Got no one else to bother since Satoru isn’t around?”

“I just wanted to see your art,” you mentioned, but kept your eyes directed on him instead of the plethora of sketches and designs hanging from his wall as to not offend him. “Satoru told me to never come inside. He said you’re really...private when it comes to your works,” you furrowed your brows at the last part, feeling your heart beat pulse at your tongue.

It was now or never.

“Can I see your tattoos too?”

“Why do you want to see them?”

“A work of art on a canvas who’s also a work of art himself?” you finally gained confidence to tease him again, getting riled up further when Megumi stiffened at your curious hands travelling under his shirt. His breath sharpened as his glare only deepened, though he didn’t make a move to stop you. “Why wouldn’t I want to see that?”

“Being flirty doesn’t work on you. It’s not cute.”

“You’re blushing though,” you remarked. Megumi groaned and pushed your face away until your buttocks landed on his recliner. Satisfied with Megumi not completely kicking you out, you swung your legs back and forth, still staring at his hoodie as if it was an offensive material.

“Can I...see?” Megumi rolled his eyes before he lifted his shirt up, revealing to you intricate patches of black ink splattered over ripples of muscles. Your mouth salivated, and somewhere down there, you drooled too. Tentatively, your hands reached out to finger the image of canines, Megumi shuddering over your cold touch on his warm skin. “It’s beautiful. What does it mean?”

Megumi pursed his lips before whispering, “These are the dogs I had as a child. My father got me them so I wouldn’t be too lonely when he’s away from work.”

“They’re very pretty. They look like black and white wolves,” you smiled, elated that he was opening up in more ways than one. Your touch flitted over to a winged creature under his left collarbone, small letters beside the image. “And this bird? Nue? He’s so majestic,” Your hands never stopped in trailing over his skin like a lost wanderer, sweeping over ink ink until Megumi completely discarded his hoodie to the side, his back faced to you.

A white viper tattoo stood large on his broad back, crawling until over his shoulder with the fangs ending just above his pecs. Megumi swallowed at each slivering touch, your fingers dipping and caressing every dent and curve of his body.

You couldn’t get your eyes off of him, your breath hitching in your throat as one of your hands gripped his biceps subconsciously. “You’re so beautiful.”

Megumi stiffened when your thumbs grazed over his nipple right next to the viper’s fang. Almost as if a switch was triggered inside him, Megumi growled, ducking to capture your lips with his in a sloppy, heated kiss. His hands tugged at the ends of your hair to arch your neck to him, his knees slapping your legs open before he settled comfortably between you, his low groans mixing with your breath moans.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. From the moment I met you,” he nibbled your lips, hands trailing down to thumb at your hipbones. “I knew that innocent good girl look was nothing but an act.”

You smiled through the kiss, a tiny gasp falling from your lips when Megumi pulled you closer until your heat grinded against the hardness inside his pants. Laughing at his harsh movements, you let Megumi tilt your head back, his lips sucking and teeth gently nipping at the sensitive flesh of your neck.

“Innocent girl?” you echoed, legs now wrapped around his waist to pull him closer. “What makes you think I am?”

“White lace panties? Short tennis skirts and sunshine smiles?” Megumi clenched his teeth, his hands eager as he tugged the white lace down until it looped to your ankles. You gasped, back arching when he thrusted two fingers inside you, curling and fingering against your bumpy walls. “You’re not fooling anyone, baby, especially not me.”

“Took you long enough to understand I wanted you though,” you chuckled through broken moans, eyes shut tight while your legs opened wider, heels digging into the hard cushion of his seats. “I was wondering when I’d get to break you from that tough guy act of yours and have you fuck me good,” Megumi growled at your words. You leaned forward to scratch at his chest, your tongue licking the shell of your ear as you rasped, “And on a side note, I am a good girl – only to those who can make me feel good, of course.”

Megumi cupped his palm to collect your arousal dripping of his, finally shutting you up when his fingers grazed over your sweet spot that had you clenching around him. And those were just his fingers. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded smugly, hands coming up to tug harshly at his hair. Megumi hissed at the sharp pain, prompting him to fuck his fingers in and out of you faster until you leaked down to his chair, thighs trembling and your high-pitched moans coating the walls of his stupid. “Megumi, ah! Just shut up and fuck me already – been wanting you long enough.”

“Needy little girl,” He pressed you down on the reclining seat, settling between your legs before he spread your lips open with two thumbs. At the sight of your bare cunt clenching around nothing, Megumi groaned, teeth biting his lip because he could cum right then and there. “Fuck, look at you. So wet already,” he ran a hand over your slit to collect your arousal, eyes dark with lust as your juices webbed between his fingers. “All this for me? You’re so good.”

“Fuck – yeah, yeah I am,” you leaned back harder into the seat, groping at your own breasts while you nodded dumbly, too fucked out to even form a coherent response. “Going to be good for you, Megumi, gonna make you feel good.”

“Sorry, babe, maybe next time. I’m too impatient to not feel your pussy around me,” he pushed away at your hands that planned to pump his cock, his hand coming down to push you hard against the seat until his weight loomed over you.

You felt Megumi begin to align his tip at your center, dampening his mushroom head with your arousal first that had you both moaning left and right.

Hands scratching down his back as your teeth dug into your lips, Megumi pushed into you with one thrust, the sudden stretch making your legs shake and your body writhe underneath him. “Shit, why are you so tight? So fucking warm and perfect,” he rasped next to your ear, and you could hear how hard he was breathing as he thrusted into you, his cock hitting all the right places. “Could fuck this pretty pussy all day, baby, shit.”

“Me-Megumi – t-too big!”

“Shh, you’ll be fine. You’ll take it like a good girl, won’t you?” he cupped your cheek, grinning sinisterly as he watched the way your greedy walls sucked him in. “See how you take me so well? You’re so small and pretty wrapped around my cock. I could break you if I wanted you,” he growled, his hands gripping hard at your hips when you clenched around him, enticing the man above you to quicken his pace.

Megumi watched with a lust filled gaze as your breasts bounced at the relentless pace he started, his balls slapping at your ass. “Oh, you’d want that, wouldn’t you? You want to be stuffed with my fat cock in you? Fuck you until you’re a drooling mess? You’re so gorgeous when I fuck you stupid.”

“Yes, Megumi, agh. Keep going, keep going, I’m so close!”

“Oh, you feel like heaven around me,” he praised at your neck, his cock stretching you wide and pushing into you. Megumi groaned lowly at your ear as his palms flattened over your stomach that bulged every time he thrusted in, his balls tightening at the sight. “Look at how big I am for you, baby, but you’re doing so well. You were made for me – made to take my cock, shit, you’re so perfect around me. Gonna make you feel good, yeah? You’re such a good girl for me. Cum, baby, that’s right – I’m allowing you to cum.”

“Gumi, Gumi, fuckkk,” your legs tightened around him as Megumi panted with each harsh thrust, the black marks over his skin expanding and stretch when his forearm rested beside your head. His muscles clenched as he fucked into you deep, over and over again until he pushed you over the edge.

A silent sob left your lips when you came around him, your juices creaming around his cock. A few thrusts later, Megumi fell on top of you as you felt him spill his seed inside you.

He had too much that you felt both your cum dripping down your ass; Megumi pulling out with a slight wince from the oversensitivity. You struggled to catch your breath as you laid there, legs wide open and the cool air hitting your bare pussy. The door was still open, and Satoru and Geto could walk in on you both looking like this, but you couldn’t care, not when you could barely feel your legs.

You dropped your arm over your face, hearing Megumi pull his pants back up. “That was...”

“Intense?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, wincing as you sat up. Your hair stuck to your forehead in sweaty clumps, dawning on you now that you were still very much covered in your sticky cum. You recoiled from the seats as you realized Megumi hadn’t even put on a towel underneath.

“Shit. Is this chair even clean?”

“I sanitize it every after session. Don’t worry about it,” he rolled his eyes, his tattoos covered and hidden from your sight once more when he pulled his hoodie over his head. Megumi retrieved a clean towel from his drawers and wiped at your sensitive pussy, your legs immediately closing around his hands when the towel accidentally grazed your clit.

Megumi gripped your knees with a silent glare. “Stay still. I’m cleaning you up.”

“I didn’t peg you as an aftercare guy. Thought you would leave me hanging here,” you teased, but really, you were feeling warm all over again as you watched Megumi wipe you all the way down to your other hole, your legs still tensing up.

Once he left to wash his hands, you could relax, tugging your panties back up with immense struggle. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d fuck you good – you could barely feel your legs now.

“And have you make a mess by ruining my seat?” he sighed as he returned, helping you seady yourself while he snapped the slightly soaked panty back to your core. “No thanks.”

“You’re so mean, Megumi. I’m hurt.”

He rolled his eyes at your pout, leaning down to kiss you square on the lips. This time around, the kiss wasn’t rushed; it was slow and sensual, firm yet gentle, and his hands carefully massaged your sore hips that would soon bruise from his grip before.

“No, you’re not,” he mumbled through your lips, mimicking that lovesick smile on your face as he pulled away. “But babe, you know the rules. Now that you’ve seen my work of art – what tattoo would you like me to give you? My name on your inner thigh?”

4K notes · View notes

iyumeu · 3 years ago

Note

What are the demon brothers really, especially good at when it comes to their obsession/possessive nature over their darling? Like, who’s really good at setting up an escape proof room, who’s the best at gaslighting their darling to hell and back, who’s got the most roofies they can slip into drinks and food so they can cuddle a sleepy darling. I hope any of this makes sense…

I'd like to think that in an ideal horrible world, they would realize that they all have to work together to keep MC with them, so as you've said each of them would be good at different things.

Lucifer would definitely 100% be the one to set up an escape proof room. In fact, I'm in the midst of writing a sequel to spirit guardian and in it Lucifer traps you in a special room he's prepared for you. From one of the in-game chats it's mentioned that Lucifer is the possessive type while Diavolo is the stalker type and Barbatos is... well-adjusted?! and with his tendency to prepare in advance, he'd be done with a specialized, well-hidden room even before anyone else had the idea of making you stay with them, permanently.

After all, didn't he keep Belphegor, one of the strongest demons in hell, up in the attic with little to no trouble? His enchantments are top notch; say hello to your new attic room, MC. Don't worry, it's comfortable and people can still visit you, and it's decorated almost the same as your kitchen room! And, if you're good, you might get let out!

Asmodeus would be good at charming and gaslighting to make things seem like they aren't as bad as they are. At first he seems like he's listening to you, as you scream and shout, he really does look like he's empathizing! And then once you're tired, he'd hold you and shush you and say, yes, Lucifer really is too much, yes, how could his brothers just lock you up like this, yes, you deserve to go out, he'll take you for a walk tomorrow! He'll ask Lucifer for permission, and Lucifer's bound to say yes especially if he realizes how sad you are! He's just a little frustrated now, you know that the Devildom is a dangerous place and we don't want you to get hurt! We only want you to be safe, you know that right? We love you, so we just want the best for you. I'm sure you can understand that! Can't you? So just stay in this room, alright? We're doing this for you, after all.

Leviathan's pretty good at guilt-tripping you as well. He just throws a big pity fest and you'll just rush to try and placate him, telling him no, he's not trash, you don't hate him. And he'll ask you if it's something he did, that made you want to leave them all so badly? Or if it's something they did in general. They can change, please, as long as you stay. MC, they can't live without you. MC, what are they going to do when you're gone? They can barely function without you. Besides, did people in the human world even realize that you were gone? They didn't even leave one message for you (didn't get a chance to, all communications were removed before they could even send anything), but the demon brothers would! They think about you every single day, the human world doesn't know what they have, they don't appreciate you, they don't care about you, but we do, MC. We're the only ones who care about you.

Apart from that he also installs cameras all over the House of Lamentations, especially near the exits and in your room, as well as bug your phone. He'll always be watching your every move, oftentimes even forgoing anime to just stare at you through the screen hours on end.

Satan is in charge of security. It's a responsibility he shares with Lucifer and he hates it, but he understands the importance of it. It's essential that no one can get into the house and, more importantly, that you can't get out. He has everything from tracking to sedation spells on you, ready to be activated at a moment's notice. He also took the liberty to enter the human world to track down everyone who ever knew you, private investigator style, and erase their memory of your existence. It's a subtle erase, too, like you're aware that the person exists, but they don't seem to be very important to you. You have better things to do than think about them. Once he's managed to manipulate the memories of everyone, then maybe you'll be allowed a little trip to the human world... just for you to see that the only place you truly belong is with them.

Beelzebub is the one in charge of physically restraining you if you ever get strange ideas in your head. You thought that he was a softie, that he would be the one you could break through to, to let you go, but he and his family were united in this particular decision to keep you by their side. You were, after all, a lot safer here in the Devildom than you were in the human world. What if you fell ill? Or someone attacked you? They wouldn't be able to reach you in time! Beel wouldn't be able to reach you in time, and he doesn't think he would be able to live with himself if he lost another person he loved. His family wouldn't be able to take it either. So he is quiet even though you scream and thrash in his grip, thrown over his shoulder, mouth gagged so that you were unable to command anyone to let you go. Your resistance hurts, but he knew it would be worth it in the end, and soon you'll realize that too.

Belphegor was another person you thought you could negotiate with, having been trapped in the attic himself. However, like Beelzebub, you could not be further from the truth. After millenniums of hurt and hatred, here you were, a ray of light into their world, a little piece of heaven just for them. He'd be damned he he were to let you go. You made Beel happy too, so you really were a fool to think that you could have convinced him otherwise.

He was in charge of dreams. The sleeping mind is malleable to suggestion and your dreams are no different. Most of the time he'll give you nice dreams. Warm memories from the past to remind you why you should stay, digging into your fantasies to play them out (the ones that involve the Devildom anyway) to give you incentive to stick around, and sometimes even raunchy dreams to ease you into the future... But sometimes he would give nightmares and all of the nightmares have one thing in common: they begin with you successfully running away from them. Different things will go wrong in your nightmare, from your family members not recognizing you or caring about you and being painfully alone, to being murdered or being kidnapped. All he needed to do was to plant a seed in your mind, that would take root and sprout...

Mammon was the last one to be on board with this plan. To the very end he still cared about your well-being above all else and when he realized that his brothers were never going to let you go, he stopped bargaining for your freedom. In the end, he was still selfish enough to want you to stay with him and, well, it's not like you'd be able to hide from his brothers anyway. So why not just give in and make life easier for yourself? And somehow, he would be the one to break you, even if he doesn't know it. His nonchalant attitude to the whole thing... He had been on your side at first but then he just... gave up?

He'd end up as another gaslighter, telling himself that he was doing it out of good intentions just like the rest of them. He would try to convince you to take it easy, take one day at a time. If you were good, then Lucifer would tell the brothers to give you more freedom! No one knew Lucifer's bottom line like Mammon, so just listen and do as he says! Life doesn't have to be miserable, it's all up to you!

