#continuing my name and shame tradition lol

[frownyalfred]

fellas is it weird to *checks notes* write a fic that focuses on characters tagged in the fic

[a-regular-ol-pill]

I just want to say something about some of the pinoy players. Foul language and a lot of anger in this post so please ignore this if you can't handle stuff like that. I don't want you to feel upset for something that is not your fault.

I don't think I can continue posting or answering asks 'regularly' or 'normally' after this, so please forgive me if that happens— or when I pretend that I haven't said anything out of the usual mlbb posts. Just note that I will have this post in the back of my head all the time, even when it isn't obvious. I know fully well that I will be walking on eggshells after I post this, and I'm so sorry if I manage to push you away from me or the fandom with this post.

When I say 'you', I don't mean like YOU, 'the person reading this right now' you. I mean the ones that I directed the words to.

I'm watching a non filipino, LOL player stream MLBB and he's saying the usual things when you get cocky in game. Things like 'i'm the best [hero] user' and things like that, I'm usually not the one to read chat because they're quite toxic. Though I do read some whenever I see a question because I want to help the streamer answer some questions they can't read. But oh my fucking god, the second I glance down— nearly all of the people in chat are saying 'Filipino baiting' or 'nah [insert mlbb user] is better stfu' and 'wait 'till you reach [rank]', and a lot more that seems like they're trying to shit talk the streamer into not playing the game. Most of the accounts that commented that are Filipino too!

To those who do that, STOP AND THINK ABOUT THE SHIT SHOW YOU'RE SAYING IN CHAT. For fuck's sake, have some shame and let the person enjoy the game! You're trash talking the streamer, but as soon as they show that they have diamonds you turn a whole 360 and beg them to gift you a skin. Shut the fuck up with your 'Pinoy baiting call out' and lower your 'Pinoy pride' TO LEARN HOW TO BE RESPECTFUL. The majority of the Filipino players are KIDS, and they will take on the shitty attitude you show through the comments. 'It's not my fault they play the game when they're not supposed to.' HAVE SOME FUCKING SHAME, THEY ARE GROWING UP WITH SOCIAL MEDIA AND WOULD GROW UP THINKING SAYING SHIT LIKE THAT IS OKAY WHEN IT IS NOT. WHETHER OR NOT THEY PLAY MLBB DOES NOT MATTER BECAUSE ANY OTHER SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORM WILL SHOW THEM THAT CONTENT BECAUSE IT'S TOO POPULAR TO BE LEFT IN THE DARK.

Also. You have no right to gatekeep a game just because they're not a filipino and you certainly don't have the right to claim you're better than them! Not with that fucking attitude you don't. Oh I'm doing the same thing? I AM NOT, learn the difference between gatekeeping and calling out something because you got them twisted up. I have so many younger cousins and I never want them to be exposed to this toxic behavior. I am a Filipino myself, hence the countless cousins, and I've been ashamed to see these types of comments. Even outside of ML, I see some pinoy folk gatekeep a game they like from someone who's from Europe or from another continent. What happened to being hospitable? What happened to the 'respectful pinoy tradition'? What happened to 'elders teaching you the right ways to treat strangers'? WHAT HAPPENED TO TREAT OTHERS HOW YOU WANT TO BE TREATED.

Don't give me the; 'That's not how I act in real life' excuse because how you act online is your toxic side showing— 'Oh no it's just [some bullshit excuse]', no it is not. I have a toxic side as well, but at least I have the dignity to not show it off like a fucking trophy; 'Not all pinoys', I'm sorry did I call out every single pinoy name and family heritage? No, right? So shut the fuck up with that overused excuse because you know fully well that over half of the pinoy player base is like that. 'Oh, oh, but it's my way of venting.', if that's your way of venting you should reach out, you need genuine help if it's that bad. I'm serious. Hell, post about it like what I'm doing now because taking it out on someone is worse than shouting it for everyone to hear. Someone out there in your life cares for you, and you can reach out to them. You shouldn't be scared or ashamed. If they refuse to hear you out, then they don't deserve you; They're lying when they say they're there for you.

If you're still here, and you're one of the people I described without a valid reason. Stop playing MLBB for a few months, stop watching MLBB related content and just breathe. You'll ruin your future by saying these types of things, because someone who dislikes you will be able to track down your accounts and expose you to the people you know. If you're trying to change, that's good. I'm so proud of you! But if you're not, then I won't stop you. I know some of you will share these to your friends and shit talk me— you're free to do so because I feel like I'm the only one who has called out your shitty behavior and I'm ashamed.

[thevampiremarie]

Why is Ovid disliked SO MUCH? genuinely asking, I'm not that familiar with old writers like that.

Hi anon! Thanks for your question, happy to help. This is a long rant lol.

My personal beef with Ovid stems from a combination of two things:

1. The actual content of his writing

2. How his writing has been historically treated by the classics field and continues to be treated

Ovid was a great Roman writer/poet and continues to be very foundational in Ancient Rome studies for good reason. He is an excellent primary source on Rome, Roman myths, and Roman perspectives on myth/history/etc of the time, among other things. I fully recognize that and give him that credit. Do not come for me.

However, Ovid is a TERRIBLE source on Ancient Greek myths/folklore/legends. Many things he wrote down that he said were Greek in origin, or were about the Greeks, or that the Greeks did, are very much not consistent with primary Greek sources. And some of the stuff he did write down that had an actual Greek root ended up getting filtered through his Roman lens, so they ended up being bastardized from the Greek source and often with additional political overtones that weren’t there originally.

Great example is the myth of Medusa. Everyone and their mother these days (and in recent history) repeats the variant of the myth of Medusa that involves her being a beautiful maiden in service to Athena, who gets raped in Athena’s temple by Poseidon, and then promptly cursed to become a monster by Athena. This variant, like all good stories, does hold power on its own. However, it isn’t the original version of the myth of Medusa, and the slut-shaming and rape were added in by Ovid.

When you want to discuss these myths in their original context because you’re studying the culture/society that originated them, using the revised storytelling of a totally different (though related) culture is simply unhelpful and inaccurate.

So here’s part 2.

The field of classics itself in “Western civilization” (air quotes because I’m referring to the social construct of Western civilization, not an actual literal “western” civilization which does not exist) has always been tied to the study of Ancient Rome first, then Greece.

The word “classics” itself has a Latin root (classicus), not Greek. Latin is honestly not even that dead of a language compared to Ancient Greek because one of the world’s major religions still uses Latin as their liturgical language. “Western civilization” is heavily rooted in Christianity, which itself was rooted historically in Rome.

Christian monks were the academics who first came up with the concept of the study of classics, even though they maybe didn’t use that name to begin with. The study of the ancient world (or whatever) was part of Christian academic tradition, and of course they started with Rome. And then worked back.

Why does what some early Christian monks did matter right now? Well, that tradition of viewing Greece through the Roman lens, and then moving on to study Greece in its own right, has some direct effects today. A lot of the OG, famous, widely accessible (to the general populace) books on Greek mythology authored within the last century idk were written by people who read Ovid and wrote down his accounts of Ancient Greek myth as if they were primary sources. This is why the Ovid variant of the myth of Medusa is so widespread.

If you wanted to study how Rome viewed their cultural predecessors, this is super helpful. If you wanted to focus on Ancient Greece specifically, though, this is difficult to untangle and leads to a lot of misinformation and inaccurate study. Which is bad. While Greece and Rome were culturally and historically related, they were still distinct and separate civilizations. Conflating the two is not good academia.

In short: it’s not that Ovid is inherently bad. Quite the opposite. He is great and a great source on Ancient Rome. It’s that he is a bad source on Ancient Greece, and a lot of the foundational work in the classics field has used this Roman poet as a trustworthy, accurate, and good contemporaneous source on Ancient Greece.

I hope this helps clear up some of the confusion lol, feel free to hit my inbox up further if you’d like, Anon

[fang-wife]

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tongue-tied | k. bakugo 

➳ tags ;; 18+  oral fixation, bkg is a pervert, sub!bkg, dom!reader, spitplay /  graphic french kissing , afab!reader, cock-warming / creampie, cumming from kissing lol 

➳ wc ;; 1.1k (HOW)

➳ a/n ;; fics i write for me and me only 😭

➳ plot ;; bakugou katsuki has an oral fixation and hates that you know this about him

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He figures out he has a problem when he’s blooming into puberty.

 Like most sexual preferences - he found out in his adolescence. It had him.. curious about what kind of things he liked. Once he shut the door of his dorm room, he cracked open his laptop and swallowed his pride. 

He’s not into anything all that uncommon - not really anyways. Maybe unorthodox, not traditional - but not unheard of. The older he gets, the more he learns to accept it. If he wants sex to be gratifying, he’s got to work on getting rid of his shame and practicing his acceptance. Otherwise no orgasm fulfills his needs quite right and it’s more frustrating than it is anything else. 

And off the things he’s into, impact play, pegging, bratting - anything you can think of, there’s always that.. one thing. One thing he never tells any of his sexual partners and hides well enough that they never find out. 

Bakugou Katsuki likes the way his mouth feels. 

There’s probably a more proper name for it than oral fixation but that’s as close as he’s got. After countless hours of research and Freudian pseudo-science, he comes to the conclusion that’s just a bit of pervert and this is most definitely a fetish he’s developed. He can’t cum without keeping his mouth occupied - sucking, swallowing, biting. Normally, he masks it with kissing during missionary during hook-ups

Naturally though, after a somewhat committed romantic and sexual relationship with you - it’s become harder and harder to hide. In fact, it’s really tough to say he’s hiding it at all. You were the one to discover it, anyways. 

During a session of play, you pressed down on his tongue and he moaned. It was loud and lewd and absolutely unbelievable but the feeling of your fingers in his mouth were enough to make him harder. He was too in a daze to protest, and when you asked him about it afterwards, you had faced him with too much overwhelming evidence. 

It’s not like he could.. lie to you now. You saw it. 

If Bakugou knows anything about, it’s that you’re evil. So very evil. Now that you know his little secret, you like to make a game of it by putting things in his mouth and seeing how it goes. You get this sick entertainment watching him squirm, hard and frustrated. He really thinks your evil, a villain among villains. 

This is humilating but his head already feels dizzy as you poke and prod inside of his mouth. His skin is bare on the sheets as you watch his body respond eagerly to the way you run your fingers over his sharpened teeth. Drool and saliva cover the tips of your fingers as his jaw lays open.

You press down on his tongue and watch his cock twitch, a groan reverberating in his body. A bright smile crosses your face as you wrap your hand around the base of his shaft. 

“You’re so turned on,” ― your amusement irritates him deeply but you press forward ― “You just like having things in your mouth this much?”

He responds with a pathetic attempt at a growl. Wordlessly, you draw your fingers away from his mouth and let the spit fall and form webs. You shift your body until you’re over his, straddling his waist as spit covered fingers travel down to pinch his nipples. His chest is flushed red as he shuts his mouth stubbornly, looking anywhere but you. 

“’s okay baby, it’s actually kind of cute yknow?” ― you tell him, smearing spit on chest before bringing your hands back up to his lips ― “Do you like my fingers more or maybe kissing? Is that why you always wanna kiss me when I fuck you?” 

He glowers at you, sneering at the way you give him such affection. 

“I fucking hate you,” he spits. With swiftness, you slip your thumb into his mouth nudging his teeth. His hard cock throbs against your thigh. He’s a terrible liar. 

“You’re such a brat,” ― you drawl, drawing circles around his tongue with your thumb ― “I’m right aren’t I? Is that why you act like that when I fuck you and you get all whiny, begging me to kiss you? Hm?” 

You sigh when he doesn’t respond to you, sitting up to tug your shorts to one side. With nothing underneath, you let his cock rest your cunt bare. He gasps, short and soft as he watches you. You use your fingers to hold the tip up as you grind against it. 

“Just be honest with me pretty, you like it right? That’s why you always beg me to kiss you?,” ― he watches with lidded eyes as you hover just above it. He’s so obedient like this, he doesn’t even move to touch you ― “You wanna feel my tongue in your mouth right?” 

Unable to find it in himself to protest any longer, he curses, throwing his head back. 

“F-fuck, yes. N-need it, fuck” 

“How long have you been like this, Katsuki?” 

He winces at the way you address him. How your eyes look down at him so predatory. He lets out a soft, broken noise as wet heat surrounds his ock. 

“Since highschool,” 

You seem surprised but delighted by the information as you sit all the way down. You don’t move, simply watch him as his eyes blink blearily. He looks so pathetic it’s cute - trying his best to hold on his pride. Instead of replying, you lean down and kiss him. He twitches hard inside of you like he’s ready to cum right away. 

“Hngh, fuck wait - wait,’m gonna”

You don’t respond.  Steadying his jaw with your hand, you let your tongue explore his mouth. His mouth is clean and sweet - it always is when he kisses you. You wonder if it’s something he’s developed all this time but don’t think twice about it. You can feel his tongue, eager to feel yours. A full-body shiver racks through him when he feels you suck on it, letting your eyes peek at his expression. 

Fuck, he’s pretty. Blushing across the bridge of his nose down to strong chest. Such a strong hero, so weak for some french kisses. Unable to mask your amusement, you chuckle into his mouth. With a hand wrapped around his throat, you keep the pace. You can feel how close he is, but you’re not feeling kind enough to move. 

His cock twitches rapidly inside you, the sloppier you kiss him - the closer he seems to get. He gets to the edge with eager protest, thrashing as you continue to hold him down to kiss him. He groans into your open mouth, speaks muffled as he tells you that he’s cumming. 

“Hngh, fuck, fuck - I’m c-cumming,” 

He cums in you hot and fast, a ragged breath making him slump even further into the sheets. You pull away from his mouth, placing a wet kiss on his cheek. 

“You’re really so cute,” you croon. He huffs at you. 

“Fuck off,” 

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[carlosfruitsnacks]

"the manliligaw" - part 2

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5

summary:

— the twins continue to compete for your heart. They decided to ask your parents for any courting tips. For this round, they choose to woo you with traditional spoken poetry.

genre:

— modern au, fluff & humor

notes:

— female and Filipina reader. I do not speak fluent Spanish and all of the Spanish here is translated from google, feel free to correct me if I got something wrong though I will refrain from using too much Spanish. Although I am very fluent in Tagalog so there would be Tagalog dialogs here and there I’ll try to provide some translations for them

warning/s:

— none

a/n:

— ayooo part 2 is here! I've finally got the whole plot for this series all planned out though updates will be slow lol. hope y'all enjoy ^^

The moment the sun has met its peak, Camilo and Carlos are already racing each other towards your house. The two were too stubborn to miss a day without giving you a visit. Their determination to court you was beyond blatant on both of yours and their family. The Madrigal twins both stood in front of your front door and eagerly knocked in unison. To their surprise, your father answers the door.

"Uy, ang Madrigal twins"

Your father was a chill man so he greeted the two casually. Camilo and Carlos both waved at the man.

"Buenos tardes Señor [Surname], is [Name] home?"

"[Name]? Oh, sorry she went out to do some chores"

Camilo pouts with dismay, he was excited to show you a cool dance move he learned overnight. Carlos sighed and blew a strand of hair away from his eyes. 

"Mahal? Yung mga kambal ba yan?"

"Yes"

"Aba, let them inside for a moment look how hot it is outside!"

Your mother and father exchanged. Your father scratched the back of his head and welcomed the two in. The twins awkwardly entered the house, your siblings were also not around so the house felt quite spacious. Camilo and Carlos briefly looked at each other and sat on one of the chairs in the living room. The atmosphere of your house was warm and welcoming, the portraits of you and your family on the walls proved it so. The twins gazed lovingly at any picture of you that showed your smile. Your father sits in his favorite chair and pulls out a newspaper.

"Mahal, bigyan mo nga ng inumin yung dalawa"

"Do we even have any drinks?"

"Of course! Here, give them the buko juice!"

The two watched your father sigh and went to fetch the buko juice from the kitchen, the man returns with a pitcher and two cups. He settles it on the coffee table and poured them each a cup.

"Here"

"Salamat po"

Camilo and Carlos said as they quickly took the drinks. Your father's eyes went wide for a fraction of a second until an impressed smirk rises on his face. The man folds his newspaper and sets them aside, he gives the twins a good look. It's been months seen he has seen his daughter getting courted by the Madrigal twins, he's impressed with the amount of determination they had to continuously court you, but he is still overprotective.

"So, what are two planning for [Name] today?"

Your father asked them. Carlos simply shrugged and relaxed in his seat, Camilo lets out a stiff laugh and rubs the back of his neck.

"We're kinda short of ideas at the moment, Señor [Surname]"

Camilo admitted. Your father raised his eyebrows in astonishment, it was a bit of a shame considering he was looking forward to what the two had in mind. Your mother hums and enters the room, her husband looks at her.

"Mahal, nawalan sila ng ideya para kay [Name] ngayon"

"Huh? They ran out of ideas for [Name]?"

"Yes, and I kinda wanna help the boys"

"What is this? Some sort of comradery?"

Your mother chuckled at your father as they whispered to each other, the man rolled his eyes playfully. Your mother takes a seat next to her husband, she sends a smile to Camilo and Carlos.

"Running out of ideas for my daughter?"

The twins nodded their heads. There was a part inside of your mother that wanted to help Camilo and Carlos, it was fun for her to watch the two compete for your heart. It reminded her of her younger days, it made her feel old. She turns to her husband with a fond smile.

"Naalala mo pa ba nung niligawan mo ako nung high school?"

"Oh, that? I did a lot of embarrassing stuff while courting you"

Your father's face went pinkish at the mention of his younger days. He remembered that he used to chase your mother the way Camilo and Carlos did with you. He too was determined to make your mother his and he won. Your father can't help but see himself within the twins.

"Oh! Mahal! Remember when you wrote a poem for me?"

"Huh? Oh, the spoken poetry? Yeah, it made you say yes"

"How could I not? It was romantic!"

Camilo and Carlos gazed at your parents gushing about spoken poetry and how your father used it to win your mother's heart. Both had the same questions running through their heads. All of a sudden, your mother snapped her fingers, and an idea came to her mind. She grabs your father by the shoulder.

"We should teach them how to do Tagalog spoken poetry!"

"Huh? Why that?"

"Because it's romantic! And I think [Name] will love it!"

"Well, if you say so"

Your parents quickly turned to the Madrigal twins. Camilo realizes what your mother and father both said, he was a bit hesitant about the idea but it was nothing he can't do. Carlos on the other hand can't help but agree that it might be a great idea.

"So, I heard you two are running out of ideas so how about we teach you how to do spoken poetry in Tagalog!"

"You don't have to, Señora [Surname]-"

"Oh I insist, anak"

Camilo didn't know what 'anak' meant though he just nodded along. Your father casts Carlos a look.

"I think Carlos here is more suitable for me to teach"

"Okay! Then I'll teach Camilo!"

Your parents went separate ways with one of the twins. The adults began teaching them basic Tagalog phrases and how to construct a simple poem. Eventually, it was almost sundown when they finished.

"Thank you, Señora [Surname]!"

"Oh don't mention it, anak! I'm sure tomorrow, you'll make [Name] swoon!"

Camilo laughs with your mother. He meets up with Carlos who sends him a cunning grin, to his bewilderment, your father has a matching grin on his face as well.

"Watch out, pendejo. I'm gonna win [Name]'s heart before you can even bat an eyelash"

Carlos taunts his brother. Camilo crossed his arms with a raised brow, he hears your mother clicking her tongue at her husband.

"So, plano mo gawing competition 'to? Tsk, mananalo si Camilo"

"Aba, mahal, hinay-hinay ka muna dyan, siguradong mananalo si Carlos"

"No, Camilo's gonna win"

"I don't think so, love"

Your mother lets out an offended gasp and points a finger at your father. The man let out a loud chuckle in response. It turns out the two had a secret bet about which one of the twins is gonna win your heart. Your mother was already on Camilo's side from the start however your father decided to jump in the fun and bet on Carlos.

The two watched your parents taunt each other in Tagalog, they were unaware of the ongoing bet the adults agreed on. Camilo and Carlos shrugged at each other and bid your parents goodbye.

You were relaxing in the living room, phone in hand, and peacefully scrolling through social media. Lately, your parents have been behaving...unusual. You can see them sending each other glares and taunting each other in Tagalog, it wasn't often that they fought but this seemed like some sort of game between them. Suddenly, the familiar eager knocks on the door were heard, you were about to answer it until both of your parents rushed in. You watched as they opened the door and revealed the Madrigal twins.

"Right on time!"

Your mother exclaims and pulls Camilo by the arm, she swiftly dusts his shoulders off and fixed his hair. Your father rolls his eyes at the sight, Carlos copied the expression. With a raised brow, you looked at your parents giving each other challenging gazes, you have no clue what was going on.

"Ladies first, Camilo"

Carlos teases his twin, Camilo scoffs and sticks his tongue out towards his brother. The shapeshifter turns to smile in your way, he was holding a piece of paper and quickly stealing glances at it.

"[Name], aking munting bituin sa langit. Ikaw ay marikit"

Camilo begins and you can tell by the tone of his voice that he's reciting a poem to you. It slightly took you off guard but it made you interested. Your mother excitedly claps her hands.

"Ang iyong kaningningan ay kaakit-akit. Na sa tuina'y gustong kong makamit"

He pronounces in perfect Tagalog, this successfully brings a blush to your face. You couldn't bite off the smile rising on your face as you looked at Camilo. You couldn't see the proud look on your mother's face as she casts a sneer at your father. Carlos couldn't brush off the envy rising in him when he saw the sweet look you give to his twin. Immediately, he groans and pushes Camilo aside. Carlos smirks and confidently stood in front of you.

"[Name], ang iyong ngiti ay naiisip ko gabi-gabi. Nais kong halikan ang iyong mga labi"

Carlos' voice was rougher than Camilo's, but the words he told you made your face five times hotter. The shapeshifter smirks, and he notices the frustrated look on his brother's face for stealing his spotlight. Your father silently fist-pumps and grinned at your frowning mother.

"Ikaw ang gusto ko lagi, minamahal kita dinggin mo ang aking mga sinasabi"

This tugs you by the heartstrings as you gazed into Carlos' eyes. Camilo glares at his twin brother, he tries to regain your attention by pushing Carlos away. As he was about to continue his spoken poetry, Carlos stops him by jabbing his side with his elbow, Camilo yelps but quickly responded and grabs his brother by the hair. You gasped as you watched the two breaking into a catfight, you were about to stop the brawl until you hear your mother and father arguing.

"You cheated!"

"What?! I never! Maybe it was you!"

"How dare you! Camilo was going to win until Carlos ruined it!"

"But did you see the look on [Name]'s face? She clearly liked Carlos more!"

Your face scrunched after hearing their argument, it doesn't take long for you to realize that your parents did have a bet. You rolled your eyes at the ridiculousness of the situation; two brothers and adults going for each other's throats in front of you. All you did was face-palm and shake your head from side to side. Here you thought someone's gonna win your heart today. Eventually, you sighed and casually grabbed Camilo and Carlos by their ears. They both winced.

"Come with me, you tontos"

You dragged the twins outside leaving your parents to argue about which one of them won the bet. You took the twins to the nearest ice cream parlor, and you looked at them disappointedly as you licked your favorite ice cream. Camilo and Carlos avoided your gaze as they clutched their red ears.

"So, you two didn't know that my parents were betting on which one of you would win?"

"No, Lo siento"

The two said in unison with their head hung low. It was quite cute to see the twins like this so you let your frustration fade away. You didn't get why your mother and father were willing to go against each other all because of you. As you continue eating the cool dessert, you think to yourself, you have to pick between them or none at all eventually. You didn't want to waste their time because of all of this courting. You sighed, Camilo and Carlos looked at you thoughtfully.

"You know, I liked the spoken poetry competition earlier if it weren't for my parents' stupid bet"

"Really?"

