#but i wanna talk w him and be like hey these shits are expensive what are my options or do u wanna be a homie and update my diagnosis

[this-doesnt-endd]

I feel like my crown just shifted up oh my god

[sugutiva]

❝ THREE IS NEVER A CROWD ! ❞ — ST & SG.

ᥫ᭡. synopsis : walking in to find your two best friends making out on camera was no surprise to you at all— but finding yourself sandwiched between them surely was.

tags : smut, p in v, threesomes, geto has piercings, cam sex, oral sex ( f & m receiving ), fingering, slight handjob, spanking, squirting, creampie, cum facial or wtv it’s called, cursing, dirty talk, all lowercase intended, not proofread !

a/n : sugutiva posting twice in one month?! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

if someone had told you that your two loser best friends who shit-talks about everyone and everything they encounter, uncannily bicker like an old married couple, and secretly watches porn together was behind a famous camboy account, you’d wouldn’t be surprise at the fact at all.

you had always suspected that the pair were equally fond of each other— no matter how much they tried to deny it. but there’s still some sort of shock once you find them sloppily making out on the bed you were supposed to be having a movie marathon on, with a live audience capturing their lewd movements.

they only break away from their overbearing kiss once the grocery bag filled to the brim falls out your hand, and spills it’s contents on the floor. cerulean and violet eyes stare holes into your motionless form, clearly processing the embarrassing situation.

oh. this was honestly the last thing you expected on a friday night.

“ satoru? suguru?” you utter, curling your eyebrow upwards in disbelief as you take in the scene infront you; there sits satoru on suguru’s lap with nothing on but boxer briefs, meanwhile suguru is situated underneath him with no shirt but a pair of baggy black sweatpants. despite satoru’s imposing figure, you still had an inkling that suguru was the real dominant one out of the duo.

“ shit. fuck— um, h-hey. . .” satoru greets you with a sheepish smile. the wait of reality truly settles in because you’ve never witnessed him being slightly ashamed for anything he did or does. he unlatches himself from suguru’s body but there’s no point, you’ve already seen what you’ve saw. “ i didn’t know you’d come over at all—“

“ it’s a friday night, satoru.” geto deadpans before facing you with a serene smile, like you hadn’t caught them in the act of doing something lewd. infront him, there’s dozens of comments rolling in, and your eye catches them. some asked them about who you were, if you were the girl they often talked about, or if they’ll do another threesome again, this time with you.

knowing they’d regularly talk about their viewers to you made your body flush all over with a sudden throbbing temptation.

“ so . . . you two are camboys? since when?” even though you swore you were in a state of surprise, your body must’ve moved by it’s self, seeing how you take a couple steps forward until your somewhat towering over their tall bodies. gojo looks at you with surprise before twisting to amusement, while geto keeps his expression serene.

“ you don’t sound too disgusted or surprised,” geto skillfully avoids your questions calmly, and you grow nervous under their combined observant gazes. they were prepared for you to outright judge them for their shameful shared account, but instead you don’t. in fact, you look intrigued. “ i could be wrong but, i think you want to join us.”

you grow quiet and break eye contact. it’s cute.

gojo stares at you with a teasing smile before grabbing your wrist to pull you over closer, he mumbles. “ you wanna fuck?”

you attempt to speak but nothing comes out. it’s like that for a few seconds, you staring at them in dumbfound as they wait seemingly patiently for your answer. “ i— w-with me? a threesome with . . . all three of us?”

“ yeah, i mean, that’s literally the point . . . of a threesome.” geto quips back with sass, and you roll your eyes.

the answer is yes, written in bold letters as your back meets the cushion of the bed they were once on moments ago. it feels expensive.

gojo goes over to the camera, positioning it in a good angle that where all thousands of their audience can see with you bare with your legs sprawled out, and geto in between them.

his hot breath fans over you already soaked cunt presented to him, narrowly flashing you that shining piercing stamped on his tongue. “ you hear that, princess?” he brings his thumb to gather your slick from your leaking entrance before smearing it on your erect clit— just begging for his attention. or maybe for the both of them at once. “ you hear your cunt singing loudly for me?” his thumb repeatedly flicks at your labia, ringing out deep squelching sounds.

“ suguruuu, don’t play with our food now,” satoru whines, making his way back over to the bed once he has the right set angle. he gets down on his knees next to his partner, pushing your right leg further to make room for him. “ god, ‘m staaarved. keep your legs spread like that— don’t move them at all.”

before you know it, their tongues are fall into an automatic rhythm while slurping and thrashing at your drenched entrance. words cannot describe how good they are at skillfully eating you out at the same time— distantly, it makes you wonder how many times they’ve done it before you came into the picture.

“ fuuuckk!” your mouth drops open, feeling each detail of their tongues slobbering over you, now at different paces. geto languidly tongue fucks your hole; his tongue reaches so impossibly deep inside that you feel the outline of the cool piercing brush against the heat of your hole. while gojo quickly flicks at your clit in rapid succession, strings of saliva coating his own chin, dripping down so messily that they meet with geto’s occupied wet muscle. “ deeper, sugu, deeeeper! wan’a f-feel your piercing!”

“ hmph, suguru’s not the only one eating this sloppy pussy out. or are you too dumb to feel the difference between our tongues?” sensing competition, satoru slurps your whole clit in his mouth. his head shifts up and down as if he was sucking against something else— his tongue flicks out his mouth, much slower this time, accompanied by more saliva coating your pearl, only to be sucked in at the same time his tongue pulls back into his warm mouth.

the sight is nothing short of vulgar, and you’re sure the paid watchers are getting way more than what they expected.

geto pulls back from your cunt, but you don’t get to whine about the lost contact of his tongue leaving your opening when he easily slips two of his thick fingers in, resulting in a loud popping noise, and an even louder moan from your mouth. “ tsk. yer’ such a try hard, satoru. turnin’ everything into a competition.”

“ so? we can’t have you hoggin’ her all for yourself now,” his speech is noticeably slurred due to sucking hungrily on your clit. his mouth detaches from your aching bud, just to deliver a slew of mean spanks to make it twitch under his harsh ministrations. “ ain’t that right, princess?”

the painful sticky contact catches you off guard completely before it quickly brings you back into waves of pleasure. taken aback, you jerk your body away, although you don’t get any where near far because of your hole getting mapped out, and gojo’s iron grip on your hip. the confusing pleasure-pain entanglement has you feeling beyond lightheaded.

“ shit! y-yes, satooru! i wan’ t-the both of you!” your hands flies down in an attempt to pull away the hands causing you extreme pleasure— more than what you can initially handle.

“ yeah. slapping her pussy so she can agree with you definitely wins you more brownie points.” suguru dryly notes, “ we’re gonna break her already.”

“ i’d like to see you do something about it, suguboo.” satoru voice cuts in, the enthusiasm peaking in his tone that suguru lacks.

of course they’d bicker while turning your brain mushy threw your overworked cunt.

“ mmph— ‘m gonna squirt!” you shriek out, your body curves into a outwardly arch— that looks sexy albeit painfully from the camera’s point of view.

suguru starts thrusting his fingers again, even faster than before. satoru’s head dips down to your clit to give it a spit filled kiss before lapping it up into his mouth entirely like before. a tight but slightly uncomfortable pressure builds in your lower stomach.

your surprised that your voice hasn’t given out, considering of how loud your moaning both of their names as they write their conjoined love letter over the expanse of your cunt. “ fuh— fuuccck . . . o-oh!”

your nimble fingers finds home in gojo’s pristine locks of hair. he nibbled on your clit abruptly, and that was your end. your body freezes in your arched position before breaking out into tremors as clear fluids squirts from your body.

“ how cute, our best friend has such a sloppy pussy on ‘er,” suguru’s voice purrs with amusement, watching intensely as the juices that sprays uncontrollably from your body coats the entire half of satoru’s lower face, with some reaching the duvets underneath your bodies.

your body collapses back down on the bed. there’s a brief pregnant pause in the room— you barely notice that it’s because of satoru swapping your juices that he held in his mouth into suguru’s in a deep kiss.

gojo uncharacteristically whines as geto grabs a fistful of his hair to tug him closer— this whiny boy cannot be the same person that just made you paint his face in your vigorous fluids. there’s a brief glimpse of their tongues twirling and touching each other’s, like how they did on your cunt moments ago. suguru pulls from the kiss while also pulling his drowned fingers from your hole, soundly. he presses the certain digits on satoru’s warm tongue, expecting him to suck on them.

which he does, with a submissive moan. “ suguruuuu,”

as they continue to make out, it makes you throb all over again.

satoru chases after his fingers once suguru pulls them away. his brattiness is short lived when suguru yanks his hair to make him face your wrecked form. “ ah ah, don’t be greedy now. we still have a pussy to break again.”

the dynamic assigned with their pornographic persona fits them perfectly— suguru is labeled as the no-nonsense top, while satoru is the bratty bottom that will crack under pressure if pushed enough— no wonder why they’re so famous.

your body is situated into the iconic doggystyle stance. you see the lap of satoru, his boxers briefs are saturated a shade darker than it originally was, credits to his sticky pre-cum making itself known. your hands slowly spring his cock free, and satoru sighs shakily from above you.

you licked your lips, staring at your best friend’s astonishing length. he stood tall, even though it slapped against his stomach, you could tell that it reached far past his belly button; his tip flushes an angry red along with a eye-catching pearly bead of cum that makes your pussy clench around nothing— for now. no doubt, the sheer size will have your jaw aching for days after.

“ no need to just ogle at it. ‘s all yours babe, heh.” gojo chuckles cockily, watching you gawk at his freed dick.

you had temporarily forget the owner of such a pretty cock, had such a blabbermouth.

you glare at him from underneath your eyelashes, you harden the tip of your tongue and push it against the vein bulging from his skin, trailing your tongue all the way upwards until your reaches his slightly swollen tip. there, you take the fat head in your mouth, giving it a harsh suck that makes satoru groan and throw his head back.

geto settles from behind you, giving your rounded ass a heartfelt squeeze before slapping the jiggly skin sternly. he stops to pump his own hardness as he slaps the tip against your sopping folds, noisily— this is how you figure out he has an prince albert’s piercing, when he’s close to using it to turn you drunk on both lingering cock’s. “ waiting on you, pretty girl.”

spreading your legs more, you push back against his base. the curve of his cock presses against your mound, a silent telling that you’re ready for him, and he takes it exactly like that when he suddenly sinks into your warm walls with no follow up warning.

oh god, is he fucking thick.

from the obvious feeling, you can tell that he has more girth to his cock— thicker than gojo’s, but not quite as long.

geto grunts, his gruff hands gripping tightly at your waist as he thrusts forward. his pierced bulbous tip immediately hammers into your sweet spot. the forceful pumps that he delivers to your much smaller body, has your stomach tightening with fulfilled hunger, causing you to mewl around gojo’s cock.

and the vibrating sensitivity is so dizzying to the latter. “ keep fuckin’ her jus like t-that,” his abs flexing and clenching in your field of vision. you hollow your cheeks in and relax the tight muscles in your throat, so you can consume more than just his meaty head. “ oh fuuuuck, baby. you’ve got such a d-deadly throat on ya,”

“ don’t tell me you’re going to cum already now.” geto teases, composedly watching gojo’s reactions. he’s since then propped one leg up on the bed, diving deeper into your pussy even further. “ hey. once his tip starts twitching he’s about to—“

“ shut the f-fuck up,” his strained voice doesn’t come off sternly than what he expected as you trail your tongue down, leading to his tender balls. “ n-not yet— can’t do that, ‘m gonna cum too early!” you pay his words no mind as your hand moves up to stroke up and down on his copious length.

by now, you’re purely relying on geto’s strength and your other hand placed on gojo’s firm thigh to keep you upright. geto leans forward, his chest pressed against your back while the hands once grabbing and slapping at your plump flesh strains your hips. the new position creates more of an absolute mess out of you, along with the heavy balls stuffed in your mouth.

you push back against him every time you feel his pelvis collide with your forgotten clit in sticky thrusts, the contact gives you a distant amount of pleasure but it’s not near enough. “ you desperate for something? how bout you ask me first, then i’ll make this pussy drown my cock.

a tease is the perfect word to describe geto— he knows what you want, but still decided to make you spell it out for him. painstakingly.

“ i want you to t-touch me,” he gives your body a jagged thrust. he wanted more, for you to be more specific. you grumble before complying. “ i w-want you to touch my clit, suguru, pleaseee!”

his hand creeps in between your parted thighs, fingers toying with your throbbing clit in fast paced, tight circles to match the speed of his own hips. “ like this? you like havin’ your clit played with while you give your other best friend head?” his voice is pitched an octave lower pressed to your ear, the purring sensation makes you push back against him, searching for your pending orgasm. “ heh. what a greedy slut for cock.”

“ ‘m gonna cum soon, princess.” gojo jaw clenches as he breathes out, nostrils slightly flaring due to the doubled pleasure; your hand pulls and twists in up and down motions on his cock, your saliva helps guides your hand as your mouth is currently occupied with him. he doesn’t let you stop or pull away even for a moment as his fingers cards through the locks of your hair, pulling and pushing them closer. “ c-close your eyes, baby. wan’a paint your pretty face in my cum for the viewers.”

you had briefly forgotten that all of your obscene doings are being captured. dozens and dozens of donations roll in, but you can’t focus on that. not when your senses are clouded with only impure thoughts of your two best friends.

you listen to gojo’s order— and you’re glad because moments later, galloons of his sticky cum paints your face in a translucent base. “ g-good girl, oohhh, you look so pretty like this for m-me.” he cups your face with one hand, while smearing the leaking slit of his tip against your lips. your tongue dips out to lick the bitter yet somehow sweet substance.

the black haired, determined man pulls at your arms, fucking into you faster, initiating broken gasps to leave your throat with every push. “ suguruuu, ‘m so close. i . . . fuuuck, gonna cum!”

“ you like it rough, yeah?” he gives you another awakening thrust, and that’s your end. your head throws back against his broad shoulder and he turns his head to latch on your neck.

but he still doesn’t relent. not until he comes next.

making your head bobble and your pleasure quickly bleed into overstimulation, until your restricting walls triggers his own climax. with a harsh bite on your neck; geto cums, while consuming down his pornographic moans. and it’s a plentiful amount.

“ o-oh shit.” his jaw ached from how hard it was clenched and the muscles in his thighs flex. his fingers on your clit slow, eventually dropping their pace “ yer’ so t-tight. my dick feels like it’s going to fall o-off . . .”

his cum is so warm and it makes you feel full inside, he ruts his hips up erratically to make broken hiccups escape your mouth before he eventually stops.

the salacious mood calms down as you’re busy catching your breath with the weight of geto on top of you— you don’t even realize the camera is in your face until the familiar notification sounds are too close up.

bleary-eyed, you looked into the camera from under your eyelashes. the seductive scene of satoru’s sticky cum covering your face couldn’t be anymore intoxicating to ingest.

“ i think we have more room for another person,” gojo’s cerulean eyes meets his companion’s. “ what d’ya think, suguru?”

[bunnyksj]

Do I Wanna Know? - KSJ x Reader.

Summary: If your husband can sleep around, going after any woman he can get his hands on, what's stopping you from getting back at him by sleeping with your coworker?

Author’s Note: JIN MY LOVE, anyways thank you so much for all your support on the last fics like omg (>w<), i really appreciate it so much you don't understand. 

TAGS: MDNI, smut, cheating (guys don't do it that shits wack), revenge sex, slight manhandling teehee, cunnilingus, praise, degradation, he hits it raw </3 (as normal LMAO).

WORD COUNT: 1.6k 

It all started when your husband came home intoxicated from a long night out. 

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　° 

He lay sprawled out on your sofa, dark rings under his eyes. You could smell the alcohol radiating off his body from across the room, making your nose scrunch in disgust. His phone was violently vibrating, a plethora of messages coming through his phone. Angry mistresses demanding for cash in exchange for keeping quiet about his affairs. 

“Fucking pig.” You muttered under your breath, a blend of hurt and anger flowing through your body. 

You pour yourself a glass of champagne, softly crying into the glass, taking in the wright of the situation, the life you had built together, the love and adoration you once had for one another had slowly faded, and now, it had completely died out. 

As more messages kept coming through, you felt your heart sink lower and lower, taking small sips from your glass. What should you do now? You stood there in silence, leaning against the kitchen countertop, pondering your next moves. 

Should you just pack all your stuff and leave? No, you don't have anywhere to go, and getting a divorce is expensive enough, you dont wanna imagine how much it would be to find your own place, and settle in at the same time. 

Eventually, an idea came into your head. 

Who the fuck does your husband think he is? Sleeping around behind your back, like you wouldnt eventually find out. Well, it's time to show him you're not the only one who keeps secrets. 

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　° 

Seokjin was someone that you had worked with for a long time. You couldn't lie and said you didn't admire sharp features and soft smiles from time to time, finding comfort in his warm and caring eyes. And you definitely weren’t the only one. It was pretty common for the women around your office to fawn over him when he’d walk past. Talking in hushed giggles about what they would do to him if given the chance. 

You thought you guys were friendly enough with each other, often talking during your lunch break, engaging in deep conversations about the issues you were dealing with. But that was mainly it. Seokjin usually kept himself closed off, brushing off the lustful stares and small giggles of his female coworkers, often keeping his gaze cold and calculating. He never gave them the time of day, and honestly, you didn't think he’d give you that either. 

But hey, trying never hurt anybody. 

You pressed the phone against your ear with shaking hands, adrenaline rushing through your veins. 

“Hi..um..Seokjin,” You began, stamming with nervousness, but also a slight hint of excitement. “Are you busy at all today?” 

“No, not really. Why?” He said, his soft voice coming from the other end of the line. 

You took a deep breath, putting on a slight sultry tone in your voice. 

“I’ve been thinking about you alot. Won’t you come over~.” 

He took a deep inhale. “I don’t know if I should, y/n. What about-” 

“My husband? Don’t worry about that dickhead.” You said, quickly cutting him off. 

“Besides,” A small smirk crept onto your face. “You can keep a secret, right?” 

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　° 

“Shit…” He groaned softly, laying you down on your back. “You’re so fucking sexy baby, been wanting this for a long time..” 

Seokjin came over shortly after you called him. His breath hitched as he entered your room, his hooded gaze trailed across your lingerie clad body. Your husband had left a few hours ago. To go where? Who the fuck knows. Not like you even cared anymore, you were having your own fun. Let him run around behind your back all he wants, you’ll do it too. 

You felt a strange sense of satisfaction and power, like you had the upper hand now. You feel your heart racing in anticipation, as Seokjin lips slowly move down your neck, his hands reaching behind your back to unclip your bra, letting your breasts free. 

Seokjin's firm hands run over your breasts, softly pinching your nipples under his thumbs. “So perfect…” He mutters, softly licking around one of your nips. 

You whine softly, running your hands along his broad back, feeling his firm muscles under your soft palms. He slowly moves his hand down your torso, caressing the wetness pooling between your thighs. Slowly, he peels off your lace panties, throwing them aside. 

“So pretty baby. You’re gonna let me take care of you right? Gonna make you feel so good.” He whispers slowly into your ear, breath tickling your throat. 

He slowly moves over your clit, rubbing it gently, making you whimper softly. His hands run down your thighs as he places himself between your legs, his breath lightly fanning against your folds. 

“Such a sensitive sweet thing. Poor baby hasn’t been fucked good in a while, has she?”  

You shake your head, big eyes gazing down into his. “Wanna feel good…” 

“I know, angel. Just relax for me, mkay. Gonna fuck you so damn good.” 

He slowly licks over your folds, sucking on your pretty clit. His hands force your thighs apart, pulling you closer to his face, worshiping your body. He groans softly, moving his tongue around you, swirling over your clit, your arousal painting his lips. Soft wet noises and your whines fill the room, your hands running through Seokjin's soft hair, lightly gripping it. 

“Mmm..fuck..so good~!” You cry, softly grinding your hips against his face, your eyes rolling back, pleasure coursing through your veins. 

“You taste so fucking good..” He growls, slowly slipping his fingers into your pussy, spreading you open whilst he licks and sucks your clit. His fingers arch slightly, pressing onto your g-spot, making you arch and moan. Your hands pull on his hair, making him moan lowly, his fingers moving faster inside you. 

“J-jinnie~,” You whine. “Want you now..” 

“Yeah, you want me inside of you? Want me to fuck you like a good little whore?” 

He kneels on the bed, throwing your legs over his wide shoulders, pulling you closer to him, your lower back slightly off the bed as he positions himself between your dripping thighs. 

“Mhm..please, I want it so bad. Wanna be a good little slut,” You cry, your body aching with desire and need. “Please, Jinnie?” 

He gives you a soft smirk, before pushing into you, his thick cock rubbing against your walls. “Gonna fill this little cunt up, fuck you just right.” He says, slowly pushing every inch as deep as he can inside of you. 

You moan loudly, feeling him fill you up. He’s massive, way bigger than your husband, you swear you can feel him in your stomach. You lie back on the bed, eyes rolling and panting loudly as he claims your body. His hips slap against yours, wet slaps filling the room, making you even wetter. His hands grip your legs, pushing them back a little to reach even deeper inside you, slight bruises forming on your legs due to his tight grip. Your hands claw at the sheets, your vision blurring from the intense pleasure. 

“Fuck, should’ve known you were such a slut, would’ve fucked you ages ago, made you my little bitch.” He says, emphasizing his words with his harsh thrusts. 

“F-fuck…you’re so fucking good..so big..” You gasp, your body clenching around his girth, begging for more. 

You bounce off his hips, chest bouncing with each thrust, the desperation and passion of your fucking filling the room. His hands run up your chest, reaching your throat, his grip softly putting pressure around it, 

“You’re mine now right? My good little slut?” He says, running his tongue over his top lip, looking down into your eyes, his eyes clouded with lust. 

“Mhm..yes~!” You cry, your body slowly reaching its climax. “Wanna be yours, Jinnie. Only you can fuck me this good~!” 

“Fuck, that's it baby..” He growls. “Such a shame, your little husband never treated you right, good thing you’re getting fucked by a real man now. Now you know how good I can make you feel, right?” 

You nod, a warm pool of pleasure forming in your stomach. “Fuck, Jinnie! I’m gonna cum~! Please…” 

A dark smirk grows on his face, his fingers playing with your clit, driving you to your peak. “Go on. Cum for me, sweet angel.” 

You cry, your back arching, your body losing control. You cum around him, wetness coating all over the sheets below you as he continues to thrust into you, riding out your orgasm. 

He growls at the sight of you, your pretty face twisted in pure pleasure. It drives him over the edge, and he cums deep inside of you. Thick ropes painting your insides, filling you up nicely. 

He pants, sweat coating his forehead, his hand brushing back his sweaty hair, leaning down to kiss you passionately. You return the kiss, your tongues both softly sliding around each other, enjoying the intimate embrace. He grabs you by the hips, lifting you up bridal style. 

“Cmon, let's get you cleaned up.” He says, smiling softly, carrying you towards the shower. You give him a small smile, leaning into his bare chest, panting softly, catching your breath. 

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　° 

A few days have passed since then, and your husband is none the wiser. You smile softly, thinking about the night you shared with Seokjin not long ago. Your thoughts are interrupted by a text message coming through on your phone. It’s Seokjin. 

“You free today, angel?” 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

[kiralisa]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐇

G O J O X A F A B! R E A D E R

WARNINGS: MDNI, not proofread(I made this at 1 am don’t murder me), drinking, fingering, first time, fluff, no protection (don’t have kids, they expensive$$), creampie if you like squint ur eyes, smut with some plot because I have issues.

First fanfic, tried to make it to where any girlie can read this!<3

The greatest of his clan, Gojo satoru was a god in a man’s body. He who was deemed the strongest at birth, causing the world to shift into his own hands….how could he be so strong yet feel so weak when around you???

Years went passed, years of Gojo satoru’s endless training as a kid. While never pushing passed his boundaries he still managed to become quite strong. He was finally in the hands of the jujutsu world and with his arms out he fully welcomed it. It was his first day of high school in jujutsu so of course he had to be on his best behavior in his words.