Days pass, and then years... and you realize that you aren't aging. In a manner similar to Solomon, your pacts were keeping you alive and immortal. You would not die.

And, at the very end of the line, all you would have left would be those demon brothers you once called friends.

#obey me #obey me x reader #yandere obey me #ask #anon #iyumeu asks #lucifer x reader #beelzebub x reader #asmodeus x reader #satan x reader #leviathan x reader #mammon x reader

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passerine-writes · 2 years ago

Text

Inumaki Toge x GN!Reader

Title: Speaking Genre: Angst-ish fluff Warnings: New girl is a bitch, insecure Inumaki :( Word count: 1.4k +

“How come you have that weird mask thing?” The new girl went up to grab the zipper on his customized uniform, I stood and watched as Toge moved back, just barely out of reach from her hand.

“Bonito flakes.” I had only just walked in the door and did not enjoy the sight. The new girl kept trying to flirt with my boyfriend.

“Huh?” A confused look made it’s way on her face as he spoke a rice ball ingredient. She side eyed me as I walked closer, my seat being directly behind his. “So what’s your name, cutie?” He went to grab a piece of paper but she stopped him. “You can just say it, silly.” He sighed, but finally saw me and brightened up a bit.

“Tuna!” I smiled bashfully as waved, the new girl simply sent me the stink eye and turned back around.

“Good morning. You must be the new student, nice to-”

“I’m Murakami Honoka, but what’s your name? You know mine now, so it’s only fair.” She directed her attention back to Toge, leaning on his desk and getting a little closer to him. He went to grab a piece of paper again but she moved her hand on top of his. “I know you can talk, so just say it.” He looked to me for help and I quickly obliged.

“His name is Inumaki Toge.” She turned around and glared at me, eyeing me up and down with a scoff.

“I didn’t ask you, I asked him.” The attitude she held was oozing out as she spoke, slowly walking closer to where I stood a few feet away.

“Well, maybe if you let him grab a sheet of paper you would know he’s a cursed speech user and to ensure he doesn’t hurt anyone he talks with rice ball ingredients outside of combat.” Her expression fell a bit with my tone alone. I heard the door open and shut behind me but I didn’t pay any mind to it.

“Yeah? And what would you know?” I watched her resolve crack as Panda and Maki giggled a bit.

“As his classmate or as his significant other? Cause I can tell you he’s already taken a disliking to you, not interested and if you try to touch him again, you’re going to have more then just me as an issue.” Her face paled at my words.

“At least I’ll have a boyfriend who can actually talk.” My eyes narrowed.

“That’s it.” I went to move forward but got stopped by Panda’s arms wrapping around me and dragging me out of the door.

“I don’t even want to ask what happened that pissed off L/N but I’m gonna find out anyways.” Panda and I looked at a tired Gojo walking down the hall towards the classroom.

——————

Are you ever mad on someone else’s behalf? It’s so odd but that’s where I was. Anytime I saw the new girl, my blood boiled and I wanted to punch her. So instead I took it out on a punching bag, without wrapping my hands. So now I’m bleeding.

Toge was the first to notice and came jogging over, earning a scoff from what’s-her-face in the process. Upon one look, his eyes softened and he started walking us to his dorm room. He knew well enough how much I despised doctors so he opted to patching me up himself. He sat me on his bed and came back with a first aid kit, sitting beside me as he tenderly cared for my beaten knuckles. The air was tense, both of us having something on our minds after what happened this morning.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was merely a whisper, his violet eyes focusing on my hands. I was simply shocked that he felt comfortable enough to speak.

“Toge, what are you apologizing for? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Bonito flakes.” My heart sunk at his solemn tone.

“You think you’ve done something wrong?” He nodded slowly, eyebrows cinching together when I hissed from the alcohol cleaning my wounds. “What’s bothering you? Is it the new girl this morning?” He nodded again as he skillfully wrapped the bandages, placing a soft kiss to each set of bandages. He took off his face covering piece and revealed his markings to me in the safety of his bedroom. “Do you want to type it out?” His face dropped at my offer but he nodded. I sat patiently as he typed, playing with my fingers as I grew concerned.

I’m worried about what she said this morning, about you having a boyfriend who doesn’t talk. I want you to be happy but I understand if you want or need a boyfriend that can talk with you properly and not write or text.

My faced softened at his electronic words, my heart contracting at his insecurity.

“Toge,” he looked up at me, the concern evident on his face, “you don’t have to apologize. I understand why you type things out, to me, it’s the exact same if you were to use sign language. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or pressured to hold a verbal conversation because I know your fears with it. If it makes you feel any better, even if you did accidentally use your cursed speech on me, I wouldn’t be upset.” His eyes softened, pure love held behind his irises.

I slowly leaned forward and placed a kiss on his lips, the small hum from his symbols reverberating across my own. His body relaxed as he leaned further into the kiss, hands resting on my hips cautiously. Our lips slowly moved in sync, nothing about it being rushed or lust filled, just passion, as though it was the most natural thing on earth. He slowly leaned back and rested his forehead against my own, our breaths mingling in front of us as we finally got actual oxygen.

“You’re not gonna leave because of this?” The questioning tone in his voice being enunciated to ensure he wouldn’t accidentally force an answer. My hands came up and played with his hair some more.

“No baby, I’m not leaving you. Especially not because of how you were born.” He took a shaky breath but nodded his head a smidge. He took a deep breath before speaking again.

“I love you.” It was merely a whisper but it felt as though he shouted it from the rooftops.

“I love you too, Toge.” I leaned back and placed a kiss to each snake eye marking on his cheek before pressing another chaste one to his lips. “C’mere, let’s lay down.” He watched, amused for a second as I froze, not enjoying how uncomfortable my uniform felt. “Can I wear one of your shirts?” He nodded with an angelic smile, standing up and retrieving not only a t-shirt, but a pair of his sweatpants as well.

I couldn’t stop the laughter that ensued as I watched him comically flop back on his bed and hold a pillow over his face. He always wanted to make me feel comfortable and it never failed to make my heart beat a little bit faster. I quickly changed into his comfortable clothes and got back on his bed. I sat against the head board, leaned over and grabbed the pillow, ‘accidentally’ hitting him in the face with it before stealing it. He let out a shocked gasp and dove for me, fingers digging into my sides as he tickled me. Our laughter ringing through the air as he continued to onslaught of tickling to my stomach before he stopped. Our laughter and giggles dying down before he rested his head on my stomach, his toned arms wrapping under my back as he got comfortable but something felt off with his body language.

“What else is on your mind, Toge?” His head popped up, platinum blond hair swaying as he moved abruptly. “Don’t look so shocked, I’ve always been able to read your body language.” He sighed and searched for his phone before typing something out again.

It’s dumb.

“No it isn’t.” He gave me a pointed look and typed again.

I feel like you deserve someone better than me. Someone who can talk to you without potentially hurting you or fearing they will. Someone who doesn’t have to hide their face a majority of the day. Someone who can speak normally.

“Toge, you are the best I could want or ask for. I don’t mind that our conversations are mostly over text or rice ball ingredients. I enjoy talking to you, no matter what way it’s in. There’s nobody ‘better’ in my eyes, I love you and I have since I walked into that classroom last year. If I had a problem with the amount you verbally speak, I wouldn’t have said yes to being your partner to begin with.” He fiddled his fingers anxiously before he typed more out.

I’m sorry for asking for so much reassurance. I guess the new student got to me more then I’d care to admit.

“You’re not the only one she pissed off. It’s safe to say nobodies going to be happy with her for a long, long time. And you’re allowed to ask for reassurance. I know you get in your head sometimes, you know I do too. And if this is how I can help then so be it.” He set his phone down and buried himself further into my stomach, arms wrapping themselves just a little bit tighter.

“Thank you.” His voice was small like earlier but hearing his voice made my heart threaten to leap out of my chest.

“You’re welcome, baby.” He hummed and I felt him relax as I played with his hair again.

#jujutsu kaisen #inumaki toge #inumaki #toge #jjk #i had this in my drafts so i decided to post it because my computer still isn’t fixed #fluff #comfort #inumaki is adorable

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no-droids · 4 years ago

Text

Beginner’s Luck

Part Twelve of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.6K

Warnings: 👀👀👀 SMUT. Oral sex (male receiving), cockwarming, sexual acts in public, the use of blasters and other canon-typical weaponry

A/N: Twas the night before Mando season 2, and all through the house—NO IM JUST KIDDING SDKSFKSVS anyways I am so sorry for not being here for basically all of last month but I could not miss this incredibly momentous occasion for anything. Merry season 2 my lovely baby yoditos

***

“Well,” a modulated voice gruffs expectantly from behind you, clearly tired of waiting. “Turn around, let me see.”

“No. I look ridiculous,” you sulk from the corner of the hull, refusing to do as he says. You thought this was stupid from the very beginning and openly told him so, but you’re also a complete pushover for him with just enough backbone to be frustrated when you inevitably give in. “And don’t you ‘sweet girl’ me, it’s not gonna work this time.”

“Sweet girl,” Din’s deep voice lulls through the helmet, raspy and soft.

Fucking fine, if he’s gonna twist your arm about it. You spin around with a deep frown and a chrome visor stares back at you as you waddle forwards, and you don’t even need to look at the kid cradled in his forearm to know he’s smiling toothily as you clunk and rattle. Once you’re standing directly in front of them both, you blow the stray hair out of your eyes and plant your hands on your hips, just waiting for the inevitable response.

Only, you don’t get practically any response at all from him. He stays perfectly still and says absolutely nothing, and though the baby’s mouth falls open with happiness and he reaches for you, he doesn’t make a sound either.

“I told you,” you grumble after a few moments of pained silence. “I look ridiculous.”

Still, nothing. You purse your lips, shifting from side to side uncomfortably, and eventually your suspicion grows and festers until it finally bursts forth. Oh for the love of Maker—

“I know you’re laughing under there,” you accuse with a growl. He doesn’t move a single muscle but you don’t buy it, not for a single fucking second.

Then suddenly the helmet glances away from you and stares purposefully at the wall of the hull as the kid starts giggling, and you knew it. You fucking knew he was laughing.

“You look great,” comes tightly through the modulator after a moment, and you pull your lip up into a snarl, vindicated in your findings but not happy about it.

“Is that how this is supposed to protect me?” You wave your arms, hearing them squeak and clank like you’re a droid that hasn’t been maintenanced in centuries. The rough metal jerks up and smacks your chin with the shoulder movement and you grimace. “Make the bad guys laugh themselves to death?”

“It's bad,” Din finally turns back to you and admits with zero shame, and your cheeks burn at how stupid you must look right now. “Way too big.”

“Too big?” You blink at him. “That’s your criticism?”

When he presented it to you, your first impression was some sort of brown paint—but no. It’s fucking… rust. It’s damaged and scraped up and it looks like it’s been through the ringer and back, and not in a way that gives it character. There’s almost a literal hole in the fucking chestpiece and it’s dented so much that it actually creates more than enough space for your breasts, what the fuck happened—?

“You’re telling me you went from this—” You ask pointedly, knocking your knuckles against the ill-fitting piece of metal and feeling it wobble against your chest, “—to that—” you tap the pristine, gleaming armor strapped to his body that easily costs more than probably quadruple your entire life, “—without any go-betweens? It’s missing one of the shoulders, Din.”

He ignores you, flipping the chestpiece over your head with his free hand and letting the metallic clatter of it meeting the floor behind you ring out through the hull. “I’d hoped at least something would fit,” comes his filtered sigh. “This planet isn’t nice.”

That sobers you up a bit, and you feel your heart thump painfully. “Are we on Corellia?” You ask without thinking.

“No,” he tells you immediately, quelling your panic while pulling off your one singular pauldron. “Tatooine.”

You’ve never heard of it, but from the grave undertone of his voice, you know the drill. Different setting, same kind of people. Smugglers, rogues, criminals—the type he’s used to being around and knows exactly what to expect out of them. You always feel safe when he’s with you, but when he leaves?

“Oh,” you say, because you don’t really have anything else. It’s quiet for a little bit, but then he continues on before you can come up with something to fill the sudden uncertainty on your end.

“I know someone here,” Din murmurs, bending his knees and sinking down to start undoing and pulling the shoddy thigh braces off your legs. “Someone… nice. It’ll be safe as long as nobody sees me leaving or coming back, and the kid would be happy to see her.”

Your eyebrows pull inwards, something… unfamiliar settling inside you. Din doesn’t have friends, he’s made it clear that he doesn’t really like anyone that he knows well enough to introduce you to. Even when he’s lowered himself in front of you and is technically undressing you, you feel a spark of… no, not jealousy, that’s crazy. But for real, who is he talking about?

“Why can’t me and the baby just lay low somewhere remote like normal?” You ask instead, but he shakes his head.

“No such thing,” he grunts, pulling off the other thigh brace. “Tuskans or Jawas will find you even in the middle of the Dune Sea.”

“I like Jawas,” you blurt, having had many positive experiences trading with the little creatures on Arvala-7, but his helmet immediately tilts up to pin you in place and you shut up, feeling the tangible unamusement radiating from the thin blade of the visor even when the kid starts giggling again. “I mean I… don’t like Jawas?”

Din sighs and rises back up to his full height, finally handing the baby over to you now that you’re not weighed down by that ridiculous getup anymore. “You can either stay with her while I get the quarry or run the risk of pirates finding you drifting above the atmosphere,” he reasons bluntly, not mincing words. “But it’s not a good idea to be stuck on the surface without protection, someone will find you.”

You bite your lip, hugging the kid closer to your chest for a second. “Okay, that’s fine,” you murmur quietly after a moment. “We can stay with your… friend.”

You clear your throat and move to let him pass by to get to the cockpit, except Din doesn’t take a single step. You blink up at him and after what feels like an eternity of no response, the helmet slowly tilts sideways at you and… oops.

Was that not subtle? You didn’t know what to call her, genuinely, that’s why you hesitated. You didn’t want to use the word acquaintance, it felt too detached for the fact that he said the kid would be happy to see her again. That’s what’s called a friend, right?

Maker, why are you being so weird about this?

Thankfully, you end up getting away with it. After a few painful seconds of looking at every single thing in the hull besides him and humming a song you make up on the spot, Din slowly walks past and disappears up into the cockpit. You take a deep breath and gently rub the baby’s ears between your fingers as the Crest powers up with a ferocious rumble beneath your feet.

***

It’s bright. Fuck, it’s so bright here. You hold the kid to your chest with one hand and shield your eyes with the other as the ramp slowly descends, dust immediately kicking up around it. Din’s palm is resting against your lower back and his thumb gently brushes back and forth, but your heart decides to drop the very moment his hand does, and as soon as the ramp clanks against the landing platform, he’s striding down into the blazing hot desert sun without you.