You smiled and nodded your head. The portion of the poems they recited genuinely made you fuzzy inside. The Madrigal twins take note of the pinkish hue on your cheeks as you cast your glance aside, this was another chance for them. Camilo clears his throat.

"We can uh, you know, do it again if you'd like..."

A tiny laugh escapes your lips, you pay for your dessert and stood up. They immediately follow you out of the ice cream parlor like lost puppies.

"You know what? I think I would love that"

You say with a wide smile that showed your teeth, the sight causes the two to melt inside. As you were about to head home, you sucked in a huge breath and then pulled them both into a friendly hug. Camilo and Carlos promptly went short-circuited as they buried themselves in the embrace. You shyly pulled away, hoping they wouldn't notice your flushed face. God, what is up with you blushing lately?!

"Thanks for uh, accompanying me on getting ice cream. Um, bye"

With that awkwardly said, you turned your heel and speed-walked all the way home. Once you were out of their peripheral vision, you buried your face with your hands. You can't believe you impulsively decided to give them a hug. Oh, those twins are one step further into driving you insane.

Meanwhile, Camilo and Carlos stood motionless for a moment. They shared a glance with identical love-struck expressions on their faces.

"Dios, she looked so cute, Carlos"

"Yeah, the only thing you and I agree on"

At home, after you returned, your parents have profusely apologized for taking over Camilo and Carlos' courting. You shrugged them off and told them to not do it next time. Your mother pouts and apologizes to your father out of your earshot, and your father reciprocates.

"Mahal, maybe [Name] doesn't like spoken poetry after all..."

"Yeah, I mean she's not you"

"Excuse me?"

"The kid's got better taste than you"

From inside your room, you let out a heavy sigh as you hear your parents having another petty fight. You didn't know if it was because of their age or something else, but you couldn't stress enough so you ignored them.

taglist: @nothearts4yu @vanevafu @irisia-ckzkb1109 @elegantkidfansoul

masterlist

[itsclydebitches]

Continuing my tradition of watching questionable television because a fave from another show is in it, I’ve started The Canterville Ghost (2021) and, the quality of the show aside, all us Ted/Trent fans are in agreement that we need an AU of this, right? Right??

Ted is a wealthy, seemingly clueless American who has moved his wife and young son out into the English countryside with the hope of patching up his failing marriage. What he doesn’t know is that the mansion he’s purchased is haunted by the ghost of Rupert Mannion and the wife he murdered, Rebecca. Ted, rather surprised when Henry’s ghost hunting turns out to be 100% accurate, is incredibly welcoming of his two unexpected housemates, resulting in Rebecca, after hundreds of years, slowly breaking away from Rupert’s control. What if she doesn’t want to haunt the Lassos anymore? What if she doesn’t want them to leave? What if she enjoys Ted’s company, despite his incorrect opinion of tea? What then, Rupert?

Meanwhile, while ghost shenanigans occur, Ted is likewise charming his incredibly wary neighbors. I mean, he’s mostly making a fool of himself by drinking from the finger bowl and then spraying that all over the table after he realizes what it’s for, but he’s making headway nonetheless. Genuine kindness can make up for a lot! Astoundingly, he’s managed to hit it off with Roy, the youngest in the Kent line, and Jamie Tartt, the ever-present thorn in Roy’s side. The fact that the Kents and the Tartts have despised each other for generations certainly doesn’t help matters and that makes Ted’s friendship with both... complicated. However, his most interesting neighbor in the handsome Trent Crimm, widowed father of one, whose friendship becomes more and more important to Ted as he realizes that he needs to let Michelle go...

Other details may include:

Them still sharing the house together because there’s 158 rooms, Ted. We could go days without seeing each other. Platonically sharing a mansion is a pretty good compromise between having space and being available for Henry.

Nate is the groundskeeper whose adoration of Ted slowly morphs into jealousy as he wins over the entire countryside. The Shelleys are an old, respectable family... but no one else seems to think that with the Tartts and the Kents around.

Maybe Ted is rich because he invented a line of BBQ sauce lol.

BBC Ghost-esque bonding as Rebecca, despite being dead, becomes a full-fledged member of the family. Henry helps her plot how to send Rupert to the afterlife.

Ted discovers that Trent never learned how to ride a horse, a truly shameful secret out here, and immediately offers to teach him. Of course he knows how to ride, Trent, his last name is Lasso.

All sorts of stuffy, long-standing, stupidly gendered social rules that Ted enjoys breaking, which includes the horror of a man spending his days baking in a novelty apron. Everyone is a little horrified, but Trent overcomes that first because dammit, those biscuits are the only thing his daughter will eat right now, so Ted has to keep making them. What do you mean he’s been visiting the Lassos an awful lot? It’s for the biscuits and the biscuits only.

Beard is the man who lives on the grounds. That’s it. Is he homeless? He says no. Then why is he there? That’s for him to know and for you to maybe find out. He lives on the grounds, he knows approximately everything, and he and Ted hit it off like a house on fire.

[n0bamak1s]

mutual - mai zenin x reader

request: “Could you write mai x non-binary s/o, where mai is realizing that she has a crush on s/o, it'd be funny to see her reaction when the s/o get asked by todo before they spar, abt the kind of woman s/o like, and s/o just shrug and answer 'mai, i guess'.” - @814519

summary: reader seems to take a liking to mai, who refuses to acknowledge her schoolgirl crush on them, and todo somehow manages to be the one to get them to stop dancing around their feelings for each other. (genre: fluff, mutual pining, slice of life-y)

warnings: swearing, mentions of fighting, mostly just fluff

word count: 2.7k

a/n: i’m sorry to take a long ass hiatus again but i have some fics i’m working on rn!! thank you all sm for being so patient with how slow i can be T_T btw this one includes some very mild miwa x reader as well just as a heads up lol!

when you first transferred schools in order to master your cursed technique, your first instinct was to raise an eyebrow at your classmates. the lineup of students in your school consisted of a boy who might as well be a bodybuilder, a blonde girl whose hair seemed to defy gravity, an awkward looking stoic boy clad in traditional clothing, a girl with a gun holster on the side of her baggy pants who wore a bored expression as her gaze met yours, and a normal looking blue haired girl standing next to some rusty looking robot. with all their strange hairstyles and odd clothing choices, combined with how nonchalant they were about their mechanical companion, they might as well be the cast of some forgotten sitcom from the 80s.

after introducing yourself to your stiff new classmates, you were whisked away to be led to your dorm by the blue haired girl (would you call her a “bluenette”?) who you learned was called miwa. as you walked, you asked her questions about her cursed technique, to which she sheepishly smiled and explained how she was the most “useless” of the students.

in response to her shameless self deprecation, you simply scoffed and sent an easy smile her way. “you really shouldn’t beat yourself up like that miwa, if you do it’ll be much easier for your opponents to.” despite the teasing nature of your words, you really did hope you’d managed to encourage her a bit.

miwa turned to you with bright eyes and a sincere smile. “that means a lot, really! it’ll be so nice to have an upperclassman here who isn’t so intimidating. i’m always so nervous to ask mai for help with stuff, so it’s nice to know you believe in me!”

her smile was infectious as you mirrored your junior’s facial expression. “there’s no need to be scared of them you know, believe me, just because they’re older doesn’t mean they have any idea what they’re doing.”

she shrugged in response. “i guess you might be right, this morning mai was practically shaking in her boots about getting to meet you, so maybe it’s all just a tough facade!”

you thought back to the girl who had introduced herself as mai.

what first caught your eye was the way she carried herself. while next to her other classmates as she introduced herself to you, arms crossed over her chest and back straight, as if it was an attempt to look high and mighty. rather than a proper introduction, she simply told you her name, before looking away boredly. the both of you chose to ignore the way todo teased her, before turning to introduce himself with a smug smile. he opened his mouth to seemingly ask you something, but was quickly cut off by mai stomping on his foot, sending him a harsh look. she glanced back at you with a slightly softer expression and a monotone apology for “his idiocy.”

you chuckled quietly at the idea of the girl who presented herself as so blunt and cold getting all nervous at the idea of your arrival.

breaking you out of your reminiscence, miwa waved her hands in front of her nervously as she turned to you. “just please don’t tell her i said that!” her guilty expression rivaled that of a kid who’d been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

before she could continue in her nervous exclamation about how intimidated she was by her senior, you grabbed her hands that had been motioning wildly to match her words. “don’t worry miwa, i’d never sell you out like that.” you let out a small chuckle as you examined the genuine worry on her face, to which she just sheepishly smiled. it was funny to you how scared she seemed of her seniors, but it couldn’t help you from getting an odd urge to want to protect the small girl.

“besides,” your smile turned sly “, if what you say is true, i bet mai would be too shy to even talk to me!” a loud laugh escaped your lips as you continued your way down the dorm halls with long strides. behind you, miwa sped up when remembering she was supposed to be the one escorting you to your dorm.

“come on, that’s not fair to hang it over my head like that!” she whined as she managed to match your pace.

as miwa trailed ever so slightly behind you, you caught sight of a newly familiar head of dark hair (under the fluorescent lighting you couldn’t entirely tell whether it was green or black.)

“mai!” you called out to the girl you’d been newly acquainted with, raising one hand in greeting and slinging the other around your very embarrassed looking juniors shoulders.

the girl you’d shouted to turned to you with heavy lidded eyes that gave her face a bored, almost annoyed, expression. her turning your way was quickly followed by todo, who you guessed had been standing next to her, glancing over the hallway corner to meet your gaze. those two made an odd pair, from what you could tell. in contrast to mai’s impassive greeting, todo had introduced himself with booming confidence, before going on to complain to utahime that he’d have to leave in order to make it back to his dorm to score tickets for a concert featuring takeda. in the moment, you had to stifle a laugh at the memory of such an intimidating looking dude having a huge crush on an idol with absolutely no shame about it.

mai opened her mouth to say something, but was quickly cut off by todos roaring voice. “hey new kid!” his demeanor had been as confident as you remember, despite the fact that you were pretty sure he’d forgotten your name in the short time from when you had left to see your dorm. you gave him a smile and a lopsided wave in response.

“did you snag those tickets you were worried about earlier todo?”

“easily.” he bragged as if you cared about getting a pair of tickets for yourself. “however, earlier i meant to ask you a question, but SHE,” he pointed a thumb annoyedly at his companion, “very rudely interrupted me by stepping on my foot.”

“todo…” mai’s tone seemed warning as her eyes flickered between you and him.

“as much as i would LOVE to hear what your question is todo, i really do have to go unpack” you smiled abashedly, pulling miwa to your side, who nodded with wide eyes at how unphased you were.

“it might be better to ask when we spar later.” he shrugged. “that way i can really hear your impulse answer.” he crossed his arms, clearly to look intimidating.

“works for me! i’ll see you then too, mai.” you winked at her as you tugged miwa along behind you. mai huffed at your embarrassing show of flirtatiousness, but you didn’t miss the slight flush of her cheeks as she turned from you while rounding the corner.

even as you were close to the door of your dorm at the end of the hall, you could still hear mai berating todo for how embarrassing he was.

“i think she likes me.” a cat like grin overtook your face as you stopped in front of your dorm.

“utahime said your uniform would be folded on your bed, once you’re changed you can join us for sparring.” miwa smiled bashful smile. she’d probably chosen to ignore your previous statement in hopes of not being dragged into any drama.

“thanks miwa!” you grinned and gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder, to which she simply looked away timidly.

“it’s no problem, really.” she waved off your appreciation. “but between the two of us, i think you may be right about mai liking you.”

she bowed before running off, probably to get ready for sparring, leaving you grinning like an idiot in response to her revelation.

maybe the feeling was kinda mutual.

you were quick to change into your all black uniform pants and jacket, then breaking into a stride to the yard where sparring took place. that was, until you realized you were wandering rather aimlessly considering, you know, you didn’t really know where the yard was yet. peering around the hallway, your eye caught on an oh so familiar girl adorned in baggy black pants.

“hey mai!” you almost had it in you to feel bad for approaching her yet again.

almost.

“i’m kinda lost, d’you think i could walk with you?”

she nodded a yes in response, motioning with a hand for you to follow her.

after a one too many moments of awkward silence, you decided you’d have to be the one to bite the bullet and break it. “you know that thing todo was saying earlier about having a question he needed to ask me?” she looked up in a way that made her seem as if she’d just been brought out of being lost in her thoughts.

“what of it?”

“do you happen to know what it was? he seemed pretty serious about it.” well, as serious as todo could get.

to your surprise, mai attempted to stifle a chuckle, before a laugh managed to slip past her.

“it’s this totally dumb thing he likes to do.” she tilted her head slightly back so she looked at the ceiling as she talked. “to size people up, he likes to ask them what their type in women is.”

you let out a snort as you laughed, though you couldn’t say you were surprised.

“he seems like such a hopeless romantic, it’s hilarious.”

“yeah.” a soft smile painted her face. “but you’d better get an answer ready, if he thinks you’re too boring he’ll beat your ass.”

“really now?” you raised an eyebrow, to which she nodded in confirmation. “what does he classify as ‘boring’?”

she shrugged. “depends. whenever someone prefers personality he either beats the shit out of them or starts crying.” it was clear in her tone how exasperated her friend made her.

“what did you say? when he asked you?” you turned to face her fully, which made her realize how close together your faces were. for just a beat, she paused to examine your expression. despite your earlier teasing, you seemed sincere in your question. either you were oblivious to the blush spreading across her face, or you chose not to tease her for it.

before an answer could leave her parted open lips, she was interrupted by a voice calling both of your names.

“hey toshinori!” you smiled at the stone faced boy in front of you as you used mai’s shoulder as an armrest.

“it’s noritoshi.” the monotony in his voice made you stifle a laugh. “and you guys are running late for sparring, what were you even doing?”

her eyes glowered in his direction, clearly not in the mood to play hall monitor with him. “i was just being welcoming to our new classmate.”

he ignored her passive aggressive response and turned to you. “todo keeps asking where you are, so you might wanna hurry up.” with a swift turn, he began walking down the hallway with long strides.

once he seemed out of earshot, you burst into laughter, and from your arm you could feel mai’s shoulders shake from repressing a giggle.

“he walks like a goddamn penguin!” you referred to how his arms were wide at his sides and his stiff steps.

“him and mechamaru walk the exact same way, i’m starting to think he might just be a more advanced robot.” her dry tone was combatted by the way the corners of her mouth turned up in a lopsided grin.

“though, we should probably get going, even if i get a pass for being new here, i’m not sure how utahime would react to you being late.”

you didn’t notice how her eyes softened at your concern for her as you beckoned for her to lead the way.

“i don’t think she’d mind, after all utahime loves me for my pep and bubbly spirit.” her voice oozed with sarcasm while you smiled to yourself about how you’d managed to get her to loosen up.

the walk to the sparring field was quick, and it made you wonder how much time you two had taken just talking at the end of the hallway. you were greeted by the sight of your strangely styled classmates (plus the literal robot) beginning to split into pairs. before you could turn to mai with the question of partnering up, you were greeted by a todo with a firm hand on your shoulder.

“we’re partnering up, new kid!” it was more of a declaration than an offer. you smiled awkwardly as his shadow enveloped your figure, seeing mai be whisked away by momo out of the corner of your eye. if you’d looked close enough, you’d have been able to see the annoyed look mai sent at todo and the smug smile momo flashed at mai and her obvious display of jealousy.

you planted your feet on the ground that was caked in dust and prepared yourself into a fighting stance, with fists raised and legs steady. though it seemed you’d gotten prepared to defend from an attack that wasn’t coming. instead, todo marched over to you confidently. mai glanced over from her sparring, knowing exactly what was coming.

he called your name in his usual booming voice, which you were surprised he actually knew.

“what is your type in women?” he towered over you, his expression dead serious despite his absolutely ridiculous question.

feeling mai’s eyes trailing you, you glanced over to her. she mouthed something to you about not saying personality. you failed to hold back a chuckle, which seemed to snap todo out of his intimidating glower.

his gaze followed yours, which was still focused on mai for the briefest of moments.

“ohhhh i get it…you’ve got a thing for mai, huh?” he sounded like a child about to blackmail their sibling.

a furious blush overtook mai’s face practically instantly, while momo covered her mouth with a hand to suppress a laugh. you glanced between a boastful looking todo and a tomato looking mai.

“yeah i guess you could say she’s my type.” you shrugged nonchalantly, to which you could hear mai sputtering something about how you were just trying to embarrass her. miwa had a sheepish look on her face as she walked over to check on mai, though it only seemed to make her more flustered when miwa asked if she wanted to go to the nurse.

while witnessing the admittedly charming trainwreck happening in front of you, there was a moment for you to look back at todo.

“are you CRYING?”

“i have no shame in it. it’s like mai is my daughter and i’m walking her down the aisle at her wedding.”

“it’s absolutely nothing like that, todo.”

he ignored your blatant confusion at his reaction. “young love is so beautiful. you have my full blessing to date mai.” he sniffles and wiped his nose, then held it out for you to shake, to which you scrunched your nose in disgust.

“thanks for the ‘blessing’ and all, but now that we’re done with that, i think i should go spar with lover girl over there.” you threw your thumb over your shoulder to point to mai.

“you guys should join me and takeda for a double date! we can arrange a date once she finally answers my calls.” todo had a large grin, shameless about his tear stained cheeks.

“how about it?” you raised an eyebrow at mai, who had become significantly more composed in the time you hadn’t been looking in her direction.

“absolutely not.” she deadpanned, though her impassive look didn’t last very long as she leaned over to whisper in your ear, cracking a small smile reserved for you. “i’d rather we just hang out without that oaf, you know it’s embarrassing for them to see how you get me acting like a schoolgirl with her first crush.”

the moment paused for a split second for her to glance at todo, who was staring you down like a disapproving father.

“plus lord knows takeda isn’t answering him anytime soon.”

“I HEARD THAT!”

[ppersonna]

tempestuous - kth | m

tem·pes·tu·ous - adjective - characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion

↳ summary- There’s no one who riles you up more than Kim Taehyung, your best friend’s brother.  He knows exactly how to make you fly off the handle.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 6.8k

↳ pairing- taehyung x reader

↳ genre- smut, minor angst i guess in the form of fighting, this is one big pile of smut, there’s some fluff too

↳ warnings- yikes where to begin.  angry sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don’t be like dis), slapping, spanking, pain kink, dom/sub elements, facefucking, really rough sex, finger sucking, derogatory names, uhhh name calling, hate sex, tae is fuckin nasty yall im thriving

↳ a/n- I HAD TO REUPLOAD bc tumblr sucks lol well folks. here we are.  i was given a prompt by @ladyartemesia​ so i blame her.  as for tae, he really came for me this week and completely wrecked me, love that for me. i really popped off here and it’s only edited by me so i’m SORRY if there’s a lot of mistakes.  fun fact i actually wrote almost 10k of another version of this but it frustrated me so badly i scrapped it lmao  🤡 HERE WE GO! Enjoy!  feel free to send in your requests and i promise to try and get it done for you! 

Kim Taehyung could only be described in a few words.

Infuriating, bothersome, vexing.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, suave.

Absolutely, inherently maddening.

And you hate how much you absolutely melt underneath his gaze, the way your heart leaps into your throat with a single word.  Your body, the ultimate betrayer, opens up to him as your brain screams to abort, reverse, go back to start and do not pass go.

Kim Taehyung is not just the bane of your existence, no.  He’s the little brother of your best friend, Kim Namjoon.   Joonie had been in your life since you were in first grade and he in second.  Taehyung was your age, but you hit it off with the older boy and haven’t separated since.  Your mothers joked that you would get married one day and continue on the Kim line.  Until they found out that Namjoon was 1) bisexual and 2) hopelessly in love with, ironically, a man named Kim Seokjin.   He reasoned to his parents that they would at least carry on the Kim name.  

Where Namjoon was sweet, caring, and deeply compassionate towards you, Taehyung was his alter.  Taehyung was brash, cocky and relished in watching you squirm, whether it be out of fury or the god forsaken sexual tension.  All growing up, he was the one to pull your pigtails, trip you into puddles of mud, and tease you in front of your friends. Namjoon, ever the faithful companion, was always there to pick up the pieces of what Taehyung broke.

It’s been that way with Taehyung ever since. A constant tug of war with each other, both unwilling to give a single inch to the opponent.  

Your relationship with Namjoon remained steadfast as ever.  Namjoon eventually moved in with his now-husband, Seokjin, who easily settled into your life as an additional partner in crime.  You spent most of your days and nights settled into the couch, snuggled somehow in between or next to one of the two men you cherished most.  You had the two best friends you could ask for and a happy life, blissfully Taehyung-free.

Until it wasn’t.

A loud knock wakes you from an unexpected nap on Namjoon’s couch.  Your eyes crack open against the glare of the sunlight streaming through the windows.  It takes a moment to gather your surroundings.  You recognize that you’re in Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, and judging by the silence, you’re definitely alone there.  As you reach for your phone, the screen lights up the time.  5:34 pm.  Well, shit. You remember eating brunch and drinking mimosas at noon with your best friends and then lying on the couch to watch Netflix.  How had you fallen asleep for five hours?  How did you not wake? What the fuck did Jin put in his mimosas?

The knock is insistent again, louder this time.

“Joon! Jin! it’s me! Open up!”

The voice sounds familiar in your sleep-addled mind, but not quite enough to pinpoint it.   You push your limp body off the couch and wince at the feeling of sore muscles.  Couch sleeping isn’t all it’s cracked up to be once you’re past the age of 25.

“Sorry, Namjoon isn’t here-,” You open the door to explain to the guest and you’re cut off.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You rub at your sleepy eyes and allow your vision to focus, only to feel your blood stand still in your veins.

Kim Taehyung.  Of fucking course.

“What do you mean, why am I here? I’m always here,” you tut as you fold your arms to your chest.  “What are you doing here?”

He rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, two suitcases clutched in each.  Who the fuck carries 4 suitcases up three flights of stairs? Kim annoying ass Taehyung does, apparently.

“I’m moving in.”  He pushes past you and into the living room.  

Your mouth gapes open.  Namjoon certainly didn’t tell you this.  Taehyung looks back at chuckles at your reaction.

“I’m guessing your best friend didn’t tell you the happy news?”

You shut your mouth, quickly jumping back into composure.  “No, he failed to mention that,” you sniff.  “I thought you lived with your girlfriend in Gangnam?  What was her name? Rose or whatever?”

Tae stiffens, just slightly for a moment, before he plasters back on the bravado.  “Obviously not anymore.  We broke up, she kept the apartment.  Got tired of moping at my mom’s house and I told Namjoon I wanted to come back to the city.”

You feel a slight tug at your stomach, guilt, perhaps?  You clear your throat.  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He laughs as he sits on the couch, instantly throwing his feet onto the coffee table, like a heathen.  “No, you’re not.”  

“What do you mean, no I’m not? God, sorry for being polite!”

This, you reason, is why you can’t sustain longer than 5 minutes of civilized conversation with your best friend’s younger brother.  He’s impossible.

He just smirks, and you know he loves the rise he gets out of you.

“Because I know you, and I know you don’t give a fuck about my love life.”

Au contraire. If only he knew just how much you gave a fuck.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be nice to you!” you nearly stamp your foot in frustration but hold yourself back. That would be too good of ammo for him to use against you.

“Okay, fine,” he acquiesces. “Whatever helps you feel you’re a good person.”

You’re seeing red and you know you want to continue screaming at him but you will not stoop to his level.

“Christ, I haven’t seen you in months and you’re still an asshole,” you say as you grab your keys and shoes. “And also, Jin will kill you if he sees your feet on his coffee table.”

You whip yourself around and open the door to leave and hear him call over your shoulder.

“Good to see you too, doll! Love the hairstyle, by the way.”

You close the door with a growl leaving your throat.  The absolute audacity of that man.