“Everyone welcome your new classmate Gojo satoru.” Yaga inquired two students, Suguru Geto, and a girl named Shoko leri. “I simply hope these two won’t be useless to me…huh?” Satoru turns his head to see there are 4 desk yet only three students. He turned to Yaga with a questioning look. “Well Mr. Gojo satoru there is another student but she is late..” Yaga said with an annoyed face as if Gojo wasn’t also late.

Gojo looked at both of the students who had no care in the world only looking at their phones. He turned to look at Shoko first, she was smoking?? Unhealthy he believed. Then turned to look at Suguru, bangs…such weird looking bangs…Gojo also thought to himself before Suguru looked up at him. “Can I help you..?” Suguru asked confused and concerned why Satoru look at Suguru with a judging manner. “Your bangs are ugly dude-“ Before satoru finsihed his sentence the door slammed opened out coming a new student…you. Even through puberty hit like a bitch and made you hate life it isn’t to bad, whether you became tall or short, chubby or skinny, you still were as beautiful as a goddess to Satoru.

“Holy shit that train took longer than expected..” You said trying to catch your breath. Yaga deeply sighed as if he was a disappointed dad..”Everyone meet Y/n, she is a transfer student but she shall be respected as one of our own.” And with that you smiled while being extremely awkward. You sat down and tried to make small talk with your fellow classmates.

“Uhm Hi what’s your guys names?” You said as if you weren’t a HOUR late. Each of the three students said their name “Sup I’m Shoko..” She said trying to light her cigarette. “Well hello there~ I’m Suguru Geto. It will be pleasure to be your classmate.” He said in a gentle manner. You swear ur heart skipped a beat. “Hehehe…I am Gojo satoru. Yes yes THE Gojo of the Gojo clan, six eyes and limitless~” Gojo said in a very…well…Gojo kinda of way.

Everyone deadpanned Gojo as he only looked at you, while extremely embarrassed for him you couldn’t help but laugh at his reply. “Hahah, ohhh so you’re like a big cool boss kinda guy huh? pfhh hahah!” Gojo quickly got embarrassed and started to blush as well as explaining himself “W..WHAT!!! No! I was just saying how I am the strongest of generation!!! Do you wanna fight or something!!!” As you continue to laugh at Gojo became more red Shoko and Geto looked at eachother and just smirked. “So who’s asking who first..” Shoko betted towards Geto. “Well…we’ll just have to find out.”

And that’s how ur friend group started, on that day everything ur life would change, for the better or for the worse. A year later as you’re all second years you’re all still young and dumb, yet still strong and mature when needed. “Hey guys we should totally celebrate for the first years!” Gojo screamed as he ran over too you and you’re two loyal companions. Even after the death of Riko torn everyone and almost caused Geto to create a master genocide. Everything ended up working out, and you would finally celebrate the two first years for a job well done.

“Hey Shoko how drunk would you have to be to sleep with one of the boys?” You said as you did your make up because if something was being celebrated you had to look hot while doing it, you also wanted to finally get laid as you were never well….did it before. “Girl the world would have to end for me to even think of sleeping with them.” Shoko said while laughing. You softly shake your head before putting on ur dress and getting ur hair done. Finally was time for you to get some bitches…

The party was LOUD and when I mean loud I mean capital L-O-U-D. You walked in to see many students, you didn’t even realize there were that many. Even members of the zenin clan were there. “Ughh Shoko where are the boys at??” You said trying to not step on people while holding onto Shoko. “They’re right here silly.” She said as you turned your head to see Gojo and Suguru with matching suits on. “Glad you two could make it..” Suguru said obviously checking you both out, but Gojo’s eyes never left yours. “You look…beautiful, so beautiful and sexy..” He said blushing when he realized what he said. “I- I mean…would you like to uhm…chill in my room..?” He said with nervousness obvious in his tone. “Hehe I would love to do that! Come with me lover boy~” as you dragged him off. Shoko turns to Geto with a sly grin, “looks like you owe me $20~” She said as she grabbed a cup. “Ugh..fuck me..” Geto muttered under his breath.

Laughter could be heard as you dragged Satoru to his own room. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous already Gojo hehehe~” you said while also trying to not be nervous. “M-me?? Nervous hah! I don’t make me laugh!” He said as he grabbed you and thrown you into his room before shutting his door. He slowly started to walk towards you, nervous but shown himself as confident, it felt like the world had frozen.

You were pure red, blushing from excitement and embarrassment. You couldn’t believe it, you’ve been inlove for so long, you wanted this moment yet you were scared. You took a deep breathe as you saw him staring at you like a god would to his subjects. “W…well..Mr. Gojo the strongest…what are you gonna do-“ you were quickly cut off my gojo’s finger pressed on ur mouth, he looked up at you with love in his eyes. “It’s satoru for you. Only call me satoru..” he said before looking at you while holding ur chin waiting for your consent. With the nod of your head he began to kiss you.

It was slow and sensual at the same time soon your tounges fought for dominance which of course he won’t as his knee started to grind inbetween your legs. It was so…much you’ve never felt such pleasure nor did you know someone could give you such pleasure…well Gojo wasn’t just a someone.

“Look at you..all big talk yet you’re shaking under me, look how adorable you look~” satoru said with a smirk. You wanted to say something back before you let out a loud moan, you saw Satoru’s hands inbetween ur legs messing with your clit as he kissed and bit ur neck with his own love marks.

“N..nghh~..S..satoru~ to much AH~!” you said as he bit ur ear, “that’s doesn’t sound like to much if you’re moaning like a whore baby~” He grabbed your dress before pulling it off as he unbuckled his belt. “We gotta get you all ready for me….” He said as you were shivering trying to catch up to him. He soon pulled your panties to the side as he touched ur entrance with his long leaned finger.

Rubbing your clit while using his fingers to pleasure you as you grabbed the sheets while moaning loudly. You were sure everyone had already left yet you still wanted more. “More! Please more!” You practically screamed and he slid another finger. While it was uncomfortable at first due to the new feeling you soon couldn’t fight the pleasure it brought you.

Gojo softly laughed before looking at you in the eyes. “How bad do you want it. Beg for it.” You had no other choice. Not like you were thinking straight anyways, while people got drunk off of the achohol you got drunk off of the pleasure. “Ngh…! Please please I want you! I want you so bad please I’ll be good please~!!!” Gojo soon pulled his hand out of you, it was wet, messy, and sticky as he licked your juices off his mouth. He soon grabbed your thighs apart with a serious stare looking at you for your consent which you helplessly nodded.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” He said. “Yes yes yes!! Please please give it to me!!” If you could overdoes on pleasure you might as well call yourself dead. He soon lined himself up before slowly thrusting into your body. “Ahh..fuck so…so..so fucking tight..” he said as he shoved his head into your shoulder while you silently screamed as he shoved half of his member into you.

“Ugh fuck! So full~!!!” You said moaning into his ear as he pounded into your body without an ounce of mercy. Your legs shaking as you screamed his name and smaller curses as he thrusted into you. “Please!!!please please!! Give it to me S..sa- TORU~!” He held onto you as he thrusted upwards hitting that sweet sweet sensitive spot. “Ahh…fuck taking it like a good girl.” He said as he squeezed your legs even tighter. “Ngh..! G..gonna cum! You’re gonna make me cum..!” He whimpered into your ear as he scratched your back, your back arched as you feel yourself coming undone onto him. “OH FUCK~! I-I can’t to much hah~!” She screamed as she grabbed Satoru’s hair and pulled. “Almost there…gonna cum oh fuck~! Cuming cuming inside! Gonna make you a mommy and gonna- oh fuck~!”

He quickly came before almost falling ontop to you but using the last of his strength to move to the side before wrapping his arms around you. “How is it, that I’m the strongest yet I feel so weak near you..” you softly chuckle. “Because that’s what love is…and I love you…so very very much…”

The strongest, the unstoppable realized then and there that if that’s what love meant then he was devoted to you. Because not only did he feel weak around you. He felt at home. Loved. So why does it matter if you’re strong because you take all his strength with that smile of yours. “Then I love you too.” He said before kissing your head passing out with you while the party downstairs didn’t even notice you guys gone..

A N: Ahhh!!! This is my first fanfic so I hope you’ll enjoy my content and consider following for more!! Hope you can use my ask for things such as suggestions, tips, or just to talk!! For other fanfic writes hope we can be moots and thank you all for reading this!

Please do not plagiarize, steal, or copy this fanfic, but please take inspiration to create and write ur own fantasies but please ping me into the fanfic so I can read the beautiful creation<3

[lookismaddict]

Lookism Chapter 438 Memes/Thoughts I Have:

(SPOILERS !!! I don’t own any of the Lookism panels and the translations. Only the memes that I made.)

God. It’s like every week, I get even more tired than the previous week. What has my life come to? I feel so dead inside.

Anyways, wooooo new chapter is here. Let’s goooooooo!!!

“DiD yOu JuSt HiT a CoP ?” Yeah mf. Call it “injustice” or a “crime”, IDC. Daniel gon beat yo ass GTA style. 😤

It’s ok Daniel, go get him!!!

*h e a v y s i g h*

. . .

PLEASE. EXCUSE ME FOR A SECOND WHILE I… “TAKE CARE OF SOME BUSINESS”.

*stays in the bathroom for about 30 min*

I'M KIDDING... not really.

BRUH EVEN DANIEL IS NAKED? AROUND GUN??? This is dangerous. 😭😭😭

OHHHHHHHHHHH MYYYYYYYYY GAAAAAAAHHHHHDDDD.... SIRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!! THE WET HAIR THOOOOOO. 😩😩🤤🤤🤤🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴

I def know what I want for Christmas this year... 👀

Santa would definitely kill me in my sleep...

N S F W M E M E W A R N I N G !!!

(If you don't wanna see the inappropriate meme, just scroll past it.)

God, my 😺 been quivering... What? I bet those of you who read Rendezvous would agree that you want him too. I'M LOOKING AT YOU!! READERS WHO'VE READ THOSE CHAPTERS ACTING LIKE YOU HAVEN'T THOUGHT ABOUT IT, SMH. 👁👁 Don't lie.

Man, this is giving me mad inspiration to write again. Who knew that some steamy shower panels would bring me back to continue writing for that story? How ironic. 😅

YESSSSSS GUN BBG, MAN WHORE, DADDYYYYYYY. 🥰

DAAAAAAAAMMMNNNNN DANIEL, BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE FANCY FIGHTING SPINS!!! Also, "I'm gonna get punished severely when I get back." 🧐 Is Gun gonna make you give him 🧠 or nah? Like what?

BRUHHHHHHHHHH. DANIEL NOOOOOOOOOO!!! 😭😭😭

AWWWW BABY, DON'T BEAT YOURSELF UP ABOUT IT. JUST CONTINUE TO GIVE IT YOUR ALL!!! 🥺🥺

Awwwww shit... Is this where I think this is going...? 😭

Hey Alexa, play "Lose Yourself" by Eminem.

OMG WAIT. HE DOESN'T LOOK THAT DIFFERENT FROM WHEN HE WENT CRAZY MODE IN HIS OTHER BODY!!! :O God, it's like the same demon possessed Daniel or something.

OK DANIELLLLL!!! I SEE YOUUUUUU, KING!!!! 😩😩👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽

AYO, IS THAT JAKE'S OLDER BROTHER??? 👀 HOW TF JAMES LEE KNEW ABOUT HIM AND NOT EVEN HIS OWN BROTHER, JAKE KIM KNEW ABOUT HIM UNTIL TOM LEE MENTIONED HIM??? 💀💀💀💀

Geez, I'm starting to feel bad for Jichang. Like, ok Daniel, I get it. Your fight with Jichang started because you're trying to find out more about Jinyoung and all that, but... y'all can't just... talk it out? 😅 "Civilized folks" style? No? Ok.

Oh crap... that's not good. 😬

B R U H. THESE PANELS GAVE ME MAD GOOSEBUMPS. SHIIIIIT. I HOPE DANIEL'S HOMIES ARRIVE!!!! 😖

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I KNEW ITTTTTTT!!! I TOLD Y'ALL WTF. 😭😭😭😭😭😭 I EVEN KNEW IT IN THE LAST REVIEW HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I GOT PSYCHIC POWERS. 🔮

SEE???? I CONCLUDED THIS LAST WEEK WITH MY OWN WORDS, BRUH. CALL ME A... G E N I U S. ✨ (Actually don't. I'm still a dumbass.)

"Thanks. I almost died just now." 💀💀💀💀 Idk why I thought that line from Hudson was funny to me LMFAOOO. Just caught me off guard because I mostly see him being so serious all the time. Also, Jichang... don't underestimate Daniel lol. It'll be your downfall if you do.

I stg. Almost every chapter, Daniel always gets even more attractive. 😍😍

I always see people comment on how Daniel is turning more into Gun due to how he has improved in fighting as the story progresses. HOWEVER, I've never heard Daniel becoming James Lee before and I find that concept very interesting. I'm not sure if PTJ is leading Daniel towards that path of him becoming the new "James Lee", since he is a self-righteous character who seeks truth.

Even though I find this moment to be very cool, I worry that Daniel might create more enemies for himself and I hope he doesn't kill anyone then spiral into long-term guilt like James Lee.

God, I still can't get over the GUN SHOWER PANELS. AHHHHHHHHH!!! HIM... NAKED??? I MEAN, COME ON MAN. HE LITERALLY IS EXPENSIVE ALCOHOL WHO REALLY AGED SO GOOD. SO TASTY. SO DELICIOUS. SO SCRUMPT-DIDDLY-UMPTIOUUUSSSSS!!! CALL ME A CONNOISSEUR, BUT HE CAN BE THE YAMATO TO MY HENNESSY, WITH HIS HIGH PRICED SEXY ASS. 🤤🤤🖤🖤🖤🖤

If any one mentions him in the shower, yk Imma be "showering" down there. 💦

ALSO, WE NEED MORE SHOWER FAN SERVICE PTJ. KEEP 'EM COMING!!!

The correct answer is "Both".

They'd be amazing Calvin Klein models.

Anyways, BYE- 🏃🏽‍♀️

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

Hey there! Could you humor me with a drabble?

Bryce shopping for the first gift he ever buys Jensen. He's excited but nervous. Jensen's style is unique, they're still a new couple, and Bryce wants to get this right so badly... he's scared shitless. lol

Only if it's interesting to you. Otherwise, no pressure at all :)

thank you sm for this ask!! i dont know when a drabble became nearly 1.5K words, but apparently it did

anyway lol i had a lot of fun w this one, ty!! now i wanna write a whole second part of them actually enjoying the gift lol

Completely//Complete Me

Fandom: Open Heart

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x Jensen Valentine (M!MC)

Rating/Warning: M (swearing, adult themes)

Word Count: 1489

~~~

Standing in the middle of the mall’s comic outlet, Bryce realized just how much he disliked the mall. It wasn’t so bad the last time—with Keiki and Jensen—but being there alone was a whole different game. He thought the many options would help him pick something out considering how blindly he went into it, but it only proved to be overwhelming.

It was Jensen’s first birthday after they had gotten together, and Bryce was hellbent on getting him something worthwhile. Sure, he had gotten him a few little gifts before, but this was something more. Bryce may have gone a little overboard with the pressure he put on himself for it, but no matter what, he knew he’d manage to find something good. 

Every store he went into had options, but it felt like he was hitting his head against a wall with the amount of failed attempts they ended up being. 

It didn’t help that Jensen had a questionably weird talent for gift-giving himself. Exhibit A: After weeks of the roomies deliberating on what to get Sienna for her birthday, going back and forth over the same things, Jensen nonchalantly suggested they should all chip in to get her a stand mixer.

Exhibit B: For Bryce’s own birthday the year prior (shortly after they first established their relationship), when he and Keiki took a day-trip to visit a handful of bookstores she had bothered him about, Jensen surprised him with a full tune-up and car detail. Who even comes up with that shit?

So now, there Bryce was, looking over an aisle of comics Jensen probably already had or read. It didn’t help that Jensen always came up with something practical yet still had the same shiny effect that any other expensive fancy gift would’ve provided. 

With a sigh, Bryce accepted that maybe the mall just wasn’t working. Not before stopping for a coffee, Bryce quickly forgot it altogether, heading home and attempting to think of anything else. 

That “thinking” lasted until the next night, popping into his mind again after a long, tiring shift. He hurried in from his car, trying and failing to outrun the January cold.

He had already done the stupid googling, filled with impersonal and unnecessary gifts, and talking to the roomies, which didn’t prove to help much as they were just as stuck as he was, and every other last-resort option. The most frustrating part wasn’t that he didn’t know what Jensen liked—he did—it was that everything he liked he seemingly already had. Also, Jensen had never been one to say he wanted anything, so Bryce never even had an offhand hint about it. He even considered DMing Aliyah and asking if she had any ideas.

Oh, was he getting desperate.

Moping on the couch with leftovers in his lap, he grabbed his phone from his pocket, pulling up Jensen’s Instagram to see if he could get any ideas. He scrolled through the hundreds of posts, stopping on a few here and there. By the time he hit Jensen’s undergrad ones, he was about ready to give up. Most of them were concerts and parties, and they had already done plenty of concert dates. If there were any he was interested in, Jensen would’ve already said it, so that was out the window.

Though, an event gift was a promising idea. Instead of trying to find something practical, sentimental, and with enough pizzazz to count as a worthy gift (according to Bryce), going somewhere might be a better option. Concerts were out, but Boston had plenty else to offer. Though Jensen was—shocker—working on his birthday, Bryce knew he had the weekend off.

Bryce grabbed his laptop from the side of the couch, making a quick Google search. The Boston museum of science sealed the deal with one picture of the triceratops model. 

He couldn’t just do that, though, could he? He’d have to plan dinner at least, and maybe lunch beforehand? Or maybe he should plan to go somewhere else for the morning, too, like that new pirate harbor tour he had mentioned to Jensen a few weeks ago. What if Jensen was too tired for the museum after that, though? If it was more than two hours (as the website he had open suggested), Jensen’s social battery would probably be dead by then.

Bryce never remembered a time where he was this stressed about another person. Relationships, like most things, were a breeze for him, but even the small things with Jensen had him second-guessing his judgment. 

Interrupting his overlapping, crashing trains of thought, the front door open and Jensen was quick to shed his coat. Bryce hadn't realized how much time had passed, entirely unprepared though aware of Jensen’s soon-coming arrival. Unable to find a better solution, he quickly slammed his laptop closed and practically tossed it onto the coffee table. 

Jensen gave him a skeptical glance from the kitchen where he was kicking his shoes off. “Uh, whatcha lookin’ at?”

“Umm,” he said, blowing a puff of air from his lips, waving his hand nonchalantly towards his closed computer and looking at it like it’d come up with an answer on its own. “Porn.”

He could feel Jensen trying not to laugh from the other side of the room, holding it together just long enough to ask, “Is Hoarders adding to the ambiance?”

Bryce’s head snapped over to the TV where Jensen had gestured, and sure enough an unnecessarily graphic scene of Hoarders was playing. Shit.

After a second of recovery, he managed to come up with, “You don’t know what I like,” as a sad attempt at trying to continue this lie, almost laughing at it himself through the cringe.

Jensen started toward him, dropping his phone onto the coffee table as he replied through a chuckle, “I kinda do, though.”

Bryce sighed in defeat and smiled as Jensen leaned down to press a short kiss of greeting to his lips.

“It was stuff for your stupid birthday,” he answered the prodding question in Jensen’s gaze.

“Ouch,” he was quick to answer, plopping down on the couch against Bryce’s shoulder. 

Bryce rolled his eyes and grabbed the remote to change the channel, adding, “I didn’t mean it like that.” And, of course, Jensen knew, but he needed to rib him at least a little. 

After stealing Bryce’s fork for a bite of leftover lasagna, Jensen started new with, “What’s stupid about it?”

“You,” he answered, laughing at the offended look Jensen sent him. “You’re stupidly difficult to buy for.”

“Mmh, I’ve heard that one before,” he said, taking another bite before turning to Bryce. “You know, there is this crazy thing you might not have heard of before, though.” Bryce gave him a curious look, Jensen leaning in with a conspiratorial whisper and saying, “You could just ask me what I want.”

Bryce’s expression dropped, unamused, and Jensen let out an airy laugh. 

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s a good suggestion.”

Bryce let out a half-whine, half-sigh, letting his head fall to the back of the couch. “Yeah, but I wanna do the whole perfectly perfect boyfriend thing where I just already know exactly what you want.”

Bryce tilted his head toward Jensen, who was quick to tuck a hand against his cheek, thumbing away a few whisps of hair.

“Yes, dear, but those are unrealistic standards set by the media.”

“And?” Bryce asked, slightly pouting. “It’s cute as fuck.”

Jensen gently put his hands up in a mock surrender, giving Bryce his win. 

“Besides, I already have some of it.” 

Jensen gave him a look. “Ooh, is it a bag with all the clothes you’ve stolen from me?”

Bryce let out a laugh. “You wish.”

Jensen shook his head, still smiling, and stood up from the couch. “Well, you finish whatever it is you were looking at,” he said, stretching with a nod towards Bryce’s laptop, “I’m getting in the shower.”

Bryce would’ve invited himself along, but he really did need the time to keep looking. With Jensen’s effortless reassurance, he grabbed his computer again.

The relaxed tone Jensen had throughout their conversation helped to mellow out the stress of the whole thing, Bryce taking a breath and starting at the museum. Knowing Jensen, dinner afterward would be plenty. Mashing his two earlier ideas together, he sorted through the…unexpected amount of pirate-themed restaurant options. He mapped out the easiest route then got their tickets for the museum, satisfactorily setting his laptop to the side and cleaning up dinner.

Jensen joined him a moment later, hands on his waist from behind with a kiss to his shoulder. “D’you figure it out or are you just gonna ask me?”

“I figured it out just fine,” he answered confidently. Jensen gave him a look of questioning disbelief that he mockingly returned, pressing a quick kiss to Jensen’s temple, smiling the whole time.

~~~

Tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations @ofmischiefandmedicine @cariantha @jerzwriter

[earthtooz]

U WANNA HEAR CHARACTER IDEAS? hold on *scrolls through my 19384567 page document of reo hcs* (i wish that existed)

reo.. reo my luvr. movie nights with him are a NIGHTMARE. my man manspreads over the whole couch like... you can't even call that manspreading anymore. it does NOT matter how big the couch is. he always takes up most of it... almost like a cat. except he doesn't even do it on purpose. will sometimes also fall asleep like this while ur buried underneath him — looks like ur gonna have to sleep on the couch as well, unless you wanna wake him up. oh and, when he's sleeping on the couch, he also snores like a middle aged dad (gets worse once he actually becomes a dad).

ALSO !! talking abt cats... he's actually a dog person. i can definitely see him owning something like a border collie, given his s/o is on board with it and is able to spend time w the dog as well bc i recon he unfortunately doesn't have that much time :(( and i think he'd always wanted a pup when he was younger but that was the one thing his parents never allowed him to get

sorry this got kinda long... i just love reo

DON'T APOLOGISE I LOVE UR IDEAS !!!! I ALWAYS WANT TO HEAR ABT THEM LAY THEM OUT FOR ME ON A TABLE AND I'D SIT DOWN AND LISTEN !!!!

the movie night one is SOOO true :( even if you start upright, on respective sides of the couch, he'll always crawl towards you and lay himself all over you until all you can do is sink underneath him :(( like hey... big man... can you... not? one wrong move and he'll pull you right back, unless you need to pee. at least he's nice enough to let you go momentarily until you come back and he spreads himself all over you again.

oh and his couch is one of those massive 'L' shaped ones so you have more than one option of where to lay whilst watching movies on that gigantic screen of his!!!!

when he rests on the shorter end of the 'L' (i hope u know which part i'm talking abt- the one that sticks out), you know that he's doing that with the intention of fully falling asleep on you because there, he can't even see the damn movie. you have figured out his antics and he knows it but he still gets his way no matter what, even if you coax him.

won't know that you've slipped out of his grasp for a while. i headcanon that reo is one of those sleepers who fall in and out of consciousness, like he just randomly wakes up in the middle of the night and falls asleep breezily again. during these intervals of wakeness, he realises 'what the shit, where did y/n go' and proceed to hunt you down.

the fact he snores is such an endearing ick </3 HELP WHAT IF YOU MOVE AWAY FROM HIM BECAUSE HE SNORES AND THEN YOU TELL HIM ABOUT IT AND HE'S ABSOLUTELY BETRAYED like 'bby... wtf do u mean you don't like my snoring... when you told me you liked everything about me, that must include my snoring'. then you try and justify yourself and just can't without sounding like a hypocrite. you never complain about it again, eventually learning to block out how loud he is, especially whilst next to your ear.