Something in your chest squeezes and whispers to you that he probably doesn’t want to touch you when he’s about to see an old friend again, so you wait a few seconds of space before descending down the ramp behind him, not really knowing how you feel right now. But you’ve barely taken a single step to follow when a woman’s voice screeches out from across a vast distance. “Oh no, no no no—don’t you even think about it!”

Din slows to a halt at the end of the ramp and gives whoever it is a small nod, nothing beyond it, and if you weren’t purposefully looking at him for cues right now, you’d probably miss the greeting entirely. You stand on your tippy-toes from behind his cape as a fiery little middle-aged lady in a mechanic’s jumpsuit marches up to him with an attitude that more than makes up for the height difference.

“You’re not allowed here anymore,” she pokes his chestplate brazenly with one hand and props the other on her hip, clearly not excited to see him. “Not after the ruckus you caused last time, no sir, not on my watch.”

“That won’t happen again,” he gruffs shortly, not providing a single thing beyond it, and you blink. What… what happened last time?

“It sure won’t!” The strange woman agrees shrilly, crossing her arms and widening her eyes until she looks a bit like she’s been out in the suns too long. “I’m still recovering, Mando!”

“I compensated you,” he reminds her, a quiet edge of frustration beginning to creep into his voice.

She suddenly narrows her expression at him, going from manic desert lady to sharp and discerning skeptic within a split second. “How much do you think my life is worth?”

Din takes forever to respond, seeming to either be choosing his words very carefully or grinding his teeth under the beskar in frustration. Probably both. “I brought my ki—”

“You bring trouble!” She bursts out, stomping her foot on the dusty landing platform and holding her ground. “I don’t care how cute your little one is, go park your ship on some other poor soul’s hangar bay!”

He doesn’t say anything back, staying completely silent while you stand there awkwardly and wait for his response, and it’s almost like you… forgot. How quiet Din can be, how unnervingly little he can choose to offer to conversations until he deems the information absolutely necessary to provide. He allows you to forget that reserved nature of his. He talks to you. He never used to at the beginning, but somewhere along the way it just became increasingly common to hear his voice, both with a high-pass filter and blissfully without. Now though, there’s just too long of a weirdly tense pause in the reunion for you to handle without doing something about it.

So you step out from behind him with the child in your arms, giving her an apologetic smile with as much friendliness as you can possibly put into an expression.

“Hello,” you greet her gently, musically, lifting the baby’s hand to give her a companionable three-fingered wave from the both of you while he coos. “I promise I’m not trouble, but he did bring me along this time.”

Din and the woman simultaneously turn to look at you; her like you’re just as strange and jarring of a sight to see on this planet as the tiny unnamed boy in your arms and him like your voice by itself is enough to loosen his shoulders. Though neither one of them ultimately respond to you, you can tell by the way his fists unclench that you’ve at least helped him relax, even if the frizzy-haired lazy otherwise ignores your introduction entirely.

“Now just what in Maker’s name are you doing with a poor little stowaway like that?” She faces him and pokes his armor again. “You runnin’ a charity out of that battered piece of junk you call a ship?”

“Three hundred credits to let them stay with you for a week,” he turns back to tell her, cutting directly to the chase. Alright, so you don’t really understand their relationship at all at this point. He said she was nice? And yet he’s already bribing her that handsomely?

“Five hundred,” she immediately shoots back, and your heart sinks. Fuck, there’s no way. There’s no way he would spend that much, you’re going to have to find somewhere else to stay.

But… he doesn’t respond. Which you now remember with a jolt of surprise, means confirmation. Not wasting words agreeing, he’d say something back to her if he had an issue. Maker, five hundred credits. You’re starting to wonder if he’s really able to make any money at all doing this, or if the job is just… fitting for him, so he continues to do it. He’s spending more and more credits on you every single time you turn around, and while you don’t feel great about it, you know Din well enough to know he’s stable and independent enough to make the decisions he wants to make.

So you just stand there and hold the baby to your chest, unsure of your place, while Din eventually turns around to face you.

Sometimes, if you’re being honest, you almost find yourself wanting to… do soft things with him that you know you shouldn’t while other people are around. Granted, he’s never told you not to, but the last thing you want to do is undermine his reputation by unintentionally revealing his gentler side. You want to give him a hug and maybe hand him the baby to say goodbye, but you don’t know if that’s how he wants to present himself to company right now. Unfortunately, that ends up translating into you just looking at him and awkwardly waiting to see what he does. Your feelings won’t be hurt if he just takes off without another word now that you know that that’s his intent—you promise, they weren’t hurt the first fifty or so times he’s done it. You understand him, it’s alright, he doesn’t need to—

But then he leans in and lowers his voice until only you can hear it.

“I’ll be back soon,” he tells you, and you feel warmth creep into your chest.

You understand him. Which is why you feel like you could almost burst with how much he didn’t have to say that but chose to do so anyway. You already have a solid time frame—a week—which is more information than you usually get, and it’s such a small thing. It’s insane; if you made a list, you’d have 1) talking to you, 2) knowing his first name, and 3) seeing a glimpse of his forehead as your top reasons why he might care just as much about you as you care for him. That’s insane.

He takes a second to reach a glove out and rub the baby’s ear as he makes his adorable little baby noises up at him, before the helmet tilts back up just slightly to look at you.

“Be safe,” he waits for you to whisper back.

And you think now is finally the time to go, right? Except he waits just a few precious seconds more, just holding there, silently. Maker, you don’t want to miss him, why is he doing this to you? You’re trying to play it cool, see-you-later’s have been commonplace between you for nearing a full year now, so why does it feel like now is the first time he truly doesn’t want to go?

You hold the kid with one hand and start to reach for him the split second he turns to walk away, and you quickly drop it as the dry wind snaps through his cape. He leaves and doesn’t look back.

Still, you watch him disappear, until eventually you’re reminded of your host’s presence with the tap of a wrench against your shoulder.

“Hope you know your way around a hyperdrive,” the woman says with a smirk. Maker, Din didn’t even give you her name, you’re going to have to ask. “Gotta repair at least two of ‘em by sundown.”

You catch the hefty tool with your free hand and turn to her. “Pre-Imperial or post? Never done a restoration, but I’m a quick learner.”

She blinks at you like that was probably the last thing she expected you to say, but you give her the same friendly smile from before and look towards the entrance of the hangar for the ships needing maintenance.

***

So Peli is… a character.

She’s quick and entertaining and whip-smart, but you worry that if she had a whip, she might actually use it. She’s nice—she is, but she damn near works you to the bone once you prove yourself capable. You don’t think she expected the extent of your practical knowledge of mechanics, she went into it assuming you were going to be useless and did a hard U-turn that very first night. You both worked together to fix two malfunctioning hyperdrives by sundown, just like she told you she needed, but then she looked vaguely surprised and nobody showed to pick up until two days later.

The second day is more hectic, and the third day is worse. You cradle the kid on your hip while you work one-handed, smudged grease all over your forehead and sweat sticking your hair to your neck. Using Peli’s sonic shower never leaves you feeling clean no matter how many times a day you find yourself wanting to wash the dust and grime from your body, the same way yours used to back on Arvala-7, and you immediately get why her dark hair seems so frizzy and dry whenever you step out of the stall and catch sight of the similar rat’s nest on your head in the small mirror. Hypersonic waves dry it out more than the blazing hot suns on this planet—you look the same exact way you’ve looked for decades and while you don’t mind hard work, you can’t stand the complete lack of water on this forsaken rock.

Din was right, though. She is nice, but in a way that she never wants anybody else to find out about. She cooks you food every night but expects you to clean the whole kitchen after, she lets you have free reign over the caf maker as long as you remember to make enough for her, and she allows you and the kid to pass out on the beat-up sofa in one of the secluded back rooms for the time being. On more than one occasion, when she assigns you chores that require two hands and a steady focus to complete, you overhear her babytalk behind the control panel as she bounces the kid in one arm and plays with his ears. It fills your chest with a quiet, subtle kind of warmth, and you understand why Din trusts her with him.

At least you stay busy—which, understatement. She works you so hard that eventually she starts handing you tasks that don’t really seem… pressing. Replacing the spherical joints on her three pit droids, hand-scrubbing the grime off the pots and pans she uses to cook the same two meals everyday, polishing the dusty windows overlooking the landing platform even though they’re caked over with dirt not even an hour later. You realize soon enough that she doesn’t have nearly the workload here as she claims, periodically catching her playing cards with the droids while you’re busting your ass doing chores once all the real work has clearly been accomplished, but you’re not upset. You like being busy, it’s how you’ve lived most of your life. However, at some point, you actually end up running out of things to do. After that, it’s like she has to actively look for tasks she still needs completed.

One morning you find her in the parked Crest, ripping open the guidance systems paneling and talking to herself. You sip your caf and watch silently from the landing bay, hair pulled up in a messy bun and the baby on your hip as the suns rise on your shoulders and she mutters, whole sheets of metal being tossed out from the insides of the Razor Crest.

You've also learned she responds incredibly well to the prospect of credits, so you don’t spend too much time wondering what her goal is—find something in the ship for you to fix and then charge Mando extra for the materials whenever he comes back.

Hilarious though, as if there’s anything in your ship that actually needs fixing.

You spin around with a sigh and walk back into the hangar, knowing today will probably be the first slow day in awhile.

***

A few hours later, you’re invited to play a game of Sabacc for the first time in your life.

There are so many rules—so many suits and names to keep track of, so many values to memorize, only to be forced to choose one card after every round to keep just in case the rest of them happen to shuffle at random, which occurs at least once or twice every game. There’s too much luck involved to figure out any sort of strategy; you feel like sometimes you’re hopelessly lost and end up winning anyways or you wager nearly your entire stack of bolts on a perfect hand and then you lose the entire thing regardless.

It’s an unpredictable nightmare. But it’s something to do, and you’ve learned that playing just as stupidly as you bet allows you to easily stay in the game. The baby sits in your lap and plays with one of your rusty metal gambling pieces while your leg bounces, and Peli grumbles under her breath once it appears you get ahead of her in winnings.

“Beginner’s luck,” she tells her favorite pit droid quietly, who focuses its singular eye at you in a way that somehow feels unfriendly and nods on a brand new swivel, courtesy of yours truly.

You don’t argue, because there’s no point. The whole fucking thing is luck, but there’s no point. You know enough about this game to know that you might give something away if you speak, so you keep your mouth shut and let her fill the void. You know how to stay silent, you’ve learned from the best. Wordlessly drawing a card from the deck and tucking it in between two others of the same value, you decide to trade one of your other cards at complete random and hope it all just works out.

“Ship looks like it’s brand spankin’ new on the inside,” Peli mutters into her mug out of nowhere, and you pause for a moment, before silently nodding at the offhanded comment and trying not to show how pleased you are by it. “Was falling apart the last time I saw it.”

You keep bouncing the kid on your knee and fan out the cards in front of you, hoping his big black eyes aren’t reflective enough to reveal your hand. “I have a lot of free time.”

“I can tell,” she acknowledges, crossing her legs and leaning back into her chair. Peli sets the mug down and sighs. “You’re a good mechanic. I’d offer you a job here, but something tells me you wouldn’t even consider it.”

Now, you do smile. But it’s a hidden one. A fond one. One you find impossible to fight when you’re reminded of him. You miss him and ache for him and all those collectively angsty things, yes—but mostly you’re just… able to find a bone-deep solace in even thinking about him. Your heart tightens, but it’s far less constricting than it is a comfort, a firm embrace. It surrounds you in its safety; Din’s mere existence is your protection, wrapping around you the same way the beskar protects him. Nothing can touch you. You’re safe, from all the things you used to fear and all the new things you’ve learned to fear.

No, you’d never consider it. This planet is too much like Arvala-7, just slightly more populated and dangerous. You love the baby. You love him. You’d never consider it.

“Don’t you get bored?” She asks you with a raised eyebrow, and your smile admittedly drops the slightest bit. “Just waiting around for him to come back?”

You don’t have to think about your answer. Of course you do. If you’re being honest, it does feel a bit like your life is split between worlds—one with him, and one without. Whenever he’s not here, you’re thinking about how much you want him to come back, and whenever he is here, you’re thinking about how much you don’t want him to go. You’ve never experienced anything like that before. There were a few local farmers scattered far across the arid landscape of the place you used to call home, and three of your neighbors all had kids around your age. So you experimented when you were younger, since you never had much else to do in your spare time, but you never loved any of them. You’d always go back home and continue to do chores, continue to look up at the sky and wonder what you were missing.

“Yes,” you admit quietly.

But what you don’t tell her is that in exchange, you get to see the galaxy. You get to have experiences you’ve only dreamed about, take care of the cutest little baby you’ve ever seen and become part of a family. You don’t know of anything you could want more. Adventure, companionship, pleasure, and fulfillment. Sure, you get restless, and sure, you don’t necessarily feel good about the fact that Din seems to be your driving force even when he’s away, but you know independence. You know what it means to live for yourself. You’ve done it long enough that you’ll never forget how to, you’ve experienced it more than enough to know you’re happy about throwing yourself off the cliff and falling into something different. As much as it’s new and terrifying, it’s better. Now you have other people to live for, too.

You marvel at the change—not just from a year ago, but from a handful of months ago. He used to terrify you. You used to keep your mouth purposefully shut around him because you were scared of overstaying your welcome and being dropped off somewhere equally as remote as the place you grew up. Never could you have imagined that the fiercest guardian the galaxy has ever seen would decide you’re also worth protecting.

No, you figure, you just need to… find something in addition. Something else to also commit to, give yourself something to do. You can practice the new self-defense maneuvers he taught you, that’s a good idea. But maybe you can also…

You eventually decide to prompt Peli in a change in conversation. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“What do you want now?” She takes another sip of her caf as if you’ve been bothering her about this all day long, and… well, it’s times like these that you wish you had a helmet, too, if only so you could roll your eyes.

“I’ve got a few pieces of rusted metal in the Crest,” you eventually tell her, careful with your phrasing and not sure how much you want to reveal. “They’re in bad shape, but I want to keep them. Could I use some of your tools here to hammer out some of the dents, dissolve whatever crud is on the surface? I saw you have a forge back there that’s barely been used, just need the metal hot enough to be pliable without sacrificing its integrity.”

She furrows her eyebrows at you. “But I still need your help with…”

You wait, but she’s got nothing and you both know it. Still, you keep a pointed silence and wait for it, wondering if this’ll actually work. This is what Din does, right? Just refuse to say anything and make the other person crumble under the crushing quiet? Miraculously, it proves to be successful—you watch her flounder for a response, her will wavering the longer you sit there and stare expectantly at her.

“Fine,” Peli finally acquiesces, and you grin. “But only if you win this round. What d’you got?”