You stomp towards the elevator to take yourself to the ground level, when you catch your reflection in the shiny metal. Your hair is in what you can only lovingly call a complete hornet’s nest. It’s ratted and sticking out in places and you feel your cheeks burn.  Your first reintroduction with Taehyung is with a fight AND with you looking like a fool.

This would not do. No, sir.

“Kim Namjoon!” you shriek into your cell phone.  You’re awkwardly pressing it against your ear with your shoulder as you walk out of the convenience store under your apartment building with 3 bottles of soju and a six-pack of beer. You needed to drown your shame and sorrow, and fast.

“Hello, love of my life and moon of my stars,” your best friend replies and you can hear Seokjin chuckle in the background.

“No!” You chide, already cracking a beer open as you storm into your apartment building. “Don’t you Khal Drogo me, mister! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me your fucking asshole brother was moving in with you?!”

Namjoon is silent and you can tell he’s wincing on the other end of the phone. “Oops?” He offers.

“Yeah, big oops! A heads up would have been nice! Like, ‘hey best friend, your worst enemy of all time is moving in today. Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep on my couch and wake up looking like Frankenstein’s ugly wife. Oh, and also my handsome boyfriend and I will just happen to not be there when he arrives’.”

By this time, you can tell Namjoon has put you on speakerphone because you can hear their rich laughter loud and clear. Rude bitches.

You stab your key code into your door and lock yourself in, chugging as much of the beer as you could handle.

“At least, even in her rants she thinks I’m handsome,” Jin gloats.

“I’m sorry babe,” Namjoon sighs as he finally calms down. “I didn’t know he would be there today. I just found out about it last night.”

You nibbled at your bottom lip, the annoying pit in your stomach feeling simultaneously guilty that he went through a breakup, unbridled joy that something brought him down a peg, and just a dash of excitement that he’s single now.

You let out a breath. “It’s okay, Joon.  It just surprised me to see him.”

Jin butts in, “And because you have a big, fat, unresolved crush on him.”

“Jin!” You admonish. The couple laughs again and you roll your eyes, asking yourself why you put up with the two. “I do not!”

They both hum a non-committal answer, implying they don’t believe you in the slightest.

“Whatever.  What are you guys doing, anyway?”

“We just got home from shopping.  God, Jin looked so good in these jeans he tried on.  I was actually just about to suck his coc-,”

“Kim Namjoon, do not finish that sentence! I do not wish to hear it!” You try to remain firm, but dissolve into giggles with the pair.

You could never stay mad at Namjoon long, even if his brother was the devil incarnate.

“Darling,” Jin calls through the phone.  “I still expect to see you at our place tonight for our sleepover.”

Christ, you had forgotten all about your scheduled sleepover night.  It was tradition and one of your favorite parts of your friendship with the couple.  Jin, a literal chef, prepared a five star meal along with dessert for you while you binge watched Netflix and talked incessantly.

But you also usually slept in their spare bedroom.  The exact one that Taehyung would be occupying.

“Fuck, while he’s there?”

“Oh suck it up,” Jin chides, like he’s your mother. “He’s probably not even going to leave his room.  You’re not getting out of this.  I’m making strawberry cheesecake.”

Your mouth waters at the idea of Jin’s famous cheesecake.  

“Fine, but I get to lick the bowl and not Namjoon.  Those are my terms.”

Namjoon squawked in defiance as Jin laughed.  “I agree to your terms.  Be at our place by 8.”

As you hung up the phone, you checked the time.  6:40.  God, he hadn’t left you with much time to get ready, did he?

And you definitely needed to get ready.  There was no way you were entering a room where Kim Taehyung exists looking like booboo the fool, not again.

Your fingers press the 6 digit passcode to Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, arms heavy laden with your bag of toiletries and pajamas, and a bag full of wine.

“Honey, I’m home!” You announce as you toe off your shoes and slide into the combined kitchen and living room.

You receive no reply, but greeted with the amused face of none other than the object of your filthiest dreams, Taehyung.

“Pet names already?  We’re moving pretty fast, wouldn’t you say?” He asks you as he lounges at the kitchen table.  He watches you open the fridge to set the wine, as comfortable in their home as you are in yours.

“Fuck off,” you grumble. “Where’s your brother?”

Tae seemed absolutely tickled by your disgruntlement.  “I think they mentioned something about taking a shower.  That was 20 minutes ago, though.”

“Great,” you sigh. “Those fucking horn dogs act as if they’re still newlyweds.  We’ll be waiting awhile.”  

You tug off your sweater, leaving you to remain in a fitted tank top and yoga pants.  You tried to maintain a comfortable look as you dressed for the evening, while keeping in mind which leggings hugged your ass and showed off your toned thighs, and a tank top that dipped low to your cleavage.  Okay, so maybe you had ulterior motives. You wanted to make up for your dreadful appearance earlier and make him squirm, payback for the years of him doing it to you.

You watch him as he lets his eyes roam your body, eying you like he wants to ravage you completely. You feel victorious… and also turned on. Fuck, you played yourself.

You flop onto the couch in a huff and Tae snorts before joining you.

“What’s so funny?” You eye him suspiciously.

“Nothing,” his smile feigns innocence. “I’m not allowed to laugh?”

You sniff in annoyance, not eager to fall for his tricks. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, your highness.”  Sarcasm drips from your voice and Tae finds it even more humorous.

“I see you’re still a sassy bitch.”

You gasp, audibly startled by his language and rise from the couch, fists clenched.

“I see you’re still a conceited dick!”

He rises to meet you where you stand, eyes boring into your own with his stupid sexy grin on his face.  “I see you’re still not one to back down from a fight.”

You step closer, close enough to feel his breath on your face.  Idly, you note it smells like peppermint and you move closer on reflex.

“Yeah? I see you’re still not one to avoid starting a fight in the first place!” you huff.

“Oh, I started it?”  

“Yeah, you started it! You called me a bitch!”

You can’t believe this is happening.  You feel as if you’re 6 again and fighting with him over a toy.

“A sassy bitch, actually,” he corrects, taking another step forward, bodies touching.

“Fuck you!”

“Only if you say please,” he quips before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours in a scorching hot kiss.

There’s not even a moment of hesitation on your end, immediately pulling him even closer and wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing his tongue entrance to your mouth.  Your body reacts to his instantly, as if it’s wired to respond to him and him only. Your mind was blank of anything except Tae, only Tae please, and you acted purely on instinct alone.  And instinct was pulling him closer and begging, more, anything he could give.

The sound of laughter coming from the hallway pulls you apart, neither of you wanting to get caught by Namjoon or Jin.  You stare at him, his lips are cherry red and slightly swollen and the image burns into your retinas.  He has such pretty lips after you’ve kissed him.

“Oh hey! What’s going on here?” Namjoon asks as he notices the intense eye-battle you’re engaged in with his younger brother.

It shakes you out of the spell, eye contact broken and hypnosis halted.  

“Just, errrr,” you falter to find the right words to explain the situation.

“Just getting reacquainted.”  Tae sounds completely unaffected, as if the passionate kiss you shared with him seconds ago was but a distant memory.  Asshole.

“I’m surprised you two haven’t thrown anything at each other yet,” Jin laughs. “Or thrown yourselves at each other.”

Both you and Taehyung whip to look directly at Jin.

“Her!?” Tae is incredulous. “Gross.”

You’ll never admit out loud that his words wound you.

“You’re an asshole, Taehyung,” you punctuate your words by turning away from him and towards Namjoon, who appears amused as ever.

“Ah, I love when my best friend and my little brother are screaming at each other.  Feels like old times.  Can one of you cry now to complete the moment?”

Taehyung grumbles under his breath, something you can’t catch, and stalks off to his room.  The slam of his door reverberates in the apartment and Jin jumps and turns to yell down the hall at his brother-in-law.

“Yah! Don’t break my apartment! I still owe money on this!”

Despite Taehyung’s appearance every so often in the kitchen or living room, the rest of the night goes on with no annoying disturbances.

Jin spoils you and his husband with expensive food, and the best cheesecake you’ve ever eaten in your life.  Plus, you’re given the bowl to lick clean despite a desperately adorable pout from Namjoon you were sure would persuade Jin.

You’re settled on the couch, snuggling in the middle of the couple as an action movie flickers across the big screen tv.  Truthfully, you haven’t paid attention to a single thing happening, your thoughts entirely too absorbed in Taehyung and that deliciously infuriating kiss.  

Why did he do it?  You couldn’t comprehend his reasoning.  Perhaps he was doing it to piss you off.  He’s never angered you with that level of intimacy before, but you didn’t put it past him.

You’re surprised when the credits of the movie start rolling and Jin and Namjoon fake loud yawns.

“Oh man, I’m beat,” Namjoon lies.

Jin is quick to join. “Me too, I think I’ll pass out the moment I hit the pillow.”

You roll your eyes at the men. “Will you two please go fuck already, I know that’s what you’re going to do.”

Namjoon blanches, but Jin laughs and kisses your cheek. “Ah, my smart, beautiful and chaotic child,” he coos. He leans in to your ear, voice low to keep his husband from listening. “I don’t think I’m the only one in this house who’s going to get pounded into a mattress.”  

He pulls back and winks at you, deftly ignores Namjoon’s confusion and sadness of being left out, and drags him to their bedroom with a loud ‘goodnight’.

You’re left to stew in your own emotions, which is never a good thing.  Was the tension that obvious? You always assumed it had been one-sided, but the kiss befuddled you more than you’d like to admit.

It finally snapped in your mind, all the dots connecting. That’s why he did it.  

He kissed you so you’d stew and simmer and eventually erupt, like you’re doing now.  Taehyung knows you too well for your comfort.

You grab your bag of clothes and storm towards the bathroom to change, promising yourself to forget about the kiss and not give Taehyung what he wants.

Except you’re not very good at promises, especially to yourself.

You can’t say you’re excited to sleep on the couch again.  While it’s a nice couch, it’s definitely not a bed and your back will pay the price tomorrow.  You supposed it was better than the floor, but not by much.

After dressing in your pajamas, a purposefully picked out combination of tiny shorts and a sports bra in case Taehyung happens upon you, you return to your bed for the night in the living room.

Namjoon graciously left blankets and a pillow out for you, and you’re complaining internally about Taehyung the whole time you make yourself a spot to sleep.  If it wasn’t for stupid Taehyung and his stupid existence, you’d be sleeping like a baby on the guest bed that you loved.  But no, they relegated you to the couch like an animal.

Sleep was not in the cards tonight, it seems.  You toss and turn and try to press at the cushions to move a lump around and get comfortable, but it’s all for naught.  You’re wide awake and very, very uncomfortable.  You didn’t understand how you fell asleep on this very couch earlier in the day.  Maybe the mimosas you had at brunch with the couple had been helpful.

A thought crosses your mind. Alcohol.  Maybe a nice glass of wine would help tuck you into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.  A nightcap. Of course.  You were angry at yourself for not thinking of it hours ago.  

You slipped out of your disagreeable bed and into the kitchen, trying not to make a sound.  Jin’s beloved kitchen was also an echo chamber of noise, even the slightest sound bouncing off its walls and amplifying it through the whole house.  You still remember the way you jumped five feet in the air when Jin accidentally broke a plate.  It sounded like a bomb explosion.

You bite your lip as you carefully pry the cabinet of wine glasses open, careful to not even allow a squeak of a hinge.  You silently beg to stay silent and not wake anyone in the house.  You didn’t want to be caught drinking wine at 2 am in the dark, that’s difficult to explain without looking like an alcoholic.

With glass in hand, you tiptoe the fridge to pull out the bottle of merlot, thinking the heavy red wine would be the best to get you sleepy and quick.  

You tug the cork from the bottle and pour a healthy amount into the stemware with a smile.  Liquid sleep.  And you had done it without making a single sound. Perfection. The smell of the alcohol permeates through your nose as you lift the glass, placing it to your lips to take a sip.

“Wine at this hour?” the unexpected voice of Taehyung echos through the kitchen, making you yelp and jolting you hard enough that you drop the hard-earned glass of wine to the tile floor, red wine splashing as the sound of glass shattering is reverberating off the walls.

“Fuck!” You screech at the intruder.  Taehyung doubles over, laughing as if he’s seen nothing funnier than what just transpired.  “You asshole!”

You listen past Taehyung’s incessant laughter to ensure the owners of the apartment hadn’t awoken during the ruckus. You definitely did not want to face a tired and agitated Jin to tell him you shattered one of his Tiffany crystal goblets.

Beyond Tae, the house is silent and you’re thanking whatever god is listening for keeping your best friends asleep.

The wine is everywhere, spilling into the cracks of the tile and splattered on the walls.  The crystal stemware is too; it shattered with such force that you see flecks of the shrapnel in all four corners of the room.

Tae wipes a tear from his face and you square a tempestuous look at him.  

“Fucking help me!  You made me drop it!”

Through snorts, he replies. “I didn’t make you do anything.  You did that on your own.”  Although he is arguing with you, he’s gingerly stepping into the kitchen and kneeling to pick up shards of glass.

“I wouldn’t have dropped it if you had come into the room like a fucking normal person,” you grit.

He collects the glass, the delighted grin on his face now permanent.  He’s relishing in your annoyance, you know he is, and it burns you from the inside out.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me.”

“You could have turned on the light! Why were you in the dark like a freak?”  You’re grasping at straws, anything to pin this all on him.  It would quell the fire in your belly to push it all onto him, make you feel as if you’ve won.

Taehyung levels a look at you.  “And you weren’t also in the dark? Pouring a gallon of wine for yourself?”

Your cheeks flare red. Fuck, he definitely caught you there.  You’re playing verbal poker with him and the hand you’re dealt falls flat compared to his royal flush.  He grins, knowing he has you.

“Fuck you,” you snark, you go to insult when you’re backed into a corner.

“Ah, doll,” he winks.  “We talked about that.  Be careful what you wish for.”

The fire inside you is roaring to an inferno now, flames licking to your core. It’s a complicated mixture of anger and sexual energy. It’s infuriating that he’s able to make you feel every single emotion to the extreme. You hate that arguing with him turns you on, like it’s some perverse foreplay.  

You moisten your lips with your tongue as you process his words, and Tae’s eyes hungrily track the appendage as it glides over your lips.

“Fuck. You.” You emphasize perfunctorily.

All thoughts of wiping up the mess are forgotten as Tae drags both you and himself off the floor and steers you to the living room, lips feverish against your own.  He pushes you into the couch and tugs his shirt off, before replacing his lips to yours.  

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot when you’re a bitch,” he groans as he snaps the strap of your sports bra. “Seeing you get all worked up makes me so hard.”

He’s not wrong. You can see through his mesh basketball shorts that he’s sporting an impressive package, rock hard in its clothed prison.

“Yeah?” You bite at his lip.

“Hell yeah.”  His hands work to the elastic band under your bust and tugs the offending material off, tits springing free as he throws it to the floor.  

“Holy shit,” Taehyung breathes as he gets a good look at your chest.

You shake them gently, grinning as he watches them jiggle.  “You like what you see?”

He smirks and pinches a nipple, wiping the coy smile off your face and turning it into a moan.  “I like when you’re mouthy, but don’t push it.”  

He lowers his head to the nipple he’s still pinching in his fingers, licking at it and replacing his fingers with his mouth.  He’s moaning around the nipple, and you’re gasping for more.  His hot mouth sucks at you, teeth nibbling and pulling it until you’re whimpering in delicious pain.

“Fuck!” He cries as he pops away from your nipple.  “You’re so fucking hot.”

Your body warms at his words, arousal pooling between your legs.  You’re sure that your thighs are drenched in your essence.

He slurps your neglected breast into his mouth, ensuring your nipples are equally abused.  His tongue is skilled but his mouth is messy, saliva dripping all around your tit and it’s the hottest fucking sight you’ve ever seen.

He’s pulling away again and pinching both nipples with his hands simultaneously. “And you’re so fucking annoying.”

You’re pleading for more or to stop, you’re not sure.  He continues.

“Mm, I’m gonna fuck you until you’re a good little bitch for me. Listening to every fucking thing I say.”

He releases your nipples, and you finally find the ability to focus again, staring directly at him.

“Oh, you think you’re that good?” you sass as you attempt to catch your breath.  “Put your money where your mouth is.”

Tae grips your chin roughly, face inches away from yours with a sadistic grin. “You’re going to regret those words, baby.”

Instantly, he’s standing up and tugging his shorts down to let his cock spring free.  Your brain misfires as you visually measure his cock and your mouth goes dry. He’s thick and long. The bulbous head is dripping pre-cum, begging you to slurp it up.

“How about I put my money where your mouth is,” he suggests as he grabs a fistful of your hair.  

He teasingly rubs his cock on your lips and cheeks, makes you whimper with need. Your tongue is sticking out, desperate for him to lay it on you.

“Already so fucking greedy,” he grunts and in one motion, directs his dick into your open mouth. “I’ll fuck your throat, yeah? Greedy bitches love getting face fucked.”  He is still for a beat more, eyes searching yours for consent and you nod with his cock still in your mouth. He winks, then begins a rapid pace, his cock fucking into your mouth and throat.

You’re sure you look like a goddamn mess with saliva dripping from your mouth as Taehyung punishes your throat with his thrusts.  You gag and moan around him, and he tightens his grip in your hair as you see stars.

It’s indescribable. Never have you felt such pleasure from sucking cock, but Tae commands your entire body, willing you to drip with anticipation.

“My little fuck toy, god you feel so fucking good,” he hisses. “You’re gonna swallow my cum, baby.”  

His hips are stuttering, he’s close, and you’re sucking him harder, cheeks pulling in harder to vacuum him in. The pressure makes him groan out loud.

“So good, so fucking good. Get ready for your prize, baby,” his voice cuts off in a gasp, as his cock twitches violently. His legs shake and he doesn’t hold back the moans of his orgasm, gasping as he feels rope after rope spill down your hot throat.

Your big doll eyes are twinkling up at him, lips still wrapped around his cock. Taehyung is sure it’s the hottest thing he’ll ever see in his lifetime.  You on your knees, subservient to him and thriving for it.

“Mmm, I like it when your mouth is full like this,” he slowly pulls out of your mouth, albeit reluctantly. “Can’t talk back to me when you’re sucking my cock like a whore.”

You smile and stick out your tongue, pleased to show him you happily accepted his cum.

“Good fucking girl,” he coos as he grips your chin again. “Did you like my cum?”

You nod, brain fried from the heat of the room.

“Use your words,” he grits and grips your jaw harder. It’s enough to shock you into compliance.

“Y-yes! Fuck, I love your cum, Tae.”  Your words are breathy and raspy, throat raw from his barrage.

“I knew you would, filthy slut.  Sit on the couch.” He orders and you’re quick to scurry and sit on the makeshift bed you made.

His hands are tugging down your shorts quickly. No teasing or seduction here, not now. You lift your hips, and he throws them aside. Your legs close on reflex, making him growl.

“Do not hide yourself from me.” His tone is dark and you can’t help but shiver as you open yourself up to him. You want to talk back, want to fight and bite at him, but you’re quickly losing the ability to even speak, and you’re aching for him.

“Where’s my mouthy little bitch? You’re awfully quiet. Did I finally break you?” He teases, pressing your legs upward, knees to your ears. It’s pornographic how on display you are for him, soaking wet cunt front and center.

“The great Taehyung thinks he can break me with his cock,” you mewl, mustering all the false confidence you can. You’re lying through your fucking teeth and you both know it, but you continue. “You’ll have to do more than that.”

Your pussy is quaking with need now, desperate for a single touch. His hands maintain purchase on the backs of your thighs, holding them up.

“There she is,” he bites at the flesh of your leg closest to him which makes you jerk in his hold. “Gonna fuck the brat right out of you.”

He removes a hand from your thigh and you’re quick to pick up the slack, holding the thigh in place to maintain his open show of your pussy.

“Try me,” you murmur, and you’re instantly regretting your words as a harsh slap descends and lands square on your cunt.

You nearly scream, pain flooding your wanton pussy, before turning into delicious pleasure that stings and tingles right at your clit. It sizzles, and warmth blooms where his hand was.

“That’s for not believing me.”  His eyes are feral and you want to bottle this memory forever.  

Another slap has your legs trembling, eyes rolling back as the burn turns to a low heat.  You’re dripping your wetness down onto the couch and Jin will kill you, but you don’t care.

“That was for calling me a dick,” he smirks.

Smack.

Tears spring in your eyes as the slap brings more pleasure than pain, desperately close to your edge.

“Look at you, you could cum just from this, couldn’t you?”

“F-fuck! Yes, please, I need more, please!” Your cunt is clenching around nothing, desperate for friction and leaking out of you like a faucet. Taehyung marvels at you, legs spread so far, with a cunt weeping with arousal for more. He can’t wait to dive in there, but he’s not finished with you yet.

“More? I don’t know if you deserve more, baby, you’ve been awfully mean to me,” he tsks, breathing hot air on your clit, making you whine.

“P-please! I’m sorry!” You’re sure you will black out with how desperately you need him. You need him more than you need oxygen.

“Beg.”

You’re quick to submit. Thoughts of fighting back are long gone, you’re his wanton little slut now.

“Please, please! Pleaseeeee, make me cum! I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” He asks with an arch of his eyebrow.

You’re nodding wildly, gazing at him with desperate, watery eyes.

“Anything, I need you so f-fucking bad it hurts!”

By the time the words leave your lips, he’s thrusting two fingers into your cunt viciously, fingering you ferociously. He arches them, rubbing against your spongy g-spot and making you scream. He knows you’re close, knows you only need one little push off the edge. He plays your body like a skilled practitioner.

“Cum on my fingers, baby. Let me see my greedy little bitch milk my fingers.”

Your body and mind react accordingly, deep down you know your body is owned completely by him, all his.  Your orgasm explodes and you think you actually scream, your vision is black and your hearing goes silent for a moment as you cum harder than you have in your life.  You’re squeezing his fingers with your pussy so tight and Taehyung is gently licking all the juices from his hand with his fingers still inside you.

It takes time to descend from the separate plane of existence Taehyung sent you too, but you come back and watch as he laps at the liquid of your cunt and on his hand like it’s a vital necessity. His fingers remain in your walls, and he refuses to break eye contact with you. You’re positive you could cum again from the sight.

“My little cockslut tastes so good, just how I like,” he tells you tenderly. “Like cherries, so sweet.  My little cherry.”

Your cunt is aching and warming back to life as he pulls his fingers out of you. The loss is immense and you’re whimpering for more.

“Ah, ah,” he hushes you. “No whining. You’ll take what I give you.  Suck my fingers clean. Taste yourself.”

He presses his fingers into your mouth, earning him a sigh, the taste of you filling your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his fingers and suckle each one to ensure your tongue laves the entire surface.

“Fuck,” he whispers and it’s his first crack in his steel reserve. “Needy.”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and presses against you to kiss. It’s gentle, sweet, and nothing compared to the man assailing your pussy with slaps moments ago. It thrills you just the same and you return in kind, threading your hands in his wavy hair.

He pulls away and presses his forehead against yours, a moment of gentleness you actively welcome.

“This little cunt ready for me?” He whispers and you’re whimpering your reply.

“Please, fuck me. I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

He grins and presses a kiss to your lips again, sweet and chaste, before he pulls away and slides down to attach those same sinful lips to your pussy.

It’s so unexpected you flinch and manage a cry as his tongue slurps up more of your delicious essence and his mouth moves to suckle on your clit. You’re not sure where the fuck he learned these tricks, but you know now you will never let him go.

“Taehyung!” You cry at the sensation. “Fuck!”

After receiving the reaction he was desperate for, he slips his tongue into your walls deep and gathers as much of you as he can, before he’s pulling back and swallowing you down.

“I couldn’t resist. Your cunt was made for me to devour.”

He doesn’t allow for a response as he throws your legs over his shoulders and lines himself up at your core.