AND THE DOG HC :((( i have a border collie and i love her sm she's the best dog i'll ever have i absolutely adore her :,) ANYWAYS, no i so agree. maybe even a golden retriever or australian shepherd bc they're both such beautiful breeds AHHHHH imagining reo with a small dog doesn't feel right. IMAGINE HIM TAKING IT OUT FOR A RUN OR A HIKE BC IT'S THE ONLY EXTENDED DURATION OF TIME HE CAN SPEND WITH IT :( buys it the most expensive treats too like damn the dog its it up every time!!!

i counter your long ask with an even longer response bc as soon as you enabled me, the floodgates didn't stop.

[bittcnneck]

@demonsfate asked: ♡

send me ♡ and i'll answer: shippy stuff!

who buys generic brand products? who buys name-brand? Depends on the brand and the name tbh. But both of them would buy named brand on food I feel like. They would not get a knock off version of m&ms bc its cheaper lol. When it comes to electronic and clothing tho, Lacey is more likely to get generic brand, mostly bc those are expensive shit. Not sure abt Jin tho...

who upgrades their iPhone/Android every single year? Neither. Lacey would need her phone to be almost unusable for her to get a new one, like lagging SO much, battery dying too quick or screen too cracked to read.

who complains about their day? who listens? Neither would complain but Lacey is more likely to listen and Jin complains. Jin would listen too but u can't catch her complaining unless its a very big very important thing, even then, its unlikely bc she doesnt wanna burden other with her problems.

who gets shit-faced drunk forcing the other to drive? Lacey would drive bc she refuses to drink in public. U go to a bar with her and see a margarita glass in her hands ask oh what is that? She says its juice 🧍‍♀️ she would only drink somewhere she feels 100% safe, and would refuse to leave home when drunk, unless someone who is with her did not drink at all and is in a clear state of mind to protect her if something happens.

who sends the other 20 tiktok's in a day and expects them to react to every single one? LACEY. cute stuff, relatable stuff, funny stuff, ANIMALS!!! U bet shes spamming him w them like haha this is so us. Jin would send too but def not as often as Lacey lol.

who stuffs clean sheets in the closet without folding them? who complains about it? Neither. Throw em in there :P

who surprises the other with coffee/breakfast in the morning? Lacey bc of course she is she gotta make her man happy.

who starts a food fight while they're preparing a meal? Lacey but most she would do is like put a lil batter on his nose or cheek. She wouldnt do it with food that is already prepared tho

who thinks of the weirdest, out-of-pocket scenarios at 3 in the morning and calls/texts/talks to the other about it? JIN. Lacey thinks of weirder shit but doesnt call lol. She wakes up to a call from Jin shes sleepy asf like yeah..? And Jin is like what if were in a simulation

who refuses to eat the first & last piece of bread in the bag? Both would eat, but Lacey is more likely to bc she wants Jin to eat the good stuff.

who doesn't like the crust on their sandwich? Both would eat. Lacey hates wasting food and if Jin eats a whole bowl of peas with nothing on the side I dont think he would complain abt crust lol

who goes to Target for one thing and walks out having spent $400? Lacey, only if a worker pressures her tho. If theyre like hey wanna get this its on sale, and shes like no thanks but theyre like its very good and very cheap!! She would buy it bc she has a hard time saying no in general ;;

who pays for the dinner? who pays for the drinks? Lacey pays dinner, Jin pays drinks!

who's always looking at the dessert menu before even ordering their drinks? Lacey is more likely to, but that is if shes been craving it all day.

during the movie previews, who's the first to say "i wanna see that movie"? Lacey bc she wants to spend more time w her man ❤️

who shoves the other into the pool fully clothed? Lacey doesnt have the guts and I feel like Jin wouldnt want to inconvinience her.. but DJ would 💀

who has to have the corner piece of a cake/brownie/etc Lacey would, like the bread one, she would want Jin to get the good shit

who brings home a dog/cat despite the other saying not to? NEITHER SAYS NO!! FILL THE HOUSE LIKE ITS A JUNGLE.

[pascalpanic]

so i read this scenario on reddit and i thought it would be a cute and fluffy fic idea if you want to write it :)

one of the Pedro boys (i was thinking frankie or marcus moreno but you can put any one of them that you feel like would fit the story) lands himself in the hospital and the reader visits him often cause they’re friends. they notice that every time they visit, his heart rate monitor speeds up, like not enough to cause alarm but enough to be noticeable, and that’s how she finds out that he likes her and they decide to date (after he gets out of hospital)

Appendicitis (Frankie Morales x f!reader)

Summary: ^^

W/C: 2.4K

Warnings: talk of being ill, vomit, pain, lots of talk of hospitals and that being a major setting, Frankie is a dad, language

A/N: welcome back to Josie’s quest to clean her inbox! This idea was so precious!! I hope you guys like it!!

Frankie is in fucking agony. Never has he felt something as painful as this, never has such pain radiated through his body so intensely that he has no choice but to vomit out his stomach’s contents.

He spends the day at home, occupying his daughter as best he can while he’s in such suffering. He figures that maybe it’s just really bad gas cramping or constipation. Marisol plays quietly, at her daddy’s request, watching her favorite Disney movies on the couch while nuzzled into his side. Frankie has never been so grateful to get her into bed at the end of the day.

After a full day of the pain, and realizing that it wasn’t going away no matter how many painkillers he took, Frankie gave in around midnight. Lying in his bed, skin turning gray and the pain now decisively in his right side, Frankie called you.

After a few rings, you picked up. “Hey, Fish.”

“Hi.” His voice sounds agonized. “How much do you charge for babysitting again?” He asks, the strain clear.

You’re confused, pushing the phone closer to your ear and thinking it might be the distance that makes him sound so odd. “Uh, you’re my friend, so free. You need me to take Mari?” You ask him.

He nods. “Yeah; how much for like a week though? I don’t want to impose though, and-“

His voice sounds terrible. “Frankie. Shut up. A week? What’s wrong? I can take Marisol for as long as you need, but I gotta know what’s going on.”

Frankie is quiet before he grunts softly in pain. “I think my appendix might be fucked up. It hurts like fucking hell. Mari’s asleep, I don’t wanna wake her or anything, but could you-“

You cut him off once more, sitting bolt upright. “I’m on my way over. Do you think you can hang on until I get there? I can drive you to the hospital, or we’ll get one of the boys.”

“That sounds good,” Frankie agrees. “Fuckin’ ambulances are so expensive.”

You chuckle softly. “Hang in there, Fish, okay? I’m gonna call Will, see if he can drive you and I’ll stay with Mari. How’s that?”

Marisol loves you. There’s no better solution in Frankie’s eyes: she behaves better for you than she does for him. She’ll be in good hands, happy for as long as he needs to be in the hospital healing. “Perfect. God, you’re a fucking angel. Don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve better than me,” you snort as you pull on a hoodie and slip on some shoes. “I’m gonna call Will. You got this, Fish. Distract yourself. I’ll send you updates.”

When you arrive at the Morales household, Will’s truck is already in the driveway. He lives closer, so it makes sense. Be quiet and don’t wake Mari, you remember as you slip off your shoes and head up the stairs of Frankie’s home. It’s quiet, unsurprising for this time of night, and you know Mari is a light sleeper. Frankie would never want to wake her at this hour.

Wandering into his room, you find Will standing next to the bed and an incredibly worn-looking Frankie. His skin holds barely any color, his face almost green in nausea. You rush to his side. “Frankie, holy shit,” you exclaim in a loud whisper, taking his hand. “You’re okay?”

“I will be if Miller mans up and gets me out of this bed,” he says, followed by a chuckle with no humor.

Will sighs. He’s wearing pajamas too, looking as exhausted as you are. Frankie groans as he hears Mari’s tiny voice over the baby monitor. “Fuck. You’re staying with her, Will’s bringing me?” He clarifies, looking up at you with bloodshot eyes.

Nodding, you squeeze his hand. “Give me directions quickly and I’ll go get her. You gotta sit up first, Frankie,” you reassure him.

He squeezes your hand back tight and sits up, his face contorting in pain. There’s a flush of redness to his cheeks, and it makes him look more human for a moment until it fades again. “She won’t fall back asleep unless she’s in this bed with you. She needs the attention. Uh, food is in the fridge, you know emergency shit,” he says, with surprising coherence for the pain he’s in.

You nod and ruffle Frankie’s soft bedhead. “Benny- fuck,” you wince, knowing the Miller brothers hate being mixed up. Somehow, even with their distinct personalities, you do it all the time. “Will. Send me updates,” you remind him as you stand. “And you, Francisco,” you murmur and press a kiss to his sweat-beaded forehead, “get some strong pain meds and get better for me and Mari.” You smile softly and walk out of the room.

The room next to Frankie’s is beautiful, a sage green paint and lots of woodland creatures painted on the walls by Frankie’s surprisingly artistic hands. There’s a crib covered by a creamy white canopy and the little girl pokes her head up, tilting to the side in confusion as she sees you.

It’s not fear, of course. Mari loves you, absolutely adores you in fact. She’s just… confused. Her little brain can tell it’s the middle of the night. “Where’s Daddy?” She asks, making uppy arms at you.

You walk over to her crib, picking her up and kissing her head. “Daddy’s got a tummyache, cutie,” you tell her and tickle her tummy gently, making her giggle and bury her tiny face in your chest. “He’s gonna go see the doctor and get it all fixed up, okay? You and I are gonna have so much fun,” you assure her, and she giggles again.

You can hear two sets of feet, slowly moving. “Let’s go give Daddy a kiss goodbye, okay?” Mari nods and rubs her little eyes.

Frankie’s got an arm around Will’s shoulders in the hall, looking absolutely agonized. He smiles a little as he sees you and his baby. “Hey, patita,” he chuckles. He dubbed her duckling from the soft tufts of fluff on her head as a baby. “Be good while I’m gone.”

Mari nods and puts a hand on either side of Frankie’s sweating face, making a little pout and giving him a kiss. “Love you, Daddy,” she says, a yawn overtaking her tiny face.

“Love you too,” he nods and looks up at you. “I owe you.”

“Friends don’t owe each other,” you shake your head. “Now get your a… butt to the hospital, Morales,” you tell him and pat Will on the shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

He nods at you and the two men shuffle along through the house until they can get Frankie into the car and on his way to (hopefully) sedation and a cure.

Yawning again, Mari’s big brown eyes look up at you from where you hold her on your hip. “Snack?” She asks you, pointing towards the kitchen.

Her little voice and tiny, pudgy fingers are too much. “I suppose. Only because we’re having special girls’ time,” you tease and boop her nose. Setting her on the counter, you grab some cubes of cheese and some berries, which you make sure are in small pieces.

Mari’s content to eat her snacks with you, and you can see her growing sleepier again as the plate empties out. “Sleepy?” You ask her, and she nods. “Alright, cutie pie,” you sigh and lift her, holding her to your chest as she wraps her arms around your neck and her legs around your torso. “Do you want me to cuddle with you?” You ask.

She nods. “Gotta snuggle for late sleepies. Daddy says that.”

The words melt your heart. Frankie’s always been so good with her, so warm and skilled and precious. It only makes your crush on the man grow every time his little girl babbles about how much she loves her daddy. “Does he?”

She nods. “Daddy sings for me.”

Frankie singing Marisol to sleep. The idea melts your heart. You need in on that. “What does he sing to you?” You ask. “What’s your favorite song that daddy sings to you?”

She thinks for a moment as you sit on the edge of the bed, allowing her to clamber off your lap and into the cozy king-sized bed. “Rocket Man.” It’s hard to decipher in her baby-talk, but you get it.

“He sings that for you?” You ask as you get under the covers, into the blankets that are still warm from Frankie’s body heat, that smell like his cologne.

Mari snuggles into your chest, and nods softly. “Can you sing Rocket Man?”

“Of course,” you nod and trace little circles into the toddler’s back, singing the Elton John song to her in a soft voice. It doesn’t take long, now that she’s in her daddy’s bed and got a snack, for her to fall asleep. She snores softly, and you follow suit not too long after.

-

It did turn out that Frankie had appendicitis. The doctors weren’t entirely sure what caused it, but you and the Miller brothers rotated your time with Marisol at home and the hospital with Frankie, as his stay was painfully long for such an active man. Santiago video chatted often, but being out of town prevented him from physically seeing Fish.

It took him about a week to recover, and that time was mostly spent napping or watching the television in his room. He’d bullshit with the guys or you when you were around, and he especially loved the time of the afternoon every day where one of you brought Marisol to see him.

Usually it was just you or one of the Millers who stayed in the room with him. The other two either stayed with Marisol or got to stay at home and rest for themselves. It was a lucky day when you and Benny got to both be with Frankie for a while, telling stories and laughing. It was your turn to be off-duty, but all you wanted from your free time was to be with the man.

Your presence has always made Frankie’s heart rate a little faster. It’s always made his palms a little clammy, and his pants a little tighter sometimes. At least now he can attribute it to the pain.

Every time his eyes catch yours, his heart monitor gets a little louder. It’s odd, but you shrug it off. It can’t mean anything. It’s just your Frankie. After an hour or so of spending time with the guys, you run to get fast food for the three of you. While you’re away, you receive a text from Benny.

Benny Boy: you’re fucking with his head, bro

You: what?

Benny Boy: the heart rate monitor is nearly silent right now. every time frankie looks at you it spikes, don’t tell me you haven’t been noticing that

You: do you want nuggets or a burger?

You: thats ridiculous, Benny.

Benny Boy: always nuggets. but seriously, his heart rate is at like 54 right now, he’s just chilling and kind of dozed off. let’s check it when you come back.

You: be prepared for the most boring science experiment ever. also, what dip do you want?

After you receive your bulging bags of food, stuffed from both Benny’s and Frankie’s massive appetites, you return to the hospital.

You: walking in. pulse status?

Benny: 60. he’s a little more awake now.

As you enter the room, Frankie turns to you and grins. “Hey. What did you get?” He asks.

You plop the bags on the small table overhanging Frankie’s bed and grin. “Just your usual order. I know what you like,” you shrug as you unpack the food.

Beep beep beep beep. HR: 77

Smiling at the rate of Frankie’s heart, more than you should really, you sit down back next to Benny and the three of you eat your food. It’s somewhat quiet, the chatter dying as you devour the fast food, savoring the grease and salt.

After everyone is finished, you stand and clean up the garbage, tossing it all away. You sit back down on Frankie’s bedside. “So, macho man. How’s the pain?” You ask, your fingers tracing his good side.

Beep beep beep beep beep. HR: 86

He shrugs. “It hurts like a bitch, and they said it’s gonna keep hurting like a bitch.”

“Poor baby,” you chuckle, cupping the side of his face and kissing his forehead softly.

Beep beep beep beep beep beep. HR: 96

Benny groans and stands. “I’m gonna hit the bathroom.” He smacks your arm as he walks past, as if rubbing in the evidence he’s found. “And then take a walk, I think.”

You’re still seated at Frankie’s side, on the inflatable hospital mattress. “Oh Benjamin,” Frankie rolls his eyes. “Why’d he leave so quick?”

You shrug, though you know the answer. “Who knows? Benny can’t even predict himself,” you chuckle. Frankie’s hand rests over his chest. You slide your hand over his torso and lace your fingers through his until you’re holding it. You can feel his heart thumping steadily against it. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

Beep beep beep beep. HR: 104

He smiles. “I’m lucky I have you.”

You sigh softly as you look up at the heart rate monitor again. “I gotta say, you have a really high resting rate,” you say nonchalantly, as if you believe it.

Frankie’s face warms. “I, uh-“

“I’m kidding, Frankie,” you mumble softly to him, smiling a little. “I really like you, and I think that monitor is helping me know you like me too. When you get out of here, can we maybe go on a date some time?”

Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep. HR: 112

Nodding enthusiastically, those floppy curls move with his head. “I would love that,” he tells you with a beaming smile. “God, have you been able to tell all day?” He asks as he looks up at the monitor, his ears burning with heat as he reads the pulse rate. It’s embarrassingly high.

“Yeah,” you finally admit and smile down at him. “But it’s cute. And it makes me feel all warm inside because I finally know you like me too.”

Big brown eyes stare up at you with all of the love in the world. “If I wasn’t wearing a hospital gown, I’d kiss you right now,” he promises. “But that’ll have to wait.”

“Yes it will,” you nod and kiss his forehead again, easing him back against the mattress he’d lifted up from slightly. “Now I’m going to go find Benny, and you slow down that heart rate,” you tease and ruffle his curls.

“I’m not gonna be able to slow it down with you around,” he says with a soft smile, his eyes slipping shut.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan

[beomglocks]

what yeonjun is like as a boyfriend

warnings & other: no warnings except for falling in love with yeonjun, but is that so bad?, side note: no body asked for this but between college stress aka finals and daily life struggles this is the only thing i could manage to come up with so plz enjoy.

w/c: 2 more words and its 1K

jesus take the wheel

when you first meet him he’s flirting

biting his lips and licking them

raising his eyebrows and all like

????

calm down i don’t even know your name yet

very bold

so shameless when you first meet him

“you look like someone”

“oh really who?”

“my future partner ;)”

ngl you would be so put off by his confidence

but he knows when to tone it down and you’re like

“oh you’re actually tolerable!”

if youre shy then rip you

always trying to get you out of your comfort zone

probably does extra shit in public and you just have to laugh along nervously

then when yall are alone you scold him for embarrasing you and he’s like

“ok ok im sorry” *hug*

if youre confident like him youre both annoying

just kidding but thats real couple goals

everyone is jealous of yall

he’s so cocky

always showing you off

“hi everyone this is my partner!”

“yeonjun...we know...we’ve known ever since you introduced them 5 months ago”

thinks you’re the most beautiful human to ever grace the earth and it’s not even close

“seriously how did i end up with someone like you”

seems like the type of boyfriend to kiss the ground you walk on

*not to be confused with a simp*

yeonjun does not simp

he has morals

so you know how he tends to say “baby” a lot

yeah

thats his fav nickname for you and vise versa

omg he loves that nickname forreal

skinship

like i know i said beomgyu and skinship was a huge thing

but my god

yeonjun is on a whole other level

just comes up to you and annoys you with wanting to be close

hes so clingy

but will probrably pout and whine when youre clingy with him

“ahhh y/n you like me sooo much look at you clinging to me like this, leave me aloooooone”

obviously he doesnt mean it like cmon youre each others batteries

kissing you in public

im talking full on makeout sessions

“we’re in public...”

“ok and?”

literally just always all up on you

if youre someone who needs their space yall will CLASH

might even get into arguments because of this

serious arguments where you call him annoying

i feel like he will take it to heart if you call him that

nobody likes being called annoying :(

wont touch or talk to you for days

DAYS

thats dog years in your relationship

you have to apologize and really mean it

he’ll accept it if you kiss him

omg he’s so jealous

SO JEALOUS

doesn’t want people looking at you too long

dont try to make him jealous he will fight the other person

ok maybe just giving them the stank eye then he’ll pull up like

“hey im standing right here have some damn respect”

you guys definitely fight

A L O T

sometimes over petty shit but sometimes it gets serious

always threatning to break up but never doing it 

you both know you’re bluffing but it still hurts everytime

but your relationship is strong

i feel like yeonjun wouldnt get into a relationship if he knew he wouldnt have a strong connection with the person

he values communication

tell him how you feel

he’ll always listen

if he’s feeling down you better buy him his favorite foods and run your hands through his hair ok!

speaking of food

best food runs

like will just randomly be like 

“hey wanna go to this one place with me?”

and it’s like 2am 

but he insists the food is worth it

best dates too

either a restaurant date

(doesnt have to be expensive, just gotta have good food)

or he cooks for the both of you

he cooks surprisingly good????

you’re like there’s no way you made this

he’s like damn you hate me that much

but no like actually can cook but he’s clumsy you know

you gotta be monitering him

which he doesnt mind, he likes having your presence in the kitchen with him

PLEASE i feel like he doesn’t like being alone when he’s doing everyday tasks idk

like if he’s brushing his teeth or if you’re brushing your teeth

he’s right there back hugging you ugh

the type to walk on the side of the sidewalk where cars are closer to <3

if you’re younger than him he kinda has a superiority complex

not in a condescending way

he just tends to baby you more

if you’re older he still tries to act older in some ways

“yeonjun im going to the grocery store!”

“actually i made that exact same grocery list and went 3 days ago”

“the only thing on the list was rice?”

but he likes being babied

coo at him and he’ll get shy and tell you to stop

meeting the other members isn’t too bad

“this is my significant other! arent they just so etheral?”

everyone nods because if they dont yeonjun will probably give them some choice words later

you gotta compliment him a lot

he thrives off compliments honestly

you: “you looked good in that one scene”

him: “yeah but i looked good in all the scenes though right?”

you CANNOT C A N N O T compliment anyone else

you: “soobi-”

him: glaring at you “what about him?”

just to mess with him youre like “soobin killed this scene too”

pouts and whines

“nooooo what do you mean he killed this scene?? i’m the scene too pay attention to me!”

studio sessions with him are a vibe

he likes rnb so yall would just be chilling on days where he doesnt have schedules. 

plays his rnb playlist and yall just vibe out 

youre both laying down on the studio couch with his head in your neck and he’s dozing off *broken heart emoji”

wait ok i know i’ve said this before but

he’s the type to tease you during arguments

“you wanna kiss me so bad”

and when you do he’s all smug about it

“my baby just can’t stay mad at me for long huh”

your friends think he’s hot

they probably think he’s way too good looking to be dating you

so you doubt yourself

but he’s like nah our looks are on par that’s why we’re perfect together fuck them

always wants you to watch him dance

during practice or not, he wants you there

after hours at the practice room is just him playing some random song and freestyling

but you love it because he looks so happy and free

probably does some cheesy shit like ask you to dance with him

or if you’re sitting down on your phone he’ll come up to you dancing just to bother you then just laugh

he’s the best boyfriend

idk

[keilemlucent]

long days for bad people

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~6k

Being a prized, adored possession was far better than you thought it would be.

warnings: light daddy kink (no age play, just the name in mostly jest), spit kink, crying kink, degradation, brief descriptions of blood + violence, kidnapping (consensual?? read a/n), brat taming, light sadomasochism, mind break, praise kink

------

here it is, mafia au, villain hawks, dom, brat tamer, soft(?!) hawks. what more could you want? 

there’s briefly described kidnapping at the beginning of the fic but it is reiterated throughout that this is consensual! no yandere/stockholm stuff in this fic. 

i’ve been working on this one for a while and i’m happy to finally share it. hope y’all enjoy!!

||||||||||||||||||||

You shouldn’t have fucked around with the League.

God, it was common knowledge in the parts of town and circles you inhabited. Of all criminal syndicates, mobs, to fuck with, the League wasn’t one of them. They were known for their complete cruelty and violent delights. The League had such a reputation due to the fact that they openly left bodies carved up and burnt as they pleased.

But, you were a fucking idiot and got involved anyways.

It was a small loan, Giran almost seemed to scoff when he gave you the cash. You and your almost-stranger of a roommate were just very late on some bills and were going to lose a lot of material items if you didn’t scrounge up at least two paychecks in about three days. 

You swallowed your pride and took the first and easiest loan you could get. That just happened to be with gap-toothed, wide-grinning Giran of the League. He, you knew from what you’d heard, was somewhat fair in matters like yours. 

You had two weeks to pay him back.

...

You didn’t make it in time.

You were close to the amount, notably. You scrounged and clawed your way into getting the cash back. You weren’t much of a pickpocket, but you snagged some odd jobs around the apartment building that you and your roommate were still fortunate enough to keep a room in.

After one particular job, a nasty carpentry gig that you weren’t qualified for, you returned home tired and worn.

Sure, you were a day late on payment. But with this last gig, you were so close. The League would have to pity two, stupid, stupid young girls?

They didn’t, you realized, as you stepped into your apartment.

Your roommate's slain corpse was laying over the arm of your cheap couch, eyes vacant and mouth dripping blood onto the old beige carpet.