You set down your cards to reveal your hand. A perfect twenty-three if you’ve been counting right, unbeatable unless she or any of the droids managed to get the same, and you know it didn’t happen as soon as she takes a few seconds for mental math and then scoffs.

“Beginner’s luck,” you tell her kindly, pushing all your winnings back over to her side of the table with one hand and scooping the kid up with the other, before turning around and heading towards the Crest in search of Din’s old armor.

***

It’s late afternoon on day five and you’re on your back on a creeper seat, sweat dripping down your neck as you reach up to fiddle with the engine of a T-16, a Skyhopper similar to one you built yourself on Arvala-7. They're not space-faring vehicles, they’re only capable of reaching the upper troposphere, but owning one allowed you to develop solid flight skills without ever truly being able to leave. Honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever despised a ship more.

You know you’ve got engine grease all over and you feel like you’re boiling in your own sweat, but you’re almost done. After this, you’ll be able to go back to working on your side project.

As soon as you’d been granted Peli’s direct permission to do so, you mixed the chemicals necessary to eat away at everything besides the basic structure underneath, and then spent all day yesterday manipulating the metal to better fit someone your size and shape. You slaved over the wickedly hot forge and developed a whole new muscle in your arm from hammering and reheating, hammering and reheating. You had to repair the way the chestpiece was tapered into a concave point by folding the thin metal back in on itself multiple times, strengthening it without flattening it back into its original shape too much, and then you ended up melting down some of the extra material from the needlessly large shoulder and thigh pieces to fill in the gaps.

Granted, you still have a ways to go on replacing the crushed magnetics box that was falling off the chestpiece and filing down the rough scrapes and sharp edges, but you’re now left with almost a full set of armor that’s a uniform dull silver in color and molds way better to your general figure than before. You’re not a blacksmith or armorer by any stretch of the imagination, but you’re good with your hands and did what you could in the time allotted. It looks better than you ever thought it would, and without access to Peli’s enormous collection of tools and machinery, you know it would’ve been better off in the trash.

Still, you have to finish this engine first before you can rip apart the control unit wiring on the armor to see how the whole set fits together and what else needs to be repaired. You’ve been working on it for a few hours before you hear the door to the hangar open. Yet, when you don’t immediately hear Peli’s voice calling out to you, or anyone else’s voice for that matter, your heart thuds in your chest with sudden excitement.

“You’re back early,” you tell the engine suspended over your head, knowing he must’ve already thrown the quarry into the Crest parked outside before coming to see you. Right on time, footsteps approach and then a boot carefully catches the flat platform between your legs, slowly rolling your seat out from under the ship until the rest of the sunlit hangar is revealed to you.

You know you must look a hot mess right now. Your hair is a disaster and there’s not a clean spot to be found on your body—sweat glistens and pools along every curve you have and you’re probably drenching the spare jumpsuit Peli let you borrow, but Maker, there he is. Every time you see him is like the first time all over again, except this time the Mandalorian is looming like a giant over you, the helmet tilted down and silently taking you in.

Instead of settling you, his daunting presence gets you hotter than dual suns in the sky ever could. Fuck, he hasn’t said a word to greet you, and yet you’re already wondering if you can entice him to shove you back under here and join you.

You slowly push yourself upright and he steps back just enough to allow it, but not an inch more than that. You have to crane your neck up to keep looking at him, and he stands close enough over you that you wouldn’t have to reach far at all if you wanted to touch him.

And it’s crazy to think that… you absolutely could touch him, if you wanted. He radiates danger, he hunts and tracks for his continued survival, he’s probably got fresh blood staining the dark fabric of his cape and he’s so fucking intimidating—and if you wanted to, you could touch him.

Maybe you can partially blame your sore muscles as to why you immediately drop your head back down, but mostly you just want to stare at a part of his body that happens to align perfectly at eye level. And fuck, nothing stops you from looking. He doesn’t help you up, but he also doesn’t move so you can haul yourself to your feet, either. He just holds perfectly still with his body standing tall over yours, content to stay exactly like this while your hand slowly reaches out to wrap around one of his ankles.

He’s so warm, his muscles flex strong under your palm as you let it drift upwards, biting your lip as you flick your gaze back up to the chrome visor and then down again to the apex of his thighs. Your other hand comes up to scale the beskar strapped to his leg and you roll yourself forward slightly, wondering if he’d let you…

The black fabric stretching over his crotch just barely touches your fingertips before his hand is suddenly whipping out and grabbing hold of your wrist.

You gasp and jerk your head up to look at him, somehow equally hoping that you’re both in trouble and not in it at the same time. Din’s abruptly chest raises with a large, labored inhale, as if he wasn’t breathing at all that entire time, as if he just now remembered the setting, the fact that he’s not alone on the Crest with you right now. Peli and the kid have to be somewhere in the hangar, you know that, but…

“We’re leaving tonight,” he breathes out through the modulator, and you have absolutely no fucking problem with that at all. “But… shit, but…”

“But…?” You prompt, wanting nothing more than to let your hands reach back up to his pants again, but you settle for slowly dragging one palm up his forearm as his grip on your wrist tightens.

“Fuck, I wanted to take you somewhere first,” he groans like your feather-soft touch is actually hurting him, his hands suddenly dropping yours and pushing you away to clench into fists at his sides. “Maker—why do you always f-fucking do this to me…”

You raise an eyebrow at him this time, the curiosity starting to mix with the heat simmering down low, the kind that you'd feel even on a frozen wasteland of a planet as long as you were with him. All at once, you decide to channel him and his trademarked silence, enthralled by the incredibly slim chance that it will work equally as well on its creator.

“…Distract me,” he finally growls out an answer to the question you never asked him, sounding frustrated with you for reasons you still haven’t figured out, and your mouth is drier than the desert outside. Oh stars, you feel… fucking powerful. “From everything,” he goes on, talking honestly and openly, more words given to you in thirty seconds than he’s probably offered to anyone all week long. “Fuck, I feel like I can barely do fucking anything anymore, I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Your heart slams in your chest, wondering if he possibly feels the exact same way about you as you feel about him. Missing you whenever he’s gone, dreading the moment he needs to leave again whenever he’s with you. The thought alone is enough to set off fireworks through your veins, pumping hope and excitement from your fingers to your toes.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe out, biting your lip in a way that doesn’t look or feel sorry at all.

“No, you’re not,” Din grunts, before reaching out and hauling you to your feet, and even if there wasn’t a flat seat under you with wheels, it’d still be awkward and uncoordinated as fuck. “Shit. I… I need to clean up. Grab your things, go tell…”

Din trails off after a second, suddenly sounding at a complete loss. You catch your footing and stare at him as he falters. “Uh. Go tell…” He gestures with a sense of finality to the control room, as if he’s actually successfully communicating with you by doing so. “Her. That we’re leaving tonight.”

“What?” You ask him, thoroughly fucking confused. “What are you saying right now?”

“The woman,” he clarifies, clearing his throat. “The mechanic, with the… droids. Tell her I’ll pay her before we leave, but we’re g—”

“Peli?” You blurt, completely flabbergasted at this point. “Did you forget her name, Mando?”

“I…” he shakes his head slightly at you, like you should already know him better than that. “Never asked.”

“But you—?” You blink at him. “But you said she was your friend?”

“You said she was my friend,” he immediately points out, with—oh Maker, just biting accuracy. It wasn’t necessarily a jab or anything, but you still feel dizzy with how fucking spot on he is about it. Yikes, you absolutely did say that. You forgot.

“Oh…” you mumble, at a stunning loss for a response. “Ha. Oh. Yeah, huh.”

There’s too many beats of awkward silence after that, probably because he’s just so blown away by your way with words that he’s just attempting to analyze the wisdom. Stars, you’re making a complete fool of yourself in front of him, aren’t you?

“Were you jealous?” He suddenly asks, and you jerk upright, your heart kicking up to a gallop in your chest at the question.

“I’ll go tell Peli we’re leaving soon,” you quickly agree and go to scurry away in abrupt panic, but he catches your wrist and hauls you back before you can get far. You run into him with a gasp and immediately start to repeat your explanation for why you very suddenly need to depart, but the tips of Din’s fingers catch your chin and force you to look up at him.

“Hey,” he cuts your rambling short with a hushed murmur and the pad of his thumb brushes down your jaw. “Tell me the truth.”

You don’t have an answer that won’t be incriminating, and you don’t think you can get the delivery right on a lie, not to him and especially not when he’s got you so cornered. So you just keep completely silent and look up at him like a scolded child would. Innocent, wide-eyed and scared shitless about the unknown consequences of your actions.

His helmet slowly tilts as he studies you, watching you look up at him for help. His fingers gradually spread out across your jaw, flattening under the curve of your throat but so gentle, so careful that you’re almost worried he actually is mad.

“I’m sorry,” you immediately offer before he can say anything, your eyebrows pulling up in the middle. “I’m so sorry, it’s just—I just…”

His thumb carefully stretches up to brush your bottom lip, and you… Mind blank, no thoughts. Stars, you’ve got fucking nothing.

“I’ve got nothing,” you admit, giving up before you can even try. “There’s no reason. I was jealous. It’s stupid and I wasn’t going to say anything because I know it’s stupid, and I shouldn’t feel possessive over you but I do, and it’s stupid. I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I know you, and I’m really sorry if that makes you feel weird, I don’t want you to feel like you can’t have—”

Your chin lifts slightly with the gentlest movement of his hand and the subtle pressure is enough to cut your mindless oversharing off. Din’s voice lowers until it’s throaty and quiet.

“See that wall?” He asks, keeping the visor pinned to you while carefully turning his hand to the right, and your whole head easily follows the movement as he guides it. You have to blink your eyes into focus a few times, but then you immediately see what he’s talking about. It’s a partition separating the welding room from the rest of the hangar. He waits until you nod in the cradle of his palm, before leaning in and murmuring to you. “If we were alone, I’d take you around behind it and show you exactly how that makes me feel.”

You pull back from him with a startled gasp just as a voice calls out from the entrance of the hangar. “Well, look who finally decided to come back!”

Din slowly drops his arms and stares at you for just long enough to make you seriously worry that he’s going to say fuck it all and do it anyways, before finally turning around and greeting Peli with another silent nod.

She plants one hand on her hip once she’s standing right in front of him, cradling the kid on with her other arm, and you have to take a second to collect yourself now that you’re not at the direct center of his attention anymore. “Sure did take you long enough, didn’t it?”

“I’m two days early,” he grunts in his immediate defense, but it’s like she doesn’t hear him.

“You’re leaving soon I hope,” she drawls while handing the baby over to him, who makes an adorable little happy squeak at seeing his dad again. “You owe me five hundred credits.”

“It was five hundred for the full week,” he reminds her, and… he has a point. Though it was never part of the agreement, you wonder if she’ll be willing to accept less compensation for having the burden of your company be lifted early.

“Five days count as a full week, far as I’m concerned,” she shoots back, and your heart suddenly sinks when Din’s shoulders tighten and he doesn’t respond.

“Peli…” you sigh from behind him before you even realize you’ve spoken aloud.

Your host quickly sidesteps your bodyguard to eye you dubiously, and at the same time, you also jolt and wonder what your goal is here exactly. You’re ultimately just attempting to diffuse any tension sparking between them, you figure, knowing you’re probably the best mediator here. She looks at you up and down for a long time, hard and judging, before the baby babbles something wordlessly and she sighs.

“I suppose we can just call it even,” she finally huffs, turning back to him. “You’re lucky your girlfriend earned her keep, Mando.”

And then your jaw drops. Holy shit, is she serious? You assumed Peli valued credits above almost anything else, you never expected her to just… turn down the entire offer like that, so willingly. Clearly Din didn’t either, because you both just stand there for a moment in front of her in a baffled silence.

Also… girlfriend?

Is that what you are to him? Admittedly you haven’t talked to him about what to call your relationship, but then again, you’re a practical person and you never really saw a specific need to do so. You care about him, he cares about you—what else is important? You don’t need a title to recognize your value to him, and for some odd reason, calling yourself his “girlfriend” just feels like you’re a teenager again. If you were actually looking for a different word to use instead, you wouldn’t be able to find it, but you know that one just feels… not enough. Not old enough, not encompassing enough, not complex enough. It’s an elementary school version of what this is. And to refer to someone like Din as your boyfriend? Maker, just saying it aloud would probably make his eye twitch.

“Uh.” He stands there awkwardly, and you’re so blown away by both the sentiment and specific verbiage she used that you’re practically useless at this point. Shit, what’s beyond girlfriend, you wonder? Lover? No, not good enough. Partner? No. No, not wife, definitely fucking not— “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peli waves him away and spins around to leave, but not before throwing one final thing over her shoulder. “That ain’t an open invitation to come back, by the way.”

All of a sudden, you just can’t stop yourself from breaking out into a wide grin, tucking your chin in hopes that she won’t see it with her back turned and decide to pounce on the display of weakness. The three of you watch her stride out of the room and immediately bark an order at one of her droids to get back to work, who starts looking around in desperate search of something to do, and Din’s palm finds its usual place on your lower back as she disappears.

“What a nice lady,” you offer to him, and he gives you a wordless grumble in response.

***

So it’s a couple hours later and you think the kid might actually have the right idea this time.

You find yourself wishing you had a little hover pod of your own that followed Din around, one you could close the lid on and hide in while blaster fire whistles through the air around you like the baby is currently doing. You’re trying to listen to instructions—you’re trying, but there’s a lot going on here. Voices chatting, guns firing, targets being pinged, a lively little band playing in the cantina next door.

When Din first led you through Mos Eisley and inside this specific adobe hut, if you’re being completely honest, you had hoped for food. A comparatively large restaurant, perhaps? Peli didn’t starve you by any stretch of the imagination, but her dinners were the exact same every single night, and you’ve learned to thrive on new things. While you didn’t necessarily think he was going to take you on a… a date, or anything, you certainly didn’t expect him to take you to a shooting range.

Well. Now that you think about it, this might actually be a date.

Luckily you’re hidden away in the furthest firing partition from the door, but even without the near-constant barrage of gunfire to your left, the distractions are still plentiful. The kid actually reached down and pressed the button to close his crib himself as soon as the bright beams of plasma started zooming past and reflecting in his large black eyes, and oh how you wish that were you. You don’t necessarily feel like you’re in danger or anything, but you’ve also never seen so many guns in one place before and you’re worried you’re accidentally going to hurt someone else.

So far Din has taught you the fundamentals for any firearm—always keep the safety on until you’re ready to fire, never point at anything unless you’re a hundred percent willing to shoot it, yada yada yada—and also the safety fundamentals for blasters specifically. So, making sure there’s no leaks in the gas cylinder when you first load it, never letting a strong magnet get near the power pack, checking the surface of your target for deflection curves if you want to prevent a ricochet, or maybe in his case, inspire one. He’s taught you your stance, he’s taught you how to read your sights, now all that’s left is just to… shoot.