“Condom?” He asks you, and you level a quick look at him.

“I don’t live here! I don’t have any!”  You’re savage, terrified he’ll pull his cock away when all you want and can think about is the way he’ll feel pounding into you.

“Don’t be rude, baby,” he reminds you with a swat to your ass. “I’m clean, promise. You?”

You nod quickly, reveling in the spank’s tingle. “Same. I have an IUD too,” you sigh. Thank god for medical birth control implants.

“Good. You’re the only pussy I’m gonna fuck from now on,” he promises. You know you must talk about this later, when you’re thinking rationally and not with your aching pussy.  

Your heart stutters and leaps into your throat but all is forgotten as he plunges into your tight heat.

“Ohhhhh shit, ahhh,” he gasps. “Baby, you’re so fucking tight and wet.”  He’s on the verge of whining, becoming just as needy and greedy as you.  He wastes no time in setting a pace.

His cock fills you completely, his angle allowing him to go as deep as he can, pressing the beginning of your cervix.  This is surely what heaven feels like.  It feels like the completeness you feel with Taehyung fully sheathed inside you.

It comes alive with flames and explosions as he fucks you, hips pistoning to plunge in and out of you with tenacity.  He fucks you like he laces every single thrust with more, more than just sex. He fucks you with purpose.

You’re moaning like a pornstar now, high pitch wails and gasps and breathy moans are all you can manage. “Taehyung, yes! Feel so g-g-good!”

“That’s right baby, scream my fucking name. Make sure all the neighbors know who fucking ruined you,” he nearly spits, cock thrusting into your core at an impossible speed. “I want you to tell all of Korea who owns you. Who owns this tiny little cunt?”

The wind leaves you, and you’re gasping for air, gaping mouth open as you try to reply. It takes him fucking into you harder a few times before you feel it rush back into you.

“You, Taehyung!  You!  Fuck, I love your cock!”

His thumb rubs at your engorged clit, allowing it the friction it seeks.  He bends forward and wraps his other hand around your throat, squeezing.  

Losing air combined with the friction on your clit has you keening, so close to the edge. You try to babble his name but nothing comes out.

“Look at my pretty little slut taking my cock so well,” he praises.  “You have the greediest pussy, don’t you? You need my cock daily, baby. Need to put my mouthy bitch in her place, remind her who’s in charge.”

He slows his pace but his thrusts are punishing, fucking into you as hard as he can. Your orgasm is climbing so impossibly high.

“F-fuck!” You gasp as he releases his grip on your neck. “Gonna cum! Please let me cum!”  

“Yeah baby, cum for me.  Cream your greedy pussy all over my cock.”

The world stops spinning as you hit the height of your climax and plunge down.  Your vision goes black and your body is quivering and convulsing nearly as hard as your cunt is. Taehyung hisses at your walls sucking him in, as if you’re begging for his cum, begging for more.

“Fuck, good girl, baby, holy shit,” he’s breathless and so close.

You’re overstimulated, boneless, but he wrought two of the best orgasms you’ve ever felt in your life and you’ll be damned if you leave him high and dry.  You bite your lip as you move with him, hips pounding against each other. His face is scrunched up and you know he’s close when he’s stuttering on his words.  You take over for him.

“Please cum in me baby, please.  Fill me up. I’m yours, baby, mark my little cunt as yours.”  You don’t know where it’s coming from, but you keep it going. It feels as natural as fucking him does. “Please, Taehyung!”

At the sound of his name leaving you in a whine, he spirals down his own completion. He feels his cock pulse as he empties his load into you, your walls still reverently beckoning for him. He’s calling out your name, grasping at your tits as he finishes and you’re smiling from ear to ear. Your pussy is warm with his seed and you’re positive it’s the way you want to feel every single night.

“Holy fuck,” Taehyung rasps as he pulls his cock out of you. He thrills as he watches his cum follow, slipping out your folds and down your thigh. “I definitely marked you.”

You hum in reply, finally allowing yourself to soak in the haze of orgasmic bliss. Tae presses his head to yours again, kissing you sweetly.

“Come sleep in my bed?” He asks. He means more behind it. He wants to ask you to sleep in his bed every night, stay with him every day, be the one he grows old with. He knows there’s still more to talk about, wounds of the past to heal, but now you’re with him, and he knows he’ll work through anything.

You nod, and kiss him again, understanding his hidden meaning laced in his words.

A sly smile spreads across his face. “Last one to bed has to take the blame for the wineglass,” he teases. Your head spins as if you’ve got whiplash.  He can switch from dominating to sensitive to the little shit he is so quick.

“Hey! No fucking fair! You fucked my ability to run out of me!”

“Shouldn’t have been such a sassy bitch,” he winks before he tears away towards his room.

“Taehyung, you’re an asshole!” You call as you limp your way behind him.

From behind Joon and Jin’s door, a critical voice bellows, “YAH! I’ll kill you if you got your jizz on my couch! And what is this I heard about my glass!!? HEY!  Those are TIFFANY. CRYSTAL. THE DISRESPECT!”

You slip into Taehyung’s bed and wrap yourself around him, the two of you gasping with mischievous giggles.

Kim Taehyung will always be the one who knows how to drive you wild. He’ll always aggravate and infuriate you, send you reeling.

But now you didn’t think you minded it at all.

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[mikeshanlon]

i really enjoy the way young royals explores the theme of legacy and how detrimental it can be to have to live up to a legacy or be obsessed with reputation. (analysis and thoughts under the cut)

i think wilhelm resents the fact that he has to live up to the role of being in the royal family and yet is very afraid of ruining that legacy bc of all the pressure. before he was sent off to hillerska he went to a normal school and wanted normal people around him and was content with erik having to take on the responsibilities of crown prince. and when he does have to assume that role he says he can never be erik, that he’s always had to be compared to him and obviously doesn’t like that. but even before erik passed and he had to take on those duties he was afraid of fucking up the legacy of the crown, when he sees that sign in the hallway that says you are in charge of your own legacy after he holds hands with simon, his anxiety worsens. you can tell it’s been instilled in him for a long time that what is most important is the crown’s reputation rather than his own wants. in the scene where him and simon fight about alexander being caught, he obviously wants simon to stay, but he focuses on how him doing drugs will fuck up his family’s reputation if it gets leaked. as much as he cares for simon, his legacy and his duties are like this oppressive cloud hanging over him. 

i do think that wille cares for his family of course but to me it’s different that the sort of loyal unconditional care with simon and his sister/mom. erik and wille had unconditional love, erik understood how difficult being a prince in the public eye was, and wille obviously cared for him deeply and felt like he could to talk to him about issues. his relationship with the queen is much more strained, she wants a tailored, doctored representation of him in the media, he cannot be anxious and bite his nails, she makes all the decisions for him. family is important to wille partially because it has to be bc of how special his family is. he helps his family, he helps august pay his tuition, and then makes a point of disowning august after his betrayal as his new “brother”. but again, because of the royal status and expectations upon the family, that supersedes and colors all of their relationships with each other. it seems to be more a sense of “duty” than unconditional love. especially after erik’s death, wille always has to consider how the crown’s image will be impacted, even though he never wanted to have this responsibility, or even the responsibility of being the “regular” prince under erik. being a family unit that is under constant public scrutiny is going to strain relationships. the queen knows that the anxiety of fucking up his legacy will get to him, and she uses that to get wilhelm to back out of admitting it was him in the video and coming out. wilhelm has to choose between his own happiness and their reputation, is forced to think that denying it’s him in the video is the only way. he loves simon and wanted to live freely, but that pressure of legacy won out.

i don’t know if i think wille necessarily values the crown over his own personal happiness and relationships, like in the way maybe the queen does--i don’t think it comes from a place of “i’m lucky to be prince and owe my duty to the crown, so i do what i have to do to stay that way” (like how the queen said the crown is a privilege not a punishment), but from fear of destroying the legacy and his family. afterall, he still wanted to pursue a secret relationship with simon, i think if he fully valued the crown and uplifting legacy and fulfilling his duties he wouldn’t have tried that. he wouldn’t have made a point to tell simon he loves him. hopefully we get another season because i think with the iconic ending revolution rendition and him looking in the camera, which also parallels the shot of him being forced to apologize/go to hillerska, he is realizing that focusing on legacy is taking away what’s important to him, and he’s going to shake shit up.

august is definitely the most obsessed with legacy, wanting to carry on his father’s business, being persistent on befriending wilhelm and trying to social climb, wanting power and perfection with being prefect, rowing captain etcetera. he is so obsessed with perfection and reputation he gets addicted to drugs, he fucks with simon and makes him get stuff for parties he can’t afford because good parties will make him look better, he manipulates sara multiple times, he mostly wanted felice because of her nobility, he fucking films wilhelm and simon and OUTS him, his own cousin. he hates that wille has everything he wants but isn’t as interested in preserving and more importantly improving the legacy he’s inheriting. meanwhile august’s familial legacy is dwindling, and he holds on to the last bit of assets and names that he can.... v much sick and a weirdo that shows how harmful being obsessed with legacy is

the queen is of course v focused on legacy and it really breaks my heart and makes me angry that she doesn’t care about wilhelm’s happiness more than their reputation, and moreso doesn’t get august in trouble for literally leaking child p*rn of her kid for the sake of appearances?!?!?! like how is he even remotely trustworthy she is wrong for that! like i said earlier the obsession with legacy puts a strain on their mother/son relationship. she doesn’t even really say anything about wille’s sexuality or his relationship, and barely comforts him, mostly goes in with a plan she’s already concocted without him to fix everything. 

erik seemed to understand and accept his role as crown prince but obviously had issues with it as well, like when he makes the plan for him and wilhelm to run from the press, or when he tells wilhelm to enjoy himself while there aren’t so many eyes on him that care. erik shows someone who has more unconditional love and empathy but still has to focus on legacy and is much more inclined to continue his legacy, but we do see those glimpses over how even the most “ideal” attitude of preserving legacy causes issues.

felice is expected to live up to her mother’s legacy, of being an equestrian, of being the lucia, but she doesn’t want either of those things. her mother wants her to be thinner and straighten her hair, and find someone of nobility to be with. obviously she does find wilhelm attractive lol but i think the main reason she pursued him and definitely why she pursued august was because she was expected to social climb and have royal kids. felice feels the need to portray a false narrative of herself on social media to uphold a certain image of herself. it’s very fucked up that her mom wants those values instilled in her but i love that felice was putting up boundaries and pushing back against her mother and the narrative she’s supposed to live up to. her giving sara the role of lucia and focusing on supporting her friends more in the latter half of the season shows growth and i’m excited to see where her story goes. 

sara is interesting because she seems to want to reject the legacy of her family and being working class and to fit in with the elite of hillerska. sara hates micke, hates that simon contacted him because it’s bringing in this “shameful” and painful part of their past (which i mean is def fair). other than sara’s betrayal in 1.06, i think the scene where she tells her family that she wants to reside at hillerska really exemplifies where she’s at in her relation to legacy/class. after dining at hillerska and living amongst the elite she gets annoyed at eating around the TV, she blames her mother for not leaving micke sooner, she gets angry with simon for caring for her. she wants to lead her own life, be popular and wanted because people want her, not for pity (even though i think simon of course truly cares abt his sister she feels annoyed with his protection and care). felice says early on that she thinks sara doesn’t care what other’s think or having friends, and sara says she still wants friends though. i think sara’s biggest thing is she wants to belong, her and simon moved schools after she was bullied for being autistic so i think that definitely affected her even though she tries to act nonchalant about hillerska at first. we see sara’s longing to fit in in smaller ways at first, like her asking her mom for a better piece of her uniform because hers are “cheap” and already worn out. she gets annoyed at simon for chewing loudly, or her mother sitting casually at the table. as she gets closer to felice and madison and all the other students, the allure of the upper class and their lifestyle draws her in more. so much to the point where she gets very anxious and upset at the idea of her and simon leaving hillerska because he’s having his own crisis and doesn’t consider his pov. so much so that she effectively betrays simon and felice, the people she’s closest to, to make a deal (and make out lol) with august to room there and “be just like him”. personally i think sara’s attraction to august is mostly that allure of the elite and that he seemed to “desire” her when he kissed her because he was being a manipulative dickhead--again that want to fit in and be wanted. and  i think there is a really interesting angle of jealousy and competition in female friendships, even if it is really subtle or not intentionally insidious or anything, sara does slowly start to trying to assume all the roles/fashions/mannerisms of felice to live that life she wants. i do think felice and sara’s care for each other is genuine and one of my fave parts of the show, but i think a lot of people who experienced being a teen girl know how we are always pitted against each other even in our subconscious because of how society treats and values women.

simon seems to be the character that is least interested in upholding legacy and tradition or giving a fuck what anyone thinks (as omar said here lmao) and that makes him a really interesting foil to wilhelm. there could be something said about micke fearing that simon is following in his footsteps, but to me that plot more so reveals how the upper class (august) continually exploit the working class for their benefit, and the trappings of generational oppression. the other thing that can be said is simon signing up for private tutoring and rowing, but again i think that serves to further show that he is forced to “play” by the game of the elites because the school/society is corrupt, and also, that simon has further ambitions outside of where he’s at. he wants to get good grades because he wants to explore new places and avenues. to me simon’s biggest motivations are his passions, the things and people he loves--music, his family, wilhelm. he isn’t loyal to others just because he’s expected to be, or uphold a certain image but because he really cares. he doesn’t watch out for sara because that’s his expected role as her brother to do so, but because he cares. he wasn’t interested in knowing wilhelm because he’s a prince like everyone else, he makes it clear he thinks the royal family are privileged and exploitative, but he is interested because he saw the real wilhelm. he’s out and proud even though his elite classmates are more conservative, he doesn’t care about voicing his unpopular opinions, he has no problem walking away from august’s dickhead behavior or calling him out on his shit. simon doesn’t care if people don’t think of him in the best light. (the only exceptions ig are the drugs conflict and the video, though literally anyone would have a problem with that because it’s much deeper that public opinion and has ramifications and is deeply traumatic--but just adding that before someone is like “well actually!”) i also think it’s interesting that most of the songs simon sings has themes of pushing back against the societal norms, and being remembered in history, plus of course the revolution song motif, and how much those songs affect wilhelm, he seems to connect deeply, like he wishes he could do those things but simon is the one who gets to sing them and actually live them.

[deniigi]

A fic from Boba’s POV as a babysitter seeing Din’s family dynamics isn’t self indulgent it’s indulgent to your readers - fuck, that sounds like the best, most hilarious thing ever?!? (With peppered in bits of Boba’s identity crisis/diaspora feels)

I say you release babysitter boba fic ;) It sounds hilarious

Ask and you shall receive, anons. Beware. It’s like 11k of world building lol.

(I will post here and not on Ao3 because I’m not ready for that level of commitment rn lol)

Title: in the plains of Zeffo

Summary:

“I don’t like him,” Karren told Din.

“Concurred,” Din said.

“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.

“I will not be shamed into liking him, either,” Din asserted.

“Din,” Karren whined.

“I’ll consider coming home if it means there will be no space for Bojzka,” Din said.

(Din’s original finder’s old crush on the Armorer is rekindled after he helps her reunite with Din. He tries to win her favor, but keeps getting tripped up by Din who knows she’s not interested. Boba Fett’s POV.)

---------------------------------------------------------------------

There was little more entertaining than watching Djarin snap.

Boba ten years ago would have spat at the very idea that such meagre fare would suit his humor, but he was getting old, man. You had to take what you could get, and Djarin’s bared rage was a sight to behold.

Currently, he was locked in combat with Urro Bojzka. The Urro Bojzka. The one who even Boba had heard of, growing up on Kamino.

Dad had had some pointed feelings about Mr. Bojzka. Mainly, they revolved around how it was unfair that everyone called him an opportunistic traitor when Bojzka continued to exist and thrive in the universe at large, but Dad also had more specific feelings about Bojzka that bordered on jealousy.

Urro Bojzka was said to be the ideal Mandalorian man.

He was big. He was strong. He sounded like he’d smoked six different kinds of spice for forty years, and nothing and no one could take him down.

The cherry on top was that he was notorious for rescuing kids. The man had snatched nearly two hundred up out of smoking ruins and battlefields. A good twenty or thirty had become foundlings and then Mandalorians themselves, and counted among their number now, to Bo-Katan’s absolute glee, was their sweet, precious Din Djarin.

They should have known. Din was the epitome of Mandalorian; it figured that Urro Bojzka himself would have picked him up as a child.

Din however, had little appreciation for this fact beyond that which was only polite. He made it very clear that he’d already thanked Bojzka for taking him out of his childhood hellhole. He’d done that bare minimum and so no one could ask anything more of him.

Bojzka had other plans.

It turned out that Urro Bojzka had a thing for Din’s covert’s Armorer. God, did he have a thing. And not only did he have a thing, but he’d had it for decades.

Apparently, a thousand years ago, when Boba and Din and all the others around them had still been rolling around on dirt floors trying to eat beetles and shit, Bojzka had attempted to court Din’s Armorer. He’d gone as far and wide as a young Mando could. He’d tried flowers, perfume, credits, displays of strength and courage. He’d tried gifts of food and offers of travel. He’d even stooped so low as to read a book.

None of it had gone well for him. And that was probably because Din’s Armorer had recently proven herself to be no less than one of the heiresses of the Katzkai clan.

The Renda Bears. Those people were hard-fucking-core.

When Bo-Katan found out that Din’s ‘Goran’ was, in fact, Nomri Katzkai, the second daughter of Lanlee Katzai and the official apprentice of Fii Katzkai, the imperial Armorer himself, she threw up her hands and declared all endeavors hopeless now.

Din was one of them; he just didn’t know it. And his buir, who had removed herself from her family to be even more hardcore than anyone would have thought possible, didn’t seem overly excited to start explaining shit to him anytime soon.

So here they were. With Din about to kill one of the most famous war heroes in recent Mandalorian history over a crush that wouldn’t quit.

Bojzka smiled at him with dark eyes with scars through both of his eyebrows.

“Just a message,” he lobbied. “One letter.”

Boba would’ve fucked him. Yeah, why not? Just look at him.

“She’s busy,” Din said. “You’ll have to submit it to Eegang Quodo. That’s E-e-g-a—”

“Yeah, see. Here’s the thing, kid. This letter’s gonna be kinda personal, if you catch my drift—”

“Q-u-o—”

“—probably not great for the eyes of anyone who ain’t, you know, in on this whole relationship—”

“—d-o. He’s usually busy, too. So you probably should submit it to Paz, instead. He’ll lose it for you forever. That’s P-a-z—”

Fennec hid a razor-sharp grin behind a clenched fist. She flashed it at Boba.

‘I love him’ she mouthed, pointing at Din’s hiked-up shoulders. Even his cape seemed to have gone stiff in Bojzka’s presence.

“Din, honey. Listen to me,” Bojzka crooned. “I know you’re protective of your mama, but—”

“She’s not my mother. Don’t you fucking dare call her that, you hulking piece of—”

“Ah-ah-ah. You’re not listening. Come on. Chin up. Ears open.”

Bojzka tapped at the bottom of Din’s helmet like a CO with a teenage recruit, and Fennec just about screamed when Din went completely still and silent.

Bo-Katan met Boba’s gaze out of the corner of her eye. She mimed a syringe. Boba shook his head. If this fucker got bit, he deserved whatever infection it brought.

“Atta boy,” Bojzka said to Din’s rigid silence. “Here’s how it is: your mama and me go way, way back. And you know, after your touching reunion the other week, she even went and had a drink with me, and we got to talkin’ and started to reconnect, the old folks do. And I could read her body language, Din-Din. She wants a man. And that man’s me. So instead of actin’ like a child over all this, why don’t we—”

“She wanted Naseem,” Din snapped. “But Naseem died. Twenty years ago, he died. You just wear similar boots.”

Get ‘im, Djarin. Get ‘im.

“I—who?” Bojzka snapped.

“Naseem,” Din repeated like he was an idiot. “Traditional, bantha-sized, green armor. He worked all the time to keep all the kids in the covert fed.”

Bojzka processed this.

“Naseem what?” he asked stiffly.

“He’s dead,” Din said. “And Hajka left. So no. Goran needs neither a man or a woman, and especially not you. What she needs is a break and for Karren to stop fighting people on sight.”

Bojzka backtracked like a champ.

“Karren, that’s her youngest, right?” he asked. “Well, I bet Karren could use some sisters. I bet he’s lonely over there on, uh.”

“Zeffo,” Din gritted out. “And no. He’s not. He has three sisters. One of which is still at the covert, terrorizing him left and right.”

Even Bo-Katan could only empathize so much with Bojzka, war hero or nah.

“Why’re you all up in arms, Din? What’d I do to you?” Bojzka finally asked. “Don’t you want your buir to be happy?”

Din’s shoulders finally came down from his helmet.

“Of course, I do,” he said. “Which is why if you set so much as a toe on Zeffo, I’m taking both of your knees with me to Yavin.”

 --

Any parent would have been proud to have Din as their child. He took family honor to a level that even the Katzkai clan would have had a hard time sniffing at.

He had to have learned this from the wayward heiress. Although, if Boba was honest, he didn’t really think that the wayward heiress was all that wayward.

She’d come to visit Din on Tatooine. She was short and stocky and not terribly interested in the court or anyone outside of Din.

She wasn’t nearly as hostile as Bo-Katan expected either. She didn’t appear to love anything that she was looking at, no, but Din had explained that that was mostly because she wasn’t really a fan of him having become Mand’alor to start with.

When she came to visit, anyways, she was far more interested in getting a good fuss in to give herself peace of mind that Din was okay. That way she could then go back to dealing with the apparently endless series of crises at the new covert.

She was a great parent in that way. She even brought along her youngest, so that he could see his big brother.

That kid was fuckin’ adorable. Maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. Barely, barely, barely in armor. He was strapped into his leathers so tight, he looked like he was stuffed with straw.

He had medium-brown skin with yellow undertones and huge, nearly-black eyes. Coarse black hair poured into his face and curled around his ears—and if he thought he was going to stuff all that in a helmet one day, he had another thing coming.

He bopped after his buir when they entered the palace and stopped occasionally to stare up in awe at the palace’s high ceilings. Upon realizing that he’d lost his escort, he scampered along to catch up and did the whole thing again and again until buir had enough and snatched his hand.

He didn’t like that. He was fourteen-fifteen years old. He was too big for hand-holding, buir.

Never too old to be ignored, though.

“Goraaaaaan.”

“Hush,” the Armorer told him. “Keep up.”

He was handed off to Boba outside Din’s personal quarters, mostly because he was making such a fuss at the Armorer that she began contemplating leaving him at the palace forever. Din intervened and the kid latched onto him instead until Din convinced him that he’d be available talk just as soon as he and their buir were done speaking.

The kid’s name was Karren.

He and Boba were now best friends.

“—so Goran said, ‘I’m not having that idiot in my rooms.’ But then Eegang said, ‘we already have Paz in these rooms,’ and you’re not supposed to laugh, Mr. Fett, but we all did because we’re all stupid. So we had to do like, a thousand chores for eavesdropping.”

“So she’s not into him, then?” Fennec clarified. “He’s really into her, you know.”

“Of course, I know,” Karren lamented. “But Goran’s picky and the last person she was all close with was Hajka and we’re not allowed to talk about her anymore or Din’ll make you do two hundred push-ups while he watches.”

Amazing. Say more about Din’s oldest-child syndrome, little one.

“No, I like Din,” Karren sighed. “Now that Digo’s gone, he’s even nicer.”

Oh?

“What happened to Digo?” Boba asked as Bo-Katan joined them in curiosity.