You dropped to your knees, horrified and completely stunned.

“You should’ve known better,” it was a hum from across the room, from a figure you didn’t even know was in the room until then. “Really, you’d expect folks to be smarter.”

Your mouth dried as the figure moved from the nighttime shadows, flashing a dazzling smile and ruffling crimson wings.

Hawks.

You’d heard of him, everyone had. Terrifying, fast, precise, and cutthroat. He took orders and didn’t ask questions other than snark. He talked too much, fucked too much. 

“W-wait,” You didn't know why you were pleading, but you had to try, right? “I’m so close, wait—”

Hawks sauntered up to you wielding one of his feather blades, the red of blood mixing with the filaments of his feathers.

He crouched down in front of you, tsking, “I don’t like begging, angel. I’ll make this quick for you. Your friend there?”

Hawks jerked his finger behind to your dead roommate.

“She fought, pleaded, begged, all that normal shit I don’t like hearing when shitheads like you two don’t make payday,” his voice was slow, talking about death like some casual thing. “I’ll make this nice and fast if you don’t run your mouth anymore, how about that?”

You swallowed, nodding.

The small percentage of your brain that was fully functioning figured dying quickly was a much better way to go than whatever the hell had happened to your roommate. There was far too much blood for that to be quick.

Hawks hummed, the tip of his feather blade tipping up your chin so you were forced to meet his gaze. You vaguely heard the pitter-patter of your tears hitting the carpet below. Blood rushed in your ears as you stared death in the face.

Hawks appraised you.

You watched the metaphorical cogs and wheels turning in Hawks’ skull as he looked you up and down before flashing forward, gathering you in his arms and flying from the apartment. 

Your first thought was obvious as you clung to him in the open air:

He’s going to drop you and kill you.

When you screamed, tears growing thicker, he slapped a gloved hand over your mouth, “I’m giving you an out, kid. Trust me. You’ll prefer this over death.”

 ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 Your new existence was certainly better than death.

If you were ever caught and convicted of any of the illegal things you participated in, you’d be fucked, thrown into prison until you rotted, until you were just dust and bone.

But, until then, you worked for the League.

You had groveled at the feet of their leader, Shigaraki, hands clasped on your lap, claiming your worth, or maybe lack thereof. Not many attachments, not many people who’d miss you, a semi-useful quirk. 

With a boot shoved into your skull, he sneered that you’d be the League’s new errand dog. 

The real reason they accepted you was due to the threatening air Hawks was exuding and the fact that their old ‘errand bitch’ had died the week prior. They needed a new body to act as a civilian and do things that only an unsuspecting-looking ‘civilian’ could. You fit the bill, and Hawks had taken a liking to you.

 Oddly, working for the League was actually pretty okay.

You got your own room. It was small, but you only had to share a bathroom with the somewhat unhinged Himiko, but she was fairly nice once she warmed up to you. Everyone lived in the League’s HQ and went about their business, getting drunk at their bar front each night.

Most of the mess happened at night, but it was important to put on a nice veneer and keep spirits high. Not to mention that no one would dared to fuck with the League, anyways. The cops and federal government had long been paid off due to the resources that the League had acquired for them. 

You felt somewhat untouchable.

A lot of this confidence was due to the fact that you had become Hawks’s... Keigo’s...

‘Songbird’

As he liked to call you, anyway. 

Keigo was the general, loveable annoyance of the League, but his connections were invaluable and his skills were unmatched. Despite how he could grate on people (read: Dabi and Shigaraki), he was respected and feared just as much as everyone else was, if not more so. And being his metaphorical and literal pet had its perks.

Sure, the first time he had you come to his ‘office’ and he fucked you against the window until it was smeared with cum and blood was a bit surprising, but god, if you didn’t fucking love it. Being Keigo’s personal fucktoy came with protection, pleasure, and a surprising amount of genuine attention. The dude was lonely, and so were you. The two of you made a good ‘couple’, if you could even call yourselves that. The sadism he doled out was always counterpointed by affections that did seem genuine. 

Keigo was fond of you, and you of him. Maybe your brush with death had twisted something in your head, to even allow yourself to get close to a man like Keigo, but you couldn’t make yourself care. 

You were comfortable and content. 

...

[bird boss]: hey babe ;^) get to my office in the next thirty minutes 

[you]: what if i don’t

[bird boss]: do u really want to find out

[you]: ...

[you]: im just curious 

[bird boss]: don’t get cheeky songbird 

[you]: u make me wanna u know

[you]: i know it gets you riled up

[bird boss]: tread lightly kid

[you]: oooo i gave you some guff over text

[you]: what’re you gonna do about it?

[bird boss]: use your imagination

[bird boss]: 25 minutes now, songbird

[bird boss]: don’t make this worse for yourself <3

 You set your phone on your cheap duvet, quickly primped yourself to see Keigo. He wasn’t too strict about your appearance but wearing dark clothes and some of the more expensive gifts he’d gotten you over the months he’d been screwing you never hurt. Something about ownership with him always got him hot and bothered. 

You tried to remind yourself frequently that Keigo saw you as some sort of possession, but a possession with feelings.

Meandering through HQ was always a bit daunting, despite your protections. Your skimpy outfit choice and hardly-hidden lingerie made you feel a bit more like an object than you liked too. 

There were hardly hungry mouths around the League, they kept you all fed, but god, were there starving eyes. 

Dabi wolf-whistled as you walked past him through a common room, shouting something about how Keigo was collecting his pound of flesh for the day. Maybe a line or two about being a whore, but that was all flavor at that point. Keigo called you far meaner, more sinful things. And hell, it wasn’t like Keigo hadn’t... shared you on more than one occasion. 

Maybe you were a little fucked up for enjoying your lifestyle to the degree you did, but why not indulge where you could? Life was far shittier scraping paint off old fences and picking up cans to just scrape by. 

Opulence was a breath of fresh air. And if you were Keigo’s fuck toy? Then, god, you were Keigo’s fuck toy.

When you arrived at Keigo’s office, you knocked gently on the door, quickly adjusting your skirt and blouse. 

The door opened, though no one was behind it. Only a single one of Keigo’s feathers allowed you entrance. 

His office seemed daunting and extravagant for a man who did most of his ‘work’ in far-shadier, far-bloodier places. The walls were covered in mirrors and old paintings, something out of vanity and pride, knowing how Keigo saw himself. There were several black leather couches scattered around against walls, some stained by your various... activities. There was a broad desk parallel to a back wall made entirely of windows. 

Night had fallen, leaving the room lit by a few lamps and warm fixtures. 

“Hey, boss,” You hummed as you stepped in, shutting the door behind you just before the lingering scarlet feather flicked the lock on the door.

And the other one.

And the deadbolt.

You swallowed thickly. 

As much as you enjoyed a lot of the perks of your... position, it was also daunting.

Keigo was daunting, all bloody colors, vanity, and hunger. 

He sat behind his desk, wings puffed up, and partially extended over the back of his chair. The desk chair was massive, specifically acquired so that you would have enough room to properly straddle his lap for hours on end if he so wished. 

Keigo idly clicked around on his desktop computer. He leaned slack and back into the chair, legs spread wide and exuding casual confidence that reeked of his own ego. 

Keigo normally wore a mix of black and red, as edgy as it was. He liked to seem clean, hide the stains of sanguine that undoubtedly lingered on him no matter how he tried to cleanse himself. His black slacks were pressed, the seams pristine. The black shirt he wore was rolled up to his elbows, the buttons of his red vest undone as well. His black tie hung half-undone and limp around his neck. His tousled gold hair was mussed as normal, ruffled by his flights. His feathers might’ve needed preening, but you doubted that that was the reason he called you to his office. 

And based on the deep set of his brow and the sickly smile on his lips, he was already on edge and in a mood. 

“Songbird, come over here, will you?” Keigo sat back from his typing, watching you from across the room. He took you in the same way a parched man sucks down red wine, greedily and soon to be fucked. “On my lap.”

You complied, despite your earlier attitude. You padded across the room, going around his desk. 

As you moved to straddle his lap, worn hands gripped your waist. His amber eyes gave you a warning, crinkling at the edges, “Not like that, sweetheart. Do daddy right.”

Oh, so it was one of those moods. 

Maybe you were Keigo’s sexual punching bag so he could exert control on something he could later kiss better and patch up. 

Sure, he was going to fucking ruin you, but part of the fun with him was that the more it hurt, the nicer he was after. And, all things considered, with some of the... other folks the League brought in to satiate its member’s desires, you fared far better. Keigo cared about you, in his own particular way. 

You tried to lean over his lap yourself, but his hands and feathers positioned you perfectly as he wanted. With the tight grip he had on your waist and shoulders, dragging you just as he liked, it was easy to see his need for control. 

Your head hung off of one of his thighs as you squirmed in his lap. His bulge already pressed into your ribs, a wonderful reminder of the reward you’d reap later on. Keigo’s hands gathered your hand to the small of your back, a feather replacing their grip a moment later.

“Sit with me while I finish this shit,” Keigo grumbled, going back to clicking the desktop. His leg bobbed absentmindedly, his free hand rubbing over the curve of your barely-covered ass. “Be a good girl, (Y/N). If you can stand that.”

He laughed under his breath. 

You let your head dangle limply downwards, blood rushing to your cheeks. 

You’d thought you’d be in for more of an ass-kicking, but it appeared Keigo was taking things unusually slow. You knew better than to complain, but kicking up a bit of metaphorical sand couldn’t be that bad, right?

“I dunno,” You hummed, kicking your legs lightly. “I don’t think you like it when I’m a ‘good girl’, daddy.”

“Watch it.” A single, sharp smack to your butt was hardly enough to shut you up, but Keigo did so all the same, rubbing over the covered flesh a moment later, “I’m not in the mood.”

“Are you sure about that?” You wriggled, intentionally pushing up against his growing erection.

His breath stuttered, a smirk pulling at the corners of your lips. The hand on your ass didn’t rear again, rather Keigo kept thumbing smooth circles as he continued to click around on the computer. He might have been actually doing work. Or, he was ignoring you, egging your sass on. 

“If you didn’t want anything, why’d you call me in here?” You asked, way too cheeky for the way Keigo’s body was practically vibrating underneath you. Pissing him off had consequences, of course, but you weren’t in the mood to play ‘good girl’ that day.

“I told you, I want you to sit with me,” Keigo pinched your ass. “But, you’re too mouthy to do just that one thing. You’re usually better than this.”

“Am I?” You played innocent, craning to give him a wide smile. “Hadn’t noticed. What I am noticing, is your already-hard cock, dear.”

“Oh, ‘dear’?!” Keigo paused on the computer. “Cheeky. Cute.” 

Keigo would just dig in more, lean in, before ‘snapping’, if you could call it that.

You gulped as his hand swatted at upper thighs, his nails almost knicking your skin.

“Up and don’t get smart about it.”

Oh, you were going to be remarkably smart about it.

You rose but hardly stayed upright for long. Sliding down to your knees, you pushed at Keigo’s legs, “Wouldn’t you prefer me down here? Just for a treat while you finish your work?”

Keigo clicked his tongue, gaze flickering down to you, “Fine. Behave yourself.”

Yeah, right. You both knew that that wasn’t going to happen. 

You were already tucked underneath his desk, undoing the fly of his pants. 

You pulled his cock from his trousers, pumping his cock to full hardness. Smearing around preek for a bit of extra flare before inching forward.

Wrapping your mouth around Keigo’s dick was somewhat of a feat— he had a decent girth to him, so you usually took the opportunity to warm him (and yourself) up with a bit of tip-kissing and kitten licks.

But, you were feeling bold.

You spit on his dick, a move that normally would have earned you plenty of verbal snark, but anything Keigo could’ve said to you was swallowed as you took his cock down to the back of your throat.

You sucked around it, massaging the vein on the bottom with the flat of your tongue. Drool began to pool at the side of your lips as you let the head bump your throat, gag reflex be damned.

All the while, Keigo had stopped moving above you. The fabric of his trouser balled up in his ringed-fingers as he gazed half-lidded down at you. 

You smiled around his dick, looking up at him innocently as you began to slowly bob your head. His wings fluttered, twitches and air stirring around you. 

Keigo stifled a laugh, a hand tangling in your hair, “All that talk earlier and now you’re treating me to a blowjob without even me having to tell you to? Dove, you’re too much.”

You pulled off of him to reply, “I can only try.”

Before he could reply, you spit on his dick again, and went back to slurping around him.

You held the base of his cock in your hands, twisting and spreading spittle. It almost felt like your actions were for show, but Keigo’s eyes were rolling back in his head all the same.

You smirked.

A drool pool from your mouth, puddling in your lap and soaking your skirt. Not like you weren’t already dripping from the sinful sounds Keigo stopped trying to hold.

“A-ah, that’s it, angel,” Keigo fucked into your mouth with his hold on your hair. “Just like that.”

Your hand rose to play with Keigo’s balls, teasing at the sack as he cried out a high moan above you. 

Considering the performance you were giving, it was unsurprising to feel him tensing above you. You’d been on your knees for him hundreds of times; you’d learned to see the little twitches and puffs of breath he’d give when he’d get close to coming. 

You pulled off his cock with a pop, detangling the hand from your hair in the motion. It was all fast enough that Keigo couldn’t have stopped you in his hazy, pleasure-filled state. 

Based on the look of rapid disbelief he was giving you, your trick had worked well. Knowing Keigo’s... tendencies made you hesitant to push him too much in the past, but for whatever reason, you were feeling stupidly bold. 

Consequences.

“Sorry, daddy,” You wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand. “Didn’t feel like swallowing today.”

Keigo’s disheveled appearance was more than gratifying. Knowing how easily you made him come undone by that point was one of the perks of your position.

His hair was more than ruffled, strands and tufts chaotically curled around his cheeks and ears. There was a bright blush on his face, spreading from his nose to the apples of his cheeks, down his deck. At some point, he’d popped the buttons at the top of his shirt. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, half-panting and based on the darkness in his brow and the far-too peachy smile on his face, Keigo was fucking pissed.

His wings stood on end.

You gulped from below him.

Maybe you pushed your luck too far.

Maybe. 

“You’re playing real cute today, aren’t you songbird?” Keigo didn’t move, but his feathers twitched above him, wings flaring out even farther. “Real fucking cute.”

You were fucked.

Good.

A few feathers flew from Keigo, one snagging at your wrist, wrapping around it, and pulling you up from the desk.

You wobbled as you stood, dragged across the room as Keigo leisurely followed behind you. When you tried to set your own pace, Keigo swatted your ass with a huff, “You never learn, huh? I thought I’d trained you better than this.”

You opened your mouth to spit some dickish retort, but you were cut off as Keigo’s shoved you onto one of the leather couches.

“Don’t.” Keigo’s tone was acidic as he stood over your, wings still flared out. “I told you I wasn’t in the mood for your cute bullshit, dove, and you still decided to test your luck, huh?”

You kneeled on the cushions, sucking down air, shaking with anticipation.

“You don’t feel like swallowing today? That’s fine, I can work with that,” Keigo shrugged easily from above you.

Keigo had an... active sexual imagination, and you could tell by the crook in his lips that he had something devilish planned as retribution.

A sharp slap came down on your cheek, Keigo catching the opposite jaw and keeping you from recoiling too far. You blinked as the pain spread around your skull like licking flames against a frostbitten body. 

You wanted more.

A little grin stretched against your mouth as Keigo rubbed at your cheeks with his thumbs, “Aw, you always get so sweet like this, dove. You can be a good girl if you try, can’t you?” 

His actions carried candor and his words absolute torment. 

Despite how Keigo was trying to goad you into submission, you had a bit of spark left in you. 

Plainly, you spit on him.

The glob of saliva landed on Keigo’s cheek, under his eye.

He blinked at you. 

You continued to smile.

His own expression grew strained.

“Oh, songbird,” Keigo damn near lamented, wiping away the kind gift you’d given him. His voice was smooth without any bit of waver, all of the sexually-charged anger rolling just beneath the veneer. “You’re just being pain slut today, aren’t you?”

You were, absolutely. You could feel your arousal wetting your panties, the heat of the strike from your cheek beginning to boil something in your gut. 

“You just need a bit of special attention today, right? That’s all.” Keigo tsked, fully removing the tie from around his neck. “You just need a little reminder.”

“Reminder of what?” You asked, tilting your head quizzically. 

Keigo flipped you, feathers pushing and bracing you as needed while nimble hands tore off your clothes without reverie.

“Plenty of things, especially with this attitude you’ve got today,” Keigo’s tie looped around your wrists, binding them together at the center of your back. 

“You definitely need a reminder of who’s the boss around here,” Keigo shoved you forward, stomach flush with the back of the couch.

You reeled from the pace of it all, shifting your knees for any bit of stimulation you could get. Keigo’s feathers were slicing and pulling your clothes from your body faster than you could keep track of. It was overwhelming, making your mind swim in the best possible way. You throbbed. 

“Maybe a reminder about who fucking provides for you,” Keigo’s own clothes were shaken off, dropped to the floor and forgotten.

It was true. Keigo always made sure than you were taken care of, in more ways than one. Despite how fast-paced and laid back he could seem, he was always on top of making sure you had more than enough material and immaterial pleasure whether than be in the form of food, fucking, or otherwise.

You yelped as a smack fell across your ass. A feather caught the elastic of your panties, snapping a moment later, leaving you fully bare before him. 

Keigo’s worn hand came to press at your throat and jaw, tilting your head back as he climbed behind you, “Maybe, you need a reminder about who keeps you safe.”

This phrase was softer than the others, a sweet kiss pressing to your cheek and his voice a bit more gentle. It was jarring at the skin still stung from his earlier strike, but you cherished the heat besides. 

Once again, true. The folks in and outside of the League were greedy. There were plenty of unwanted souls that stole glances at Hawks’s prized songbird. There were starved eyes that tore into you whether you were dolled up for Keigo or not. There had been some... close calls, one could say, but Keigo always was there, in the end, unafraid to get his hands dirty. 

“You know what the most important reminder is, dove?” Keigo rolled his hips against you, cock wedging between your thighs.

“N-no,” You stuttered, brain turning gooey as Keigo’s arms snaked around your waist, sharpened nails leaving indents in your hips.

He nosed at your neck, leaving a few love bites in his wake.“‘N-no’, what?” 

“I don’t know,” You leaned back into Keigo’s chest, rubbing your thighs around his cock. 

 “Oh, songbird, you sweet thing,” He chuckled, all teasing and self-indulgent. “I’m the one who makes you feel good.” 

He was so right, wasn’t he?

With the way he’d learned your body over the last few months, he’d had some undeniable pursuit to make you feel the best. 

Keigo was inquisitive by nature. He had kept you on your back for hours while he finger-fucked you, watching every twitch and roll of your hips to figure out just the right ways to break you. He’d kissed and sucked and slapped every inch of you, sussing out the perfect ways to make you writhe and cry for him. 

Sure, you were an absolute terror to him sometimes. Not to mention that Keigo jumping you covered in the blood of that day's targets was as macabre and horrifying as it sounded. 

But, fuck, if he didn’t know how to bring you to ecstasy that fucking ruined you in the best way. 

Keigo got off on watching you shatter for him. It was the reason he’d torn you from that cheap, bloodied apartment in the first place. A kind, naive little morsel that he could play with as he wanted. You didn’t complain. Fuck, you reveled in his attention. You gave it back to him, like the fucked up, semi-divine being could be any more debauched than he already was.

Corruption spreads, but you’d never complain. If being plucked from struggling for pennies to being fucked stupid by a man who could kill you at a moments notice, a man who would kill for you, somehow poisoned you?

You’d die with a bitter taste on your tongue and a smile on your face.

 Keigo rubbed at your clit, nipping at your neck, and rolled his hips greedily. His cock was covered in a mix of your slick and his own preek, easily sliding between plushness of your thighs.

“You love pushing me, acting all tough,” Keigo chastised, clicking his tongue. “I mean it when I say it's cute.”

You don’t have any more quick retorts in you, not when his fingers are down your throat, gagging you as spittle dribbles down your chin onto the leather below. It was sure to leave a mark.

“Behind all that bark and snark, you’re just a good girl, aren’t you?” Keigo punctuated his words with a bite and nip to your neck. “Just needed a reminder, right, dove?”

You whimpered against his fingers at the praise, grinding against Keigo’s touch needily. 

His fingers pushed pinched your tongue, breath curling over the shell of your ear, “What are you?”

You mumbled against his fingers, “A g-good g-girl.”

It was humiliating in the best way. Keigo’s light laugh at your attempt. The way he nuzzled his nose into the sweat at the crook of your shoulder was just aloe on the burn.

“I misspoke, if you can believe that,” Keigo’s cock pulled out from your thighs. “Songbird, you know what I meant to call you?”

You squirmed at the loss, but he was quick to hush you. His fingers left your mouth with a thick trail of spit. 

“You’re my good girl.” 

You melted in his arms.

Falling back against Keigo’s chest, you craned your neck to lock your lips to his. 

Maybe that was it, why all the filth didn’t bother you. Because you had worth. Maybe it was insecurity, or maybe it was self-aware in the face of your lived experience. Before being taken, the life you’d lived made you just a rusty cog in a dying machine. You wouldn’t have amounted to anything, probably. 

But with the League?

You were the prized, beloved consort of an angry god. 

Keigo owned you, body, mind and soul, and you let him. That’s not even to mention how you had him wrapped around your finger. He adored you, under all of it.

Fighting with him was for sport, not blood.

Keigo licked past your lips, pressing his cock to your cunt teasingly. You whined against him, wriggling in his arms.

“What does my good girl want?” Keigo loved making you beg for him, claw for any bit of stimulation. He liked it even better when you were already soft for him.

Stray tears pricked at your eyes, “Y-your cock.”

He pinched the meat of your thigh, shaking his head, “Not good enough. Speak properly, dove. Clear and correctly.”

You swallowed, searching for the words in your own haze.

Your words were willed to be solid.

“I want your cock, daddy.” 

It was just enough.

Keigo pushed forward, the head of his cock already stretching your cunt. Consider the girth of it, the lack of preparation stung and burned more than you would’ve liked, as good as it felt to finally be filled.

Keigo cooed at your soft tears, keeping your face to his with a firm hand on your jaw. He shushed you, far too sweetly while licking the salt from your cheeks, “Relax, angel. Big breaths.”

You nodded, sputtering as he speared into you. Keigo’s free hand went back to toying with your clit, encouraging the tension to drain from your body.

As he bottomed out, you shuddered, falling back into his chest. Keigo’s wings fluttered, twitching in wait. Hot breath fanned over your face, Keigo groaning and locking his jaw. 

The stimulation was overwhelming. You had expected Keigo to be meaner, considering how mouthy you’d been. 

Yet, it made sense. Keigo had figured out one of the better ways to make you break was softness. 

(Truthfully, it made him crack in the same way, but he’d never tell.)

“Feel that?” He asked, just barely rolling his hips. 

Keigo released your jaw in favor of wrapping a hand around the front of your throat, tugging you as close he could manage.

“Uh-huh,” You panted. 

You could, the kiss of his cock head against your cervix was almost uncomfortable. The delicious pressure and sensitivity already had you reeling in his arms, unsteady and wanting.

“I fill you up so good, don’t I?” Keigo praised his own ego, his cock, but he wasn’t wrong. The curve of his cock rubbed against all the right spots. He stretched you just right, the burn ebbing away into a need for more, more—

“Please, Keigo—” You gasped. Your legs shook as Keigo slammed into you, shoving you forward and into the wall.

His pace was brutal. Hands and feathers kept your back in a harsh arch as he rearranged your insides to his liking. He was kind enough to keep stroking at your clit, bruising your hips and babbling filthy nothings. 

“I’m the one who makes you feel this good, only me, right, dove?” Keigo growled into your ear with a particularly hard thrust.

You nodded against the wall, aware of the drool slipping down your chin as your mouth lolled open. Your insides were hot like white flames, searing any ability to use coherent speech. 

Keigo snickered at your state. Slowing, he gripped your ass cheeks. You yelped, inside jumping as he pried them apart. You flinched, hole twitching as he spat down, the liquid cool against the flushed skin.

It was little moves like that, Keigo just subtly making your shudder and feel dirty that got you the most fucked up and fucked out.