Your arms raise up in front of you and the metal feels too heavy and awkward in your hands, and you have to hold the handle in your left and creep your right index finger all the up the side of the barrel until you feel the indented safety switch. It clicks and you reset your grip to slowly ease your finger onto the trigger, staring down the sight, right at the bullseye. Din is standing directly behind you next to the kid’s tightly closed hovering pod, arms crossed and just waiting for you to pull it.

Come on beginner’s luck, come on beginner’s luck—

You fire, and… well. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a shot miss its target that spectacularly in your entire life. You’re almost surprised the beam of plasma didn’t somehow ricochet back into the booth you’re both standing in, that’s how spectacularly you missed.

“Try again.”

There’s no amusement in his voice, nothing mocking about it. Pure monotone under the helmet, as if he was just naturally expecting that to happen.

No, you think in frustration. You want to surprise him again, impress him with how quickly you can pick things up, turn him on like last time. You just fucking know that would get to him—seeing you easily hit the target dead center with his own blaster, you know that would get to him.

You adjust your aim and fire a few more times. Miss, miss, wild miss, miss. Fuck, so many distractions, plasma flying in the corner of your vision and an increasingly heavy gaze from behind you. Another miss, a miss, yeesh that’s a miss—

Alright, so you're just embarrassing yourself at this point.

“I think it’s broken,” you shrug in defeat, taking a second to find the safety switch and toggle it before going to set the gun down on the raised adobe platform separating the line of booths from the targets—but then Din suddenly snatches the blaster from your grip and extends his arm over your shoulder, firing off six rounds in rapid succession so wickedly fast that you jump backwards into his rock solid chest in surprise. He doesn’t give an inch under the collision and even wraps his forearm tight around your tummy as he hits the bullseye with such deadly accurate precision that even the char marks and the line of smoke left wafting from the target’s center are razor-thin.

“Works just fine,” he grunts, setting the weapon back down again before urging you forward a bit. “Go ahead, give it another shot.”

But you’re on a remarkable delay, just trying to process his sheer speed, how fluid and seamless the entire fucking motion was. Fucking Maker, blink and you’d miss the whole thing. He waited to grab the gun from you until you turned the safety on, but then… then how did he fire it so insanely fucking fast? That’s like five different things he had to do with one single hand within a split second…?

“I turned the safety on,” you blink down at the blaster, clearly just trying to process.

“Yeah,” he agrees blankly, as if he’s unsure as to what specifically you’re so stuck on right now.

“So how did you toggle so fas—?”

He picks it from the shelf gracefully and lightning quick—as if he just can’t help but go that speed around his weapon—and then he twists it on its side, flexing his wrist back until the barrel is pointed upwards and you can clearly see his index finger extend all the way up to the safety switch, flipping it up and down while his middle finger rests over the trigger guard.

“How in the f…?” You mutter, lifting your hand up next to his and positioning your fingers in the exact same L shape, only the tip of your index finger barely stretches an inch shy of the switch. “Psh,” you huff, dropping your arm back down again. “Design flaw.”

“For you,” he acknowledges, using the trigger guard to flip it back to its proper position in his hand like fucking spinning it like that is just the easiest and most natural way to handle the deadly weapon. “This gun was made for me, it’s a feature. Yours would be smaller and lighter, have the safety towards the back of the chamber instead of along the barrel.”

The words and the casual display of ability cause a rush of stirring excitement to burst forth inside you, suddenly giddy at the very thought.

“Wait,” you draw the word out with a grin, leaning back into him and gently nudging him with your elbow to make sure he knows you’re only mostly joking. “You gonna buy me a blaster, Mando? I did earn my keep this week, didn’t I?”

“Have to find one that fits a big enough sight first,” he mutters while setting the gun down on the table, and you scoff at him as his hands come to rest on your hips. They squeeze and try to guide you forwards once again. “Prove that you can at least hit the target with mine and we’ll see.”

“You only get to make fun of me if you give me a real answer,” you rule, planting your feet and refusing to budge.

“Okay, but we both know I’ll make fun of you anyways,” he sighs, and you have to dig your heels in and push back into him to keep yourself rooted to the spot.

“You’re not being a very encouraging teacher,” you accuse without trying to hide your grin. “In fact I feel very discouraged right now and I think that y—”

But then Din suddenly tips his helmet closer to your ear and lowers his voice, cutting you off. “Did you know that gifting someone a weapon is considered a proposal of marriage on Mandalore?”

Your smile quickly drops and you gasp, wholly startled at the implication and immediately trying to spin around to look at him. “Holy shit, are you serious?”

“No,” comes his modulated grunt, tightening his hold and keeping you firmly facing forwards. “Of course not. Pick up the gun.”

Okay.

Okay, so that one gets you.

You immediately start giggling, painfully aware that this isn’t the time or place for it, but that one actually fucking got you. Din easily guides and parks your gullible ass in front of the window carved out of dried mud before picking up the blaster himself and forcing you to hold it with your loose hands, grumbling under his breath.

Shit, okay, focus. Focus, you can do this. You clear the laughter from your throat and suddenly get deadly serious, staring your target down like it’s personally gone out of its way to ruin your entire life. The blaster feels cold in your palms but not when Din’s hands wrap warm and tight around the back of yours, letting you hold the gun how it’s most comfortable for you before gently settling his fingers down over yours. His chestpiece presses tight against your shoulder blades when he guides the gun up and out, and his arms are long enough to extend yours fully even though he’s behind you and still has some bend to his elbows. He uses his feet to kick your ankles apart until they’re shoulder-width and then you both carefully find the trigger together.

He’s quiet and slow about it and the whole thing is one giant fucking turn-on. Maker, chill out. Chill out, he’s teaching you how to shoot. This is important stuff, there are people around, chill out…

Din takes a moment to aim the barrel and his hold is so fucking steady, so unwavering and strong. You wonder if it’d be too obvious if you pushed your hips back a little, you might be able to feel his—

“Fire,” Din murmurs next to your ear, and you pull the trigger without a second thought.

The bright red plasma beam launches from the end of the blaster and hits the target dead center. You gasp, pulling the trigger again, and unsurprisingly, it’s another perfect shot.

He suddenly lets go of your arms and takes a small step back, but the second he removes his body from yours, the rounds start bouncing wildly off the edges of the target. Your eyebrows furrow and you try to emulate how you think the angle felt before, but you can’t find it anymore and you’re just failing spectacularly.

When you decide to pause for a second, Din steps up close behind you and wraps his arms around you once more. You can feel the exact moment he’s locked in his aim, and you fire wordlessly as soon as you know it’s going to hit. Bullseye, right on the nose.

This time, he lifts just his hands away from yours, staying perfectly still otherwise and you swear you don’t move a single fucking muscle in your entire body before pulling the trigger, but it still hits the far corner of the target.

“It’s broken,” you shrug once again, and Din drops his helmet to your shoulder with a sigh. “This gun was made for you, which means there’s obviously some mod you have installed that reads biometrics and ruins the shot no matter how good it—”

“Not even close, but that’s not a bad idea,” he tells you, watching you click the safety on and set the uncooperative blaster down. “I can’t figure out what you’re doing wrong. Are you just distracted?”

Uh, fuck yeah you are. So much is going on and more than that, he’s here and he’s just… fuck, you know what he meant when he said he felt like he was losing his mind. He’s your biggest distraction, all the time. He’s still standing so close to you and the baby is still isolated and tucked away in his hovering sphere, and you take a moment to think about it.

Yes, it’s… it’s possible that you may learn better by example than anything else.

“Can I watch you do it?” You ask him, and Din shrugs before reaching around you and quickly grabbing the blaster from its mud shelf. “Wait—” you tell him while he raises and extends his arm over your shoulder, and then you wiggle sideways as much as possible in the small booth to squeeze around behind him. He doesn’t say anything as you swap places with him and scoot up behind him, but you can tell by his body language that he’s confused. You wonder if he liked that position and watching you shoot his gun, even if you’re complete shit at it.

He stands in front of you for a second and you give him an encouraging, “Okay,” to let him know you’re ready, but then the helmet turns back to look at the target like he’s still unsure as to what you want specifically. You keep your mouth shut and let him figure it out. You meant what you said—you want to watch him shoot. You want to watch him where he’s infamous, watch him do what he’s best at and let completely loose in front of you.

As if it finally clicks for him, Din turns to face the target and suddenly throws the blaster into his left hand while reaching down and pushing a button hidden under the hollow platform with his right. You have to lean around his broad shoulders to watch the target slide backwards on its track easily triple the distance before squeaking and slamming to a stop. Din stretches his non-dominant hand out and subtly tilts his helmet before firing six times, easily hitting the bullseye with just as much accuracy as before, and you frown when you notice the only shots that have actually hit the target so far have all been dead center.

He sets the gun down and stands there for a second, staring across the range like it’s nothing at all to him and it’s… remarkable. Not that he’s a wicked shot, you’ve known that the second you laid eyes on his armor all those months ago. No, it’s just… you would think this is where he’d thrive, if anywhere. The entire place is full of smugglers, raiders, scavengers, mercenaries—occupations that define themselves by their grit. They’re talking as much as they’re shooting, conversing in languages you’ve never heard but suspect Din easily understands. But instead of fitting in, he’s just… there. He doesn’t look comfortable, but he also doesn’t look uncomfortable, either. He doesn’t look like he’s having any fun at all.

None of this is considered a hobby to him, you suddenly realize. It’s not fun because he’s too good at it. This is life. This is going back to school for the most basic fundamentals of a job he’s excelled at for decades—it’s not interesting, he’s gaining absolutely nothing from practicing.

You try to think of the last time you’ve seen him truly in his element. You think back on all the different settings—he looked out of place on Canto Bight, got into fights on Corellia, hated Coruscant, seemed stressed on Nevarro, and even on Naboo, even in the middle of paradise, he looked unsure if he actually deserved to be there with you. Now here on Tatooine, where he has real people that he trusts, where he’s surrounded by like-minded individuals shooting his favorite things in the world, it’s like he’s still not able to fully let go.

Is it just you, you wonder? Does he stand out more just because you’re the one looking?

No, you think. No. You have seen him relax. You’ve seen him laugh before, you’ve seen him be himself with you.

But… only with you. A hardened bounty hunter that much prefers the company of a young woman and an infant to literally anyone else in the galaxy.

Fuck. Why does that turn you on so fucking much? It’s the display of prowess, the sheer skill he’s developed, how fucking deadly he is—and how you’ve felt him use that trigger finger to trace slow circles around your clit. The Mandalorian standing with his blaster raised has probably been the last thing too many people have ever seen in their lifetimes, and yet watching from this angle just makes you feel protected, guarded, and… so fucking horny for him.

“Do it again,” you eventually murmur, touching both your palms to his back this time just to feel it. You want to feel him shoot, you want to feel his muscles move with it. You want to touch how mechanically he’s able to aim, you want to know if he’s loose or tense when he fires, you just want to… feel it.

Din grabs the gun and as he extends his arms out, you slide your hands up his back to rest under his shoulders. He’s so broad, he feels so warm and strong, and his trigger releases are so steady that nothing above his wrists move.

Shit, before he’s even finished setting the blaster back down again, you’re already scooting up behind him as close as possible and carefully slithering your arms around his waist, hugging your body tight to his back. Din stays completely still while your mouth presses against the fabric of his cape and your hands begin to slowly slide down his stomach.

He doesn’t say a damn thing, which makes it even hotter for some reason. There’s no warning he gives you, no low growl of your name or sweet girl being dragged through the modulator. He stays completely silent and holds there while blasters continue to fire from stalls to your left, and it gives you the thrill of your lifetime. Big strong man holding perfectly still for you to touch in the middle of a crowded room.

Your hand slips under his waistband and sink down low until you can trail your fingertips along his cock, hidden from sight beneath the edge of the clay shelf. The small sound you make at feeling it already firm and at attention for you gets lost in the noise of the shooting range, but you wrap your palm around it and give it a good, slow pull upwards, feeling Din’s back expand with a breath from the sensation.

“Do it again,” you whisper into his shoulder blade, slowly playing with his cock in his pants with one hand while keeping the other wrapped tight around his abdomen.

Din immediately snatches the blaster off the platform and fires it the very moment he takes aim, and you can feel his cock pulse in your palm as he lets off the shots. Dead center, as always, but he clunks the metal back down with a bit more force this time and then lingers his fingertips at the sloped edge of it for a second, as if he’s considering whether or not he should hold onto it.

You’re already wet between your legs, but it gets worse the longer he allows you to keep doing this. His skin is furnace-hot and he throbs for you, and you trail your thumb up to check—oh, Maker, he’s leaking for you, too. You drag the pad of your thumb over the tip and gently rub the wetness along the curve of his head, before easing back down to give the shaft another slow pull.

A quiet puff of air comes through the vocal filter, but that’s all you audibly get out of him. Still, it’s more than enough to fill you with a wicked heat and a desperate desire for more. So you bite your lip and glance around just to double-check that nobody else has wandered over behind you and the kid is still tucked away in his crib, probably passed out in the secluded darkness at this point. And then you barely take a split-second to consider it before your knees are bending and you’re slowly sinking down the length of his body.

Din is a fucking statue. He doesn’t do anything to allow your wiggling underneath the raised platform anymore than he widens his stance to prevent it. Once you’re on your knees in front of him in the dim isolation of your hiding spot though, he takes a single step forward and pins his waist to the hardened clay above your head, and a thrill skitters through you at being completely walled in on all four sides.

You reach up to hook your fingertips in his hem of his trousers and begin pulling them down, so tight and achy between your legs that you want to shove your hand down between them already. You don’t though, not yet, because you need two hands to be extra careful in getting his cock out. You don’t even want the fabric of his pants to touch it, you want your mouth to be the only sensation he knows here.

At the very last second, you decide to pull the waistband down far enough to let his balls rest outside the confining clothing, getting increasingly hotter at the thought that this isn’t going to be sneaky and dirty, even if you’re in public. Din’s wide stance and the floor-length cape hide you perfectly from any prying eyes behind his back, so it’s going to be soft and it’s going to be slow and he’s going to be comfortable while you go down on him.

Your mouth is already watering, so you bend down just slightly and lift your chin to gently drag your tongue along the smooth skin of his balls before anything else. Honestly—you don’t think he’s expecting you to go there first, because his whole body suddenly jerks at the velvet soft sensation between his legs and you let out a low hum in response. He can’t reach you down here unless he tries to, so you scoot your knees up a little bit and just decide to go for it. This way he won’t be able to get it confused, he won’t pull you out from under here halfway through when you suck on his balls before anything else. This is what you want from him, what’s right here in your mouth.

You switch to the other one and Din twitches with a filtered breath, the skin already tightening up and responding gorgeously under your tongue. His hand hovers somewhere near the raised platform above your head, fingers curling in his leather gloves and caught right between stopping you and letting you continue. While he allows it, you ease your way up and make it just tantalizing enough to make him ache without providing any real stimulation, slowly trailing your tongue up the length of his cock and pressing plush lips to the flared head.