“Digo’s a jerk is what happened,” Karren huffed. “She wanted Goran to give over the forge and join the elders, but Goran isn’t even that old. So when she said ‘no,’ Digo got mad and said that the only foundling Goran respects is Din. Which is bullshit because everyone knows that Goran has always been the nicest with Digo and Nasif—she made all sorts of excuses for them, Mr. Fett, like when they went out and got caught stealing parts like Jawas, she did four whole hunts to raise their bail. When Din gets in trouble, he takes care of it himself. He doesn’t ask Goran to do that kind of thing. And me and Shimmol just don’t get in that kind of trouble to start with—but no. Digo had to be all ‘if you don’t treat us as equals, then we’re gonna leave and start our own forge.’”

“No kidding,” Fennec said. “So they left?”

“Yeah, both of them ‘cause Nasif does anything Digo tells her to,” Karren said, kicking his feet. “And good riddance.”

Too many sisters, this one had. Boba felt for him.

“So Goran’s still recovering from that betrayal, I take it?” he asked.

Karren frowned and chewed a lip.

“I dunno,” he admitted. “No one tells me anything. I think that Goran’s been more worried about Din than them after all that happened. We thought he got crunched by the jedi—or at least I thought he got crunched. Paz says that Jedis compact Mandalorians into cubes of armor and Din’s got the best armor.”

Do not laugh at the child. Do not laugh at the child.

“I don’t think Jedis crunch Mandalorians,” Bo-Katan said generously, having snuck into the bare antechamber while everyone was distracted with the kid’s story.

“Well, I do,” Karren countered, with zero conception of who he was talking to.

Fennec beamed.

“Do you like this Urro guy?” she asked.

“No,” Karren answered immediately. “He’s sent Eegang four messages and they’re all gross.”

Yep.

It was gonna be a late puberty for this one.

“What makes them gross?” Bo-Katan asked.

“The mush,” Karren said expertly. “Bojzka calls Goran ‘Nomri.’ That’s a bad word at home. No one says that word. Goran is ‘Goran.’ The only people who call her anything else are the elders.”

“And you and your siblings, no?” Bo-Katan asked.

Karran cocked his head at her.

“Yeah, and ‘buir’ I guess, if we aren’t in trouble,” he said.

Bless him.

“Are you in trouble a lot?” Bo-Katan asked.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. I got a temper or something.”

“Is Din in trouble?”

“With buir? No, not like me and Shimmol. He’s too old to be in that kind of trouble. His trouble’s like ‘help, I fell a hundred feet off a cliff’ kind of trouble. He gives Goran indigestion, but she can’t make him reflect on falling a million feet out of a ship—Eegang says that’s called ‘rehashing trauma.’”

The covert on Zeffo sounded like it was holding itself together through sheer force of will and that alone.

Where did Boba sign up? It sounded like a fantastic experiment to pass the time.

“Are you a foundling, Karren?” Boba asked.

The kid lit up.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve been with Goran for five years now. Six in a few months. My dad’s a piece of shit. He killed my mom, and Goran got him arrested for that and for what he did to my auntie.”

Well, fuck. That explained a lot.

“And you like it there—on Zeffo?” Bo-Katan asked.

Karren shrugged.

“It’s cold and wet,” he said. “I liked Nevarro better. Din was home more on Nevarro.”

Awww.

“Aren’t you proud of Din for becoming Mand’alor?” Bo-Katan asked as gently as she could manage.

Karren’s frown eased up finally.

“No,” he said. “Din should just come home. He doesn’t need to be Mand’alor or married to some jedi. He should just come home. It’s stupid; his foundling should have stayed with us from the start. We always have room for more foundlings. I dunno why he had to leave with his foundling at all.”

Bo-Katan sat back and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “If it helps, I think he just wants to come home, too.”

“So let him,” Karren blurted out to her.

Tough tits, kid. That wasn’t how it worked.

“I think we should perhaps focus on one thing at a time,” Bo-Katan said. “What do you think, Fett?”

What did Boba think?

Boba thought that he had a great idea to distract this kid from missing his big brother.

 ---

Karren was perhaps a little too small still to reach the brakes in the crawler, but you know what? So was Fennec sometimes and she did just fine.  

“Gas,” Boba said, pointing. “Neutral. Brake. Park.”

“Gas, neutral, brake, park,” Karren repeated to him with his hands on the wheel and his knobbly wrists peeking out from the gap between his gloves and his leather braces.

Bo-Katan had refused to be present or responsible for this. Fennec had told them to wait while she went and took a shot first. ‘For safety’ she said.

“What’s neutral for?”

“You’re about to tell me,” Boba said, adjusting the rear view mirrors down to kid-height.

The sound of Fennec throwing herself onto the back of the crawler rattled through to their compartment.

“That’s our signal,” Boba said. “You ready to jam?”

“Jam?” Karren asked him.

Hm.

Punch it?

“Punch what?”

The fuck kind of slang did they use at the covert?

“Rock?”

“OH. Yeah, I’m ready.”

There we go. Onward march then.

 ---

An hour later, Din sighed with Karren whining under his arm.

“There is a reason he’s not trained yet, Fett,” Din said as Karren started chomping on the bunched-up flightsuit in his elbow.

The Armorer pressed both palms into the forehead of her helmet.

The crawler had perhaps seen better days. But it had also seen worse days, and Fennec was still going through little loops of cackling at the memory of having to chase after its open tailgate. Boba didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. The kid had done amazingly well for his first time at the wheel.

“I’m leaving all of you,” Karren grated out, trying miserably to escape Din’s elbow-prison. “I want to be Mr. Fett’s foundling.”

Bless him.

“You don’t,” Din told him forcefully. “Fett can’t handle a foundling.”

Ay, Boba would drink to that. He was happy to be a foundling-sitter and borrower, though.

“Buir,” Karren pleaded.

“You make me tired, child,” the Armorer told him. “Say goodbye to vod.”

“NO.”

Din sighed. The Armorer sighed. Karren, in a beautiful 180, latched onto Din’s ribs again.

“Come hooooooome,” he pleaded with Din.

“I caaaaaaan’t,” Din drawled back at him in a delightfully uncharacteristic tone.

“These people don’t need you. We need you. Shimmol took your bed and if you don’t take it back, she’s gonna keep it.”

Din’s shoulders dropped.

“I told Shimmol that she could take my bunk, Karren,” he said. “I’m not using it—”

“BUT YOU COULD BE.”

Boba took it back. He could take on a foundling. Fuck it, why not? This one was great.

“Come here,” Din said, dragging the kid up to his toes. He knocked the front of his helmet against Karren’s forehead with enough force that the bump was noticeable. That made the kid shut up and stand up straight on his own volition again.

“Soon,” Din told him forcefully. “Behave for buir.”

“Promise,” Karren demanded.

“Ehn.”

“Din, promise.”

“I dunno, kid. I’ve got a husband and all these damn kids to worry about.”

“Bring them. All of them.”

“No room,” Din said without missing a beat. “You have no idea how much space the husband needs to thrive.”

“Well, if you don’t come, then Urro’s gonna try to move in,” Karren snapped.

Din actually paused at that. The Armorer shook her helmet.

“Territorialism becomes neither of you,” she said. “If Urro wishes to join our covert, then we will treat him as we treat any other who wishes to.”

Din’s helmet seemed to squint at her. Karren glared outright.

“I don’t like him,” he told Din.

“Concurred,” Din said.

“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.

“I will not be shamed into liking him, either,” Din asserted.

“Din,” Karren whined.

“I’ll consider coming home if it means there will be no space for Bojzka,” Din said.

“Carry on with your work and give my best to the jedi and the child,” the Armorer said with an air of dismissal. “Come, Karren. Thank you three for looking after him. Apologies for the vehicle. Come.”

Boba missed that kid already.

 --------

Bojzka, Boba had to say, really had no shame and he could almost appreciate that. Either that, or Din’s buir was a catch that the rest of them were failing to appreciate.

“How bad can it be?” the guy mused at Din’s stiff, furious hands mere days after the Armorer and Karren’s departure. “It’s a helmet, right? You can take it off with the people who matter, no?”

“We do not take it off,” Din said from between clenched teeth.

“Right, I got that. But there are exceptions for kids and spouses,” Bojzka said. “Or did I misread that part?”

Din was going to start shaking at any minute now. Bo-Katan assigned Boba the task of making sure he didn’t commit War-hero-homicide while she went off to find a calming device. It was only polite. It wasn’t Bojzka’s fault after all that he’d come in right after a tense meeting with a dissident group from Mandalore itself that made even Bo-Katan’s jaw jump.

“I think the rule is more important than the exceptions here,” Boba pointed out on Din’s behalf. “Joining the Children of the Watch isn’t something to take lightly.”

Din pointed at him wordlessly. Bojzka lazily followed the finger and then pointedly ignored Boba.

“What I’m hearing is that if we marry first, nothing changes,” he said.

Din’s index finger curled in with the rest of his knuckles until it was a fist.

“She is not looking to marry,” he said.

“What, so you speak for her now?”

“She is not looking to marry.”

“I can repeat things, too. Wanna see? You don’t speak for Nomri, Din.”

Boba was getting the feeling that Ms. Katzkai sort of did let Din speak for her in these types of situations. He was, after all, her oldest. And it sounded like he was the most loyal of her foundlings, too. If she shared anything personal with anyone besides her second in command, then it was going to be Din. That was just how these things worked.

“Did you call Eegang?” Din asked.

“I did,” Bojzka said. “He’s not especially helpful, I have to say. He keeps sending my missives back to me with grammar corrections.”

No. No. Keep it in, Boba. Keep it stoic.

“Eegang is the second CO at the covert,” Din said. “If you won’t take my word for it, then you’ll take his.”

Bojzka arched a fucked-up eyebrow.

“Eegang, the same guy who is allegedly secretly married to his partner? That Eegang?” he asked.

Din balked. Boba felt like electricity had just rocketed through him.

“Eegang is—” Din started.

“Nomri told me about him,” Bojzka said off-handedly. “She seems to think that he’s bitten off more than he can chew with taking on his last kid.”

“Eegang—”

“Something about baby being blind? Funny, did you not think that she trusted me enough to talk about her people?”

Any more of this and steam would start rising from the lip of Din’s helmet.

Thankfully, Bo-Katan returned with the jedi, AKA the calming device. Skywalker even came equipped with Grogu. They both appeared very confused and innocent, what with Skywalker drowning in his formal robes. They looked like they were going to absorb Grogu at any moment.

A+ distraction work, Kryze. Well done making yourself useful.

“Who’s Eegang?” Skywalker asked.

The line pulled taut across Din’s shoulders began to loosen.

“A comrade,” he said sharply in Bojzka’s direction.

“Is he nice?” Skywalker asked. Grogu chirped at him and resumed trying to dig into his multitude of collars.

“Very nice,” Din confirmed, staring deep into Bojzka’s eyes.

“He’s got foundlings, too?” Skywalker asked.

“Two,” Din confirmed. “Who he adores. Regardless of all challenges.”

Ah. It wasn’t just Eegang Din was protective of. It was the baby. Bojzka had really stuck his foot into that one.

“I’m sure the foundlings are fine,” Bojzka said. “It was just Nomri’s concern that—”

“Stop calling her that in my presence,” Din said. “In fact, let’s drop the whole thing now.”

 --------

Boba wanted to meet secretly-married Eegang. He sounded like he had a rich interior life. Din gave him a strong look and said that if the Armorer had left the covert, Eegang would not. One of them had to be there at all times.

Bo-Katan asked what Eegang’s speciality was.

Surprise, surprise: it was diplomacy.

Kryze was now invested. She followed Din around on his heels and suggested that if the Armorer gave words to Eegang to deliver during a formal meeting with the Mand’alor, then Bojzka might finally get the picture that Katzkai wasn’t interested in him.

Din thought about that.

He asked if this was not just a ploy for Boba and Bo-Katan to rally his covert comrades against him.

And it honestly wasn’t until he phrased it like that.

 -----------

Eegang was tall, sea-green, and in Bojzka’s face without so much as a by-your-leave.

“Three tests,” he threatened Bojzka with a baby on his hip. “One: stop sending transmissions. Two: get Elder Fayrz to approve your presence. Three: make even one of Goran’s foundlings like you. If you pass all three, your admission will be taken into consideration.”

The baby was very pink with curly hair so pale it was almost white. Its blue-gray eyes moved rapidly back and forth as it cuddled into its buir’s teal armor. Bojzka glanced from it to Eegang’s chipped helmet.

“Where did you find him?” he asked.

“Please give confirmation of your understanding,” Eegang said mechanically.

“He’s kinda cute.”

“Please give confirmation of your understanding.”

“Are you a droid or somethin’?”

“Please give—”

“Alright, alright. Fuck. This is confirmation of my understanding.”

“Excellent. This conversation is over,” Eegang said. “It is your responsibility to contact the elder and earn the approval.”

Bojzka jerked.

“Wait, what?” he said. “How am I supposed to do that if y’all won’t even let me through the door?”

Eegang’s helmet tipped so daintily to the side that Boba could have shed a tear.

“That sounds like a you-problem,” Eegang said.

 -----------

Eegang thereafter blocked Bojzka out of his mind and heart. He introduced himself with a dipping motion to Kryze and Boba that probably would have been more dramatic if he’d opted to wear a cape, which he did not. He revealed himself to be exceedingly polite and very fond of Din, though—if the gentle armor tapping and the use of the word ‘little brother’ was anything to go by. Din was usually receptive to gestures like that, Boba had learned, but not this time.

No, no. Din cared not for his ‘big brother.’ He cared only for the attention of Eegang’s baby.

“His name is Mesa,” Eegang explained after Din had kidnapped said baby. He introduced Mesa to Grogu who was stationed nearby, stuffed in the sleepy jedi’s shirt this time. . Grogu waved from Skywalker’s chest, but Mesa didn’t register the motion.

“His grandmother was quite ill, and it was her dying wish to see the child placed into the care of someone trustworthy. I have to admit, though, I may have made the decision a little rashly,” Eegang hummed as he watched Grogu lean as far as he could out of Skywalker’s clothing to try to make contact with his fellow foundling.

“Is he your first?” Bo-Katan asked.

Eegang winced.

“No, uh. I’ve got another,” he said. “She’s a huge fan of certain someones.”

“Me,” Din said without hesitation.

“And Paz,” Eegang said. “Which is a deadly combination.”

“She will be a mighty warrior,” Din informed Mesa and Skywalker. Skywalker twitched awake and didn’t understand anything that was happening. He noticed the baby, cooed, and waved with his gloved hand.

“She’s declared this one goat her nemesis and I cannot—I cannot—get her to just leave it alone,” Eegang said.

“A goat clan in the making,” Din said with approval.

“I’m hearing unnecessary commentary,” Eegang said without looking at him. “Please rephrase or shut up.”

Din seemed to gloat at the scolding. Skywalker glanced between him and his tall, teal comrade. He made his move and carefully came in to extract baby Mesa from Din’s arms to add him to his ever-growing collection. Grogu cooed again, closer now. He offered Mesa a hand, and this time, Mesa perked up and tried to grab at it clumsily.

“You manage the covert in the Armorer’s absence?” Bo-Katan asked Eegang. “You must be very dedicated to the Children of the Watch.”

“Define ‘manage’ and then ‘dedicated,’” Eegang said. “I prefer ‘accidentally charged with responsibility one too many times’ and ‘in too deep to turn back now.’”

“He’s being humble,” Din said. “Eegang has brokered peace between our covert and locals on numerous occasions.”

Eegang’s shoulders started to raise.

“Stop telling people that, they’re going to expect things from me,” he said, then popped back up like flipped switch. “Oh, I totally forgot why I even came. Jedi?”

Skywalker looked up from the conference of baby talk happening in his arms all wide-eyed, as though he’d been caught in the act of stealing imperial property.

“We did not welcome you into our covert,” Eegang said, “You must allow us to present you with a gift of welcome and entry.”

Oho. Very formal. Boba folded his arms and watched Skywalker for his reaction.

“A what?” Skywalker asked.

 -------

Bojzka was somewhat justifiably upset at the double standard going on here.

Skywalker was a jedi and yet welcomed into the covert with open arms and no admission requirements. He was, in fact, measured against his will for a set of armor. This was what Din’s buir had actually been after when she’d sent Eegang along to say hi.

Boba found that he enjoyed the reciprocation of ulterior motives that they were getting from Din’s covert. Kryze had never been happier. This was a game that she knew how to play.

“Wait no, hold up,” Bojzka interrupted. “I deserve a chance. Din, at least give me the name of one of your siblings so I can track them down with the elder.”

Din didn’t want to; there were foundlings happening and another meeting soon, but eventually even he had to give the guy something.

An honorable battle required at least two willing bodies.

 -----------

Din and Karren’s remaining sibling at the covert’s name was Shimmol. According to Din, Bojzka had next to no chance of gaining her favor because she did not leave the forge and therefore Bojzka had no access to her. Eegang corrected Din and said that Shimmol did, in fact, leave the forge, but never on her own volition.

She was preferred the dark. She hated social interaction.

To circumvent that, the Armorer had refused to induct her into the trade until she proved herself able to coexist with others. But Shimmol was eighteen, that fun age where no incentive or punishment was effective and digging your heels in was far more preferable to doing a damn thing your elders mentioned.

She’s announced that very weekend that she was officially becoming a recluse. Her present aspiration in life was apparently now to become a forge spider.

Bojzka, along with everyone else, had no idea how to receive this information. Kyrze took it upon herself to pat Bojzka on the shoulder and tell him to start with the elder. He might actually have some luck that way.

 -------

It took two weeks for Bojzka to re-emerge from whatever hellhole he’d had to walk a tightrope across to locate the covert’s elder Fayrz. He climbed in through Din’s personal quarters’ window and interrupted him and the Jedi in a moment of infrequent intimacy.

The sound of a body being throw over a bannister had a special kind of thud to it. Boba was up on out of his quarters in an instant.

Din flung Bojzka’s helmet after him. Skywalker had the grace to cover Djarin’s face with his shirt and walk him back into the room before anyone caught sight of it, telling Boba and Fennec, who had also emerged from her bed, prepared for drama, that all was fine. There was just a misunderstanding.

His bare torso was covered in scars. Boba found himself somehow surprised and impressed as the jedi unsuccessfully wrangled his furious husband back in the direction of bed.

He and Fennec peeked over the banister to see what had become of Bojzka. He was fine.

Fennec informed Boba that she was claiming part of his bed ‘in case anything else good happened’ since he was closer.

 -----

In the morning, Din was in marginally better spirits. Skywalker was to be found at his side, walking backwards and tripping over his cloak every four paces. He truly knew how to hit all Din’s ‘endeared’ buttons. If not to the earnestness and the near-miss of a disaster on the stairs, it would have looked like manipulation.

Bojzka attempted to rectify the peace by breaking into the court through one of the windows high up on the wall outside the second floor’s conference room.  This time, to ensure that he had Din’s full attention, he removed the jedi from the equation. Or he tried to anyways.

The jedi, in a split second, decided that, all joking aside, today, he would not be moved. His green saber managed to glow even in the sunlight pouring in to the hall.

“Do not touch,” he ordered, with both feet planted and Din and Grogu securely at his back.

Bojzka cocked his head at the saber pointed right at his nose.

“That’s a fun trick,” he said.

“Do not touch,” Skywalker repeated. “Me, him, or the child.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bojzka said. “Stand down before you regret it.”

“Luke,” Din said testily. “He’s not worth it.”

“Make me regret it,” Skywalker said to Bojzka.

Bojzka’s eyes widened slightly in interest. He used the back of his wrist to try to nudge the saber’s tip away and snapped his hand away from the burn.

“Do you expect me to be afraid of you, jedi?” he asked, trying to play it off.

Skywalker’s eyes reflected the light of his saber.

“Ask him what the glove’s for,” Fennec called from the far hall. Bojzka scoffed. Skywalker didn’t move.

“What happened to your hand?” Bojzka asked.

“My father cut it off,” Skywalker said. “But not to worry, I got a new one. Now step back. Sir.”

Bojzka didn’t move for a long time.

“Does it feel good to walk in the presence of these people?” he asked. “Is it a kink for you the way it was for your master?”

Boba had officially lost the plot. These were old politics now. Kryze would know what Bojzka was talking about, if only she deigned to come out from wherever she was hiding, which she wouldn’t. Of course.

“Does it offend you? My presence here?” Skywalker asked back without emotion.

“It doesn’t,” Bojzka said.

“I’m glad. That’s very convenient for me. I’d feel terrible if you bled out on these tiles,” Skywalker said. “So move.”

And goddamn. The mountain finally yielded to the sky.

 -------

Skywalker spent the rest of the day on high alert, with one hand on the hilt of his saber and his full concentration tied up with making fierce eyes into the palace’s corners to keep Bojzka at bay. It was really something to see. Din looked about ready to lay his fingers on his heart and swoon, and that was more than fair. If Boba’s spouse threatened to kill a man for looking at him wrong, he’d be touched too.

Fennec told Boba that she’d protect him from a man the size of a bantha but no larger, and it just didn’t have the same kind of ring.

She apologized and he told her it was fine. It was just in the delivery--and also, he’d murder anyone so blinked at her wrong, too.

She was pleased. Boba was glad they were on the same page.

“Let’s go find Kryze to negotiate,” Fennec said, “I need to know why Old Faithful’s back.”

 --------

Kryze’s commanding voice wrang out of Bojzka the real reason for his presence. The truth of the matter was that, War Hero aside, he was having a hell of a time getting the covert elder to grant him a second look.

Din told him that that was the point. Elder Fayrz was like that all day, every day and he’d change for no body, spiritual or physical. He bothered people when he wanted to bother them, and the rest of the time, he liked to pretend he was senile. He only really ever showed up if someone was buying a round or their life was in the balance.

Skywalker said that he sounded a lot like his late master.

Din agreed and said that Elder Fayrz had dedicated his life to two things: the covert children and fungi. Somehow, he made those two interests overlap. Din recalled being twelve and being taken out on a ‘mission’ by the old man who had informed him that he required his nose.

Elder Fayrz had no sense of smell. For a man with a fungi interest, he called this ‘very dangerous business indeed.’

Kryze demanded to know if all the weirdest Mandalorian elders still living had congregated at Din’s cohort which he quickly confirmed. Bojzka, however, demanded to know what would make this elder look him in the eye.

Din told him to go find a deathbed and lay on it.

He remembered belatedly to add ‘nearby Elder Fayrz’ to that statement.

 ----------

After about a month of this kind of back and forth, the Armorer decided that she’d had enough. She did not come to the Dune Sea. She sent a missive to Din informing him that he was coming home.

‘To talk,’ she said.

Boba vaguely remembered Karren saying something along the lines of ‘Din doesn’t get into trouble anymore,’ and was pleased to find that that was not the case. Din already knew what awaited him at his home covert and anyone with slightly more than a rock for a brain could see that it wasn’t going to be hugs and kisses.

Bojzka volunteered to accompany Din as a guard when the jedi made himself conveniently unavailable. Kryze and Boba flipped a coin while Din resisted stabbing him, and of course Boba won. Kryze flipped it again to be sure, and Boba told her sweetly that he’d send her a postcard.

“Have fun with the schmucks lounging around this place,” he gloated at Bo-Katan’s rolling shoulders.

She gave him two naughty fingers.

Whatever, girl. Sucks to suck. Bye, bye, now. Come on, Fennec. There’s adventure to be had.

 ---------

It was a ways to the new covert on Zeffo. Several hours, in fact, many of which were spent playing ‘I spy’ with Fennec while Bojzka gritted his teeth and asked them if they were always like this.

Fennec got Din to join in at that comment.

Eventually they ran out of white dwarfs and capes to identify and settled down into silence until the ship declared landing to be imminent.

Karren remembered Boba and the second he set foot inside the curiously constructed covert entrance. The kid came hurtling up to tackle him and wrap arms around his middle. It was endearing. Boba checked the doors to see if a guard would notice a kidnapping.

Fennec reminded him of child-based expenses. Her wisdom was invaluable as usual.