You pressed back on his cock, panting against the wall and keening. You would’ve spoke, if you could, but anything that you had the ability to say would’ve been torn apart by Keigo’s sharpened, silver tongue. 

“My filthy little dove, huh?” Keigo sneered, watching you try to bounce on his cock the best you could. “Such a glutton when you get broken down like this, needy whore.”

The pleasure of Keigo’s cock tearing up your insides was all you could focus on through the fog of your mind, desperate and wanting and greedy.

“Y-your,” You corrected, the words bubbling from your lips, disjointed and messy. “Yours.”

Keigo may have been avian, but he purred like a damn cat at your admission. He held you like a possession, cock throbbing as he fucked you just right. 

“God, you’re sweet, angel,” He nipped at your jaw before wrapping his hand around your throat. “Even all fucked up, you know who you belong to so well, don’t you?”

You nodded, rolling your hips back. 

Keigo must’ve taken pity on you, squeezing at the sides of your neck. Cruel as he could be, he must’ve noticed the way your thighs and knees trembled against the leather. Keigo knew the cloud in your eyes well— how to get you hazy and how to fuck you perfectly through the fog.

He fucked back into your dripping cunt, pace harder and faster than before. You were helpless to do anything other than fall forward into the wall, cheek squished against the scarlet. 

“Who’s brat are you?” Keigo squeezed a bit harder at your neck as you swallowed against his palm.

“Y-yours—!” You squeaked out, mind going numb from the stimulation and pressure.

A wicked sneer curled against your ear as Keigo’s movements grew sloppier. His tongue lolled over your shoulder, messy kisses and slobbery bites and marks left in his wake. He was close, but you weren’t far off easier.

“Little bird,” It was sweeter, closer and hotter. “Can you come for me? Come all over my cock?”

You nodded.

“Not good enough.” Keigo bit down, nearly breaking the fragile skin of your neck. “You know I like words, angel.”

You gave him words, plenty of them. 

Nearly incoherent pleads and cries poured from your bruised lips as Keigo pounded into you. Each blabbering wail was met with Keigo groans and grunts, condescending little phrases spitting over you without release.

Your lack of leverage and use of your arms made you thumping against the couch and wall, vision darkening on the edges as the pressure in your gut and the hold on your throat remained. 

You were breaking in his arms, tears rolling down your cheeks as you held yourself from cresting. The exertion of it all was taking its toll, legs jellied and chest beading with sweat. 

Keigo sensed it, shifting his hips to hit the spongy spot in your cunt, “Come, dove.”

You let go.

A sob shattered in your throat as your climax crashed through you. Keigo released your throat, holding you by your bound arms as he bottomed out. His own harsh cry panged against yours as he stuffed you full. 

Surprisingly gently, he rocked his hips against your own, letting the ambient throb of your cunt milk him dry.

You came down, rolling and spinning as you sucked down air a bit too fast. Keigo panted behind you, though the sound seemed dull.

The pressure from your wrists released, soft thumbs rubbing at where the fabric had bitten into your forearms, “Hey, angel, you with me?”

You could only nod weakly, exhaustion and aches creeping in. 

Keigo repositioned the two of you, setting himself against the arm of the couch, wings up free to drape and splay over the floor. He dragged you with him, pulling you to lay on his chest. The stickiness of his spunk, your slick, and general sweatiness might’ve been uncomfortable, but you weren’t quite lucid enough to care.

“How are you feeling? Still feeling a little mouthy?” Keigo teased, already knowing your answer. 

You muffled a groan against his chest, shaking your head against the sweat of his chest. 

“Awww,” Keigo chuckled, fingers brushing over your cheeks, “Is my dove a little fucked out?”

“Keeeigo, b-be nice.”

Your voice broke, parched.

Keigo snorted, pressing a kiss to the side of your forehead, “I guess I can manage that. Just for you, though. Can’t let the others see me get all soft.”

You wouldn’t; seeing Keigo warm and gooey, both of you mutually fucked-out, was a pleasure only you got to indulge in. And you loved every moment of it. 

++++++++++++

taglist: @sinclairsamess (msg me if you’d like to be on it!)

ko-fi

[adam-banks2024]

going to eden hall’s cotillion with adam banks

you were super nervous about the dance

it was one week away and you still didn’t have anyone to go with

at this point you thought you’d have to go alone

and you were excited

this was gonna be different than anything that you’ve ever went to before

yeah, you went to prom when you were a sophomore at a smaller school, and you went to winter formal in january, but you had never gone to anything as fancy as this before

you didn’t even know what it was at first

big thank you to google

as soon as you learned that it was a “fancy french dance” as russ put it, you started picking up more hours at your part time job

you didn’t need anything super extravagant or expensive, but you wanted to look nice and feel pretty

you talked to charlie about it almost everyday, and he seemed as excited about it as you

“i think i’m gonna ask lisa”

“what kinda tux should i get?”

“what kinda flowers do girls like?”

yada yada

you helped him with everything, of course

and he helped you pick out a dress, and a corsage, the whole shabang

and so the only thing left was to get a date

easy right

haha

laugh out louddddd

no.

but charlie was optimistic

he knew that you liked someone, but he didn’t know who it was

julie and connie didn’t even know so he knew there was no hope trying to find out

so you collectively agreed to find someone to go with as friends

you talked to ken first

made a really nice poster board, and made some ice skating puns

he looked super happy, and he laughed the whole time you were embarrassing yourself with your cheesy poster

he said thanks

but apparently...

he was

going with

A SENIOR GIRL

like damn ken okay

i see u

so you were upset

but kinda proud of him

so that meant it was on to the next person

russ? maybe

yeah

he’s be funny, plus it wouldn’t be awkward with him

so you get him some candy instead of a poster board, and walked up to him during lunch

“thanks, but averman, goldberg, and i are going together. kind of like a bachelors thing, yknow?”

you sighed

that takes out one more person

who else who else

DWAYNE

you could ask dwayne, and he’d be a gentleman, and you’d have an amazing time

you ditched the candy, borrowed a cowboy hat, and gave him a sunflower and asked him

he thought the gesture was sweet, and he was obsessed with the flower

“i think i’ll name him bob”

bless his heart

But He Said He Was Already Going With A Girl From A Different School.

cool. cool. cool

fulton! he’s chill!

you’d probably have a comfortable night with him and still have a good time

you game him a card with a hockey puck on it, with some cheesy saying about hitting hockey pucks too hard

you didn’t know

this was like the umpteenth guy you asked

he laughed at the gesture and thanked you for the card

“sorry y/n, but i’m going with portman. date night yknow?”

*sigh*

you understood

because let’s be honest that’s cute

but now that rules everyone out

except for him

but no because you’ve seen a million girls ask him

so you figured it’d be best if you went alone

you even considered going with julie but she’s going with scooter

IGHHSKABDVEIEJTBBRBE

why is this so harrrd

“i could talk to adam?”

charlie kept insisting

you kept saying no because you didn’t want a pity date

“i can just meet you all there”

that sounded a lot less sad in your head

“just ask him tomorrow, please?”

fine.

you decided that you’d ask him

on friday

“y/N tHaTs ThE dAy BeFoRe ThE DaNcE”

itll be fine

except it wasn’t fine

you worked your ass off the whole week leading up to friday

you worked everyday, you had exams all week, and you still had hockey practice

you were dead by friday

sweats to class, energy drink in hand, bags under your eyes

and your slippers

you had zero cares today

then you remEMBERED

charlie would absolutely murder you if you didn’t end up asking

so you said screw it (:

you and adam saw each other every day during 5th hour because you both had a free period then

you guys usually hung out and giggled like little kids

but that’s usually where it ended

if he saw you in the halls he would lend a nod, but that’s about the extent of things

so you thought hey, just ask him then

aha. he did a double take when he saw you walk in the library

“are you feeling okay?”

“yeah just tired. working like hell for this stupid cotillion”

he just looked confused

“not everyone has money to burn, cake eater”

he looked embarrassed now

shit

“nono, i didn’t mean it like that. i- i’m just tired”

he shook his head as he smiled and gestures for you to sit down

uh oh

now is the time

where you have to say the thing

nonono

“hey so,...uh!”

“yep?”

why does he lOOK SO GOOD

“so i asked, like, almost everyone...”

great now you sound pathetic

“...and they’ve just been busy so it’s cool...”

you’re just digging yourself deeper

“...but i still don’t have a date to the cotillion, so... would you— wanna go?”

he sat in silence for a moment

so you’re just gonna take that as a no

“what, no poster board, or candies, or sentimental cards?

w h a t

“you mean you saw all that?”

“kinda, yeah”

“o h”

now you didn’t know what to say. you just felt bad

“but yes. i’d love to go”

you did it.

he said yes?!

bet

YOU GUYS HAD SO MUCH FUN

he took you out to a nice restaurant

complimented your dress

your hair

your face

yes your face

AHHHHH this boy

and he actually danced with you?

some songs he knew came on and you were just jumping up and down in the middle of the dance floor

you guys even...

slowdanced

gasp

he was an awkward distance from you, not wanting to overstep your boundaries

but you pulled him closer

and he thought it was nice :)))))

at the end of the night you two were beat

he even walked you back to your dorm room which was in a building opposite than his was :,)

“well, it’s been an amazing night. and now i get to walk across campus”

and then

then you

INVITED HIM INTO YOUR DORM?

wtf

so yeah

he seemed giddy

and you offered him some sleeping clothes

and you slept on separate sides of the bed

and then you got a little closer

and then a little more closer...

and then y’all were cuddling

need i say more?

so yeah, it was just a really nice night for you two :))))

[jangofctts]

Are You in Or Out?

Rated: Explicit 

Word count: 11.5K yall I am SORRY

Warnings: good lord y'all here we GO-- smut, explicit language, violence and mentions of blood and gore, injuries, unprotected sex (don't be a dick, wrap that stick!), oral (m&f receiving), blindfolding, vaginal and anal fingering, vaginal and anal sex, double penetration, spit is used as lube but for the love of GOD doNT DO THAT, there are some dom vibes on Paz’s end    

Summary: The job you’re on takes a turn for the worst--Paz comes to your rescue and you're brought to the Covert. There you meet Din Djarin. though during a good natured sparring session, you’re suddenly stuck between an age old rivalry that spirals out of hand. Hopefully an agreement can be met. 

a/n: hey...how y’all doin....SO lemme explain you smthn. I said helmets must be OfF--giv me them LIPS BABEY so this is a slight AU in which mandos can see other mandos’ faces. ya get me? I also tHot that it would be nice and fun to set the timeline 5-6 years BEFORE the plot of the Mandalorian so we gots a younger din here. anyway, as always enjoy and I hope you like!!

Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes—

Some as little as burning your finger on the nozzle of a smoking blaster or tripping over your own shoelaces. Simple things. Mindless things. 

Nothing that could ever compare to the catastrophic decision of picking up bounty hunting as a reliable source of income. 

The little ones were easy—tax evaders and deserters of the Empire—most who’d yield and gladly follow without complaint just at the sight of your blaster pointed between their eyes. And the gag of it is—most of the time you never bothered to load the damn thing. 

Reckless.

An invitation for disaster. 

But skirting that precarious edge, one little slip up away from plunging head first into inevitable trouble is better than Bracca. Stars—anything is better than Bracca. There’s no glory in bounty hunting but there’s even less in ship scrapping. Abysmal pay in exchange for risking your life on rain slicked metal with only the Ibdis Maw to break your fall.  

The guild you work for is considerate—scratch that. Greef Karga is considerate. Sure the flirting is a touch unbearable but it saves your ass in the long run. All easy money bounties set aside for you in exchange for a cheap drink, hollow laughs and sugar sweet smiles. 

It’s enough credits to get by—more than plenty to rent a room and charter a ship. 

But there’s only so many bounties to capture within the limits of the guild and oh so many people the empty blaster trick works on. And so the credits begin to thin; it gets too expensive to buy off a pilot and the debate over buying food or being able to pay for your room becomes more frequent than the scraprats that skitter inside the walls.  

It’s suicide to snag a higher paying bounty because....well—these bounties shoot back. 

Whatever.

 Might as well die trying. Who knows, maybe you could score big time if you manage to pull this off. 

Maybe. 

                                                       -=-=-=-

You’re not sure who’s more surprised—Karga when you asked for the bounty or yourself when he actually gave it to you. 

“Are you sure, kid? This could—“

“End in a fiery shitshow? Yeah—I figured that,” you sigh, swirling your drink with a little complimentary toothpick. “But I need the money.” 

“Hah! You’ve got guts, girl.” He flashes you a smile and smooths down his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Tell you what. The last assignment was just taken but I’m sure if you run you could catch him. Work somethin’ out.”

Jumping from your seat, you throw on your coat and toss a couple credits onto the table to cover the drink. “What’s he look like?” 

“Big fellow—Mandalorian. You’ll know when you see him.”

You shout your thanks over your shoulder and hightail outta there. The landing docks aren’t far, you can see them from here. It’s finding the guy that could pose a problem.

If he hasn’t already left, you bitterly think. 

However, it seems the universe is on your side today. Karga was right. He is big. Stands out like a sore thumb against his ship that glitters dully in the overcast sky. Kinda like an oversized blueberry. A yellow and blue blueberry….not important—

“Hey! Hey, you!” You’re so close, just a couple yards away. You swear and hurry up your pace as he steps onto the loading ramp. “Big guy! Large...blue man?”

You trip over your own feet as he turns his head. Fuck—

No way are you gonna be able to bargain with this guy. Built like a fucking AT-AT and probably just as stubborn. After all, no one would ever be dumb enough to come between a Mandalorian and their quarry. You grimace, and suck in a breath—

Before a word even leaves your mouth he interrupts with a steady, unwavering;

“No.”

Your brows furrow. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“I know what you were going to ask,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I work alone.”

Ok, then. You didn’t want to resort to begging, but you’re kinda running out of options here. You take a steadying breath and plant yourself at the bottom of the ramp. “C’mon man. Look—I’ll let you take seventy percent of the cut and I can—“

“You’ll let me?” He repeats, the staticky tone of his voice dropping into an edge more cutting than broken transparisteel. The metal platting on the ramp vibrates from the weight of his step to move closer; Stars it takes every fucking inch of willpower to hold your ground. “You’re lucky if I let you leave with your life. Get lost.” 

Fuckfuckfuck—you should listen. You wanna fucking run for the hills and never look back in case he comes looking to purge your name from the kriffing galaxy. You clench your jaw and steel your nerves. Too bad—you’ve dug your heels so far into this empire of dirt and false bravado that your only way out is continuing to poke the sleeping bear until he snaps your spine or caves.

You have to crane your neck to glare into that dark strip of his vizor, seeing as he’s invited himself into your personal space. “No.”  

“No?” He mocks, now toe to toe with your scuffed up boots. 

Your teeth clench, a scalding flush burning through your cheeks and all the way down to your chest. He’s toying with you—finding amusement in your stubbornness and apparent lack of braincells for challenging him. “You don’t scare me.” 

The man hums, a deep purr that rumbles through his entire ribcage as he raises his gloved hand. You curse yourself for flinching because surely he’s about to crush your skull like a fucking grape, but no. All he does is fix your rumbled collar then pat your cheek.     

“I don’t need the extra baggage.”

“I’m not baggage,” you sneer, slapping his hand away. “I can handle myself.” 

“With an empty blaster?” He points out, tipping his head to the side. “Your parlor tricks won’t do you any good on this job.”

“I’m a good shot!” You sputter, placing your hands over you hips and mustering up your best glare. “W-when I have ammo…” 

“Right.”

Meeting Paz Vizsla, could have gone far better, to put it into the most simplest of words. Jagged and hard to settle into a routine around each other for the journey to Nar Shaddaa in a tiny, old, and cramped freighter ship. Most cycles you have to wedge yourself beside a cargo crate to sleep. In addition to that, how it’s able to break through the atmosphere let alone fly is beyond you—an entire mystery on its own.       

At least you’re able to sit in the spare seat inside the cockpit—one of the only places available to stretch your legs. The only problem is that it’s also where Paz Vizsla likes to lurk (well, not lurk—it’s his ship and it’s where he can comfortably fit but—to each their own). 

There’s a net of tension still woven between you—each interaction like tiptoeing over eggshells. Though, like all things, it becomes simpler. There’s not exactly any ongoing conversations—you don’t want to pry into a life you know nothing about—it’s not your business despite the cumulation of questions that linger in the back of your mind. You know when to take a hint—not every person is willing to indulge you about their livelihood, and surely not something as secretive and well guarded as the Mandalore.  

Familiarity is what you want to call it. Comfortable with each other’s presence with small talk speckled in throughout the never-ending vastness of hyperspace. Compared to the infinite turmoil in your life, slippery footholds and uncertainty—Paz Vizsla is steady. In a way— predictable and safe in the confines of this ship.       

You’d even go as far as to label him kind, a friend maybe—if you look past the grumpiness and rather poor taste in corny jokes. You know it’s stupid, no doubt stemming from the deep ache of loneliness that comes hand in hand with staking it out on your own in the galaxy; but you can’t help but wish that this could be a new normal. Not some once in a lifetime thing where you both part ways, fade into the recesses of memory and leave it at that. 

If things go well—and rarely do they on a job—maybe you’d pluck up enough courage to ask him if you could stay. There’s no harm in it…right?

                                                 -=-=-=-

Well—the cynical part of you was right.

It did end up in a fiery shit show. 

Turns out the stupid quarry you’d been tracking excelled in long range weaponry. A former marksman for the Empire to be exact. Guess that tidbit of information wasn’t pertinent. A need to know sorta thing, if you will. 

You feel the molten bolt of plasma connect with your side before your ears pick up the sound of a weapon firing, like a crack of lighting in the empty alleyway. And before your body even connects with the duracrete, Paz is returning fire. A brilliant neon red against the hazy blur of shadowy buildings.  

Kinda weird how knocking the back of your head hurts worse than the literal blaster wound burned into your side. Shock maybe. Or the heat from the plasma cauterized each veins and artery it tore through and ate away at flesh and nerves. Hm…          

You’re sprawled in a wet pool of something—either your own blood or a puddle of stagnant gutter water and damn—you’re wearing your favorite shirt.

It doesn’t matter at this point…

You’re choking on your own air from the big ass hole blasted into your diaphragm, so to say things are looking grim is an understatement.  

Nar Shaddaa isn’t your first choice to kick the can on, but hey—not everyone gets the luxury of dying on Naboo. And just as you’re ready to slip away into that sweet, sweet abyss, it seems your fellow armored friend has other plans. 

The beskar is freezing against your cheek after he deadlifts you off the duracrete—you remember that plain as day. That and the hushed rumble of Paz’s voice insisting you save your dwindling supply of air instead of apologizing to him—or ordering you to stay alive for kriff’s sake. It’s impossible to argue with Paz—like trying to bite through durasteel, and while those beckoning tendrils of eternal slumber are mighty tempting, you cling to your life with all the strength you have left. After all, inconveniencing someone with a corpse is such a party foul to the highest degree.    

The rest is muddled—like dredging up silt and clay in a murky river that just leaves you with a pounding headache between your eyes. It’s a terrible mess of pain and bouts of temporary consciousness, mistaken with fever dreams and yup—more pain. The only consistent is Paz—hovering nearby or settled beside you—through thick and thin as you heal. 

There’s no solid reason your brain can conjure as to why he brought you to the Covert—it’d have been easier to just dump you at the nearest hospital and be done with it. You’re not his responsibility and you’re too afraid to ask what it means. Too many possibilities—too many answers you aren’t in the mood to face or untwist.     

And so you leave it be, set aside for another time—which brings you to the present day…        

You’re splayed over your little makeshift cot, feet propped up on a spare pillow as you scour through a cheesy Coruscanti gossip magazine. It’s years old—the only piece of entertainment you could find other than a weapon in the Covert. And seeing as a massive hole had been blasted through your ribcage, picking up the clever art of throwing vibroblades or shooting targets to pass the time was out of the question.   

Even if you’d rather fall into a Sarlaac pit than stare at the wall for hours on end yet again—it hasn’t been all that bad. It’d taken weeks before you regained enough strength to sit up on your own, let alone walk—and walking is putting it lightly. It was more of a stiff legged shuffle better suited on a two hundred year old woman seconds from disintegrating into dust at the mere hint of a breeze.  

Not to mention—your right lung was all but shredded. Ripped apart from the plasma bolt and miraculously reconstructed by a more than questionable bacta tank, hopeful thoughts and well wishes. To this very day you still sound like a broken air filter. 

Eh.    

Could be worse. 

At least you aren’t dead. 

Just another setback that adds on the growing pile of reasons why never to leave the Covert. Free food, free board and mild entertainment to top it off. Paz had stayed at your bedside for the most part while you recovered—stuck with babysitting your sorry ass until you regained a bit of mobility. The times Paz hadn’t been at your side to stave off the boredom, it was up to you to find your own fun. 

Snooping is what Paz had labeled it—but you saw it more as an adventure. You met Din Djarin exploring (lost is what you actually were) in the dimly lit underbelly of Nevarro, after all. Yes, you may have scared the ever loving shit out of the poor guy and yes, he may have singed off your brows with a five foot jet of fucking fire—but hey. No one got hurt.        

And you made a new friend. Sorta…Din is difficult to read, subtler in his soft spoken words and quiet demeanor. A bit like a skittish loth-cat at the start, but nowadays it’s not uncommon to find him lounging in the same space as you or hovering over your shoulder, awfully curious in whatever it is you choose to do. Like Paz, Din isn’t overly fond of sharing much information about himself but he never complains after you regale tales of your own vastly fascinating past. He seems interested enough—tilts his head a tick to the right when you speak to indicate that yes, he’s listening despite the unforgiving dark line of his visor.      

There are others in the Covert too—some so elusive you have a hard time believing they exist. Shadows of what they once were before the rise of the Empire. And so, you count yourself lucky that you’d been introduced to two others—Aeris Fenn, a young man nearly as tall as a Wookie, and a woman named Ives Arrey; her armor a flashy green—damn near florescent in the light. 

They’re nice enough company. Aeris is a chatterbox, his wit sharper than a blade but lacking in any forethought before he speaks. Ives is the far opposite—rolls each sentence in her mouth before she voices it, but in no way is she angelic. Maker—you’d bet your entire left asscheek she’s behind each bad decision and silly shenanigans Aeris sticks his nose into. He never learns—not after a harsh chiding or cuff around the helmet from Paz or the Armorer could dampen is childlike enthusiasm or steer him away from repeating the same mistake over and over.  

Though if you read one more kriffing sentence of this garbage magazine you’re about to invite chaos himself to entertain you. Good thing too because just as you sit up to find the red armored Mandalorian—Paz rounds the corner and steps into your little broom closet that hardly passes for a room. 

“Paz!” You greet, tossing the magazine over your shoulder. “Please tell me we’ll be doing something interesting or else I might start ripping my hair out. Or maybe commit a heinous crime—haven't decided yet.”      

Paz grunts and shakes his head. “You’ll be doing neither. But today we’ll be sparing—hopefully that will curve your boredom.”

You scrunch up your face. “Sparring? Er, no thanks—I choose life.” 

“You breathe funny since your injury,” he says, jabbing a finger between your ribs. “And all you’ve been doing lately is laying around.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you sneer, tucking your arms over your chest. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be running laps with half a lung.”

“It’s like stretching a muscle, you need to gain your strength back.” He retorts. “This will be good for you.” 

You groan and flop back into bed. “I don’t wanna. I was pretty much dead like three cycles ago—cut me some slack, man.”

There’s a brief silence as if he’s mulling over your words, but he’s stubborn. You crane your head to look at him as he says your name with a deep sigh attached to it.   

“Truthfully, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.” He says it quietly, fragile even, like he’s still expecting you to tip over and die on the spot. You very well might.  

You huff. “Wow. Thanks, Paz.” 

You feel his heavy stare through the helmet. “What happened to you that night was a mistake. It wasn’t preventable but the least I can do is teach you basic selfdefense.”  

You gripe out your complaints but you know you’ve been beat—and well, a bit of your agreement is based on guilt. 

Damn it.  

                                                     -=-=-=-

It’s weird to see Paz without his heavy duty gear—like seeing him naked or a crab without a shell. The only piece he continues to wear is his helmet and padded gloves and under clothes, but it’s still weird. Strange enough that it shocks you tongue into remaining still instead of bitching about this. 