Din exhales a shakily while you take your time, tasting the precum as his body produces it, just kissing and licking and purposefully refusing to touch him with anything besides your mouth. Without being able to see the rest of him from this angle, you're left to your own devices—you’re so gentle and soft about the pleasure that you start to separate the man from the throbbing erection you’re currently playing with. You begin to enjoy yourself without thinking too much about the struggle he must be withstanding right now, you moan softly against his heated skin even though you know you’re being a tease at the worst possible moment, but no matter how you decide to take your time with it, Din continues to allow it. He endures. Silent, perfectly still, until you eventually decide to wrap your lips around the head of his cock and flutter your tongue up underneath it.

But then he jumps and your eyes open when a deep, unkind voice from the stall to your left calls out, “Hey, Mando! Gonna fuckin’ shoot or just stand there, huh?”

You can hear his immediate frustration in the blaster scraping against the shelf over your head, and you moan softly around his cock the second you feel him tense and start firing. The smooth skin pulses on your tongue and you slide your fingers around the backs of his knees, opening your throat and slowly taking him deeper.

And, for a man that has repeatedly fired six perfect shots every single time he picks up his gun, he falters after just three this time.

The heat of your mouth must be too overwhelming. Too fucking good, too detrimental to his focus and composure to even perform the most basic tasks he typically excels at. Like a seasoned mathematician that suddenly struggles to count to ten, a renowned author that can’t recite their ABC’s—Mando can’t even fire a weapon right now and it’s all because of you.

He has to keep trying though, he has to make an actual effort now that you both know someone nearby is paying at least some sort of attention to his performance. The sound of more plasma arcing through the air over your head slowly disappears into the background in a way that it never could while you were the one firing—you’re completely hidden and safe down here, you can moan low in your throat while keeping your hands around his knees and begin to bob your head without another thought or worry whatsoever. Handling it is all on him. He just needs to stay quiet, be still, and shoot his gun. It should be the simplest thing in the galaxy for him, right?

Wrong. So wrong. You hear the way the bolts are pinging off the sides of the target now, you listen to him grunt and let off a few more shots that also sound like they miss. Your soft palate lifts and you’re practically drenching yourself at how wide he stretches your throat while you take him down as far as you can, and there’s a moment where you’re holding there and you think about doing something about the dull ache throbbing between your legs. But once you pull off him for air and automatically touch your drooling tongue to your palm, you decide this is what you want more.

Your slick hand wraps around his cock and starts to slowly jerk him off while your mouth moves down to attach to his balls once more, your touch gliding strong and wet along his entire length. Din almost doubles over into the platform, his hips stuttering up for the first time at the hard stimulation you’re finally giving him. His skin swells and tightens in your mouth—you can feel the tension locking his thighs down, you can hear the shots above you start to decrease in frequency, and you know he’s already close.

So you move back up to suck on the head of his cock again and slowly swirl your tongue around it, continuing to use your hand to pull steady and firm on the rest of his shaft, and you just close your eyes and wait for him to give you what you want. His firing soon stops altogether and you squeeze your finger between your thighs and press hard against your clit, just needing to relieve some of the ache. You keep doing that, you keep drawing circles with your tongue while slowly jerking the rest of him off into your mouth, and at some point, it all just becomes too much for him.

“Shit,” Din gasps, along with the sudden sound of metal skittering against the clay above you, and your eyes pop open in surprise. “Ah, sh—shhhhh—”

Maker, did he just drop his fucking gun?

You start to pull back, but then suddenly a trembling hand shoots down and clutches tight under your throat, hooking hard behind your jaw to make sure you stay right there.

His cock starts throbbing and he shudders, slamming his other palm on the shelf and cumming hard in your mouth. You’re already swallowing before he even gives you anything but Maker, you’re fucking desperate for it that your hand moves to curl your fingers against the exposed skin at his hips as if that’ll somehow help you get it sooner. The first taste of him comes as soon as you dig in and drag your nails down his flesh, and Din is helpless to do anything else besides clutch your jaw tight and gasp raggedly while emptying himself down your throat.

He shakes and shudders and you don’t spill a single drop, clutching his hips and pulling him close to keep him in your mouth, and as he slowly comes down from that plateau, you lick every inch of him clean. His fingers gradually lose their rigidity around your jaw and eventually, his fingers drop down to press gently against your throat while his hips pull back.

He slips from your mouth and you wipe the wetness from your chin, staring up at his cock wistfully and almost wanting to keep going. Is that fucked up, you wonder? What would he think?

He hasn’t moved yet, why isn’t he moving? Your job is clearly finished here, no matter what kind of way you may feel about that. The coast must not be clear, you have to assume. Perhaps someone is wandering around behind him, maybe he’s still being cautious about the nosy person next door—all you know is that you can tell he wants to move but he isn’t, which likely means he can’t. You know his cock must be so unbelievably sensitive right now, but he’s not easing his body back far enough away from the shelf to tuck it into his pants. He’s keeping it right in front of your face and expecting you to stay there until he deems it appropriate for you to get up.

The longer you wait for him to step back and let you out from under here, the more your need sparks and grows. What would he think? That you’re so desperate for his cock that you still want it in your mouth even when it’s soft and spent? Maker, he’d be fucking right on the money.

At some point, you can’t stop yourself. You lean back up to slowly take his soft cock back in your mouth, and Din nearly spasms while you slip your hand under your waistband and widen your knees.

You don’t do anything spectacular to it—you’re not that cruel—but you do hold him on the heat of your tongue and keep him there, fluttering your eyes closed as your finger finally touches your clit. Air puffs shakily through your nostrils and you think Din is actually shaking harder than you are, his body fighting oversensitivity while yours starts the race towards bliss. He doesn’t stop you but it also feels like he’s purposefully trying not to, like everything in him is rebelling against the wet heat of your mouth but knowing you’re only doing this because you’re so painfully turned on. You’re doing this because you need it, in spite of the electric shocks of wicked sensation it seems to be inspiring in him.

Your finger speeds up and you start gently sucking on the warm, giving flesh, and his hand trembles as it grabs at your hair. Fuck, you don’t care if he thinks you’re desperate—you want him to recognize it, you want him to know exactly how much you love his cock—

That thought sends a dark thrill down your spine and pleasure burns bright and needy where you’re still rubbing your clit, dropping your hips and rolling them forwards against your hand. And oh, your only lament is that you wish he was the one doing this. You wish Din was building your pleasure instead of letting you use his body in search of your own, you wish it was his hand working between your legs and about to shove you over that ledge, but then again. Something about this whole fucking scene is just so… undignified. Debased. And you’re getting off on it, quicker than you ever thought possible.

When you cum, you’re good and you don’t make a single sound when you cum. You squeeze your eyes shut and your entire body jolts with every single shattering wave of ecstasy, and Din tugs a handful of your hair and slowly rocks his hips once, twice, fucking your mouth while you endure wildfire burning through your veins. By the time you finish convulsing on the fucking floor of a Tatooinian gun range, you know you can go for another and probably get it equally as quick as that one, but Din is already pulling his cock out of your mouth and shoving it back into his pants. You’re like jelly as your elbow is immediately caught in his arm and you’re hauled up from your hiding spot, dazed and disoriented.

The chrome visor stares you down and you want to shrink in on yourself, thinking he’s going to take your happy ass back to the Crest. You should be in trouble, you know you should be in trouble. Leaving the recesses of your dark cubby and coming face to face with your surroundings brings a brand new clarity to light—you totally should not have done any of that. He was trying to teach you, for Maker’s sake. He was taking the time to show you the valuable knowledge he’s gained regarding weaponry and self-defense. Fuck, you even told him on Naboo that you wanted to shoot a gun, and he brought you here to do just that.

Except then he just spins you around and picks up the blaster from the adobe ledge in front of you, placing it firmly in your hands.

“Okay,” he pants quietly next to your ear, breathing hard and shallow through the helmet. “Now you should be able to focus, right?”

Fuck… Fuck, is he serious? You can barely hold the damn thing, you’re shaking so hard. How does this work again? What does this do?

“Wh-What?” You croak—fuck, your voice is gone. “I… I can’t—”

“Try,” he encourages, helping your comparatively tiny hands flip off the safety but other than that, stepping back and leaving you to it. Completely and hopelessly lost, you weakly twist around to watch him stand next to the kid’s closed metallic shield. “Hit the target,” Din reiterates with a nod, trying to catch his breath. “You can do it.”

You look back out with unfocused eyes to see it still all the way on the far end of its track, and there’s just absolutely no fucking way. “I… can’t.”

“Hit the target and we can go home,” he tells you, and while you don’t exactly know what home is anymore, something tells you it’s somewhere in hyperspace. A resting baby, a metal floor, a pitch black hull, and your cheek pressed against a warm chest.

It sounds… wonderful.

Inspiring a newfound kind of desire in you, you lift your arms as best you can and work so, so hard to keep them steady. The target is in your sights and you do your absolute best—fuck, you really do, but you pull the trigger and the shot sadly bounces off the edge.

You drop your hands, already defeated and drained. “I can’t.”

“Hit the target and I’ll buy you a blaster,” he ups the ante, and you instantly lift your dead arms again. Fuck, come on, come on, you can do this.

You shoot. Nope. So you shoot again. And then you shoot again, and again, minutely adjusting your wrists purely based on where the bright red plasma is landing and ignoring the scope entirely.

“A nice one,” he continues over the pew pew pew of you just continuing to fucking miss, fucking miserably, over and over again. “Expensive. Hand-crafted, one of a kind…”

Miss, miss, miss, and—no. Just, no. There’s only so much glaring failure you can take before you snap. You finally stop shooting and growl in frustration, going to slam the metal down on its resting place. “Mando, I ca—”

“Hit the target and I’ll marry you,” he says quietly, and you freeze just before impact.

… What? N… No…

Miraculously, you somehow manage to calmly switch the safety on and set the blaster down before turning back to see the helmet staring at you, unmoving.

You… you know it must just be a joke, right? Just a stupid extension to the one he made earlier, it must be. You blink dumbly at him and flick your gaze between the visor and two large black eyes staring at you from the crib, wondering if you glitched or if you’re just hallucinating.

“Uh…” you hear yourself say, even though you’ve got absolutely nothing, but Din doesn’t offer anything else to fill in the gaps of your startled misunderstanding. If you didn’t have such a wild fucking reaction to the words, you'd probably wonder if he actually said them or not—that’s how much he gives away. Silent, so unbelievably silent when you’re begging him to give you at least something. Is he messing with you again? Is he just that confident that you’re going to fail?

It takes forever for you to turn back around and face the target, but you eventually do when he refuses to elaborate. Your heart slams in your chest and you wonder what you’re doing even attempting this.

The moment you lift your trembling arms is the moment you know your heart is pounding too fast—your finger twitches with the wild rush of blood flow and you end up pulling the trigger way before you’re ready. You fire before you’ve checked your sights, you fire before you’ve taken any sort of aim whatsoever, you fire spontaneously enough to surprise even yourself and it—

—it hits dead center.

Your stomach drops and a jolt of some rabid feeling punches through you, you have no idea what it is. You whip around so fast that you get dizzy, seeing him standing there, completely still.

“That was just beginner’s luck,” you quickly reassure him, suddenly feeling faint. Holy shit, holy shit, what the fuck just happened? “Listen—hey, no, listen, I can’t get it again,” you explain shrilly to the utterly dead silence from him. “Look, watch this, double or nothing.”

You spin back around, well aware that absolutely nothing about what you just said or what just happened made any fucking sense at all. Beginner’s luck when you’ve been consistently awful at this, telling him repeatedly to listen when you’re very, very fucking aware he hasn’t said anything, double or nothing on a literal proposal as if double marriage is something that actually exists?

No. Shut up. Don’t even think that word, don’t think about fucking anything. Fire, fire without thinking, just lift the gun and pull the trigger—

You do, and oh. Oh, no.

“Uh?!” Your voice comes out on a squeak, now in a complete fucking panic. What the fuck? No fucking way. Perfect, perfect, the odds are fucking astronomical—another deadly accurate shot. “Ah, um, okay, scratch everything I said—th-third time’s a charm?”

Wide-eyed and having absolutely no clue what you’re doing at this point, you fail to see Din slowly turn his helmet down and to the right as he stands behind you. You go to lift your arms and pull the trigger, but then he suddenly reaches out lightning-quick and bumps your elbow upwards at the very last second.

The abrupt push causes your shot to be angled off course spectacularly and you can’t do anything but look up and gasp in horror, worried it’s going to ricochet off the ceiling and land somewhere this building isn’t architecturally designed to absorb. There’s just enough time to wildly wonder why the fuck he did that—

—but then, like pure magic before your eyes… the beam of plasma adjusts itself in midair.

It fucking bends. Across the length of your entire firing lane, it curves in a downward trajectory and hits the target with absolutely impossible physics.

Your jaw fucking drops and you whip your body around in dumb shock to see Din staring hard at the closed shield next to him.

… that’s not closed.

The baby tilts his head at you and coos happily, one ear tipping up while the other tips down, and you’re completely blown away. Not only at the entirely unexpected demon-power display, but what specifically he was hoping to get out of it. You’re still stuck, blinking down at the adorable little goof with abilities you’ll never understand.

Only, a hand suddenly grabs yours and drags you back to yourself.

“We need to leave,” Din says quietly, switching the lid shut on the hovering crib and pushing it towards the booth’s exit while tugging you along behind him. “I don’t know how many people saw that, we need to leave.”

Sure enough, voices in the next partition over start picking up, likely the only ones in here who had a good enough angle to watch the physically unthinkable shot somehow meet its target, and your adrenaline quickly begins pumping while you keep your head down and power-walk your ass to the door. You don’t know the kind of consequences that could potentially arise from others witnessing the kid’s literal sorcery, but you know you’d rather not take the chance. The voices start growing louder as you three make your quick escape, beginning to ask others around them if they just saw that, but you’re already out of the rectangular adobe structure and long gone by the time anybody steps out of their panels to hear the uproarious accusations of cheating beginning to fly.

***

Stay tuned for the next part!

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin x you #star wars #fanfic #reader insert #no-droids

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itsdanii · 4 years ago

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Hello. I loved the rejecting then regretting it scenario with Sakusa and Tsukki. 💞💞 Would you be open to doing one with Inarizaki boys as well? If it's too much, Atsumu would do because I think he is the one most likely to have this happen. Angst to fluff, please. 👉👈 Thank you!