Karren scrambled away from Boba and, for a moment, made like he was going to attach himself to Din’s armor, but instead wriggled past Din to go tearing down the hallway. He skidded, crashed, and then clambered into a different room at the dead end of what appeared to be a row of barracks. Seconds later, Eegang exploded from one of the rooms adjacent wearing no armor but his helmet. He flung himself through the same doorway Karren had vanished through.

Din tilted his head.

“It’s fine,” a voice said behind them.

Their small party turned to see a woman wearing a cool purple helmet with only her flakvest on. Eegang’s pale baby was sat on her hip, pawing at her chest, trying to find purchase in the vest.

“Sotra,” Din greeted.

“Welcome back, brat-child,” Sotra said. “We missed you.”

This had to be Eegang’s secret-wife; unless she’d stolen that gurgling foundling in the night or something.

“Electrical?” Din asked, pointing at the far room.

“Loft,” Sotra said. “There’s hay, so of course all the kids have to be in it.”

“Just hay?” Din asked.

“And goats,” Sotra said.

Ah.

“We raise goats now?” Din asked.

“Oh, no, no,” Sotra said, sashaying past him towards the room her husband had abandoned, “It’s either coexistence or war, I’m afraid. The forge is past the hangar, keep going through the kitchens. Voxie knows you’re here—he’s awake, by the way. Welcome home, Din.”

“Thanks,” Din said. “This is my advisor, Boba Fett and our friend Fennec.”

Sotra splayed her whole, tall body into the doorway of her and Eegang’s barracks just as a fearsome battle cry sounded out on the other side.

“Hi,” she said.

“RELEASE ME,” a child in front of her about hip-height with serious bedhead shrieked in Mando’a.

Fennec’s eyebrows launched up to her forehead. Boba felt like he needed to record this so that Kryze understood what she was missing.

“Vod Din is home,” Sotra told the child.

“DIN.”

“Shhhh.”

“RELEASE M—mmf.”

“Shhhhh. It’s quiet time,” Sotra said with her free hand over the child’s mouth. “We’re being quiet.”

Din chuckled.

“Hey, Samo,” he said.

Samo let loose an ear-piercing scream behind her buir’s hand and ducked under Sotra’s legs. She ran at Din like there was a bomb behind her. Din caught her and swung her up to perch on his arm and she kicked relentless at his tassets in excitement.

“Shhh,” Din said. “People are sleeping—”

“YOU’RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE—”

Doors started opening all down the line of barracks. A few curious, hazy, and lopsided helmets poked out from some of them, and from others, calls of ‘EYYYYYYY’ and chats ‘ALL HAIL THE MAND’ALOR’ started up, to Din’s immediate mortification.

This, Boba was delighted to realize, was not a cry of honor.

These half-asleep fuckers had been waiting months to embarrass Din. And he’d known that this would happen.

“Be quiet,” Din snapped all around him. “The elders are sleeping, you’re going to—”

“Well, well, well, look who’s finally home,” a taunting voice rang out on top of the rush. “If it isn’t the Mand’alor himself.”

“Paz,” Din sighed. “Not now.”

“When could there possibly be a better time, your liege?” a huge Mandalorian wearing full blue armor despite the early hour drawled from the doorway he’d attempted to casually lean in. Samo’s braids flew as her round cheeks snapped his way.

“Paz, don’t be mean,” she told him from atop Din’s arm. “Or it’ll be to the goats with ya.”

“Fuck me, the goats, what ever will I do?” Paz scoffed.

“BUIR, PAZ SAID A BAD WORD.”

“I heard him,” Sotra said scathingly, right at Paz’s visor.

“To the goats,” Paz’s neighbor hissed at him.

The hissing was taken up just as quickly as the earlier ‘all hails’ had been. Paz told everyone to shut up and mind their own asses. He was publicly booed until Eegang emerged from the loft room with Karren stuffed under an arm and demanded to know why people were congregating in the halls. He reminded everyone that that shit was a fire hazard, and in doing so, his tone changed completely from easy-going to Commanding Officer and the effect was immediate.

People scurried back into their rooms like frightened mice until there wasn’t a single open door left in the whole line.

Eegang huffed and traded Karren to Din for his daughter. Samo happily climbed onto his shoulders and held onto his chin. Karren grinned mischievously up at her, winked, and then thumbed back to the goat loft.

“Not the welcome you deserved, but the one you got. I’m afraid nothing has changed here,” Eegang told Din compassionately, wrapping his fingers around Samo’s ankles. “I see you brought friends.”

“And foe,” Din said, gesturing at Bojzka who beamed.

Eegang’s visor contained a grimace that would otherwise have wracked his whole body.

“You got in,” he deadpanned.

“Sure did,” Bojzka said. “Lovely place you have here.”

And honestly? Yeah. It sort of was. Maybe a little ramshackle, what with all the scaffolding and haphazard support beams thrown into the walls to keep the wet earth above ground from crushing everyone below it, but for all the unsteadiness, it was oozing with comradery. Family.

Behind each of those doors was a little unit like Eegang and Sotra’s or perhaps a tired body, barely extracted from its boots, taking comfort in this honeycomb of tunnels and rooms.

Boba couldn’t help but wonder how he and Dad would have done in a place like this.

“We try,” Eegang said flatly. “I’ll let the Armorer deal with you herself—if she’s awake, I mean. Otherwise, you’re condemned to Shimmol. I’m going back to sleep. Vok is waiting for you, keep going straight through the kitchens, Din.”

“Thank you,” Din said. “Sleep well, Vod.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, Monster. No goats for now.”

Samo waved at Boba and Fennec with a smile as bright as the sun. She ducked expertly as Eegang passed through the doorway to their quarters. He closed the door behind them.

 ------

“You don’t see families like that much anymore,” Bojzka hummed as Din led their troop down the hallways, through a series of ladders into a kitchen and then from there into a surprisingly neat, up-to-date hangar with concrete floorings. Six crafts were parked inside, tucked into the tight space like fish in a barrel.

“We have a few,” Din said. “I don’t know how many people are living here now, though.”

Given the size of the place? Maybe fifty or so, if Boba had to take a guess. There had been several sets of boots lining the wall outside the barrack doors.

Din picked his way through the crafts to two tarps covered in piles of spare, rusting, and grease-covered parts. At the end of the aisle between the tarps was a rectangle bordered by wooden benches and to the left of that was a little box that a mechanic presumably operated from. The box, however, had no windows. Its door was slightly ajar.

Din knocked and a snort and a slurp answered him.

“Jus’ a mo,” a thick voice said inside.

Fennec looked at Boba with intrigue.

“Tool gnome,” she said.

No, friend. Just a grease-monkey.

“Tool gnome,” Fennec insisted.

The door opened and a man at least six feet, two inches peered out of it.

“Tool giant,” Fennec amended in a whisper.

“Is that you, Din?” the mechanic asked. His helmet was rusty red and gray. Its visor had a yellow tint to it.

“It is,” Din said. “It’s been a while, Vok. These are my—”

“Forget them. Goran told me what you did to Razor.”

Din cringed.

“I—”

“AH. No. I don’t wanna hear it,” Vok said. “I just—I’m glad you’re safe, but you ain’t touching any more of my children, you hear me, boy?”

Din sunk into his shoulders in shame.

“I hear you,” he said.

“You’re damn right you do,” Vok said. “Man, I had a whole speech written out and shit, and here you are, early as the fuckin’ dawn. Did you miss Paz?”

“We did not,” Din said.

“I tried to have him do an inventory, I did,” Vok said sympathetically. “But he wasn’t havin’ it. Took an IOU and everything.”

Din sighed.

“Thanks for trying,” he said. “Is the forge...?”

“That way,” Vok said, gesturing to the far end of the hangar, where a series of scaffolding led up to a dark hole in the wall. “Mind your step. Stairs are next on my list. Who’re your friends?”

Din introduced them. Vok considered Fennec and after a moment of thought, saluted her. She tipped her jaw to the side and gave him a once-over.

“Din’s got my number if you’re not busy,” Vok said.

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Fennec said.

“I hope you do, my darlin’. You? Boj-whatever? I heard about you. You can go fuck yourself.”

“Thanks, Vok, we’re going now,” Din intervened.

 ----------

Fennec said nothing on the way up the scaffolding. She didn’t need to. Boba applauded her.

 ---------

The forge was the least finished part of the covert, and Boba could respect the Armorer’s dedication to looking after the flock before her own needs. Not that the forge wasn’t a comfortable place. Upon entry, Bojzka whistled at all the equipment inside. There were steel beams crossing in hatches along the ceiling. It appeared as though someone was working on a ventilation mechanism up there. Ropes and pipes hung down from the beams as though a pulley system had been recently removed.

The forge itself was a huge circular structure with a high wall around its exterior. It was built of a slick-looking black material. There were three water troughs set up in a line behind it and two rudimentary wood blocks with anvils set on them. Benches littered with iron tools sat next to the anvils.

Din appeared very at home in this place, despite not having even been in it. He wove around the accoutrements of the room towards a wooden door that had been placed on hinges on the far side like an afterthought.

He knocked.

“We don’ want any,” a sleepy woman’s voice drawled.

Boba jumped as a something brushed his elbow and discovered that Karren had followed them all the way down to the forge. His soft boots had hidden his footsteps, but, like Din, he was now in a place that he knew like the back of his hand. Din grabbed the scruff of his neck as he went for the door with both hands.

“You’re supposed to be in the nursery,” Din told him. “Shoo.”

“Shimmol, Din’s home,” Karren said through the door. “Goran, Din’s home.”

Very cute. Karren wanted to be the one to shared the news. Din pulled him back as shuffling started up on the other side of the wooden door.

It opened to reveal a fluorescent pink helmet with floral patterns painted down the edges in white.

“Din?” the young woman, who could only be Shimmol, asked.

Din’s brain stuttered.

“Uh?” he said.

Shimmol’s flightsuit was once white, but it was burned and smudged to gray all over. Her heavy gloves were half-burnt on both hands, too. She surged forward into Din’s chestplate. Din hugged her back awkwardly.

“Hello, sister,” he said. “This is, uh.”

“Do you like it?” Shimmol asked, pulling away from him to touch the edges of her helmet. “I thought it was cute. Wait til you see the pauldrons. They match.”

“They’re hideous,” Karren said.

“Did anyone ask you?” Shimmol flung at him. “No, I didn’t think so. Get gone, womp-rat.”

Wow. No wonder Karren was desperate for Din’s attention.

“I’m not a womp-rat,” Karren said. “I’m a Tooka. Goran said so.”

“You know, what you actually are is a ‘nuisance,’ so it doesn’t matter what—”

“Children.”

And lo and behold. The lady herself. Gold helmet and everything.

“Din,” the Armorer said, placing a hand on Shimmol’s side to move her. “Welcome home.”

Din accepted the helmet touch with grace.

“Bojzka,” the Armorer said next. “I didn’t expect to see you in my home so soon, or at all.”

Bojzka beamed.

“You’ve grown a beard,” the Armorer noted. “It does not become you.”

Boba coughed into his elbow to hide the bark of laughter screaming to escape his throat. Fennec thumped at his back.

“Let’s move somewhere with more light,” the Armorer said. “Karren, Shimmol. You’re dismissed for the next hour. Go eat breakfast.”

“But—” Shimmol started.

“Up, up, up,” Karren chanted, getting behind her and shoving hands into the small of her back. “It’s people-time.”

“Leave it. I hate people-time,” Shimmol said. “I thrive on darkness. It sustains me better than food.”

Din looked desperately into the Armorer’s helmet. The Armorer ignored him and told Shimmol that she knew this to false and to stop whining. Upstairs, now.  

The kids relented and left the forge. Din pointed after them.

“I know,” the Armorer said. “Let her work through it.”

Din pointed even more insistently.

“No, no. It’s true,” Bojzka said. “Mine went through the same thing.”

 --------

The Armorer sat them all down at a ‘u’ shape of benches on the far side of the forge. She turned on some overhead lights. They lit up the forge and threw its equipment’s shadows harshly against the floor.

“Thank you for coming,” she said lightly. “It takes a long time to get to Zeffo, even in the Outer Rim.”

“It suits you,” Bojzka flirted.

“It does not,” the Armorer countered unrepentantly. “And your flattery remains aggravating.”

Bojzka didn’t seem to process the meaning behind those words, too busy he was with basking in the Armorer’s presence. She ignored him to turn to Din.

“Eegang tells me that you have been aggressive towards Bojzka, ad’ika, is this true?”

Din hunkered down into his shoulders. He didn’t want to answer. The Armorer didn’t make him.

“This is unnecessary,” she said. “Bojzka does not bother me.”

Bojzka rounded a gloating grin at Din.

“He is delusional, but I’m afraid that head trauma does this over time,” the Armorer said lightly. “There is no need to defend my honor—I’ve already had this conversation with Eegang, so know that it is not only you who I’ve spoken to about this. And Bojzka.”

“Yes, dear?” Bojzka hummed.

“I would appreciate it if you ceased in antagonizing my foundling and second.”

“I’m not trying to, Nomri.”

“I know,” the Armorer said. “And that is where I believe this tension arises from. Din, you and your advisor may leave. I’ll handle this. In future, know that it is not your place to speak on these matters in my stead, yes?”

“Yes, Goran,” Din mumbled.

The Armorer waited.

“Buir,” Din corrected.

“Thank you. The last thing I need is the Mand’alor becoming invested in old-standing relationships. You may go.”

Din stood and Boba and Fennec stood with him.

“He is not Naseem,” Din said right at the doorway.

The Armorer’s helmet turned slowly his way.

“No one will ever be Naseem,” she said. “It’s okay. Go.”

 -----------

Boba need the full story on this Naseem guy approximately yesterday, but all he had at his disposal in the kitchens where he, Din, and Fennec had been banished was a collection of foundlings all staring up at their party looking guilty as hell.

In the midst of their group was a ten-year-old holding a glass jug absolutely brimming with frogs.

Boba had never seen this many foundlings together at once before, and he had to say: these traditionalists knew exactly what they were doing. There was nothing quite like a whole mass of youths to shift the mood.

The kids made a break for it.

  Fennec was the fastest of all of them, but even she was not as fast as the bodies that popped their heads out of the rattling back room and launched themselves without warning over the few rows of tables set out in the main space.

Din’s covert collectively looked after the little ones, he explained when one of these bodies returned with the wrist of a shrieking Twi’lek child in their grip. The shrieking cut off when the nurse dropped down into a crouch and flattened both of the child’s hands against their helmet so that they left splotchy prints behind.

Two of the folks who filed back into the room covered in mud did not wear helmets. Din didn’t recognize them until they spoke and said their names. They’d removed their helmets back on Nevarro, apparently, and they had not to put them back on. Now, they wore veils and headscarves—neither of them comfortable with their whole heads and faces on display.

One of these was a woman named Madda. She saw Din’s helmet and froze by one of the long tables.

“Din, I’m so glad you returned,” she said with hitching breath. And then she took her newly-acquired jug of frogs and went tearing back down the hallway towards the covert’s main entrance. Din watched after her, confused.

“Is the transition difficult?” he asked one of the other Mandalorians next to him.

Their helmet showed zero emotion, and yet Boba gleaned from it everything he needed to know. He put a palm on his forehead.

“Djarin, come here,” he said.

 -------------

Din chased after Madda to apologize for fucking up what was probably a years-long infatuation at this point. Fennec watched after him with a sly grin. But the Mandalorian with the flat helmet turned to Boba with far more open shoulders.

“You got through to him like that,” she said, snapping her fingers.

“It’s his secret talent,” Fennec told her.

“What was your name?” the Mandalorian asked.

“Boba Fett,” Boba said. “And yours?”

“Jhuvac.”

“Nice to meet you,” Boba said politely.

“Aren’t you the clone-guy?”

Welp.

“I prefer ‘Fett,’” Boba said.

“Nah, I feel that,” Jhuvac said, tossing her scarf over her shoulder. “Paz calls you the ‘clone-guy’ is all. That shit’s wild, by the way. But you can’t help your dad’s decision now can you?”

What was this? Understanding? From a traditionalist? Kryze would lose her shit.

“I can’t, although everything after that was totally me,” Boba said.

Jhuvac glanced back at him.

“Including the Solo stuff?” she asked.

Boba lifted a brow.

“Is there something you would like to know?” he asked.

“No,” Jhuvac said. “I know everything I need to. But you know what’ll make Vok’s life miserable?”

 ---------

The mechanic was a huge fan of Han Solo, and he had a list of reasons why Boba should cease hunting  the man about as long as one of his lanky arms. He listed them out one by one in his hangar full of metal scrap. Jhuvac was very correct when she said that the mere mention of Solo meeting his maker would cause Vok immense misery. Boba could see how it could be entertaining.

Fennec made it even more entertaining by poking holes in each of Vok’s carefully laid out arguments.

He kept asking her why she was hurting him like this. Was this a domination kink?

Fennec asked him if he wanted it to be.

Vok walked it all back and told her to do her worst.

Jhuvac decided that she suddenly had other things to do and invited Boba to accompany her on these things. Boba assented and left Fennec to her business.

 ----------

In the end, Boba found himself outside in a group huddle with a handful of covert people, two with no helmets, watching the feud between the foundlings and the local wildlife. The covert, he learned, broadly did not like Zeffo. They hated how wet it was. They hated how cold it was. 90% of them had grown up in desert climates, the remaining 10% in ice climates.

Zeffo, as far as they were concerned, was a backwater hellhole that they’d had little choice in selecting.

“It was this or breaking up and forming two coverts,” Sotra explained, removing Mesa’s captured snail from his face area for the third time. She gave the snail to the guy next to her who got up and took it down to the edge of the nearby river. He stooped to set it in the grass, then froze in shock when a fish’s wide mouth erupted from the water and encapsulated his whole glove.

It left the glove wet and empty.

“But you didn’t want to do that?” Boba asked.

“No, if we separated, it would be Eegang at the head of the new covert,” Sotra said. “And that’s just not in the cards for us right now.”

Gotcha.

“The children didn’t want to be separated either,” one of the Mandalorians with no helmet said. “Goran gave them the option, but things were frantic, you know. They cling to each other when they’re young like this.”

More than understandably, in Boba’s humble and correct opinion.

“What do you all think of Bojzka?” Boba asked them.

“Who?”

“The bull with no helmet? Beard?” someone said.

“The one trying to court the Armorer?” Sotra asked.

Everyone clambered back onto the same page in the face of this descriptor.

“He’s supposed to be some kind of hero,” Jhuvac said. “But I dunno, man. He seems a little, uh.”

“Goran’s too good for him,” Sotra interjected simply. “Imagine stooping so low after a life of respect and service.”

“He’s not ugly,” the Mandalorian who’d lost the snail pointed out. “I’d bang him.”

“You’re not a good bar, Ban.”

“I could be.”

“You’re the lowest bar, Ban.”

“Can’t be disappointed if your expectations on the floor.”

“Go bang him for Goran then,” Jhuvac said. “I can’t tell if she thinks he’s kinda cute or if she wants to stab him in the heart.”

“For the good of the covert, I will endure this hardship,” Ban said.

He was unceremoniously yanked back down when he started to stand.

“Din mentioned some guy named ‘Naseem?’” Boba asked.

The name alone sent the group into titters.

“Naseem was so nice.”

“Naseem was great, you have no idea. So respectful.”

“He wanted to take Din on so bad, it was almost heartbreaking. He and Goran were perfect for each other. He was so happy around her; I don’t think he ever talked in front of anyone else.”

“God, when he died, I cried so hard. I cried for days.”

“Same.”

“Same.”

“Same.”

“Kind of a tough reputation to beat, then?” Boba asked.

“Oh definitely,” Jhuvac said. “I mean, there was Hajka after him, but she was just so explosive. Like, she made Goran laugh a lot, I remember that, but she was kinda awkward, too. There was a battle on her home planet and she left everyone here to defend what was left of her people.”

“Goran collects the awkward ones, they’re her favorite,” Sotra said.

“You can’t judge her, you collect Eegangs,” Ban pointed out.

“There is only one Eegang.”

“Girl, we know.”

There was a pause while Sotra handed off her child so that she could beat the shit out of Ban on the lumpy grass. Jhuvac handed Mesa over Boba’s lap to the quiet person at his right. They took the baby without question and laid him on their chest.

“Where did you grow up, Boba?” Jhuvac asked. “Sorry, Fett. Do you like Fett?”

Boba was taken aback. It had been ages since someone had called him by his first name—and a Mandalorian no less.

“Boba is fine. I grew up on Kamino,” he said.

“With a covert?”

No, no covert. No anyone, really. Boba was what people in white coats tended to call ‘under-socialized.’

“That’s sad,” Jhuvac said. “It must have been lonely.”

It was, actually. Especially after Dad had died.

“That’s so sad, I’m gonna cry,” Ban said. “Join our covert.”

All helmets and eyes rounded on Boba and he felt like his collar was suddenly digging into his neck. He shook his head.

“I’m not really a Mandalorian,” he said. “It’s not right—”

“Bullshit.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Jhuvac, let ‘im talk.”

“No, that’s bullshit. Listen, Din has ‘don’t trust people’ syndrome. If he trusts you enough to bring you with him here, then you’re Mandalorian enough for us,” Jhuvac said. “And anyways, being a Mandalorian is about what you do, not who you are. It doesn’t matter if you’re clone-guy so long as you follow the Creed in a more or less northernly direction.”

Boba stared at her and realized that everyone was staring at him again. He cleared his throat but found that he didn’t have any words trapped back there like he’d thought.

“Or easternly,” Ban offered to break the awkwardness.

There were still no words on Boba’s tongue. He struggled to say at least something.

“I—th—that’s kind of you,” he eventually managed. “I don’t think I could cut it here, but that’s really kind of you.”

The Mandalorians exchanged looks and shrugs.

“Know that the offer stands if you feel any pull towards it later,” Sotra said. “We have a number of reformed who converted and who move in and out of our covert. Not recently, but when we were children, there were more. Goran, too, was once a reformed Mandalorian.”

“My buir, too,” Jhuvac added.

“My ba-buir was reformed,” Ban said. “But she might have caused a public riot. Or two. Or three.”

“Speaking of which,” Sotra said. “Elder Fayrz has emerged from his cave.”

“I’ll get him,” Jhuvac sighed.

Boba frowned and looked from them out to the hill the foundlings had selected to gossip on. A Mandalorian in black and white with a green cape was, indeed, now kneeling among them. Every face was turned towards him in wonder.

“I’ve heard of this guy. He looks fun,” he noted.

At least one hand from every body came up to clutch at their face.

“That’s exactly the problem,” Ban said.

 ------

Din rejoined Boba in the midst of Elder Fayrz’s attempt to recruit him into the covert. He somehow knew Dad. That in itself was a little disarming. At first, Boba hadn’t believe that the elder was speaking the truth, but then he started up with alarmingly specific training corp numbers and mentioned off-handedly that he used to work in the corps, training kids from six to fourteen.

It made sense now why, in old age, he was considered the most dangerous person in the covert to have around the foundlings.

Grandpa was a serial spoil-er and mischief-instigator. The children saw in him everything they wanted out of life and were loathe to be separated from their most favorite old man.

Din got between him and Boba and informed the Elder that he’d just gotten married.

The Elder’s attentions went rocketing in the opposite direction. He wanted pictures, he wanted to know all about the reception, he wanted to know why Din hadn’t brought his partner home with him, what color their armor was, where they were presently based—the whole barrel of spotchka.

Boba appreciated the save.

He also appreciated the moment when the Elder fully realized that Din had, in fact, married a real jedi.

“YOU STUPID BOY.”

There it was.

The children bustled and whispered.

“This is what happens when we do not teach them to read—where is your buir? I told her, I told her that you needed more lessons. Always with the dogs, I knew it would have some effect—”

Din couldn’t even argue. He and Kryze had been over the very same deficit about sixty times. If they were lucky, Bo-Katan gave him a day or two off in between scoldings.