He leads you to a wing of the Covert you’ve yet to discover and ushers you through the doorway. The floor is padded, a bit smaller than you expected and already occupied by none other than Aeris Fenn. 

It’s a whole other kriffing shock to the head seeing him without the plates and layers of fabric and beskar too. The armor makes him bulkier—fuller and much more intimidating. Now, with only his black underclothes on, Aeris could be the spitting image of a sentient tree. Willowy limbs that stick out like branches as he stretches on the padded mat. He lazily swings his head around as you greet him, his face still covered by the black beskar painted with streaks of red. 

“So you choose sparring over knife throwing?” Aeris snorts. “And to think I thought of you as a friend.” 

“You think I chose to be here?” You say, grumpy and still upset at the choice of activity. Really, a brisk walk around the Covert would’ve been fine.

Aeris shrugs. “Ah, and I see you’ve roped in my favorite vod. Tch, he uses his fists instead of his words to teach. I wish you luck—you’ll need it.”      

You open your mouth to retort but Paz beats you to it. 

“Leave.” 

“I’ve just arrived, actually,” Aeris scoffs, folding his torso over his other leg to stretch. “Perhaps you could reschedule. After all—our guest is quite free most days.” 

Welp—you’re perfectly fine with that. Problem solved. 

You spin on your heel and make a break for it but Paz snatches your wrist and pulls you back to his side. “Aeris.”  

“Paz,” Aeris mocks, tipping his helmet to the side. 

Paz exhales, a long, tired sound and grovels out another plea in clipped Mando’a. Aeris languidly stands and brushes off imaginary dust from the front of his pants. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t understand your accent.” 

“Boy—“

“No, no, it’s alright.” Aeris sighs, waving his hand in a mopey display as if he were told that his birthday party were canceled for the fifth year in a row. “I’d have trouble speaking too if my enormously thick head were cooped up in that little bucket of yours all day.”  

You wince. 

In the time you’ve known Paz Vizsla, he’s never been one to launch into rash decisions fueled by anger—he lets it simmer and build like an oncoming storm over the ocean. Devastating once it reaches land.

Aeris bobs his head and inspects his black leather glove, picking at a loose thread on the inseam over the thumb. He clicks his tongue. “Or'dinii—you’re going to kill her.”  

Your offended scoff is ignored as Paz steps forward; jutting his chin up to even out the few inches Aeris holds over the man. “You still haven’t learned to shut your mouth, boy.” 

The tension surges and crackles like a volt of electricity through the air—unresolved and ready to ignite with the sparking embers of Paz’s growing irritation. It’s not a fight Aeris Fenn will win. He’s volatile and hotheaded—but his expertise is in long range weaponry. Precise, deadly and swift—not whatever this little pissing match is heading towards.    

Aeris clicks his tongue as Paz digs a fist into the black fabric of his shirt. Paz yanks him forward, the metallic clink of their helmets colliding an unpleasant scrape that pierces your eardrums. Aeris snarls out sharpened words in Mando’a as his willowy fingers shoot up to curl beneath the lip of Paz’s helmet. 

In the blink of an eye, Paz lifts Aeris up by his collar and launches him across the room like he weighs nothing more than a couple of down pillows. His helmet meets the wall with a resounding clank, chipping some of the red paint outlining the visor. Ouch. 

Like a kicked dog, Aeris clambers to his feet, still dazed and swaying and for a fearful second you think he’ll retaliate. But with whatever braincells he happens to possess today—he instead spits out a venomous curse that even yourself would hesitate to repeat. He leaves without another word, bristling with rage. 

Your flash Paz a questioning stare. “The hell was that about?” 

Paz waves it away with an irritated grunt. “His heart is in the right place but he is young. Aeris doesn’t understand his place in the Covert yet and I doubt he will for years to come.” 

You frown. “Poor guy…” 

Paz mutters something under his breath. “Enough distractions. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Y’know…I think that’s enough excitement for today. I think I’ll be going now—“ Your last ditch attempt at weaseling out of this is quickly thwarted the moment you turn your back.  

You wheeze as the heel of Paz’s palm shoves into your shoulder blade, the force of it sending you stumbling to the ground. “Paz—“

“Go on. Hit me,” he orders. You squeak, narrowly avoiding the well aimed kick that skims the top of your scalp. 

You scramble to your feet, skirting out of range of the oncoming right hook. “So you attack me instead?” 

“How do you expect to catch quarries who are bigger than you?” He presses. You hiss as the points of his knuckles dig into the meat of your shoulder. 

You dance out of reach and rub your arm, a dull throb flaring up in the muscle. “I dunno—electrocute them?”

“Not if they take you by surprise.” 

You screech as his knuckles skim your cheek. Adrenaline pierces you veins and you wildly throw a flaky punch that wouldn’t even impress a toddler. He catches your fist with ease, his entire hand dwarfing your clenched fingers. “You can do better than that.” 

You snarl and struggle to rip your hand back. “I’m a scrapper. I don’t fight.”

“No,” he retorts. You fall onto your ass as he abruptly lets go of your hand. “You’re a bounty hunter.” 

You roll your eyes. “Hardly—why can’t I just stay here?”

Although there’s nothing to see with that swatch of black covering his eyes, you can certainly feel the look he’s giving you. A deep sigh hisses through the vocoder. “You can stay here—“

A triumphant smile splits across your face—

“—but not without contributing where it’s due.”

You puff up your cheeks and let out a dismayed stream of air. “Booo—lame.”

He sighs again and helps you off the floor. “Even if you leave the Guild, what I’m teaching you is helpful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “I’ll give you a call after I use your invaluable skills to beat up some thug.”

Paz ignores your comment and turns on his heel. “Let’s go through it again. This time use your front two knuckles instead of your whole fist.”

As your eyes land over the stretch of tight fighting fabric over his back an idea pops into your head. It’s a petty move but getting a punch in is fruitless—like trying to beat up a brick wall. You don’t fancy a broken hand and your knuckles are already bruised and swollen to the point where it’s hard to bend them. 

And so, without any forethought and with a running head start, you launch yourself onto him, your arms coiling around his neck. It does the job—takes him by surprise and makes him tip to the right. 

Aha! Yes!

Your reign of victory is short lived, however—

He latches onto your forearms strung around his neck and yanks. And much in the same way he threw Aeris like a sack of potatoes—you’re no different. For a short stretch of time that feels kriffing endless; you soar through the air, your directional whereabouts violently ripped out beneath you and equally nauseating in the same breath. 

Why you ever agreed to this—you don’t know.   

Your shoulder blade connects with the mat first, leaving behind a dull sting as you roll and tumble with uncontrollable momentum. Oh, yeah—you’ll feel that in the morning. 

Groaning, you thank the Maker that your body eventually settles into a miserable little pile of limbs and pain. But, it seems whatever higher power that lingers in the edges of the galaxy hasn’t decided to put you out of your misery just yet. 

A bulky shadow blocks out the dim lighting overhead, and for a brief anxiety ridden moment you’re afraid it’s Paz. You roll onto your back with a pathetic groan, a beg for mercy on the tip of your tongue—but as your eyes flutter open they’re met with an entirely different man. 

Din Djarin looms over you, his head cocked to the side as you blink in dumbfounded bewilderment. Ah, hell— 

You swallow, a furious heat bitting at your cheeks. “Uh…fine weather we’re having…”

“We’re inside,” he states with a brief glance up to the ceiling. 

You purse your lips. “Huh.”

With a pensive hum he offers his hand, you sigh and roll over, accepting his gloved hand. He hoists you up easily and adjusts your rumpled collar. “You ok?”

“Pfft, yeah,” you groan, rubbing your throbbing shoulder. “Never better.”

The low grumble of your name is a cross between disbelief and irritation. Din jerks his head, his attention zeroing in on Paz. “Are you trying to kill her?” 

“She isn’t made of glass.” 

“She is still recovering—“

Normally you’d intervene, but their bickering is tiring and it gives you the excuse to lie down. By the time one of them caves you’ve counted exactly one hundred and twelve weird ceiling stains. They should get that checked out.  

“Very well,” Paz snarls, cutting through your wandering thoughts. “You teach her.” 

Din scoffs, his shoulders drawn tight as he stomps over to your splayed out self. “Get up.”

“Geez, fine,” you grumble, not in the mood to test his patience further. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Later he’ll no doubt apologize but right now? He has to prove a point. Din cuts right to it, moves in close to place your clenched fists in the right stance and nudges at your feet until they’re a bit wider than hip distance. 

“You have to get in close with a bigger opponent,” he says, stepping into your space until your fists are close enough to touch his chest. “We don’t have much range here—easier to break our guard too.” 

“Right. And how would you suggest I do that?”

“You’re always beating me at cards.” Din says, tipping his head to the side. “You have a clever mind. Use it.” 

“But I always cheat.” You point out, dropping your guard to swat at a stray hair.   

He catches your wrists and returns them to where they ought to be. “Quick enough to get away with it.” 

You make a noise of uncertainty but do as you're told. Din takes a couple steps back and with a rough order you begin. 

He’s faster than Paz—bats at your guard in quick bursts and steps away when you attempt to hit back. It’s a dance almost—somehow elegant in its brutality of bruises and flashes of pain as you move around one another. Compared to Din, Paz is almost clumsy but unpredictable. Din—despite the rapidness of his attacks and evasiveness, becomes predictable.

He steps to to left—you follow. He rocks onto his toes to jab his fist forward and that’s where you find a break. Punching Din’s helmet won’t do you any good but catching the juncture of his shoulder with your elbow is completely feasible. Too bad that you’re not the only one with a clever mind.        

Din uses the momentum of your attack to catapult you to the ground—his own body rolling with you in order to capture you in a headlock of sorts. This sucks. After this you’ll never be setting foot in this Maker forsaken room again. 

Din tightens his elbow that’s looped around your throat as you squirm and flail, trapped against his chest. He grunts as your elbow digs into his ribs but holds steady and snakes his free arm across your front, pinning your limbs to your body in an unbreakable vice. All mobility is cut off as his knee pushes between your thighs, locking your leg out into an uncomfortable and frankly quite awkward angle. 

Inhaling a shaky breath, you arch as the crown of his helmet skims along the curve of your throat; the bite of beskar frigid and startling against your flushed skin. You can see his visor out of the corner of your eye; glittering and dark like the polished obsidian on Black Spire and endless like the greedy maw of a black hole. 

Your breath hitches as he shifts and curls his head closer to your ear. His voice rumbles low and deep through his chest and vibrates against the delicate cartilage. “Yield.” 

However much your pride wrestles with the sensible part of your brain, it’s all for naught as you jerk your head in defeat.  

In retrospect you should’ve said something—used your voice or made some kinda sound because suddenly Din’s forearm digs alarmingly hard into your windpipe. He read the stuttered jerk of your head as another pitiful act of defiance but no. Nope. 

Here you are—asphyxiating.   

Not exactly what you had in mind, being strangled by a Mandalorian and all—but a chokehold where you could very well die was not it. 

Fuzzy darkness begins to shade the corners of your vision, lightheadedness and a curious warmth that prickles down your spine settling low in your belly. A raspy gasp manages to slip through your blocked off airway, and stars why does this feel good?   

“Din—”

Paz’s sharp bark is distant above the ringing in your ears and it all stops.

You gulp in air that burns your throat like refined fire whiskey—hunched over the mat as a large palm rubs soothing circles over your upper back. You cough and roll over, sounding like a dying animal run over by a speeder then hit with a spiked club to polish it off. 

You’re quickly herded into Paz’s arms and pulled into his lap. Still wheezing and attempting to recover lost oxygen, whatever Din is trying to say translates into an indiscernible hum against the ringing in your ears.  

“I’m fine,” you mutter, though neither of them care to listen. Like bristling wolves, snapping at each other’s heels.  

“Apologize to her,” there’s not so much as a centimeter of room to argue. “Now.”           

It’s nice of Paz you suppose—defending your honor and what not, but you’re not a vengeful person. It was an honest mistake and you want to explain that so Din quits looking like a kicked puppy, yet the sudden touch over your ankle stops you. All the times Din has initiated contact it’d been a friendly pat to your shoulder or ruffling you hair, and while touching your ankle isn’t exactly scandalous it’s certainly an odd place to put your hand on. 

Your fingers clutch Paz’s shirt as you eye the man lingering at the bottom of your feet, his gloved thumb unconsciously rubbing patterns into the exposed skin between your boot and your pant leg. “Cyare—I’m sorry.” 

You blink and lick your lips. Interesting. “I-I don’t know what that word means.”

His hand inches higher, resting on the swell of your calf. “Sweetheart…darling…loved one—“ 

There’s a shift—a dark undercurrent that none of you should be dipping your toes into. There’s a million and one things to say or do to sever this at the root, but are you going to? Nah. 

Din’s thumb now rests over your knee, goosebumps following in his wake. “Should I keep going?” 

It too hot—stuffy with both of their heavy stares locked on your flushed face. You squirm and glance up at Paz who only offers an impassive stare. Great.   

“I can make it up to you,” Din continues, his hand stationary—a warm weight even through the fabric of your pants. “If you let me.” 

Your mouth feels drier than the desert on Jakku. This…nothing good could come out of what Din is hinting at. This is uncharted territory—launching yourself into the great unknown without any idea of what’ll fester and grow if you agree. 

It’s not like it hasn’t crossed your mind—it’s just…it’s never been both of them at the same time. These men are short-tempered, an open flame to jet fuel with deeply seated ire woven into the very fabric of their beings. You’ve barely scratched the surface on the inner workings of their mutual hostility, but you’re bright enough to question if this will make it worse. Tinder and brittle twigs feeding and enabling the hungry flames of rivalry to spiral and consume with chaotic brilliance of a dying star—

But, oh—

Isn’t it worth taking the risk? 

You suck in a grounding breath and slowly extend your leg that Din touches, gingerly skimming the toe of your shoe along the inseam of his inner thigh. “H-how would you…make it up to me?”

Din preens at your answer and shuffles closer, lifting your legs so that they rest in his lap. Devotion drips off his words like a fine liquor as he toys with the laces on your boots. “Anything—say it and it’s yours.”    

Sparks of molten heat race down your spine and metastasize in your lower belly, spreading through each vein and artery like a some sort of invasive ivy. You spare a look up at Paz as he shifts.      

“Go ahead, girl,” Paz assures. “Answer him.” 

It’s an unspoken, buzzing sort of thing like the static air before a storm, crackling and surging with pent up energy. You all know the implications of what’s to come—but it’s your words, quiet and steady that irons that nail into your coffin.

“Take me like you mean it.” 

The next few moments pass in a dizzying blur, a mess of anticipation as your shoes are yanked off, your pants following soon after and tossed into some unknown corner of the room. Paz helps you out of your shirt, a shiver wracking through your body from the chill, leaving you bare save for your underthings. Yet the warmth that seeps through his shirt and his hands that linger over your ribcage do a lovely job at making up for the cold.

Din shuffles closer and brings his fingers up to cup the side of your face, lowering his head to rest the crown of his helmet on your forehead. “Wanna touch you.” 

Your breath hitches as Paz’s hands sweep up your torso, cupping and kneading your breasts. “Y-you already are touching me, Din." 

Paz snorts as the rough leather of his gloves scrape over your skin and unhook your bindings. You hardly hear Din over your own whine as Paz rolls your hardened nipples between a forefinger and thumb. 

“I want to feel you—without the gloves,” Din clarifies, fighting to keep your attention on him. “Will you let me?”  

Maker that shouldn’t even be a question. You moan out your approval, delighted that both of them decide to slip off the padded fabric. Din touches your bare thigh the same moment Paz returns his hands to your tits and it’s exhilarating. The rasp of their bare palms against your flesh is addicting—something so foreign and warm compared to their usual armor and thick layered clothing. 

You arch into Paz’s hand as it curls around the base of your throat, a tentative pressure but still heavy. “You’d let us do anything, wouldn’t you? Needy little thing.”

“Yes,” you croak, already debauched and falling apart at the seams. “Anything.”

You’re all too happy to fade away in the embrace of the larger man but the other participant is far from letting that slide. Din grabs your hand, guiding it towards the front of his trousers, the drawstrings already loose and easy to pull aside. He groans and twitches as your fingertips flirt along his navel, then curl over the waistband, tugging his pants the rest of the way down to pool around his knees. 

You reach for the already impressive outline of his cock pressing against his boxers, but Paz cupping your cunt through your underwear just before you touch Din is distracting. You gasp and arch as Paz digs the heel of his palm against your clit, electrifying ecstasy zipping down your spine with each touch. 

There’s a twinge of guilt after Din huffs and drags your limp wrist back to his cock, this time encouraging you to palm him by guiding your actions with his own hand until you lazily oblige. Din’s quiet grunts, gravely against the vocoder do nothing but throw more jet fuel to the fire inside your belly. The growing urge to actually touch him gnaws and corrodes the forefront of your brain. With a firm yank his boxers are quick to join his trousers and Maker—

Fuck—

Will he even fit?

Din is thick, rosy brown and flushed at the tip and beginning to curl towards his bellybutton. A bead of liquid shines at the tip, dribbling down the underside as he wraps his fist around the base of his length. He gives himself a languid stroke before he, once again, reminds your hand of what it’s supposed to be doing. Din is searing in your palm, molten and stiffening to hardened steel in your grip.   

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Din hisses as his head rolls back onto his shoulders. “S-so pretty holding my cock.”

Your desperation tears at your insides, insatiable and Maker— you wanna taste him. You want to hear every little stuttered moan and feel each twitch of his hips as he claims your mouth as his own.    

But before you’re able to ask Din if he’d be willing to fuck your throat, Paz grips your knee and slings your leg over his thigh, murmuring praise as he peels off your underwear. Paz’s hand snakes down to your pussy and runs two thick fingers through your already slick cunt, then delicately parts your folds. 

It’s like a fucking bomb going off as his thumb grazes over your swollen clit. His forearm locks tight around your waist, keeping you in place as you arch and tremble. Paz is feather light and teasing, as he strokes over the little bundle of nerves in a painstakingly slow rhythm. 

“Paz—“ 

He nudges your cheek with his helmet and chuckles. “You’re so sensitive, vaar’ika. Such lovely noises too.”  

Paz trades in his light touches for using his two fingers instead. They form a relaxed ‘v’ shape, trapping your clit in between the digits as he massages in a steady up and down motion. You cry out, every nerve shocked and flooded with saccharine pleasure, shoving you so treacherously close to that precarious edge of release.      

You have no fucking chance as a different set of fingers, leaner in length but just as bulky, carefully prod at your entrance. Din’s pointer finger slides into your cunt, quickly adding a second as your core clenches and stretches for him. The dual sensations over your clit and Din’s fingers steadily pumping and curling inside you send you hurling into that dazzling white-hot pleasure.     

Throwing your head back, you cry out—a jumbled mess of their names or just nonsense— pleasure crackling out from your core and all the way down your legs. Your cunt tightens like a vice around Din’s digits, your legs twitching as your high dips into prickly overstimulation. You whine, and swat at Paz’s hand, Din pulling out his own fingers a moment later and wiping your wetness on the inside of your thigh. 

Your head rests in the crook of Paz’s shoulder as your breath fans across the side of his helmet, fogging up the metal where the blue paint is chipped and scraped away. The shirt he wears smells a bit like sweat but the underlying scent of him is comforting—worn leather and something crisp, like fresh laundry. You don’t mean for the words to slip out—

You know better than that, but everything feels muddled and silly and, and, and—

“I wish I could kiss you.”  

It’s like dousing ice cold water on a pile of smoldering coals. A silence, petrifying and like the inhale before jumping off a cliff and into a rocky sea, ensues. Stupid, stupid, stupid—  

Paz shatters the fragile suspense with a rich laugh that burns away all the icy worry making itself a home in your ribcage. He moves his arm up, his fingers gripping your jaw to fix your gaze onto the other Mandalorian. “You want his mouth on you too?”  

You whimper and nod, but it isn’t enough. 

“Use your voice vaar’ika,” Paz hums, pressing the crown of his helmet against your cheek. “Tell us want you want.” 

“I-fuck—” Paz’s fingertips sneak up your torso, rough callous catching deliciously on your skin. “I wan’t your mouth on me. B-both of you.” 

Paz chuckles and releases his hold on your chin. “You’ll have to be blindfolded, sweet girl.”

Din scoffs, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. “Like she’d want to see your face anyway.”

“Please,” you mewl, turning your head to curl into Paz’s neck. It’s not ideal, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. “I don’t care. I need—“

“Patience, little one,” Paz purrs, rubbing up and down your bare sides in a soothing manner. All it does is stoke the flames. “You’ll get what you want.” 

Paz shifts, reaching for your abandoned shirt and stars—

You can feel his cock, firmer then tempered durasteel and poking into your lower back. Oh, hell—these men are going to ruin you. 

You’re nudged forward, your vision going dark once your shirt is securely tied around your head. The knot traps a few hairs that pull sharp against your scalp but the measly pain is worth it. Oh so worth it.  

“Is it too tight?” You hear Din ask, concern lacing his gravely vocals. 

You wave your hand in dismissal. “S’fine.”

“Cant see anything either, right?” 

You squirm, your patience spreading thin. “Din, please.”

“Fine.” There’s no bite to his tone and under different circumstances you’d have more composure. Acknowledge that they’re putting their religion, their whole being into your hands—a fragile trust that could so easily be shattered. 

Your ears pick up their subtle movements, their helmets landing onto the thin mat with soft thunks. With bated breath you wait for them to jump into action, seize every spare moment to taste your skin and breathe the same air. But—

“You need a haircut, vod.”

“And you need to shave.” Retorts Din with bitter indignation. 

“It’s hardly even stubble.” He chortles. You giggle and twist away as he scrapes his prickly cheek up and down your neck. “Besides—she likes it.” 

There’s another lull, and with the blindfold everything is amplified—the quick and quiet breathing of Din on your right and the slide of fabric against skin as Paz shifts. Your attention is captured by Din’s bare palm, warm and calloused like weathered leather left out in the afternoon sun. He caresses the outside of your thigh in smooth, longing strokes, enraptured by the softness of your skin. You whimper and let your leg fall open, exposing more of your thigh for his curious exploration. 

The sudden touch on your cheek is jarring. You know Paz is there—it’s not an easy thing to forget the solid chest you’re leaning against but it’s hard to focus. Difficult to settle on one thought before it slips away like grains of sand between a clenched fist. Paz’s touch is heavier than Din’s, ambitious and greedy but…mindful. Even as his fingers spread along your jaw and drag you into a deep, mouthwatering kiss. It’s…stars—   

There’s nothing that can describe this. No word that could ever hold a candle up to the way his lips, plush and soft, move against yours. His nose brushes against your cheek as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his warm tongue sliding against the seam of your bottom lip. 

You whine and bury your hand into his hair as Paz groans, a low rumble in his throat. You wonder what color it is, but carding your fingers through the curls atop his head suffices for now.

Your curiosity is abruptly ended as Din’s hand snakes around your forearm. You’re forcibly yanked away, only to be met with another pair of lips. Din murmurs an apology at the sting of his teeth bumping into your upper lip, but the pain is hardly the first thing on your mind. 

Din’s kiss is devouring—  

Scalding and bright—the galaxy, a thousand suns, all there ever will be and all that ever was. The way his lips move against yours is a devastatingly sharp contrast to the steady, syrupy sweet kiss Paz offers. Desperate and eager to surround you in his own arms—steal away any lingering thought and replace it with him. Din Djarin—  

You gasp as Din’s teeth nibble and pull on your bottom lip, only a moment before he surges closer, wrapping his hand around your jaw to hold it open as he licks deep into your mouth. Breaking for air, Din tangles his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck and yanks, baring the column of your throat. His travels down, the tender kisses morphing into teasing nips and lingering sucks that’ll turn into tender bruises in the morning. 

Din hovers over your breasts, his heated breath and cooling saliva the catalyst to the goosebumps that rush over your skin. He lightly tugs on your nipple using his teeth, then plants a sweet kiss over your sternum.   

“Can I taste you?” Din murmurs, his lips ghosting over your flesh. “Maker—wanna put my mouth on you.” 

“Din—“ A different set of lips latching onto the juncture of your neck and hijacks your train of thought. Wipes your mind clean until Paz is the sole thing you can consciously focus on. 