Rejecting you and Regretting it pt. 2

a/n: hey, bub. as much as i wanted to input all inarizaki boys, i only take 1-2 characters per request. the reason for this is for me to avoid being repetitive with the scenes. i hope you understand. that being said, here's your request for the part 2 with atsumu. this was supposed to be short but i kind of got carried away with this, 'm sorry😭

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: cursing, rude behavior (resolved), please do remind me if i missed anything else

ft. atsumu miya

Atsumu Miya

You met Atsumu during your first year

It was exactly the first day when you bumped into him on the hallways and ended up being in the same class

From there on, the both of you formed a good friendship since you have the same tastes in things

Along the way, you managed to fall for him

It wasn't impossible to fall for him after all

He was fun to be with, that it felt as if there were no dull moments when you're with him

But you were afraid of confessing to him because you didn't want to ruin your friendship

However, that all changed when somebody entered the picture

"Another one?" you asked Atsumu as he sat on your usual table at the school's cafeteria.

Looking at the two boxes of chocolates given to him by a fangirl, Atsumu nodded. "Mhmm. They just keep on coming every single day."

You can't help but laugh at what he said. You took one of the boxes and stared at the familiar name written on it. "Yuki again? Isn't she that girl from the other section? The one who kept on giving you stuff every day?" you asked and the smile you had awhile ago completely disappeared from your face.

"The one and only. She's kind of cute though," he said as if it wasn't a big deal.

Maybe for him, it wasn't, but it's a different case for you. You were aware of what you're getting into the moment you realized that you have feelings for Atsumu. At first, his fangirls didn't bother you since you knew that he doesn't really pay attention to them but hearing what Atsumu said just now sparked a feeling of jealousy inside of you.

You knew that what you're feeling right now is selfish. He isn't your boyfriend. Sure, you might've been in love with him for 2 years now but that doesn't mean that you have the right to tell him who he should and shouldn't date, right? After all, you're just his friend.

In fact, you've thought of confessing several times already but fear always overtook you. Afraid of ruining the bond the two of you have, you disregarded the idea and settled on keeping your feelings a secret.

But that might change today. Seeing Atsumu smiling at the chocolates right now made you think that if you don't do something about it now, you might just lose him to another girl.

And you'd rather lose him by getting rejected than lose him to another girl, knowing that you didn't do something.

"You think she's cute?"

Atsumu nodded as he swallowed the whole onigiri Osamu packed for him. "Mhmm. Kind of my type actually."

You tilted your head a bit to the side and rested your cheek on your palm with your elbows placed on top of the table. "So cute girls are your type of girls... What about me, 'Tsumu? Do you think I'm cute?"

Atsumu placed his chopsticks down and stared at you intently, a small grin now forming on his lips. "Of course."

"Cute enough to be your type?"

You knew that you were playing a dangerous game but it was now or never. This time you wouldn't let fear win over you, now that Atsumu mentioned that his attention was caught by someone.

You know Yuki. She's pretty and kind of popular for being a member of the cheerleading team, and the more you thought about it, the more your confidence wavered.

A volleyball player and a cheerleader? What a good match.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Atsumu laughing. "What are ya saying, y/n? Did ya hit yer head or something?"

Crossing your arms over your chest to fake confidence, you frowned at him. "Just answer the question, Miya."

"Of course yer cute but to be my type?" He shook his head and scratched the back of his head. "Sorry, angel, but I don't date my friends, let alone someone whom I consider my best friend."

You took a deep breath before finally letting the words out. Your heart was beating erratically as cold sweat started forming on your nape out of nervousness.

"I like you, Atsumu. I tried to hold myself back because I didn't want to ruin our friendship but hearing you talk about how someone finally managed to catch your attention just..." You sighed and looked down at your lap. "I don't think I can hide it anymore knowing that I could lose you anytime."

Silence enveloped the two of you and the anticipation made you more anxious than you already was.

"Was this yer plan all along?"

You turned your gaze towards him upon hearing his words. "What do you mean? I don't know what you're talking about.."

You felt yourself freeze when Atsumu chuckled before answering. "Ya really think I'd fall for the same trick? C'mon y/n. I'm not as stupid as what people say."

"I don't understand-"

"Did'ya think that two years of friendship will let ya accomplish yer goal? I didn't expect ya to be like the other girls. Ya don't like me. Ya just like the idea of dating me for my popularity."

Your lips parted at his words. You wanted to reason out and defend yourself but the way he was looking at you made you almost cower in fear.

He's looking at you the way he looks at his fangirls when they shout during his services.

"Tsumu, that's not true. I really like you." You gave him a pleading look, hoping that he'd see your sincerity but he only glared at you.

"Pathetic. Get out of my sight," he said without any sympathy.

"You could've just rejected me like a normal person would, instead of insulting me." You wiped your tears with the back of your hand as you stood up but before you left, you looked at him straight in the eyes once more. "You know what? Out of the two of us, I'm not the one who's pathetic. It's you. Goodluck on your game tomorrow, Atsumu."

You walked away without turning back, knowing that once you spared him another glance, you'd go back and fight for your feelings.

But what's the point of fighting when you're the only one who's willing to fight?

A week later, you were back to your usual attitude or at least that's what you wanted yourself to believe. At least you're trying, right?

There were times that your eyes would drift towards Atsumu's direction but you kept on reminding yourself that you won't be able to move on unless you really put effort on throwing away your feelings.

When classes ended, you were left alone in your classroom due to cleaning duties. While you were sweeping the part near the door, you managed to catch Atsumu's back and saw that he was talking to someone - it was Yuki.

You stared at his back longingly and let out a sigh because you knew that despite how much you're trying to disregard your feelings, you miss the feeling of being beside him.

You missed his voice, his goofiness, everything.

"Bestfriends, huh?" you whispered to yourself and chuckled at how pathetic you must've been, pining over someone you knew who'd never look at you.

After doing your cleaning duties, you exit the room and decided to walk on the opposite direction since Atsumu and Yuki were still talking on the direction where the exit was supposed to be.

Who would want to hear their crush talking to their girlfriend anyway? Certainly not you.

The only downside of going in the direction you chose was that you weren't familiar with it. Even though you've been studying here for three years now, there were still places you weren't familiar of.

It was now getting dark and you brought out your phone to use the flashlight. You noticed that you're already out of the building, however, the surroundings weren't familiar to you.

You decided to continue walking, realizing that you somehow made it to the back of the school. Trees surrounded you and only a few lights were there to guide your way.

"Shit," you whispered to yourself as you realized that you were getting nowhere.

You decided to go back to the direction you came from but you only seemed to confuse yourself even more. Tears were now starting to well up in your eyes as you nervously tried to find your way back.

You sqealed as something rustled behind you. You immediately ran out of panic and fumbled with your phone, dialing the first number you could click.

"Y/n?"

It's him.

"'Tsumu, I-" you paused for a moment to catch your breath and sat down on the ground, your back resting against a tree. "Help me."

You hear some shouting and some wooshing sounds from the other side of the phone before Atsumu's voice filled your ears. "Where are you, angel?" he asked with concern lacing his voice.

"I don't know. I was just looking for the exit and the next thing I know I'm surrounded with trees and there's this sound of rustling so I ran away," you said without pausing. "Tsumu, I'm scared."

"I'll go find ya, okay? But first calm down. Can ya do that for me? Just breathe and tell me the directions ya can remember."

After explaining all the things you could remember, Atsumu didn't drop the call. Instead, he stayed on the line and comforted you with his words.

It wasn't long then when Atsumu appeared on your line of vision and the first thing you did was wrap your arms around him. You were quickly enveloped in his warmth as he rubbed your back soothingly.

"It's okay now, y/n. I'm here," he whispered as he kept on rubbing your back.

After having a few moments to calm you down, Atsumu instructed you to climb on his back. You wanted to decline but due to how tired your legs felt because of running, you had no choice but to agree.

"I'm sorry for calling you. You must've been busy," you mumbled while resting your head on his shoulder.

"I was actually still around school when ya called. I saw ya cleaning and decided to wait for ya but Yuki wanted to talk to me. The next moment I know, ya were gone but I still waited because I knew that if ya went home already, you would've passed by but ya didn't," Atsumu explained, his grip on your thighs tightening as he spoke.

"I guess Yuki and you are now-"

"I spoke to her to tell her to stop giving me random stuff." Atsumu licked his lips nervously before continuing, "When you left, I realized how much I messed up. I spouted some offensive words to ya and rejected ya without thinking of the consequences."

"Tsumu..."

"Let me finish, okay? This is the only chance I'm getting and there's no way I'm going to waste it. I already wasted a lot of time."

You gave a small nod as the memories of what happened all came flooding back to you. You fisted your hands and bit your lower lip to stop yourself from crying.

"I was scared. Ya were the only one who was genuine to me. Everytime I'm around you, I'm just me. I'm just Atsumu. Not the setter of the volleyball team nor the noisy twin of 'Samu," he said, followed be a chuckle.

"I was used to girl fawning over me. I have this mentality that girls are just after my reputation and when ya confessed to me, the first thing that entered my mind was that you were the same as them, that you were only going to use me. In the end, I didn't only lost my bestfriend but also the person I love. I'm sorry for hurting for you, angel."

Atsumu placed you down once you both made it infront of the school gate. He was looking you intensely and you didn't fail to notice that his eyes were glossed with tears as well. "I like you, and if this time, ya realized that yer feelings for me are no longer there, I'd respect it."

He took your hands in his and squeezed them tightly, not enough to hurt you but just enough to let you know that he was afraid to let you go.

"It's always been here. My feelings for you never faded despite how much I wanted them to disappear," you said as you stared at him lovingly, tears of happiness now flowing freely down your cheeks. "I still like you, 'Tsumu."

"Fuck. You don't know how much hearing ya say that makes me happy right now." Atsumu let go of your hand and wrapped his arms around you. His scent filled your nose and you couldn't stop yourself from burrying your face to the side of his neck.

"I love ya."

"And I love you too, 'Tsumu."

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quirklessidiot · 4 years ago

Text

Title: pretty eyes [short story] Pairing: Gojo Satoru x gn!reader [soulmate au; takes place eight years before the yuuji and sukuna fusion] Genre: josei, romance, fluff, comedy, and your normal tragic angst!

Summary: in which the right eye is mine and the left eye is yours and when we meet for the first time, you see your own eyes staring back at you. Warnings: language, blood, minor manga spoilers, mild ooc gojo and death

Notes: can we all just sit down admire satoru? Like the eyes man, the attitude omg... Ah im so sorry in advance if hes ooc here sksksk it is my first time to write about any jjk characters and I havent fully grasped them yet despite reading the manga anyways i wont be online next week and tomorrow so i decided to publish this ahead of time. ily all and again thank you for the love and support, it does mean a lot *bows down* see you all again when i’ve got time? jskskss i fucking hate college and online classes, satoru save me please soulmate au’s [not read in any particular order nor are they connected, they just share the same trope] Pretty eyes [gojo vers.] || lasting blues [toji vers]

tragic soulmate au series || taglist

“Pretty.” were the very first words you uttered in complete awe as you saw yourself in the mirror and no, this wasn’t directed to your physical appearance. It was directed to your left eye, the eye of your soulmate.

Contrasting to your normal boring color on the right, your soulmate’s eyes were ethereal and unreal. How could someone have such pretty eyes? It was completely surreal at that point that you refused to believe that someone with these eyes were actually human.

You placed one hand and gently caressed the left side of your face where the pretty eye rested, “You must be an angel.” you muttered, “Only angels have pretty eyes.”

Thus like every child you gave your soulmate a nickname, ‘pretty angel’ and every night before you slept, you’d wonder out loud how your pretty angel was doing, if they were nearby, or anything like that. You wonder what type of food they like, do they like to leave the window open for a cool wind or do they like their chocolate hot or iced.

Yet as you grew older, the pretty angel faded out into your thoughts. The pretty idea of soulmates and love disappeared like the story books you read as a child. The pretty blue eyes on your left is forgotten as life takes a toll on you.

They say death was inevitable, when your mother died in middle school, you watch as your father’s left eye turn to your mother’s color. You watched as he clenched her hand, like it was some last resort of plea. You watched him cry as he passed by the mirrors and you wondered, would it hurt like that too?

It baffles you how beautiful and cruel the soulmate system was.

How every time your father would stare at his own reflection, his left eye would be nothing but a reminder of your dead mother.

You let out a second meek cough in the quiet bookstore that night, the sounds of the car passing by were nothing but quiet noise to you as you immerse yourself in the literature book you were reading, your students would surely love this one.You let out another cough as you turn around to find a small space to read since standing for too long made you tired too quickly.

You’re too enchanted by the words of the author that you don’t even notice the rather tall man in front of you.

You look up, ready to give a quiet apology but stop short when you notice how ethereal the stranger looked. Albeit he wore a pair of weird Lennon shades at this time of night, he reminded you very much of an angel with his snow white hair.

You don’t even notice how your left eye is returning back to it’s normal color, the stranger does though and it surely was odd to see his eyes on a stranger.

“Well,” the stranger has a shit-eating grin decorating his handsome features, he definitely looked like trouble for sure, “This is unexpected.”

He lowers his shades and your eyes immediately widen as you suddenly cup the left side of your face, you’d recognize those unique eyes anywhere, after all, you had those on your left eye since you were born, “Y-You.” you muttered, the shock momentarily eating you up.

“Yeah, me.” He grins, loving the sudden attention, “Wow, I was expecting something like fireworks or flowers to appear.” He suddenly teased, bending down to your level.

Now that you notice it, he was very, very tall.

“I…” You blink, trying to gain your composure, “Wow…”

“Did I pass your expectations?” it’s been a few minutes since you started talking and all he has been doing is teasing you.

“You do look like an angel.” You complimented and his eyes widened at the rather out-of-place compliment, “Your eyes are very pretty, thanks for letting me borrow them for twenty-two years.”

Gojo Satoru thought he had the upper-hand, after all, you looked quite meek but when you said those compliments, he was sure that you were going to be the teasing one in this whole-soulmate thing.

So he tries to one up you.

“I’m Satoru Gojo but you can call me tonight.” He grinned, trying to tease you once again, the corny pick up line sounds suave but your blank expression says otherwise.

“I’m Y/N L/N and think I should call you in the morning, it is quite late right now and I still have classes at eight am.” You mumbled, looking down at your watch, “How about you just walk me home, then?”

“Okay.” Satoru immediately raises his hands, signaling that he was giving up, “First off, you should be more hyper aware that I may be a serial killer.”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Are you a serial killer?” you repeat, “That would be awfully disappointing if my soulmate was one since I’d immediately give you up on the police. I’m not interested in being in a Bonnie and Clyde type of thing and I think it’s too early for me to die.”

“You’re very upfront about these sorts of things.”

“Well, you’re very teasing for someone who just met their soulmate a few minutes ago.” you shrug, “So, are you going to walk me home or not?”

“Ah, bossy too. I love the attitude already.”

“We’re spending our whole lives together. You might as well get used to it.”