While the old man was outraged, Din signaled to Boba that they would be leaving soon.

 --------

Bojzka joined Boba, Din, and Fennec at the ramp of their ship about ten minutes late. The Armorer personally showed him out of the covert and told him to return only if the galaxy began to collapse in on itself. She was at least cordial about it, which, in hindsight, was probably why Bojzka was having a hard time reading the glaring ‘please desist’ sign flickering over her head.

“Be safe,” she told Din while Karren made sad sounds behind her.

“Will do,” Din said. “Next time, I’ll see if Luke will come.”

“We would like to have him,” the Armorer said.

She dipped her helmet to Boba and Fennec and they returned the gesture.

“I hope you were well-received by the others,” she said. “Bojzka, good bye.”

“Talk to you later,” Bojzka hummed.

“We shall not,” the Armorer said.

 ---------

Back in the Dune Sea, Kryze was waiting in one of the conference rooms. Din avoided her and all her probing questions. Boba did not. He was in a sharing sort of mood and Fennec had a ‘thanks for the lay’ message to compose to Mr. Vok.

Kryze crossed her legs and gestured for him to join her at the table.

He did and crossed his legs right back.

“So?” she asked.

“Shocking peaceful,” Boba said. “Violent mostly towards their own members. Tried to recruit me at least three times.”

Kryze’s eyebrows did a little dance.

“Surprising,” she said.

“Not very,” Boba corrected. “Din is one of the more reserved members. He resembles his buir more than I expected.”

“And Bojzka?” Kryze asked.

“Soundly rejected, but somehow optimistic about it,” Boba said. “The good news is that Din’s been forbidden from trying to kill him.”

“That is good news,” Kryze agreed.

There was a long pause.

“Are you thinking about it? Joining, I mean?” Kryze asked.

“No,” Boba said, “But it is nice to occasionally be around Mandalorians who don’t have sticks up their asses.”

“Unicorns,” Kryze said.

“A whole covert of them,” Boba told her with a smirk. “Maybe it’s not them. Maybe it’s you all.”

“I beg to differ,” Kryze said. “If the issue is resolved, then I suppose we’ll have to move back on to official business.”

That was no fun.

“Why is Fennec so smug?”

Oh, that was more fun. Sit back down, Lady. This is going to be a bawdy one.

[donutloverxo]

Smooth

Note - This is a birthday gift for my babie🥺🥺 Amber aka @sweater-daddiesdumbdork. I'm sorry Steve's as hairless as a seal😔 at least you have Ari Mike and Colin!

Summary - You're surprised to find just how smooth Steve is.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings - smut, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, name calling, captain kink, rip steves pubes lol.

Word count - 2.6k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

“What the fuck do you mean you haven’t done it yet?!” You cringed pushing your palms on your ears to block out Ella’s screeching. Maybe it was a mistake to tell her that you still hadn’t hit that supersoilder-golden-boy-next-door.

“We’re just waiting for the right moment you know?” You murmured. You couldn’t tell her the real reason. That Steve had never been intimate with anyone. Even if she was your best friend that was Steve’s secret to tell, not yours.

“When will the right moment come” She shook her head “I’m disappointed in you. You get to date that hunk of a man, and how long has it been a year?”

“Six months!” You defended yourself.

“As if that makes a difference” She scoffed.

“We will do it soon when we’re both ready.” You said ironing out the wrinkles on your dress which you were showing her.

“Alright I just want you to be happy” She rolled her eyes finally giving in “but why're you dressed as a nun?” She looked you up and down confused.

“I’m not a nun! I’m supposed to be snow white. Steve will be my prince.” You couldn’t help the love-struck grin that appeared on your face. You really were living out your best fairy tale with him.

“Wouldn’t you rather wear something traditional” She suggested.

“Hm?” You asked looking at your reflection in your dressing table mirror. You were covered head to toe. Your hair done up like that of snow white with a red headband. “How is this not traditional?” You wondered. It seemed like an okay, albeit cheesy but you were a cheesy couple, costume for Halloween.

“I meant traditional for our generation.” She snickered. She would never say it in front of Steve, but she loved making fun of you for dating someone who was old enough to be your grandpa and how you liked older men. “like a slutty snow White” she continued.

“Nope” You said popping the p and going back into your closet to take off the uncomfortable and restricting dress. You had no idea how you will spend an entire night in that thing. “I don’t want to ruin Disney Princesses for him. He likes them a lot” you shouted so she could hear you. It was so cute how he liked to hum or even sing along with the musicals sometimes. He appreciated the art and the vibrant colors. The idealistic happy endings appealed to the romantic in him.

You came out of your closet taking in deep breathes of fresh air, your torso no longer restricted “That doesn’t mean you can’t still be slutty” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at you.

“What do you have in mind?” You were curious. You were excited to be Steve’s princess. But you would trade that if you what you truly wanted.

Steve groaned looking at himself all done up in his 'prince' costume. Yeah it was his idea to be Snow White and her prince but you were the one who suggested doing a costume together! He couldn’t say no when you looked at him so expectedly. When you gushed so much about this being your favorite holiday.

He looked... ridiculous. There was no other way to put it. From the neck up he was fine, his clean shaven face and golden yellow hair pushed back. He looked like his normal self. But then his pale blue shirt with the balloon sleeves, the dark vest over it and his huge black boots, all topped with a sword strapped to his hip. It reminded him of his army days, when he was nothing more than a monkey.

He contemplated all the teasing he would probably have to endure from his friends the whole night. It would be absolutely worth it to make you happy. With his mind made up he left his apartment and headed towards yours, just across the hallway, to pick you up for the party at the tower. He did lose the sword. That was just too over the top.

He knocked on your door, giddy with excitement to see you in your snow white dress. He made sure to treat you like a princess, how you deserve to be treated by everyone, but to actually see you dressed as one would be something else.

His jaw dropped on the floor as you opened the door and he got a good look at you. You were dressed in... lingerie? You were a white lacy bodysuit that hugged your curves in all the right places. Leaving your legs completely bare. If that wasn’t enough you were wearing a tiara attached to a veil.

He couldn’t stifle the damn near animalistic growl that escaped his throat. He averted his gaze from your pushed up titts to your face. Your make up all done up, from the neck up you almost looked like a bride. “What the hell are you wearing doll?” he grumbled.

“Oh you don’t like it?” you clucked your tongue and looked down at your sexy costume “What a shame. It only costs like 500 dollars” Yeah maybe you were an idiot to spend so much money on a costume but if it worked you’d be seeing stars tonight so it'd be worth it.

“What happened to being snow white? What are you even supposed to be?” You moved to the side so you could let him into your apartment. He ran his hand through his hair plopping down on your couch, his eyes never leaving your body.

“I’m a slutty bride” You twirled in front of him to give him a nice view of your, barley covered, ass.

“That’s lingerie doll. You can’t go out dressed like that” He raised his hand to touch your ass, maybe give it a little squeeze but you quickly turned around.

Your hands on your hips you asked “Why not?”

“Because” He paused pulling you into him by grabbing at your hips “only I get to see you like this” His hand reached at your backside and he groaned squeezing your ass before giving it a light swat. He chuckle as you yelped from the sudden slap.

“Well then what do you suggest I do with this?” You asked nonchalantly playing with your veil “Are you saying I don’t look pretty?” You gave him your best mock puppy eyes. You could clearly see just how much he liked that on you. But you needed him to say it and to do something about it.

“You know that’s not true” You yelped as he flipped you into the couch, trapping you under him.

“I don’t know Steve. You don’t seem to be a huge fan of it. I thought you’d like me being your slut.” You brought out the big guns, jutting your bottom lip out. You knew he’d melt on the spot.

“Fine. You can be my slut.” He couldn’t believe he actually said that word. His mother raised him in a certain way. To respect women and to never ever use those words to address a woman. And he did respect all women and you. But she also taught him to be passionate and give his all to everything he did. So it would only be fair that he fucked you, respectfully, with everything he has got and gave you everything you asked for.

He grabbed your hair and pulled your head back. Biting and sucking on your neck and then trailing down your clavicle. Making sure to leave bruises so everyone could see who you belonged to. He kissed your throat and revelled in the vibrations caused by your moans. Your hands in clutching onto his head and completely messing up his well done hair. He finally let up and admired his work. The white and red marks that would soon turn a dark shade of violet.

He hauled you over his shoulder walking towards your bedroom. As you squirmed and then laughed in his hold.

He had to struggle a lot to off his clothes. They were so intricate, with the buttons and buckles, reminded him of his stealth suit. He pulled off his boots and crawled onto the bed, kneeling between your legs only in his tight black boxer briefs.

He looked at your face and frowned at the puzzled expression it held as you stared at his nude body. He suddenly felt self conscious. All the insecurities, from back when he was the little guy came back to him. He thought women liked him now. Even you were so entranced and attracted to his bulky figure. Which he couldn’t help but be proud of.

But right now, for some reason you didn’t look impressed. He sanked back to sit on his calves. He had completely given himself to you. What if you rejected him? He had no idea how he would deal with that blow.

“Oh!” You exclaimed as you noticed Steve’s defeated state. In your ogling and processing you didn’t realise that you might’ve hurt his feelings. “Stevie?” You knelt before him caressing his cheek. “I’m just taken aback a bit okay?” you tried to reassure him.

“Why?” He finally met your gaze looking into your guys.

“I mean...” You trailed off running your hand down the smooth and vast expanse of his chest. “You’re so smooth? You don’t have any hair.” You struggled to get the sentence out. Suddenly realises just how ridiculous it sounded.

“I – yeah that’s how I’ve always been. I thought that’s what women wanted” He murmured cutely tilting his head “You don’t like it?” His voice wavering with nervousness.

“Steve. What kinda question is that?” And you cringed as he reminded you that you did the same thing just moments ago. “I was kidding! Steve there is nothing about you that’s not to like. Yeah I do like a bit of fuzz but I’d love you just as much even if you were bald.” You said and he looked as if he was processing your words. “You are my dream guy. My prince.” You beamed trailing kisses down his flushed torso. “How about I show you?” You didn’t wait for his answer, taking off your veil and your tiara with it. You rolled his briefs down his hips and he helped you take them off. You looked in shock at his beautiful rosy cock, which was almost hard, and his lack of hair....

You quickly whipped your head up knowing he would assume the worst “Steve! It’s the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen” You said stroking his length and licking the tip, which was oozing with precum, to prove it. “It’s just unexpected. That’s all.” You took him in your mouth. Just as you anticipated, he was too big, you could barely fit his tip in your mouth.

“Well you know the...” He bunched your hair in his fist, struggling to keep from pushing you down further.

“What?” You asked as he slipped out of you.

“I thought that’s what people did nowadays” He was turning redder every second “I didn’t... In the pornography...and I thought tonight you and me..”

You snorted and out a hand on your mouth to keep from laughing. “Steve! Porn isn’t real. You can do whatever you want with your body. But you’re in for a rude awakening.”

“What do you mean?” he asked trying his best to ignore his aching cock and your wet swollen lips.

“Just wait till it grows back” You grimaced “it’s gonna itch like crazy. That’s why I uh... never you know do it. Just warning you” You chuckled nervously.

“Enough talking” He groaned at the thought of your wet pussy and how much he had been fantasizing about it for the last several months. He pushed you on your back and quickly worked on removing your bodysuit. When you laid completely bare in front of him. He swore you were the more beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

He trailed down your body settling his broad shoulders between your legs. He groaned at the sight in front of him. You weren’t lying and he indeed preferred this. He dove right in licking and sucking to see what you like best. He had never ate a woman out before but he had been doing his research. Porn was too gratuitous and was clearly only made for the male gaze, reading women’s magazines and some more ‘sex for dummies' books he bought as discreetly as he could.

Which is where he got the stupid idea that everyone liked shaved dicks now. Which was only backed up by his friends and the locker room talk about ‘manscaping'. Tony and Clint were classic over sharers. He wouldn’t be surprised if they purposely misled him. He didn’t have much hair on his balls to begin with, but he expected to give himself to you tonight, so he carefully put the razor on his balls and shaved it all off. The things he would do for you and the lengths he would go for you.

From your moans and the way you were pushing his head harder into your core, he could tell that he was doing a good job. You thrashed and squirmed as he held you down by pushing down on your stomach. You came gushing all over his face and he made sure to drink it all up, not wasting a single drop.

He loomed over you, his cock nudging at your entrance. You both moaned in unison as he sinked into you, groaning into the crook of your neck as he bottomed out.

His hands greedily squeezed your hips, your breasts, your ass, whatever they could get a hold of as he slowly rocked his hips against yours. He knew if he went any faster he would blow his load right then and there.

“I’m gonna cum Steve.” You wailed and if he didn’t know any better he would think that you were in pain.

“You gonna cum? Go ahead” He harshly shaved his cock into you “Be a good slut. Cum all over your captains cock.” He felt his own release not far behind, not with your tight wet cunt milking him for all he’s got. He gasped when you raked your nails into his shoulders, crying loudly in his ear. He lost his rhythm. Lifting your hips up to fuck him like the animal you’ve turned him into. His hips stuttered as he came deep inside you.

He stayed inside you and on top of you for a minute. Catching his breathe he finally pulled out of you and laid down beside you, pulling you into his chest.

“I’m on the pill.” You mumbled into his chest. Not wanting him to worry about that. You smiled against his chest laying a kiss over his soft nipple. There were plenty of benefits to being so smooth and hairless. You could trace those hard abs of his with your tongue for hours. You changed your mind. You liked them smooth and silky now. Or maybe because he was so hairless. You didn’t know and it didn’t matter.

“I think I like seeing you as a bride.” He said his fingers idly playing with your hair, curling a strand of it.

You only muttered something as a response. Probably too far gone into slumber. He traced your smooth skin for a while before joining you in it. Completely forgetting about the party you were both supposed to be at.

Tags will be in the reblog! If you want in on the taglist click the link in the bio or shoot me an ask!

Please note that my work is NOT to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account. Reblogs are most welcome though.

[dabisburntsack]

False Alarm

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing(s): Shigaraki Tomura x GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff !

Synopsis: When your long time gaming partner brings up the topic of May Day you can’t help but romanticise the olden holiday with your ever growing crush on him.

Wordcount: 1784

This is apart of a sfw flower collab done with the bnharem discord server! I loved the prompt for this collab and can’t wait to see how everyones fics turned out!! Special thanks to @pluviophile-imagines for helping my ass through this as I had a mental breakdown٩( ᐛ )و

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

⇾  signifies texting

May Day was a traditional holiday, one you wouldn’t have really heard of had your long time online gaming partner not brought it up in discussion as you fought against him to bring down the zombies on your screen.

“Yeah you pretty much leave a basket full of flowers with different meanings to them hanging on a loved ones door”

“I would have never pegged you for the romantic type” You replied amused.

“I’m- well, I’m... I would never do it-”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Pffft no, of course not”

“Shame, I think it's really romantic!”

The line went quiet, the only audible sound being the cock of guns and explosions going off in the game. You readjusted your mic wondering if he’d cut off when his voice came again; though quieter than the usual responses you would get.

“You think?”

“Yeah! Come onnn, tell me that isn’t the cutest thing ever”

The line paused again for the briefest moment, but when he finally continued speaking the conversation switched back to gameplay as if the short discussion about May Day had never occured. You shrugged and went back to chatting aimlessly about zombies yourself, though a small part of you may have wanted to carry on with the romance talk.

You had known the player ‘Decay_God’ for going on 3 years now and were as close as online friends could be. From what you’d gathered over the years, Tenko worked at a bar and had a shit ton of roommates. Though he constantly went on about how annoying they were, you could tell he cared deeply for them. He was passionate about what he did, whether it be his job (you didn’t know what exactly it was, just that his mood in your games would be whether or not he had received good news from his end) or his game play.

In the beginning, you didn’t really like him or his attitude; both being highly ranked in the gaming community you would constantly butt heads and his childish behaviour of when you would steal a victory off him annoyed you to no end. But as it went on, his temper tantrums died down and once you got to know him, you found his quips and wit to be quite entertaining. Now two years later, you would look forward to getting home from a stressful day at work to endlessly chatter about whatever topic was of the day.

You couldn’t lie, you had garnered a bit of a crush on him.

You didn’t even know what this man looked like. He could be a catfish! An old perverted dude! Hell he could even be a criminal and you’d be none the wiser! Although, if you were being honest with yourself… you couldn’t help but make the obvious connection to a certain infamous villain. One that happened to have pale blue hair and a decaying quirk. Even in personality they seemed interchangeable, from what you had seen on the news he was also akin to throwing childish temper tantrums and scratching at his neck when frustrated (a habit you regularly scolded Tenko for when you heard the telltale sound nails scraping along side the column of his neck.)

Whenever you did think about it though you stopped yourself, come on as if you would be gaming with Shig- no, you weren’t even going to say his name. So they had a few similarities, this was a whole villain compared to your sweet gaming partner. Dumb conspiracy theories aside, you couldn’t help the small flutter of your heart when he would say your name in a teasing manner or when he praised you for a particularly hard kill.

As you logged off for the night you laid your head against the wall your bed was propped next to and stared at the blank ceiling, your mind drifting back to the May Day conversation. A blushing Tenko came to your mind, his face obscured by a large hood, nervously rubbing at the back of his head before handing you a large bouquet of flowers. Your cheeks flushed and you slapped at them to stop yourself from heating up, vanishing the mental image mid thought.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t as much of a small crush as you wanted it to be.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

After having a three day break, getting ready for work so early in the morning proved more effort than it should have been. Still trying to blink the sleep out of your eyes, you dragged your dazed body to your front door. You checked yourself for your belongings as you unlocked it, but as you took your first step out your foot landed in...ash?

You lifted your shoe to inspect the little decaying bits stuck to it, looking down you realised there was a pile of decayed dust on your doorstep.

You paled.

Instantly you were on high alert, tearing your foot from the contaminated shoe and snapping a picture of the evidence. You placed the shoe in a bag for further examination and bolted your door before texting your boss, the number four hero: Edgeshot.

Having the job of a personal assistant to such a high ranked hero meant you were used to lives being threatened. So far it had never happened to you and although this was small you could never be too sure. With the inside information you had, Edgeshot had always told you to be aware that someone may pull something sooner or later. It wasn’t completely out of the blue.

After seeing your message to your boss had been delivered, you reached out for the metal baseball bat you kept in the storage cupboard under the stairs, your quirk not really suited for defence purposes as it was made for technological aspects.

Checking every nook and cranny of your small apartment you didn’t see anything out of the ordinary and flopped back onto the sofa. Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair before going through your phone, checking the news, any odd sightings, anything you should possibly be alert for.

However crime rates seemed to be low and the only recent stories were from three days ago. Still not having received a text back from Edgeshot, you automatically switched to your messages with Tenko to type out the events of your morning.

I think I just got threatened lol

Instant response.

WHAT?!

If you don’t hear from me in 24 hours call the police :DD

Y/N

Ok okaY, damn you’re such a buzzkill

There was a pile of ash on my doorstep this morning, with my work you know I can never be too careful 

I’m fine though, I already told my boss

You waited as three dots appeared signifying he was typing but after a while they stopped. You furrowed your brows as they started up and stopped multiple times. After a full five minutes (during which time you grew bored and changed apps) a ping popped up.

With how long he had taken to type you were expecting a lengthy paragraph, what you weren’t expecting was a simple:

Oh

Oh? That’s all?

Yeah

You placed down your phone before another ping sounded out.

Are you sure they weren’t flowers

How the hell did you come to that conclusion

The typing ceased once more and you were left to your thoughts. What the hell did he mean by that? How did he come up with flowers out of all things like-

May Day?

You leapt from your seat, stumbling to look at the calendar attached to your kitchen wall, scanning the dates crossed off before turning the page and realising it was indeed the first of May. It surely couldn’t be a coincidence Tenko had brought up the holiday just yesterday. So he’d brought you flowers, because you said it was romantic… and he’d… dusted them. Dusted them, with his quirk, because he was…

Tenko could not be Shigaraki Tomura.

You did not have a crush on Shigaraki fucking Tomura.

Luckily at that moment the chime of your phone's ringtone going off distracted you. Looking at the caller ID you breathed a sigh of relief to see that it was Edgeshot. You could finally get to the bottom of this instead of drawing up ridiculous conclusions.

Edgeshot’s calm voice came through the other end of the line, stern but familiar. It seemed you’d been right to take the situation seriously, or so he assured you. But even as he talked to you, asking if you’d seen anything or if there was any other evidence of someone watching you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it hadn’t meant anything at all.

Of course, if your gut instinct was right and you’d been gaming (and falling for) Shigaraki Tomura for three whole years and he’d been trying to romance you then that was. Definitely something. You just weren’t entirely sure what that something was.

You’d been talking to Edgeshot for nearly two hours when a knock sounded on your front door. Had he come by? What was the point of ringing, then? And wouldn’t he have told you?

You made your way over to the door and opened it expecting the sight of your boss, but instead you were met with a large bouquet of flowers perched on your doorstep. You looked up just in time to see a mess of unruly blue hair tucked into a black hoodie turning rapidly round the corner.

“False alarm,” you said quickly, ending the call on pure impulse and making a dash after the stranger.

You weren’t entirely sure what the plan was. It seemed more and more likely that you were right with each new development. What were you going to do if your gamer buddy really was an S-rank villain? Would you still be interested? Would he? He’d gone through the trouble of  getting you flowers not just once but twice, and honestly… the idea that he’d been so nervous the first time was kind of endearing.

That was a cute image, him standing at your door, so worried that he didn’t even notice he’d dusted the flowers in his hand as he set them down, probably running away quickly so you wouldn’t see him.

You reached out to grab the sleeve of your fleeing visitor and as they whirled round your suspicion after all this time was proven correct. You were speaking the moment his eyes met yours, all hesitation suddenly gone.

“You can’t just leave me flowers and run off like that, what if I thought it was another threat?”

Shigaraki’s scarlet eyes widened as they met your own.

“Hey Tenko” you grinned.

[fayriequeene]

Interestingly, that other anon is so concerned with how you look that they feel the need to go through lengths to accuse your waist of being "fake". Just because they are in disbelief of your traditional feminine body as a natural-born beautiful woman who is anatomically a woman, doesn't mean they should call you names or even try to claim you're a man (which makes no sense because a man couldn't change themself to have an anatomically woman's waist anyways). It's rather revealing by their own idiotic comments that they are projecting their own lower intellect and base perception onto you (which cannot be done anyways because you are apart from such debauchery, you are unscathed by the ludicrous rants of an asinine mind as such). Also oddly, they call you an idiot when on fact nothing you did and nothing about having a small waist makes someone of lower intelligence.

Nelly, just continue being your traditional feminine self, as God made you an actual woman and nobody can take that from you, keep enjoying your curves that most women would be envious of, and know there are more good people than bad who support and appreciate who you are and how you look. 💞 Mind you, it takes a self- confident person who loves themself and how God made them to truly look at a woman and see any inch of her beauty and affirm her so that it builds her up, whereas it takes a hateful and self-shamimg person who doesn't feel good in their own skin to try to tear down another person just to make themself feel better.

God has blessed you with a beautiful waist, and whether or not anyone else believes in the true way He made you, doesn't matter at all! 🥰 Because God can lovingly look at his own handiwork without shame and you should feel so blessed that He thinks you are a beautiful woman, the way He designed you to be, from before you were in the womb.