Paz laves his tongue over the shell of your ear and urges you to lean back against him once more. Your nose scrapes against his stubble as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his hips lazily rolling his hardened cock into your backside. 

“Or…” Paz rumbles, capturing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his. You marvel at the sheer size of his palm—astounded still when he leads his and your hands to palm his cock. “I could give you this. Fuck your pretty little cunt until you’re screaming for me.”

It’s a punch to the gut. Why the fuck do you have to choose? You squirm as Din points his tongue over your nipple then sucks it into his mouth. 

Working through the fog in your head, the answer is clearer than fucking crystal. Because who in their right mind would turn down a Mandalorian’s request to eat you out? Not you, that’s for sure. “Din—want your mouth.”

Din huffs in triumph and slips between your legs that part to accommodate his broad shoulders, leaving no patch of bare skin untouched and worshiped. You shiver as his tongue circles around your bellybutton then retreats. Din settles his head beside your knee and mouths a kiss there.  

You whine his name and buck your hips, heart beating wildly in your ears. The teasing is unbearable and, stars—if he doesn’t start now— 

He nibbles on the inside of your thigh, laving his warm tongue over each mark he leaves behind, buffering the sting of his teeth. Din snake his hands under your ass, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he heaves your cunt closer to his mouth. Din’s thumbs part your soaking pussy, his breath hot fanning over your cunt. His tongue his scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your slit all the way up to your clit. 

Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through you. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—fuck. Fuck, you need more.   

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are obliterated; nothing but the warmth of his tongue, and his lips, devouring you as if he were a man seconds from death and you’re his saving grace. That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade into smoke—but you’re not going anywhere. Not even a million credits could convince you to push Din’s head away. 

He sinks two fingers into your clenching hole and curls his fingers, stroking and curling his fingertips to make you sing. Zeros in on that little spot that causes the involuntary twitches of your leg and wrenches embarrassing, high pitched mewls that fill the room. You’re careening towards your high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure. 

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

Your release unfurls through your body like sticky molasses—smoldering embers that seep into each limb until they’re heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to think and at this rate your brain is as good as gone.   

You pay only a fraction of attention to Din as he kisses his way back up your body and lands a final one over your lips. His thumb grazes over your chin, his gravelly words of praise cutting through some of that foggy haze, how good you were, how fucking delicious you tasted when you came on his tongue. You taste your own arousal on his mouth as he noses your cheek and captures your lips in another kiss.           

“Are you done?” Paz asks dryly, much too barbed to be thrown your way. You groan when Paz jostles your limp body as he hoists you back into his lap.

“Just starting, actually,” Din quips. “Why don’t you hand her back over? I’ve got some more things I wanna try.” 

Paz scoffs and secures a heavy arm around your middle. “Greed will get you nowhere.” 

“Neither will your arrogance.” 

“Shut up—both of you,” you interrupt. Your voice is raw and choppy but it does the job. “Just fuck me already.”

For now their little spat is sidelined—it’s not worth ripping off that bandage of a temporary truce. There’s a chaste moment of quiet, like they’re considering tearing into each other’s throats instead, but with a touch to Paz’s thigh the standoff fizzles out. 

“We need to work on your manners,” Paz suggests, curling his large, calloused hand around your neck in a loose hold. “I believe it’s please fuck me.” 

Maybe if you weren’t practically a pile of brainless goo, you’d argue. See how far you can push—though this time you fold. “Please fuck me. P-please—I need it.” 

Seemingly satisfied with your answer; Paz wedges a hand between your bodies to grip his cock and run the tip through your folds, soaked from you own wetness and Din’s saliva. The head of his member nudges at your entrance, and wether it’s his size or the fact you can’t see anything—you panic. 

Your hand shoots out, nails harpooning into the meat of his forearm. “W-wait—you’re too b-big.”  

Paz freezes and moves you up his lap and presses a kiss over you hairline. “We can stop. Just say—“

“N-no, I’m fine,” you assure, planting an apologetic peck on his stubbled jaw. Stopping is the last thing you want to do—it was just…overwhelming. A sensory overload testing the very fringes of your being. “Go slow?”

You feel his head bob in compliance as he moves you back to where you’re hovering over his cock. You relax this time, not as many alarm bells clanging through your head as your cunt flutters around the fat tip and then that glorious, first thick inch. Paz’s thumb bumps over your throbbing clit, coaxing your pussy to take him further. 

“Yeah, that’s it vaar’ika,” he grunts, his breath fanning over your neck in quick pants. “Taking my cock so fucking well. So nice and pretty.”

Your pussy flutters, fresh waves of arousal hot and burning.You nearly keel over when Paz starts shallowly rocking his hips, easing your body the rest of the way down his length until the back of your thighs touch his. Maker—how the hell is he all the way inside? You can feel him in your fucking guts—         

“See?” Paz purrs. He sucks a bruise into the meat of your shoulder and pushes his palm against your lower stomach, making the fit even tighter. “Fits fucking perfect.”

The noise your cunt makes pulling out and the debauched moan that filters through his vocal chords is obscene. If anyone where to walk by, well—it’s certainly not training that’s going on, for the better lack of words. 

Paz holds true to his word—keeps his pace limited to deep, languid thrusts that brush up against something that makes your whole body shake—like strumming a golden chord molded to a musician’s fingers. Fuck—he’s doing all the work too. Lifting you by the swell of your hips and pulling you down onto his cock with a rough buck of his hips. 

Abruptly, he slows to a gentle rocking—quick to lock you in place as you thrash and roll your hips. “Paz—n-no. Keep going. You n-need to—“

Paz silences your please with a wet, open mouthed kiss. “Our friend looks lonely. Why don’t you use that pretty mouth and suck his cock?” 

Din. 

You hear the man curse in Mando’a, probably some stab at Paz—

But with a pat to your outer thigh, you don’t need any more prompting—you’d give up your left hand to get a chance to suck him off. With the help of Paz, you’re eased onto your hands and knees, shocks of white-hot pleasure zipping through your core at the change of angle. Like this Paz is seated deeper inside, stabbing into each spot that makes you sing.    

Fuck—your arms are shaking—only able to hold yourself up for half a click and then you’re sinking face first into the floor, ass in the air as he fucks into you. Paz clicks his tongue and wraps his arm around your front, pulling you back up from your slumped position. 

“I told you to suck his cock, girl. Not take a nap.” Paz accentuates his words with heavy, well measured thrusts—the kind of force you know will leave your whole lower half throbbing and sore in the aftermath. 

You whine as Paz grabs a hold of your jaw, digging into the tender joints until your mouth falls open. “Good. Keep it like that.” 

Paz’s hand falls away, replaced by a softer touch. The pads of Din’s fingers hook under your chin, guiding and tempting you nearer to what rests between his legs, hot and heavy and large.       

You feel the tip of his cock, flushed and pulsing, rest on your bottom lip. You lap up the beads of sticky precum with kitten licks that morph into suckling the entire head. Din grunts out your name and tangles his hand into your hair as you tongue at the ridged frenulum. He never forces you to swallow down more of him—lets you cradle the first few inches in the wet warmth of your mouth and languidly roll the pad of your tongue around him. 

You want to take him deeper, let Din fuck your throat raw, but your jaw already aches. Your lips are pulled tight around his shaft, drool dribbling down your chin and landing on the mat below. You’re not sure if you could take more of him without the danger of your teeth catching or dislocating your jaw. So you manage like this—hollowing out your cheeks and and using the momentum of Paz’s thrusts to pleasure Din.          

It’s frustrating—it must be each time you let his cock slip out of your mouth to breathe or the fact Din isn’t able to fucking fit his cock into your mouth. Annoying that you aren’t able to think properly to help him out a bit ore when that said brain is being fucked straight outta you, put through the wringer and then body slammed onto duracrete. 

Din cups your cheek, strokes over your skin with his thumb and maneuvers himself out of your mouth. You whine and lean into his palm, his touch addictive like smoldering coals in the dead of winter.    

“You want me there instead of him?” Din purrs, using the tips of his index and middle fingers to tilt your chin and drag you into an open mouthed kiss. “Fuck you like you deserve.” 

The profane imagery of Din between your legs instead makes you clench tight. It only takes a couple seconds and a few more feverish kisses before you’re nodding to his request. Paz mutters a swear, hesitates, and reluctantly pulls out, leaving your cunt empty and aching with need. 

Din, however, is speedy—quick to hoard you to himself and yank your legs over his hips so that you’re draped on his lap. He jumps straight to the point, no fancy maneuver or drawn out teasing—just grabs the base of his cock, slides the flushed tip between your folds and sinks into your cunt. Even after your pussy had been stretched and molded around Paz’s length, you struggle to take Din’s entire cock into your aching center. It’s easier than Paz but, Maker—not by much. 

You whine, harpooning your fingernails into his shoulder once he bottoms out. Din snarls a curse and latches his teeth onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder, prickly pain shooting directly to your belly. “Fucking tight. H-how—fuck.”

There’s no time to adjust before Din sets a pace, harsh and desperate—his hands digging into the flesh of your ass for better leverage. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end before it could be yanked out from under him. Din’s staggered exhales below your ear are interlaced with subdued moans that start low in his ribcage then dip into a higher, airy pitch. A delicate sound you’ll guard closer to your chest than any secret you possess for the rest of your life—precious and yours. 

Din turns his head to steal a kiss. “You feel fuck—fucking good. Wanna feel you cum around me. S-squeezed so fucking hard around my fingers—“

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Heat sizzles down each vertebrae in your spine, burning up each and every cell with the brilliance of a wildfire. Stars, this is gonna destroy you.      

Din’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of blistering warmth that knocks you off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs. Your nails dig into Din’s back as you shake and grapple for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.  

“Good girl,” Din praises, pace faltering from just how tight your pussy squeezes and flutters around his cock. “S-such a fucking good girl for me.”     

Regaining some semblance of control, you realize he’s still fucking going—still rock solid and throbbing, fucking you through the aftershocks of your release. Your arousal turns sharp, like rough cotton over a fresh sunburn as it dips into overstimulation. It’s not unpleasant but Din has to slow his hips to a delicate roll for you to recover.            

In the time it takes to inhale, a different calloused hand kneads into your lower back then smoothes up your spine. A second later you feel the scrape of Paz’s stubble prick along your exposed shoulder as his tongue drags along your sweat dampened skin—all the way up the curve of your neck and ending at the shell of your ear. 

You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but as Paz crowds closer the tip of his cock pokes at your other hole. With a surprised mewl, you tense and shy away—but he follows, molds his chest against your back to sandwhich you in. The hand gripping your bicep jumps to your neck and pulls your head against his shoulder. 

Two of Paz’s fingers dip down the curve of your ass and brush along the puckered skin—far less jarring this time. “Do you want to be fucked here too?” 

Maker—

You’re gonna fucking explode.  

Stuffed to the brim already, it’s hard to imagine Paz cramming himself in along with Din. A little red light blares in some corner of your mind but it’s quickly soothed as Paz plants soft kisses over your cheek and jaw. You trust him—there’s no reason to think he’ll hurt you or push you to the point of pain.

You catch his mouth with a kiss and rock your hips back. “Y-yeah, ok. I trust you.” 

You feel his smile curl against your cheek. “Don’t worry vaar’ika—I’ll take care of you.”

Paz strokes your bottom lip with his thumb and kisses the crown of your hairline as you sink into him. With his ring and middle finger, he pushes past the seam of your lips. “Suck.”

You obey, sealing your lips around his two digits and coating them in your saliva. Paz pulls them out with a pop and moves them between your legs, and with the added wetness dripping from your cunt, the first finger is easy enough. The second and third have you gasping as he scissors them and stretches your tight hole wider. You claw your nails into Din’s shirt—and he’s no better—Din’s own hands are clamping around your hips, struggling to keep still and biting back moans each time your cunt constricts. 

Your hips begins to meet the thrusts of Paz’s fingers as your body familiarizes the feel of him there. It’s a deep thrill that rushes up through your spinal cord—much different from anything you’ve felt before. 

“You like this, don’t you?” Paz goads, chuckling when you whine as he extracts his fingers. “I think you’re ready to take my cock, yeah?”

You shudder and nod, your voice no more than a squeak as it pilfers out. Paz strokes the top of your head and tips you forward into Din’s eager arms as Paz slicks up his length in a mix of precum and your dripping arousal. He touches the swell of you ass in warning, lines himself up with your hole and wedges the tip of his cock inside of you.     

Involuntary tears dampen your makeshift blindfold as Paz buries himself deeper, his rumbling tone urging you to relax—relax even though your mind is drowning in an ocean of arousal and swirling emotions you have no hope to pin down and analyze. It’s for the best—thankful as Paz bottoms out that it wrenches you back to a feasible reality you’re able to manage.

“Shit—I-I’m gonna die—“ You sob, writhing at just how full you are. But there’s nowhere to fucking go—     

“Easy,” Din breathes, and you wonder if he’s said it to keep his own head on his shoulders. “Easy.”

Din’s gravelly rasp cuts through the fog in your head, and stars—you sound like you’re fucking dying. Your wheezy breaths and lightheadedness would certainly suggest that—but no…no, you’re fine. Better than fine.     

A rush so acute and devastating launches up your spine as Din’s patience cracks. He experimentally rolls his hips and that’s the end of it. You’re swallowed up in that riptide you fought so hard to avoid—fuck. You won’t be the same after this. How can you?  

You can feel them both, separated by a thin wall as they sprint towards their own highs. You’re never once left empty—Din reaches the end of you as Paz pulls out and while there’s not exactly any finesse involves it’s the best fucking thing you’ve felt in your entire life. There’s no bickering—no teasing and you’re struck with an idea that makes you clench tight around both of them. You wouldn’t mind if this was the way they decided to settle scores or finally see eye to eye.   

This time you can’t discern your high—just a constant overflow of ecstasy and dazzling arousal like an imploding supernova. You cry their names—sob and shake in their hold with such fervor that Paz traps you tighter between them to keep you still.  

“Fuck—you get so fucking tight,” Paz growls, blunt nails digging into your hips. “And so fucking wet.”

His fingers touch the inside of your thigh and stars—he’s right. “I get to fuck your cunt next time—see how much you’ll drip for me.” 

Even if the blindfold were off—there’d be nothing to see but a white wash of nothing. Blinded by pleasure and bursting at the seems. 

Jealous, Din steals your breath away with a kiss, licking and nipping at your swollen lips until you whine his name. His jagged pants fan across your chin—chapped lips and patchy facial hair tickling across your bottom lip as you breath the same air. 

Din whispers your name like a prayer, his fingers clutching tight around your thighs as his pace starts to flounder to choppy jerks. “Shit. I-I’m close—“

Your fingers twist into his hair. “Yeah—ok baby. Let go.”

Din’s teeth sink into the base of your throat and cums. His seed coats your insides—hot and copious and fucking shit—if there’s a next time you want him to cum in your mouth.      

You don’t get time to relish Din’s stuttered gasps of your name, laced with praise and a show of a tender and bleeding heart before Paz is gathering up your hair in a tight fist and jerking your head up. “You—you want me to cum too? Say it.” 

Without a breath of hesitation you beg for it, cry and arch into him. It does the trick—

Paz is loud—shouts a thunderous roar and buries his cock deep into your hole. Din is still recovering from the aftershocks of his release when Paz pulls out after what seems like ages pumping you full. His cock no longer there to plug you up, his cum begins to dribble out and mix with the mess between your legs. Your legs shake and you wobble--crying out as Din slips out, your body dreadfully empty and aching.     

You're lowered to the mat by Din and if you weren't still trying to formulate words, you'd thank them. Lips dart over your cheeks and hairline, and for once nothing needs to be said. It’s nice...the radiating warmth from their bodies and the simmering flush through you body is something you could get used to. But you’re no stranger to the shifting tides of the future. 

You shrug it off.    

Your eyes are heavy and with one of them stroking your hair and the other your thigh, you drift to sleep. Later—later all unspoken things and disastrous words can be dealt with tomorrow. You must be dreaming when it’s said--careless and bold, but the words nestle into your heart and sprouts with fear. 

“You love her, don't you?” 

translation:

vaar’ika--pipsqueak 

or’dinni--dumbass idiot 

vod--brother/comrade 

tag list: 

@bobafctts​ @djxrxn​ @teaofpeach​ @corrupt-fvcker​ @nelba​ @datmando​ @ben-is-a-hoe​ @dreams-like-clockwork​ @aerynwrites​ @auty-ren​ @huliabitch​ @anxiety-riddled-mando​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @trippedmetaldetector​ 

[mythiccheroacademia]

Hey!! Could we please get more sugar daddy fics with a black reader ofc 😋 idk if you've done shoto already but that'd be nice or hawks and deku💕

A/N: “wrist on glitter, waist on thinner, imma show you how to bag a eight-figure nigga” 👅💋 I enjoyed this way too much

All characters are 18+

Warnings: it got a lil spicy so imma put the line 

Todoroki Shouto:

this mf has money to burn 

we all know todoroki came out the womb w cash from his hair to his ass 

he’s on some “yes, jeff bezos knows me” type shit so if you’re tryna end up with someone that’s gonna possibly buy you a house, he’s your guy 

he slid into your dms after you posted a pic with your skin moisturized and glistening under golden hour and your body had him wanting to run laps 

he had been plottin on you for a min but never got the motivation to do something about it until then

he’s a no strings attached type of sugar daddy

todoroki is a big name even outside of hero work and he’s well aware of all the people that have tried to use him. so instead of letting that happen, he’s decided to do things on his own terms 

when yall first started talking, he questioned you like this was managerial position at apple 💀 

best believe he ran an in-depth background check and made you sign an NDA 💀💀💀

he was a tough one

but you passed w flying colors and y’all settled on an arrangement

you have a weekly allowance that hits your bank account every saturday with some bonuses that he’ll give you depending on how the week goes

todoroki isnt needy nor is he one to be all up in your business 

it’s actually weird in an endearing kind of way? 

he only wants to have conversations with you 

i mean, dont get me wrong, he’s up for anything you are

todoroki would be a liar if he said he never ended some nights with a picture of you and a hand down his pants 

but that’s not what he’s mainly looking for 

you figure out very quickly that shouto just wants someone to talk to 

he’ll randomly hit up your phone and have a 30 min convo about something like the weather or hero politics, and then he’ll dip

next thing you know, you got $1000 in your cashapp

you kind of panicked bc like...wtf? 

your dumb ass messaged him: “did you mean to send $1000?”

sis, dont put a question mark where God put a period

him: “Yes.”

and that was the end of that

you dont question anymore

he’s not doting in any kind of way, and sometimes you lowkey think he forgets about you, but you still get your allowance 

doesn’t send a lot of gifts unless you explicitly state you want something

he doesnt text back a lot, but he tried to respond when he can

but i do see him liking it when you send him mundane things you do throughout your day, like pics of cookies you baked, or a cool plant you saw at home depot

and he enjoys the times you and him end up just trashing his father for nearly an hour. expect to find flowers, with some expensive ass coats or something at your door the next morning 

he really fucks w your laid back vibe 

sometimes he forgets you guys arent really supposed to be friends 

Takami Kiego (Hawks):

this is not hawks’ first time being a sugar daddy

he’s hot, rich, and one of the most eligible bachelor’s in japan with a life that prevents him from having anything too serious

so, long story short, he’s a veteran at this 

he used to be the type to reach out to instagram baddies but he had a couple bad run-ins and decided to stick with the official sites because it was a lot more secure on both ends 

the funny thing was, you set up your account a long time ago as a joke. though at one point, you did take it seriously, but you came in contact with a lot of super creepy men that sexualized you for your skin and ethnicity. 

you were tired of the “chocolate king/queen” and “amazonian god/dess” comments,so you took a break. you didnt have much activity since

so imagine youre surprise when the #2 hero hit your line talking about some 

“Hey~ I’ll get straight to the point. I think you’re beautiful and I’d like to talk with you about an arrangement” 

you thought this was a fake account, but after he chatting for a little and sending some pictures, you knew he was the real deal 

hawks is your standard tit-for-tat transaction sugar daddy

he’s the type to hit you up at night with a “how ya doing, dove? got any pics for me?”

he’s good about his respect ad won’t do anything out of line

it’s the bare minimum, be he doesnt fetishize you so that’s always nice 

however, he does make you call him daddy, sir, etc. whether it’s through text, call, or when y’all get together for...reasons

ngl his dicc game is fire

he might ghost you for a week or so but he’ll always come back with a nice check to make up for it 

just be careful about catching feelings bc he’s so fucking smooth. he makes you feel like you’ve got his heart, but dont fall for that shit

if you think you can “change him” or fuflfil whatever wattpad romance fantasy lives in your head, he is not your guy. you better get on w your life before you get your heart broken

he’s here to suck, fuck, send pics, do a little phone call here n there, send some money, and go 

if you’re not with all that, you might as well dip 

but if you’re cool with that, rest assured, you’re gonna be living your best mf life with this man in your wallet 

and good news, you might not be his only, but you are his favorite

there’s just something about you that’s got him giving you a few extra thousand than he normally does 

he doesnt take his sugar babies on proper dates bc he’s gotta stay away from media outlets, but he will invite you to his office for a “lunch break”

if you ever surprise him with a cute but sexy hawks cosplay, you won’t have to work for two whole weeks bc you cant walk  

overall, he’s a good sugar daddy. defintely good for your pockets and any other non-romantic desires you want fulfilled

Mirodirya Izuku:  

the way you two met and came to this arrangement was more or less an accident

the life of the number one pro-hero was lonely and stressful 

he’s tried to dip his toes in the water here and there, but it never worked out because not many people could deal with the fact that he’d always put hero work first

he was teetering on the edge of signing up for one of those sugar daddy/baby websites until he met you at some cafe he passed by 

it’s cliche really. you were his server and, honestly? he was hooked on day one 

he watched you intently as you pranced around in your cute uniform. he couldnt stop admiring your brown skin and eyes and how cute your hair was. you spoke with such enthusiasm and cheerfulness that he couldnt help but swoon. and it didn’t hurt that you were very easy on the eyes

he listened to you as you went on a spiel about how college was a fortune and how you stayed up last night for a project bc you had to pick up extra shifts

that’s when he made his decision

by the time the hero is out of the door, you collected the reciept and almost fainted when you realized he left you a $500 tip and his personal number 

“i enjoyed talking to you today and i hope we can continue that...here’s something small to help with your bills. and i hope this isnt too forward but you’re very beautiful. stay safe. deku.”

and what did you do that night?

you called his ass right back

you were nervous as hell bc you still couldnt believe this was real, but after talking on the phone with him for two hours, an arrangement was set

midoriya is the most gentlemen like sugar daddy out there 

you wake up to good morning texts and a few hundred in your bank account almost every two days 

he goes crazy over your insta posts. and if you wear something green? expect a bonus

takes you out shopping unprovoked 

izuku: “are you busy? i saw you were having a rough week and was wondering if you wanted to go to that new outlet mall downtown”

you: 🏃🏾‍♀️💨  

you most certainly had homework due that night but what tf you look like missing out on that offer? 

it’s after so many “dates” that deku realizes that he prefers hanging around you more than he should but he doesnt wanna ruin anything so he keeps that underwraps 

he’s the idiot that goes into this thinking he won’t fall in love

deku defintely has some dirty thoughts about you but he doesnt try to bring it up unless you do first

if you’re comfortable with anything nsfw, you gone see a whole different side to izuku

he’s a giver, giver, giver, but when he recieves, he just about loses it

send him “innocent” pics of yourself matched with a string of filthy texts and he’ll combust 

when you send him pics of yourself in deku-themed lingre, he deadass sends you a whole black card with your name on it as a thank you

you guys get very comfortable with each other very quickly

soon enough, DA’s start turning into y/n stayng over for a week 

you both realize this relatiosnhip runs a lot deeper than an arrangement when he accidentally let it slip that he told his mom about you 

he’s profusely apologizing but you shut him up with a kiss and tell him that you’ve kinda caught feelings yourself 

your next conversation works out well for the both of you 

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts 

Part 22:

You closed your phone, rolling your eyes at his words. 