You’d think the idea of soulmates would scare you after the firsthand experience with your parents but curiosity always got the best of you and the white-haired man proved that maybe it would be different this time.

Throughout the few months you’ve spent with him, You’ve noticed that Gojo Satoru and you may be alike in some ways but in most ways, he was different.

First, he was enigmatic. You’ve known the man for a couple of months now and you’ve been going out on dates but you don’t know much about him except that like you, he’s a teacher at a good school and he tends to be conceited when he talks about his personal skills as a teacher.

“...What are you doing?” Satoru asked, peeking from behind your shoulder as you type in the grades of your student for your class.

“I’m grading my students.” You muttered, it was after dinner at your place and he was lazing around your place, the sound of faint jazz music could be heard throughout your small space and the wafting smell of freshly baked brownies filled the room, “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something since you're a teacher?”

Satoru quirks a brow as if you had said something odd then it seemed like realization had dawn upon him at that moment.

“Ah, I’m not doing much since my students are on break.”

“Didn’t you say that last time?”

Silence filled the room and Satoru breaks it off with his very famous ‘heh’ that made you inwardly roll your eyes and chunk the pillow that you’ve been hugging towards his direction, “Stop slacking off, you’re a teacher.” You scold him mildly, followed by a small cough.

“Ah, Y/N-chan. You’re so mean to me,” He frowned, handing you the mug filled with water, “...No fair.”

“You're a teacher and you’re slacking off.” You deadpanned, ignoring his sly ways of trying to get you in his arms, “How is that even fair?”

“My students can handle themselves so well that I don’t need to babysit them.” He hmphed, arms crossed and head held up high in a rather arrogant manner. You could only only scoff back a reply at his rather haughty attitude but you’ve gotten used to it to the point where you just roll your eyes.

“You’re a very bad teacher, Satoru.”

“Hey, I am considered one of the best and it’s an honor-”

You clicked your tongue and just pinched his cheek in reply to get him to stop drawling on about his achievements. You wondered if you dated a man child or something.

Second, despite his teasing nature and good looks, he’s a rather shy bean and has some insecurities about it too, maybe it was because there were moments where you couldn’t really understand your soulmate and his puzzling life. He didn’t tell and you didn’t want to pry because you technically both had your whole life to get around that subject.

Luckily, you seem to have found a remedy for moments like that.

“Satoru…” You called out to your soulmate who was staring at the nutrition content of the wafers on his hand, “Satoru!”

“Oh, sorry. What were you talking about?” he finally snapped out of his daze and turned to you who was standing there, hand on your hip. The crispy wafers on his hand are long forgotten.

Your soulmate is good looking, alright. If anyone were to pass by him they wouldn’t see the minor zilch of worry in his eyes.

“Are you alright?” You ask, walking closer to him, completely serious.

“...You aren’t going to leave me, right?”

You raise a brow at the sudden question, wasn’t he too young to have some mid-life crisis? Was this because of the soulmate movie you watched late last night about the soulmate leaving their other half to rebel against the system and because of his partner’s family?

“Why would I leave you?”

He blinks once, then twice, the only sound that could be heard was the familiar music playing throughout the grocery store, it was as if no one was there during the mid-day. Satoru proceeds to look away, “I don’t know. What if you realize that you don’t like me as your soulmate and you followed what the dude did in the movie?” he started to mumble, mouth pressed on a straight line.

“Ah, the whole rich in-laws.” you blinked, “Don’t tell me you’re a son of some huge clan in japan that’s loaded and I’m going to be a disgrace to your family name or something?”

It came out as a joke at first, it really did and you were going to laugh but when you notice the straight face he has on, you realize it was anything but a joke.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, Oh.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking that question then?”

“What?” He almost half-yelled, eyes wide behind his usual shades that he seemed to wear a lot, “That doesn’t make sense!”

“Neither does your question, Satoru.” You frowned, massaging your temples, “I should be the one asking you that, are you going to leave me?”

“Of course not.” He sputters out.

“Then there goes my answer too.” You replied, huffing out as you grab the sweet wafers on his hand to put into the cart, “You’re very weird.”

“You’re weird.”

“No, you are.”

“You seriously asked me if I’d leave you because of your rich family in the middle of the day.” You deadpanned, inching closer to him to the point where your lips are brushing against his.

“This is unfair.” He huffed, suddenly turning red, “You’re attacking me in broad daylight.”

“Oh dear.” Your beguiling eyes, enjoying his rather embarrassed state, “This isn’t attacking, Satoru.”

Then you closed the distance between you two, his eyes seemed to widen behind his shades at your forward approach, clearly you guys never did PDA. You took this as an opportunity to lick his lower lip so you could slip your tongue in and as he starts getting into it and placing his hand to cup your ass, you pull away with a big smile on your lips, “That’s attacking.” you grinned.

Satoru seemed to have regained his senses quickly after that rather heated public make-out session, he placed his hand on top of his mouth and feigned embarrassment, “My, My, I didn’t think you’d enjoy those types of things in public.” he was back to his normal teasing self.

Well, that seemed to have worked very well.

“Mhm,”

Yet unknown to you those thoughts still lingered in his head, it wasn’t just his family that he was worried about, it was also regarding his job as a jujutsu sorcerer something he has yet to mention, he’s not even sure if you’d believe him it’s a normal occurrence for people like him to die in this occupation and he’s scared that one day, you’ll see your left eye turning back to his eye color with no valid explanation.

Not only that but the amount of people who’d go after you to get to him, he clenched on the shopping cart tightly

“I’m tired.” You cut his thoughts short and Satoru turns to you, unlike him, you weren’t physically active so you tire easily, even joking around that you were a granny in a child’s body, “Can we sit down after this and get some gyudon?”

“Sure Y/N.” he grins, giving you a one-arm hug and kissing your temple.

Third, he’s terrible with kids, period, no questions asked.

Your eyes narrowed to slits as he brought in one of his students named Megumi, the boy is quiet and compared to your giant and teasing soulmate, he’s serious. In fact he was more serious than the tiny pinky of the white-haired man.

“...Are you kidnapping a third grader?”

“He’s one of my students.”

“You don’t even know the first thing of looking after kids.” You pointed out, “And didn’t you mention that you teach high school students?”

“Well,” he drawled on, “It’s kind of a long story but he’s technically a genius.”

You let out a stifling sigh, “You’re impossible.” you mutter, bending down to the small boy’s level, “Would you like something to eat in compensation for him annoying you?”

The boy nods mutely.

“I wasn’t annoying him!” He corrects.

“He looks very annoyed standing next to you.”

“That’s literally what he looks like!”

You roll your eyes in reply and turn to the young boy, handing him a pastry that you had brought earlier. You watched Megumi eat his pastry in front of the television that played some child-friendly show as you let out a soft cough and pour yourself some water

“Are you alright?” Satoru asks, resting his head on your shoulders.

“Yeah,” You replied, “Why’d you ask?”

“You’re looking quite pale these days.”

“Maybe it’s the allergy season, already.” you nonchalantly replied, taking another gulp of water, “You’re terrible with kids, by the way.”

“That’s why I’m a high school teacher, Y/N.”

This connects you to your fourth observation, he’s nonchalant and easy going but he harbors a rather deep worry for you to the point where you wonder if he was really your soulmate or your mother incarnate. Three years into the whole soulmate thing with him, you still couldn’t help but think that he’s doting nature was quite adorable.

You feel like you’re coming down with a cold these days, your head has been throbbing and your cough is worsening. Satoru’s eyes are filled with nothing but worry as he handed you some medication. Your soulmate was now a mother hen and if it were different circumstances, you’d laugh it off.

“We should go to the doctor.” He nagged you once again.

“I’m literally going to sleep it off.” You hoarsely replied, “I’ll be fine, Satoru.”

“You literally sound like you smoked a pack with your voice, are you sure?”

“I am.” You glared, “Don’t sleep-”

Before you could even finish what you were saying, he flops right next to you in the bed, “-I literally told you to not sleep next to me.” you scolded him.

“A mere cold won’t phase me.”

“I swear to god, Gojo Satoru. I’ll kick you out.” He ignores your ministrations and snuggles his head on your neck, his warm breath tickling it, “You’re impossible.”

“You love me.”

“Sadly.”

“Hey.”

“I’m kidding.” you let out a quiet chuckle, looking down at your soulmate and running your hands through his white hair, “I love you very much, you idiot.”

“Hard same.”

“Never mind, I take it back.” you giggle.

And after a rather short playful banter between you two, you find yourself sleeping and snuggling on his long limbs. You think all is well, you really do. That was until you wake up later at three am in the morning with a loud coughing fit. Satoru immediately sits upright and opens your nightlight but what he sees next, scares him more than the curses he has ever encountered.

Your sheets are now stained in blood from the coughing fit that had just happened and you're completely taken aback too, completely breathless.

“Y-Y/N…” He gulps down, quickly taking the sheets away from you, “Let’s go to the hospital now, please?”

“...L/N-san, have you been getting coughing fits before this?” the doctor asks, looking up from your chart. Satoru watches you shake your head as you clench the paws of his jacket, the doctor takes off his glasses, “How about coughs that don’t seem to go away? Getting tired too easily?”

Satoru doesn’t like where this was going, he doesn’t like where this was going at all.

“Um, just some dry coughs and I’ve always been an inactive person.” You quietly replied, contrasting to your usual bright and teasing demeanor, you looked too tired this morning and Satoru just hopes it’s because he dragged you out of bed at four am to get yourself checked asap.

“Y/N-san, has any of your family members been diagnosed with lung cancer?”

The whole room is silent and you could almost hear a pin drop, Satoru feels his knuckles suddenly turn white, “I recalled my okaasan died because of that.” You replied silently and the doctor nods feverishly.

“...Y/N-san...It pains me to say this but the reason you’ve been experiencing this is because of the tumors located in your lungs.” Satoru feels his heart drop when he hears those words, “We have to do further tests to confirm-”

“Do it.” Satoru cuts the old doctor off, his hands are visibly shaking already, he hopes that this was just a misdiagnosis, that this doctor was just a bad one or better yet whatever excuse his mind could make up at that moment, “Do all the tests needed for Y/N, please.”

Fifth, he’s very supportive towards you and your impulsive decisions. If he could join you in it, he would but you usually decide against it.

It’s another quiet night for you as you sit across from your soulmate at the dinner table. You’ve grown awfully thin and your hair was starting to fall off due to the chemoradiation, this day marked the third month since you found out that you have lung cancer just like your mother. Surgery was apparently too risky so the safest option right now was this treatment.

You don’t deny the anxiety eating you up every day, specifically the fear of death, you’re even more worried for Satoru since not only had he been paying for your treatment but he had opt to take care of you, saying that his job would be fine without him since you were going to get better soon anyways.

“Would you still love me if I shaved my hair?” You asked, your voice still quite hoarse.

“You kidding me? I’d still love you even if you turned into a roach.”

You immediately crinkle your nose in disgust, “That’s disgusting.”

“Honest reply.”

Truthfully, the man had been your rock these past three months. You knew how hard it was for him to be happy around you, how he had put on a brave front and remained positive saying that this was just going to be a rough couple of months and you’d be back in no time despite the bleak outlook.

It kept you sane amongst the tragedy.

“I wanna shave my hair.”

“Like right now?”

You nod, “Can we use your electric razor?”

“You want me.” he points to himself, “To cut your hair?”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else to do it.” You grinned.

And that’s how you ended up in your bathroom after dinner, Satoru’s shades on the side and his concentration directly on your scalp. You had literally told him that he just needed to do it the same way as he shaved his beard but he was still scared. Apparently, he had never shaved anyone’s hair before.

“...Okay, Y/N. Here goes…” He proclaimed, switching the razor on. As bits and pieces of your hair fall to the ground, you feel your cheeks getting wet and your shoulders tense, Satoru is quick to notice the switch of emotion and immediately turns the razor off before bending down in front of you, “Woah, woah… Y/N….”

“I-I…” Your lips are quivering as the tears fall faster when you see his pretty eyes staring back at yours, you try to let out a laugh but instead it comes out as a choke sob, “Sorry, this is stupid. I’m literally crying over fucking hair.”

“No, of course not…” He replies, enveloping you in a hug, “Of course not.”

Satoru feels you start to shake in his arms and he knows he should keep his emotions in check, he’s a sorcerer for crying out loud but seeing you break down for the first time in three months had him shaking too, you didn’t deserve all this, fuck, you didn’t deserve any of this at all!

“Would you like me to shave my hair so you’d feel a bit better?” he asks. After recovering from your breakdown, you had asked him to continue shaving your hair because you might as well be done with it.

“Please don’t.” You reply, wiping your tears away, “We’d look like eggs.”

“Cute eggs, you mean.” He corrects, teasing you and trying to cheer you up, this was all he could do and he hates it.

He really hates it.

What good was the title of being the strongest when he couldn’t save you from all of this?

Lastly, if you hadn’t highlighted it enough. He has pretty eyes, contrasting to your dull and boring ones, you always loved how different his eyes are. Sometimes you wondered why he dared to hide them behind his crappy and overused Lennon shades.

“Can I see them?”

Your room is dimly lit as Satoru sleeps next to you on the hospital bed, you were growing weaker and frailer by the day and you could see the toll it took on your soulmate. You were heavily reminded of your father who was sitting right next to your mother on her deathbed.

“See what?” He yawned.

“Your eyes.”

“You’re awfully in love with them, huh?”

“I’ve always been in love with them from the moment I saw it in the mirror.”

Silence envelopes the room with your statement and as requested, he takes the shades off and now you’re greeted by the most beautiful blue eyes that you love to look at in the reflection since you were a child, “Pretty.” You muttered, raising your frail hands slowly to cup his face, “Pretty eyes.”

Satoru takes in a deep breath as he places his hand on top of yours, the silence is heavy. You both know what’s about to come in the next few days, you’re lucky if you even last a night. Yet he doesn’t want to talk about it, he shuts the topic off quickly when you try to even raise it.

“Yeah.” he mumbles, staring at you, “Pretty.”

You let out a quiet laugh, “I doubt it, I’m anything but pretty now.” your voice hoarse, making him lightly squeeze your hands, “Will you be bringing Megumi tomorrow?”

“Yeah, the brat said he saved enough money to get you your favorite pastry.”

“That’s good.” you blinked, “I’m tired.”

Satoru feels his shoulder tense at your words, they were so plain yet at the same time so heavy, “Should I call the doctor?” he asks. You shake your head and just snuggle on his chest.

“No,” You mumbled, inhaling his scent and basking on his presence, “I want your warmth next to me.”

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“You know, you’ve always had prettier eyes.”

Yet you don’t reply and he feels your grip on his sweater lessen, he doesn’t even need to see his reflection to know that his left eye has returned back to your (e/c) ones.

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#jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenario #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo saturo x reader #saturo x y/n #jjk gojo #soulmate aus #pretty eyes

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