Thank you for being kind ☺️🌸

Honestly my waist isn’t that small I just have mega boobs and thunder thighs lol On a serious note I don’t think appearance really matters at all and I hope anyone who feels under confidence or insecure is able to see that trends are fleeting and its sheer luck if your body type is considered “attractive” this century/year/season ☺️

[c-aureus]

Ok, here’s a post I’ve been waiting to make: Why I’m worried about BotW2. Wall of text incoming. Now, I’m gonna preface this with a few things. Firstly, I waited to post this so that all of the immediate reactionary hype would die down a bit, and also so that I could contemplate on my thoughts for a while, before posting them. Secondly, this is not at all a criticism of the setting, or gameplay, both of which look incredible. However, for me at least, none of that was ever in doubt. Thirdly, I will freely admit that all of the forthcoming arguments are speculation. We do not yet know much of anything about the direction of the sequel, and I fully understand and admit that there is every chance that I could be completely wrong. In fact, I’d very much like for that to be the case. Alas, I am English, and cynicism is literally encoded into my DNA, so here’s a few things that I think are likely to happen, and why I’m so worried about them. My first point is kind of a big one, but honestly, it kinda sums my entire argument up: I’m worried that BotW2 is going to do everything it can to basically be a ‘soft reset’, regressing to the norm of BotW. What do I mean by this? Well. From a gameplay perspective, it will almost certainly use the time honoured Zelda tradition of resetting Link to 3 hearts and no powers at the beginning. Needless to say, I really do not want them to do this. From a story perspective, Link’s entire character arc in BotW was regaining the power he lost due to the Shrine of Resurrection. From a narrative perspective, I really do not want to see all of his growth and progress wiped away because ‘New Game lol’. Furthermore, on the topic of the Champions’ abilities... I honestly don’t think that any of them would just abandon him, however this argument goes 10x more for Mipha specifically. Mipha’s promise to Link in BotW was to ALWAYS heal him, and it is one of the most hauntingly beautiful things about her tragedy that she gets to fulfill her promise to him in death. Therefore, I simply cannot reconcile Mipha leaving Link (not sticking around to heal him) with her character. Because, BotW shows that her love and her devotion to Link are selfless, and absloute. She would NEVER renege on such a promise, even though Ganon was ‘defeated’. To do so is antithecal to her entire character. There’s also the matter of Link’s equipment. In a similar vein, I’d argue that much of Link’s equipment (including the Champions’ weapons and Zora Armour) hold enormous sentimental value to him, and if he is stripped of them for no good reason, then I will also be upset. Also, furthermore, BotW2 seems to be very strongly implying that Ganon was not ‘defeated’, which means that the Champions’ spirits cannot even be ‘at rest’, since surely their duty is not complete? Not that I think this should ever factor into Mipha’s personal motivation to continue healing Link, but whatever. What I fear is that there will be no mention nor presence of the Champions’ abilities, which... would really suck. Honestly, I’d even go so far as to say that it absolutely ruins Mipha’s character. Even if we’re being fooled and it’s not actually Ganon who is causing trouble (it does look pretty Malice-y, though...), I honestly, truly believe that they would not simply abandon Link. However, if it IS Ganon(dorf), then there is no excuse nor reason for their absence. This comes into my second point. I’m strongly suspecting that the plot of BotW2 is trying its absolute hardest to simply ‘reset the status quo’ that existed in BotW. By this, I mean that the trailers have already shown Ganon and implied him to be the villain, and Link and Zelda have been separated, presumably with Link having to rescue her. Again.

(On a side note, I do not believe that anyone truly believes that they’ve actually killed Zelda off, do they? I mean, come on. Her plot armour is thicker than the belt of a WW2 era dreadnought battleship. Which is a shame, tbh, becasuse it really prevents any kind of tension in the story, or interesting twists.) (On another side note, idk if I’ve actually seen anyone elaborate on how... depressing it is to have Ganon as the main villain AGAIN. The entirety of BotW was dedicated to defeating him, and many characters literally gave their lives to fight him, and now, after having been successful and defeated him, ‘lol he’s back again, lol.’ *Shrug*. I guess that it feels kinda cheap to me, along the lines of a last minute ‘oh wait, you didn’t REALLY beat him’, because they want to pad the game out more. Especially if there is no real consideration of this point from Link and Zelda’s pov: Namely, just how depressing it would be to lose everything to Ganon, finally defeat him, only to have him immediately return. At this point, I’d be lamenting on the unfairness that Ganon gets literally infinite chances to try again, but not all of his victims, which could be a really interesting psychological point of exploration, but I fear that the sequel will not make any effort to mention it. Hence my low-effort meme on the matter. ) So, basically, instead of giving us a new plot, in a new direction, with the consequences and events of the prequel fresh in mind and influencing character behaviour, we’re resetting the situation to how things were in BotW. Which... I’m extremely un-keen on. Since, it’s going to probably feel like a ‘we’ve already done this before’ kind of thing. A staleness, if you will. Again, I’d love to be proven wrong. However, what I suspect and fear is that we’re going to get this kind of situation, which I would really hate. The thing that I have been waiting for with the highest of anticipation was seeing how Link and Zelda would react to post-Calamity Hyrule, and how their failures and losses would impact them going forwards. I’m not going to give the Resurrection/Time Travel speech again, but I will mention it, since it is an absolutely valid goal, given the ‘rules’ by which the Zelda universe operates, and a valid response to the grief of losing characters that BotW/AoC establishes that they love. Again, I fear that the sequel will make no reference to this, which also feels like a massive disservice to the characters of the Champions. Also, it would be really unique, and not just the standard ‘defeat the Big Bad Evil Ganon’ that is every Zelda game. Ok, I really am done on that point here. It’s a topic for another rant, lol. TL;DR: I’m very, very worried that BotW2 will forgo narrative progression to simply reset the situation to how it was before, without any care for how that impacts the narrative. I mean, we saw how bad this ended up for the Star Wars sequels, so I think I have a right to be concerned... We know that this game grew out of being DLC for BotW. What I fear is that it will really end up looking like BotW DLC, rather than a sequel, from a narrative perspective. If anyone has any opinions or thoughts to add, then I’d love to hear them.

[sushigal007]

Next up in my Doctor Who Christmas Specials rewatch is Voyage Of The Damned, woop woop!

So when all the promo pictures for this came out, people were absolutely raging about Kylie's outfit not being historically accurate for the Titanic. Skirt too short. Boots too high. Proper fuming, they were.

And then twenty seconds after the episode starts, we find out that's because it's not the real Titanic. It's a literal space ship full of alien tourists visiting for Christmas, lol.

So already the Chritmas vibes are going HARD. The ship is beautiful. We've got crimbo music and the Heavenly Hosts to provide atmosphere. The Captain sends his crew off to get blotto, as is tradition. But Midshipman Frame is new and not quite comfy breaking rules just yet, so he sticks around while the Captain goes on about silent nights in a deeply ominous way.

The Doctor shows off his genre savvyness by immediately questioning the name of the ship, presumably because he's sailed on the Titanic about half a dozen times by now and also probably watched that episode of Futurama. Alas, the Host goes bananas before he can get answers, and we find out that this is an ongoing problem.

Kylie! Yes, I will be calling her Kylie throughout. She has dreams of travelling but is stuck waiting tables and isn't allowed off the ship. Even aliens have to put up with low-paying menial jobs with asshole customers, I guess. But the Doctor is nice to her, so she gets him a drink instead of reporting him.

Class clashes continue when we meet Morvin and Foon Van Hoff, who won their tickets in a competiton and are looked down on by the other first class guests, so it's fun to watch the Doctor spray them with champagne, tee hee.

Time for an excursion! The Doctor snags Kylie and Mr Copper gives a short talk about Christmas on Earth and it is deeply hilarious to hear Christmas from the POV of aliens.

And then they get beamed down to March 2020 by accident. Not really, but it might as well be with how empty is all is. The Doctor is weirded out, but Kylie is totally thrilled to be on an alien planet looking at the alien stars and it's very sweet to watch. Alas, she's Kylie, so we already know there's no way she's sticking around for long.

WILF!!! He's here to explain why they don't have to pay extras for this scene.

Midshipman Frame is noticing things. Alas, he knows even less Earth history than Mr Copper, so he has no clue what's coming. But the Doctor is busy hacking into shit and figures it out almost at once. Well, except for the bit where the Captain's in on it, oops. He's a bit sad they sent a newbie, but not sad enough to hesitate pulling the trigger.

Asshole guest doesn't pay much attention to the Doctor ranting about the shields as he's dragged away for hacking, until a piece of debris flies through a window and lands at his feet and the Hosts tell him they're going to die, so he goes running after the little group, which means he's out of the way when the meteors hit. Shame.

And NOW it's Titanic: In Space! Absolute carnage. And the Heavenly Hosts start getting into formation, so we know shenanigans are afoot.

"We're very much alive" oh he's definitely gonna die.

Like, immediately.

We get a name for asshole guest, but I'm just going to keep calling him asshole guest, because the first thing he does is roast the dead steward.

Oops, there goes the TARDIS. I like to think this sort of thing is why the Doctor started messing with the HADS again.

More carnage now as the Hosts start their murder spree. But in a festive way, of course. It's Christmas.

Doctor gets in touch with Midshipman Frame on the bridge, who lets him know this was all deliberate.

The Doctor starts getting shit done and asshole guest asks who died and put him in charge, which gives the Doctor a chance to pose and show off his credentials.

Now a little change from the Titanic as we start veering into The Poseidon Adventure, but less upside down. Mr Copper mentions how this is all in the spirit of Christmas, a it's a festival of violence, and you know what, he's right and he should say it. I mean, have you ever SEEN an Eastenders Christmas episode? Bloodbath.

And they find a Host. Of course, they have no idea about the new orders, so they start trying to fix it, while we all quietly wish asshole guest would die already.

Mrs Van Hoff fesses up to entering the competition 5000 times to win and they're now hugely in debt. Happily her husband sees the funny side and all is well, so they're doomed.

Bannakaffalatta is a cyborg! Kylie tells him it's nothing to be ashamed of, cyborgs are getting equal rights, so he's doomed.

Up on the bridge, the kitchen staff call in, just in time for Midshipman Frame to hear them all get murdered by the Hosts. He can't do anything for them, but he does manage to warn the Doctor a moment too late, oops. He does at least manage to shut them out of the bridge.

Asshole guest refuses to lift a finger to help. I'm so looking forward to him dyi- ahh nuts, I just remembered he lives AND gets rich from this, like an opposite Scrooge.

There's something hidden on Deck 31. Midshipman Frame tries to investigate it while the Doctor accidentally asks Kylie to become his new companion, just to make it totally clear that she's doomed. She then asks about Christmas and the Doctor does a little bit of bragging as he mentions that he was there and took the last room. I know it was probably a Rosa sort of situation where he had to do it to make sure history stayed fixed, but aso, what a dick move when you know there's a pregnant woman about to give birth in a stable. Mr Copper asks why they can't ask Earth for help, he knows they have shuffles (not a typo), and the Doctor questions his degree, which is when he admits it's a fake. It's cute to see him and the Doctor bonding over their shared love of exciting, exotic Earth. Living here, it’s easy to forget that our panet’s pretty neat actually.

And then Morvin dies. Total mood whiplash.

Asshole guest cannot read the room and I hate him.

Foon is inconcolable and it's very sad to watch. The Doctor says he'll come back for her, so she's doomed.

Then the Hosts vanish. Mr Copper's fake Earth degree comes in handy when he remembers that angels have wings. They start throwing their halos around and for a while, the group fend them off with a festive game of rounders, but then they start getting hit. Happily plot armour just means it hurts, they don't die. And then Bannakaffalatta's plot armour wears off and he dies letting out an EMP, knocking out the Hosts just long enough for the Doctor to get a few questions in.

And then Foon lassos the Host and chucks herself off the bridge, Jesus, this is dark. Our group is now down to four survivors.

Kylie twigs that the Doctor isn't coming with them to safety, he's off to find out wtf is going on on Deck 31. They have a little chat about how this is his life and he bigs it up for her, she mentions she's unemployed and has no family, can she come with, so she's super, super doomed.

No mistletoe, but Kylie gets in a festive snog! She has to stand on a box to reach his lips, tee hee.

The Doctor runs into more Hosts and wastes two of his three questions asking if he has three questions. He loopholes them into not killing him and taking him to Deck 31, even getting in a cheeky 'take me to your leader'.'

Kylie spots the teleport bracelets and has a horrible idea.

Deck 31 is a mess. Out comes the ultimate authorty and surprise, surprise, it's Max Capricorn in an impact chamber, planning to hide out the crash! It's a fun little twist, because we've seen his face on all the screens already, and some of the guests mentioned that the company was going downhill.

The Doctor kinda gets his reasons for faking his death, but doesn't understand why he's going to destroy the Earth. Then he figures it out. Aloud, for our benefit. The reason? He wants to fuck over his board of directors. But Max bores of the Doctor quite quickly. He shuts off the engines, orders the Hosts to grab him and villainously gloats.

And then Kylie epically quits. And dies. It's not quite as moving as the music tries to make us feel, because it's Kylie and she was always far too famous to stick around on this show and also because Max Capricorn's face is hilarious.

A firce fire walk of emotion from the Doctor. He holds out his hands and the Hosts literally fly him to the bridge while the soundrack sings and it's so deeply ridiculously over the top, I can't stop laughing.

Then we get a huge logic hole when the Doctor says the Host considers him the next highest authority when he's a stowaway and there's two other members of staff still alive who would outrank him.

The ship is about to hit Earth. Of course, as is the case with all alien threats in Doctor Who, the epicentre is going to be England. Of course, because we already established that everyone has fled London because of the previous weird Christmas shit and the only person left is the Queen, it's specifically going to hit Buckingham Palace, so the Doctor calls her and tells her to evacuate. We get a very silly shot of her pink slippers and corgis fleeing. It's bonkers. I love it. She emerges just in time for the Doctor to haul the Titanic out of freefall and she wishes him a Merry Christmas. Everybody cheers. A picture of Max Capricorn falls off the wall and lands in a fire. It's pure cheese.

And then the Doctor remembers Kylie was wearing a teleport bracelet! She might be alive! She's not, of course, the computers are too damaged to bring her back, and we get a moment of the Timelord Victorious as he kicks things in rage and screams that he can do anything. But Mr Copper very poetically says she's just stardust now and to let her go. Aww. Bye Kylie.

A little while later, things have stabilised. Mr Copper laments that his fake degree's probably going to come out. Asshole guest has a little gloat about how rich all this has made him. Mr Copper says that if he could choose who lived, that guy probably isn't who you'd choose, hinting some more at things to come, but also possibly a little dig at how unrealistic it would be if the writers only let the good people survive. Which yes, OK, but also it's Christmas dammit, I want nice things to happen to nice people and for asshole guest to be visited tonight by the ghosts of all the people whose deaths he mocked.

The Doctor and Mr Copper teleport down to Earth. The Doctor gives him a little crash course in Earth history as he heads off to find the TARDIS. Mr Copper complains that once again, this snow is fake. The Doctor says he's heading off, he travels alone, Mr Copper just isn't hot enough, but luckily he thinks to question the limit on Mr Copper's credit card and lets him know he basically just won the lottery and can live out the rest of his life quite happily on Earth. He's thrilled! He can have a house! With a garden! And a door! The millenial dream! Aww. At least somebody nice got a happy ending.

And then we get a super cheesy star sparkle as Kylie's spirit twinkles by. And then the final screen is in memory of Verityy Lambert. RIP.

FINAL THOUGHTS

My favourite one so far. It's a great one to watch with a casual viewer because the Doctor isn't moping any more and he's between companions, so you don't need to have watched any of the actual series. Moving the setting off of Earth gives us far more chance to talk about Christmas with hilariously clueless aliens. Everything is festive from the get-go, the Titanic guests know this is a time of celebration and they are here to party. Meanwhile, we all know the significance of the ship's name, so we know perfectly well what's coming.

Still, it's quite a shock to see just how much of the cast get killed. There's only four people left on the ship at the end, and one of those is asshole guest. Looking back, I can see that it sets up that conversation between the Doctor and Mr Copper which leads into the Timelord Victorious arc, but it still annoys me, because it's Christmas. I want to see bad things happen to horrible rich people, why do you think there's so any adaptations of A Christmas Carol!?

But other than that small flaw - well, that and the hosts deciding the Doctor is the highest authority on the ship, just say he reprogrammed them with Max Capricorn’s secret Deck 31 computers ffs - it's a fun story, very silly and over the top in places, just the thing to sit in front of with your brain switched off as you go into a turkey coma.

[peterbabytt]

StarkerFestivals // Summer Bingo // Royal AU

synopsis: prince peter parker, 19, is set to marry princess morgan stark, 17, in an arranged marriage... it's not his fault her father is so devilishly handsome...

words: 1,525

warnings: light swearing

!!everyone featured in this fanfiction is 18+ unless specifically stated otherwise!!

i hope you enjoy 💓 feedback/constructive criticism is and always will be accepted, but hate will always be blocked

(by proceeding, you understand and accept the warnings previously provided)

    “Your Majesty,” Peter lifted his gaze to the door of the library. Michelle, a young servant in the castle, was standing in the doorway. Lifting the edge of her skirt ever so delicately, she curtsied before Peter and his mother. “Your Highness.” Peter cringed. He knew she was being respectful, polite, professional before the queen, but as the two of them? Peter insisted she use his name, as he had a distaste for the formal tone.

    “The Royal Family has arrived.” Oh, good... and here, Peter was hoping they had been run off the road on their way over. Peter glanced at his mother to gauge her reaction. Her features were soft and delicate, but he knew those eyes all too well. In her own mind, she had already debated how to cancel tonight’s dinner a thousand ways over, all with varying degrees of severity.

    “Yes, thank you, Michelle. We will join you in the foyer in a moment.” She beamed. Michelle—MJ—nodded, curtsied once more, then turned to leave the library. The moment she was out of earshot, Mary turned to her son. “It’s not like we’ve had this planned for months already. You’d think, for the sake of the kingdoms, they’d be punctual.”

    “Easy, mother…” He tried, resting a bookmark between the pages of his book before rising, stepping towards his mother, and offering his arm to her. “You’re too tense. I’m sure there’s… a decent explanation.” For their own sake, there’d better be.

    They walked at an easy pace, a pace much slower than Peter was used to, and yet, even after arriving in the foyer, the two still had to await the arrival of their royal guests. And Mary was growing even more impatient as each second dawdled on by. Peter, on the other hand, had a grin resting gently over his features. Tonight was already off to… an interesting start, and if it continued in any similar manner, he knew his mother would call off the arrangement.

    A part of the boy felt guilty for wanting this dinner to go awry, but was it really so wrong to just… not be ready? Everything seemed to be moving so quickly. He had only turned 19 a week ago, and he still felt as though he had yet to meet his own self. Sure, he had a bit of a grasp on who he thought he was, what he thought he liked, and who, for that matter… but even so, many things had changed throughout the span of a year.

    He’d met who he thought was the love of his life, even despite the fact he knew his parents would never approve. In that moment, in the desperation to just be himself, he had prepared to lose everything he’d ever known, all for a chance—not even a guarantee—simply a chance to finally know who he was. He took a leap of faith and prayed to stick the landing. But he stumbled. And that terrified him—he had been so sure of himself...

    Peter leapt from his bed, running a shaky hand through his mess of curls. He felt his skin prick with goosebumps, but from the cold or the fear, he hadn’t yet figured out. MJ was still on his bed, but she was now sitting upright, watching him with concerned eyes.

    “Are you okay?” Peter couldn’t bring himself to form an answer. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, so he hid his face in his hands, took a moment to gather his thoughts, gather his breath… then, finally, sat back down on the edge of his bed. MJ scooted closer to the prince, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Peter?” It was then that he realized he hadn’t yet answered her question.

    “I’m sorry, I… I can’t.” He trembled as he spoke, so MJ reached for the undershirt he had discarded only moments ago. He took it, but made no move to put it back on just yet.

    “Peter, look at me,” MJ’s voice was soft, soothing, unoffended. He obeyed, and the hand that rested on his shoulder moved to cup his cheek. “It’s okay. This is a big step. We don’t have to do this tonight.”

    “It’s not that…” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, and it took all the strength in his body not to vomit.

    “You can tell me, sweetheart… what is it?” The look in her eyes showed nothing but sympathy, nothing but love… how had he let himself get this far? If he had known from the beginning, he shouldn’t have brought her to his bedroom… shouldn’t have promised her something he could never give her… was it selfish?

    “I love you, I do, just… not the way I thought I did.” The instant the words fell from his mouth, he wanted to reel them all back in, to ignore everything his mind was begging him to do—set everything aside and just give in. But he couldn’t bear the idea of lying to his best friend. To himself, he could live with… but MJ deserved so much better. “I’m sorry, that sounded… harsh.”

    “It did, yea,” her tone was playful, but the smile never met her eyes. She was hurting, but she would never admit it.

    “You deserve so much better than this…”

    “Peter, there’s nobody else I want… I want you. I want to be with you. I want to make this work, and I know it’ll be hard, but I want to do whatever we can to make this work.” He tried to ignore the tears welling up in his eyes.

    “I can’t lie to you, too.” A thick silence fell between them. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let it come this far.”

    “Peter, whatever you’re trying to get at, I’m not understanding.”

    “I’m—”

    “Her Majesty and His Royal Highness,” An unfamiliar voice drew Peter from his thoughts, and he had to force his eyes to focus. He hadn’t even noticed the gates had opened and the royals had been led inside. He glanced briefly at his mother to ensure she hadn’t noticed his trance, then adjusted his posture before—oh… holy shit…

    The king that stood before him was easily not the king he had imagined. He pictured the man to be far less… sweet heavens and all things holy, was there even a word to describe this man other than purely beautiful?

    He wore a deep blue suit that had been tailored oh-so perfectly for his frame, and his hair had been styled in a delicate wave. He begged himself not to reach out and card his fingers through it—it’d be a shame, afterall, to disturb such beauty. His beard was expertly shaped, sharp and clear edges defining his even sharper jawline. Peter couldn’t help but imagine how that very beard would feel between—

    “I present His Majesty, King Stark—” The queen extended her hand, and he accepted it in his own, raising it gently to his lips for a kiss. Peter was enthralled—hypnotized by their curvature.

    “It is indeed a pleasure to meet you, King Stark,” his mother spoke, and Peter nearly bounced on the balls of his feet, eager to hear the king’s voice.

    “The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty,” Peter felt faint. “And please, forgive my informality, but call me Tony.” He turned to face Peter next, and he was almost certain, this time, that he would faint. He’d have absolutely no shame in it, either.

    Tony, with a smile, extended his own hand to Peter, and it took every fibre in his being to keep his own from trembling as their palms connected. God, even his hands were sexy. Rough skin, calloused fingers, a warm embrace. Had he died? Was this Heaven?

    “—and Her Royal Highness, Princess Morgan.” A beautiful, beautiful young woman with features to match her father’s. She wore a lovely black dress with a slight v in its neck, and her hair hung in delicate curls by her shoulders. Peter could easily admit that she was, indeed, effortlessly gorgeous. He only wished he could hold some sort of attraction to her rather than to her father…

    It was customary that both families dine together before a decision on an arranged marriage was made, and Peter thought he would never again be so thankful for customs or traditions in his life, for this particular custom meant his assigned seat at the dinner table was right beside Sir Stark himself. The idea of it, at least to Peter’s own understanding, was that the prince would dine beside the opposing king so the two could get to know one another and bond before the father of the princess could make a decision on the marriage. And then, of course, the same way around for the princess and the opposing queen. Then again, of course, this could also just be a blessing in Peter’s favor.

     It wasn’t until Peter felt a knee bump into his own underneath the table that he realized this was definitely a blessing in his favor. Now, of course, it could have been an accident, so, naturally, he brushed it off as one… the first time.

~~~~~

tags: @longlivestarker @starkeristheendgame @katzenbaby1 @starkerbee​

i had more i wanted to do with this one, but i couldn't find an ending that satisfied me lol i might do more with this later, i'll probably work on it a bit more, and repost later, but for now, here's this 💕

happy pride month 💓