You were a floor down from Bakugou’s hospital room, currently stood in front of the vending machine. After your collective screaming match, you’d quickly realized just how hungry you were. Apparently, arguing and yelling so much works up one hell of an appetite- who knew? So now here you were, standing in front of the machine, holding a wad of horribly crinkled money Bakugou had insistently and unwaveringly shoved at you on your way out.

Originally, you had fully intended to pay for your own snacks. You’d even sneakily tried to grab your wallet as you left, but apparently that didn’t work. He saw you, because of course he did. So, waffling over it for just barely another second, you put your own money away. You knew Bakugou wasn’t bluffing- or probably wasn’t. It wouldn’t surprise you at all if he truly did know how expensive the vending machine was, down to the very last cent of each item. He was weird like that.

You shrugged, if he wanted you to use his money so badly than you weren’t gonna pick at fight over it. You selected a bag of chips for yourself, and the gross-looking health bar Bakugou had requested- because apparently, even while already uncomfortable and injured, Bakugou didn’t have an easy time giving himself a break. 

When you walked back, entering the hospital room once more, Bakugou wasn’t alone. You couldn’t tell what surprised you more- the three police officers crowding his bed, or the man standing off to the side. A man with hair so obviously fake and stop-sign red that it nearly nauseated you.

You weren’t sure how to proceed, whether or not you were even supposed to be hearing this conversation, but you didn’t have to flounder for long. The red-haired man saw you almost immediately and began making his way over. 

“Hey! How’s it going? I’m so sorry, but Dynamite’s actually not taking visitors right now!” He says, says brightly. Then he’s spinning you around and pushing at your shoulders lightly to get you moving out the door. “My name’s Kirishima though, and I can totally, totally, help you back downstairs to wait with the other civilians!”

“No, but I-” You start, your feet barely able to move as fast as Kirishima is dragging you along. “I have to-”

“Yeah, I get it! And that’s so totally nice of you to want to thank him, super, super nice,” Kirishima interrupts you, leading you down the hallway. “But he’s real busy talking to the police right now so-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! I’m his soulmate!” You pull your wrist out of his light grip, halting. “My name’s Y/n L/n.”

“Wait-” Kirishima stops in his tracks, suddenly spinning around to face you. “How do you know that name?”

“Oh my god-” You huff in frustration, shaking Kirishima’s hands off you. “You sound just like Bakugou. It’s- that’s my name- like, my actual name, okay! How else would I know it if it wasn’t me?” 

A beat of silence as you watch his eyes widen.

“So you’re really her?” He says in disbelief.

“Yes! Obviously,” You pinch the bridge of your nose, breathing through your irritation. “Now would you knock it off and let me go back to his room? I get it- you’re like, security, or whatever, but I’m not a civilian and I-”

“He’s gonna kill me.” Kirishima pales in front of you, suddenly grabbing your wrist again and pulling you fast in the direction of Bakugou’s room. “Oh god, he’s gonna kill me.” 

“W-what? Why?” You stumble, nearly falling into his back. “Hey! Slow down!” 

“Because I totally manhandled you out the door- god, that was so not manly of me!” He breathes out quickly, but he listens and drops your wrist, slowing down to a pace you could keep up with. “I’m sorry, it’s just- I thought you were a civilian, you know? They’ve been crawling all over the waiting room since I got here, sneakin’ up and trying to thank him, and I thought you were one of ‘em.”

“Thank him? For what?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Um- no?”

It’s hits you then that you didn’t really know why Bakugou was in the hospital in the first place. Only that he was ‘held up’ and then hurt and had been absent for the last two weeks. You wanted to smack yourself in the face. You’d spent the entire afternoon yelling and arguing with him and absolutely not asking the important questions. Well- you did ask some questions, but not enough. Apparently.

“Wow, figures. You know, that’s just like our guy Bakugou! Always talkin’ so much but still never bragging about all the actual cool shit he pulls off.” Kirishima rubs the back of his neck awkwardly for a moment. “C’mon, lets hurry back. I really don’t think he’d be too happy if I was the one who told ya everything.” 

You have a million and one questions sitting on your tongue but quickly decide you’d much rather ask Bakugou than the man standing in front of you. You pick up your pace, finally once again in front of Room 427. When you enter, the police are leaving, all three of them walking past you on their way out. 

“Hey! Shitty Hair!” Bakugou seems to ignore you, instead choosing to yell, loudly, at Kirishima. “Who the fuck gave you permission to go around draggin’ her like that? I fuckin’ saw you, you imbecile!”

“Hey!” The red-head whines, hands out and placating. “How was I supposed to know? You didn’t say anything, man! I didn’t know, okay?”

“It doesn’t fuckin’ matter, you dumbass, I’m not gonna let you just fuckin-” Bakugou starts, but then he whips his head around toward you, eyes catching yours. “Oi- Idiot. What the hell are you standin’ around in the doorway like that for, hah? Look stupid as shit.” 

“Bakugou!” Kirishima seems appalled, grabbing at his chest dramatically. “You can’t talk to her like that! She’s-”

“Perfectly fucking capable of defending herself, thank you very much.” You snark, walking towards Bakugou and tossing the health bar at him lightly. He doesn’t expect it and you watch as it hits him squarely in the chest. You smile. “Real nice catch, angry man.” 

“Woulda fuckin’ caught it if I was in top shape.” He grumbles, but then he’s smirking and opening the snack just the same. “Anyways- yeah, that’s Shitty Hair. Sorry he fuckin’ sucks.” 

You clasp a hand over your as a laugh escapes. Kirishima doesn’t seem to think it’s nearly as funny as you do, and you watch as his face seizes.

“Hey, man! What the hell!” 

“You deserve it, bitch! Shouldn’t a fuckin’ grabbed her like that and dragged her wherever the fuck.” Bakugou shrugs. “If you don’t wanna be told you suck, then don’t fuckin’ suck! It’s easy as shit- even for a clown like you.”

Kirishima just groans, hands beginning to wave emphatically. “Do you even know how many people I stopped from walking in here? I did it for you, man!” 

“Yeah. Whatever.” Bakugou barks, taking a bite of the health bar. He chews for all of a second, before talking through a mouthful of food. “You should fuckin’ leave.” 

“What? Why do I-” Kirishima pauses a second, blinks, looks at you, and then a smirk begins to tug at his lips. “Oh, I get it! Totally manly, Bakugou! It’s because of h-”

“No!” Bakugou defends, his cheeks reddening slightly. “It’s- fuckin’ police, shitty hair! Told ‘em to wait outside. They wanna talk to your dumbass- They have more idiotic fuckin’ questions about after I passed out.” 

“Oh. Yeah. Okay.” Kirishima nods, moving towards the door. “You want me to come back later?”

“No.” Bakugou growls.

That, you notice, strangely doesn’t seem to make Kirishima upset? He instead smiles brightly at Bakugou, giving him a thumbs up, and leaves, pulling the door shut behind him.

It’s suddenly quiet in the room, but you don’t let it last long. You’ve got answers to pry out of your soulmate.

“So- heard you passed out, angry man.” You state simply, dropping once again in the chair next to his bedside. “When’d that happen?”

“Few days ago. Been here since then.”

You roll your eyes at his short answer. Leave it up to Bakugou to tell you only what you literally asked for and absolutely nothing else.

“Okay. But how? Where?” You ask. “What about before then?”

Bakugou huffs at all your questions, but then he’d nodding and answering all the same.

“Had to fuckin’ save this man from hittin’ the ground real hard so I took all the impact. Hit my head or something, when I hit the ground, and I broke a bunch of shitty bones. Guess I was out a few days, and then I woke up here. Then I fuckin’ called you or whatever.”

“You- you took a fall? That knocked you out? For days?” You gasped. “How goddamn far was the fall? Jesus!” 

“Four stories.” Bakugou says, and the uneffected, factual way he says it makes your blood go cold. “My fault. Shoulda been faster but I was already fuckin’ weak from bein’ captured.” 

  “Captured?”

“Yeah. Went undercover and tried to infiltrate this villian lair, and the fuckin’ stupid group of villians lumped me in with a bunch of other hostages.” He grunted. “I tried to blow ‘em all the fuck up, once I realized, but they had this absolute bitch, with a stupid fuckin’ siren quirk! Sang a bunch of shitty, annoying, fuckin’ songs that paralyzed me. Couldn’t do a damn thing! For over a week!”

“O-okay.” You nodded shakily. “Then what happened? How’d you get out?”

“Fuckin’ didnt. Just sat there, stuck on my ass, kept barely alive by that stupid bitch and her henchman!” Bakugou barked, hands clenching into fists. “Then shitty hair and a few other fuckers came and knocked her out- they stayed to fight the rest of the other villians or whatever but I was still too fuckin’ weak to fight so I rounded up the other hostages.”

“So you fell saving one of them?”

“Yeah. Stupid kid stayed to watch the fight, like a complete fuckin’ idiot, and got blasted by a villian out the window.” Bakugou flushes, averting his eyes. “I jumped out after him. To save him or whatever.”

You nod, very minutely smiling as you looked at his flushing face.

You were proud of him.

He might’ve been bad- had done bad in the past, but it seemed like that wasn’t all Bakugou was. He had good in him. A lot of good. He nearly finished himself off saving an innocent after all- that had to a least make him some sort of a hero.

“Well- okay....That all- that all sounds fucking horrifying, but I get it. It’s your job, right?” You sigh. “I’m just glad you made it out alive. I was really scared, you know?”

“Hah? Scared? Now why the fuck would ya go and do something stupid like that?”

“Because you weren’t answering me!”

“I told you I’d be gone!” Bakugou defends, before pulling out his phone. “Look! Fuckin’ sent ya the texts and everything!”

“You said a few days! Not 2 fucking we-“ You paused. “Wait. Why did you say a few days in the first place?”

“Knew it was gonna be fuckin’ dangerous when I left, so, you know,” He averted his eyes, voice coming out low and guilty. “Was supposed to be incase I got hurt. And was fuckin’ out or something. So you wouldn’t wor-“

“Worry?” You groaned, running a frustrated hand through your hair. “It didn’t- I was worried! I thought something happened! Or worse I thought that-“

“Worse? Fuck you mean, shitty woman? What the fuck stupid conclusion did you come to that’s worse than dyin’?”

“Bakugou,” You huffed, your shoulders sagging. “I thought maybe, that maybe you wouldn’t tell me anything because you were a bad guy- a bad villian.”

Bakugou’s face crumples. His angry eyebrows fall and his puffed out cheeks deflate, and his mouth closes tip-lipped and tense over sharp teeth. He looks devastated. “It- I didn’t-“ He struggles and you’ve never heard his voice sound so small before. “Y-you don’t think that, right? Now?”

“No!” You try to recover, hands out and assuring. “It’s- after the video, maybe? I did, b-but not now! Not now.”

He doesn’t say anything- won’t meet your eyes.

“Look, Bakugou,” You clear your throat. “I only know you as you are now, not who you were before. And I think- I think that maybe, now you’re almost a different person than before. So that’s why it was a shock. To see you like that. To see you so hateful.”

You duck your head, just barely catching his eyes before he averts them again.

“But that’s not you anymore? Right? You’re not that guy. So it’s okay. We’re okay.” You sigh. “Will you look at me? Please?”

He doesn’t, just continues fiddling with the thin blankets trapped between his shaking fingers.

“Why wouldn’t you just tell me?” You ask, tone pleading. “I feel like, maybe, if I didn’t have to find out like tha-“

“Woulda been the same. ‘S always the same.” He interrupts, voice barely there. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t- because it would’ve- there would’ve- you fuckin’ wouldn’t-“

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and sitting still for a few moments.

“You wouldn’ta kept fuckin’ talking to me.” He admits. He looks so small in that moment that it nearly breaks you. “Didn’t wanna- I didn’t wanna wait all my life, have this fuckin’ tattoo for so long and still have nothing because I was stupid.”

You pause, the breath knocked out of your chest.

“What- I- how long have you had your tattoo?”

Bakugou lifts his head, finally looking at you. He looks bewildered. Scared, even.

“My whole fuckin’ life- didn’t you?”

“No!” You cried desperately. “I told you, remember? Over text, the first time I talked to you! The day my tattoo appeared!”

“You were serious about that shit?” His voice is utter disbelief, eyebrows creasing together. “I thought- I thought-“

“What?”

“It’s- it’s not the first time somebody has gotten my number and told me they’re my fuckin’ soulmate. So I didn’t think it was real- thought you were jokin’ or somethi-“

“Excuse me?”

“It’s not- don’t,” He stutters, blushing just a bit. “Being a pro-hero, people always say weird shit to me for fame. So I’ve gotten that before- a fuckin’ random text saying they’re my soulmate.”

“What?” You ask, voice offended. “Who- why- I don’t get it-“

“Every hero gets ‘em- even one’s that don’t even have a fuckin’ soulmate.” Bakugou says. “I guess maybe they just text everybody or some shit- I don’t know? Didn’t matter to me I always jus’ blocked ‘em.”

You could hardly believe your ears, feeling winded as you brought a hand to your chest.

Bakugou had a tattoo- your name for his entire life.

He’d know about you his entire life.

Had been waiting on you for his entire life.

“Why- why’d you believe me?” You ask quietly. “If you didn’t believe the others, why me?”

“Ya told me your name.” He pulls aside his hospital gown, exposing the writing on his ribcage. “It’s- if ya didn’t, I wouldn’ta believed you.”

On his side, just under the last rib, is your name. It’s a simple tattoo- small, but it’s there, and in your handwriting.

“That’s my name.” You say dumbly.

“Obviously, sunshine.” He sort of laughs, something a little sad but a little happy too. “Only been waitin’ my entire life for your dumb ass.”

“Why didn’t you look for me?” You can’t help but ask, pressing your against against your suddenly stinging eyes. “If you knew- why?”

Bakugou goes quiet again, dropping his hospital gown back down. His tattoo is covered, but that doesn’t matter to you, you couldn’t forget the look of it if you tried.

It’s a long few moments before Bakugou speaks again.

“It wouldn’t- I wasn’t ready-“ His voice is low, quiet, the most vulnerable you’ve ever heard it be. “Before now- I wouldn’t have been good. For you.”

He sighs, shifting uncomfortably in the hospital bed.

“Think- I think maybe that’s why yours didn’t come in ‘till now. Wouldn’t of fuckin’ worked before.”

When you pull your palms away from your eyes, it’s like you’re seeing him again for the very first time.

It’s strange- the way your heart seems to be breaking entirely and rebuilding itself completely all at the same time. It’s a wave crashing against your ribs- pushing and pulling and tumbling and pushing and pulling and turning and twisting and- calming when you look at his face. When you look at the way his hair sits and the way his jaw slopes and the way his eyes meet yours. It’s death and completetion and rebirth and red, red wildfire.

It’s your old life scorching and curling and burning up. And it’s your new, better, warmer life rising from the ashes.

“God, I’m so fucking glad I said my name.” You gasp, tears freely falling from your eyes.

Bakugou smiles, so soft and warm and fond. “I know idiot.”

You just laugh at the name, choking on tears and snot and emotion, but you’re smiling. You’re smiling and smiling and it feels like you’re never gonna stop smiling. Will never have to again.

Because he’s him and you’re you and finally- finally, you’re together.

It takes a long while for you to calm down, for your tears to stop falling. But when you finally do, when you finally feel okay, Bakugou’s already looking at you.

So how long are ya plannin’ to fuckin’ stay, idiot?”

“Huh?” You shook your head, tears still drying on your cheeks. “I literally- but- but no- I- D-do you want me to leave?”

“No!” Bakugou groans in frustration. “That’s not- can’t ya just listen to the words I say without fuckin’ readin’ into them all the time?”

“Yes?” You say unsurely, but then your shoulders drop and you sigh. “Actually no. Probably not, sorry I-”

“I told you not to fuckin’ apologize, remember?”

“Yeah,” You say sadly. “But it’s not exactly that easy.”

The room is quiet again, and Bakugou is smoothing out his hospital gown, fidgeting with the tie on the side. He looks nervous, his cheeks red, and his voice comes out quiet and strained when he speaks.

“If- if I gotta work on me not screamin’ and bein’ angry all the time then you gotta stop apologizin’ and worryin’ so goddamn much.” He takes a deep breath, finally turning to look at you but only to just barely make eye contact. “It-we can fuckin’ do it together or whatever. Idiot.” 

You blink, almost shaking your head in disbelief. Bakugou was sitting in front of you, blushing and grimacing and had just said something borderline sweet? Out loud? To you? You huff half a laugh when you look at him once more, at his intense eyebrows and his red cheeks and his pinched expression. He looked constipated. Like saying the words physically pained him.

You soulmate was an utter drama queen, a certifiable child- and you just found it adorable.

“Okay,” You wiped your final tears away, leaned forward on your elbows. Your chest hits the side of his hospital bed, and, extending your hand, you meet his eyes. “Pinky swear on it, then?”

“What? No! You makin’ fun of me? That’s- that’s-” Bakugou growls, but then he sees the hopeful look in your eyes. You watch as his irritated expression melts away and he grumbles as he extends his own hand. “Fine. Whatever.”

When you loop your pinky around his, pulling his arm until it lies flush against yours, you think it feels right. To be that close to him. To be touching him at all, really. You wonder if it’ll always feel like that- if the completeness you feel will ever fade.

 You hope it doesn’t. 

You think Bakugou must feel it too, his eyes focused on the way your skin meets. Something guarded in his gaze softens, almost minutely, but you don’t miss it. 

“Happy?” He suddenly says. He waves your connected hands in the air, but makes no move to shake free from your grip. “Feel all fuckin’ better now, idiot?”

“Much.” You smile something small and tender. “Thanks, Katsuki.”

Pop.

You yank your hand back in surprise, jumping slightly at the tiny zap you’d just felt on your pinky. It didn’t hurt, didn’t feel like much really- If you had to compare it, it was very similar to tiny, electro-static shocks you’d felt before when touching carpet.

“Did- did you?”

“No!” He yells, hand still left in the air. “I didn’t so fuckin’ shut up about it- it was nothing! You didn’t feel anything! Nothing happened! It didn’t happen! I-”

Mid way through his rant, Bakugou grabs at you hand, awkwardly jabbing his fingers into your palm before he finally just laces then through yours. He continues like he didn’t, though, not taking a single breath between his words.

“-And even if I did- which I didn’t- it’s your fuckin fault! So just- so just shut up about it already!” He huffs, absolutely red in the face as he averts his eyes. He grumbles. “Idiot.”

You just smile, giving his hand a squeeze. 

Bakugou won’t look at you, his eyes trained on quite literally anything else, but you think you seem him smile too. Something small, and unsure, and barely there- just the tiniest hint of his lip curling up. 

He squeezes back. 

--//--

hope u all enjoy,, luv u!!

[sonianvmd]

washing mondo owada’s hair 😃

warnings: swearing, suggestivity if you squint really really hard

a/n: sorry i died school was piling up

i’ve been thinking of this exact scenario since like february 🧍🏾

no spoilers below the cut!!

★ 彡 ★ ミ ★ 彡 ★ ミ ★

“hey, mondo?”

“oi.”

“can i wash ur hair 😃”

he’s not necessarily against the idea but he’s hesitant

his pompadour is his trademark and the only other style you’ve seen him in is a manbun for when he sleeps or it’s early in the morning before he gets ready

so basically, you’ve never seen him with his hair down in it’s natural form

“uhhh, i dunno, doll.”

he caves after like two minutes

what? he luvs u

anyways

you drag him over into the bathroom and have him get his hair all wet n stuff

and you bring out the shampoo

he completely relaxes under your touch

you can hear him sigh contently and smile as you continue to lather all of his hair

it’s all so nice and domestic to him and he can’t believe he didn’t let you do this sooner

when you massage his scalp he physically relaxes every muscle in his body and pushes his head closer to you

you are

very good at this

you make sure the shampoo is evenly all throughout his hair before rinsing it off and grabbing the conditioner a few feet away

once again, squeezing the bottle into your hand and rubbing them together before placing your hands back on his head

you start by coating the top of his head before trying to rake it through the rest

you can’t quite reach around so you move to stand behind him in the bath and he leans back into you

he gets ur shirt a lil wet but it’s alright

once you finish raking it through his hair, you let it sit for about two minutes before rinsing and wringing his hair out

(and u add a lil conditioner at the end as a leave in since his hair is curly)

you get him a towel and return to the bathroom where he’s still sitting on the edge of the bathtub, playing with a loose strand of his own hair

before handing him the towel, you kneel down and cup his face

“you’re so pretty.”

he just looks at you lovingly before going “tch.” and turning his head away

ok damn bitch be like that then 😕😕

———

A BONUS FOR ALL MY NEGROS OUT THERE ‼️‼️

wash day together!! :)

you had been encouraging mondo for a little while to wash your hair together

you really wanted to rake your fingers through his hair while it’s wet and down and you had nothing against letting him help you with your routine either

when he’s finally convinced, you pull him to the bathroom and start running the water, having him put his head under it

he hesitantly does and you get to work, making sure all of his hair gets wet

you tell him he can stand and give him a moment to stretch his back before asking him if he has any preferred products or anything like that

let you find out he’s been using some 2-in-1 shit

here you come pulling out a whole damn beauty shop from the cabinet

you choose some of your stuff that seem like they’d be compatible with his hair

(and that you also don’t really use because as much as you may love him, products are expensive and we ain’t wasting shit here)

but he sits on the edge of the bathtub and just watches you as you deck up the products you’ll use on him

just admiring you

but he snaps out of it when you turn to him with the bottle in hand

you squeeze some shampoo onto your hand and tell him to rest his head back, putting your knee between his legs and leaning forward to apply it to his hair

ur chest was like

right in his face

damn ma

anyways

you lather his hair and massage it into his scalp

he almost falls asleep on the spot

ur head scratches are unmatched

“mondo.”

“mooooondo.”

“hm?”

“you can rinse it out now.”

HELP HE’S SO EMBARRASSED LMFAOO

he just kinda

nods abruptly and puts his head under the running water

just muttering to himself as he’s turned away from you 😭

he sits under the water for much longer than he needs to before sitting up again

and you put the shampoo back under the cabinet, grabbing your conditioner

you need to get access to his entire head of hair so you move to like straddle sit in his lap and he just holds onto your thighs

he keeps averting eye contact

i think u might make him a lil nervous

you coat the conditioner on the surface of his hair before raking your fingers through and sighing contently with a lil giggle

this was nice

once all his hair was finger detangled, you reached back for your comb/brush

(personally i use a brush bc its easier but i know a lot of black ppl prefer combs)

you began to detangle his hair with the tool, your fingers following behind it

he winced every now and then but you quietly apologized and kissed his temple/forehead everytime

after the first few times, he started wincing on purpose lol

anyways

you started to get off him bc you were gonna let the conditioner sit for a few moments but he pulled you back down

he just kinda wraps his arms around your waist and hopes you get the message

n so you rest ur head on his shoulder and just quietly talk to each other

he thanks you for making him do this but like begrudgingly lol

you enjoy being in each other’s presence before you finally take a deep breath and get off him

you help him rinse it out and keep abruptly moving his head to stay under the water and you brush through it

you guys are laughing like some mfs LMFAOO

it’s so wholesome

but you finish combing through his hair and get two cotton t-shirts

bc you wanted to do a deep condition treatment with him as well

so you wet your own hair and put the product in, helping him as well

you manage to convince him to do a face mask with you too

you guys take those corny ass white peepo mirror pics together but u guys are both hot so i mean

you lounge around for about half an hour before washing your hair out

(and rinsing the mask off too)

and you wrap the t-shirt around your own head and mondo just watches you do it like “. w hat”

you have to help him put it on but it’s cute

ok this is getting unnecessarily long lemme finish this up

you let ur hair dry for a while before taking the tees off and putting in your actual final finishing products

he kinda smells like u now and he’s lowkey here for it lol

n you play with his hair for the literal rest of the day before falling asleep together and appreciating the domesticity <3

(bonus bonus bc i thought of this and didn’t wanna scrap it)

if you wanted to braid it then he’d be like “yeah sure ok” but immediately regret it LMFAOO

he’s not even tenderheaded but dAMN MA YOU GOT THE GRIP OF A POLAR BEAR 😕

he winces and flinches a lot

“quit movin yo damn head.”

yeah LMFAOAOAO

WAIT SOMEONE MAKE AN EDIT OF MONDO WITH A DURAG

PLEAES