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workersolidarity · 6 months

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[ 📹 Scenes from the burned bodies of a Palestinian family after an attack by the Zionist occupation army, killing the father and six other family members and severely burning the mother and her four children, the sickening result of an American-made bomb being dropped on their family home.

📈 The current death toll in "Israel's" Special Genocide Operation in Gaza has now reached 33'137 killed and another 75'815 injuries.]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏠💥🚑 🚨

MURDERS SLOW BUT DON'T STOP ON 183RD DAY OF "ISRAEL'S" SPECIAL GENOCIDE OPERATION IN GAZA

On the 183rd day of "Israel's" Special Genocide Operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 4 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 46 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 65 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

A number of victims of Israeli bombings remain buried under the rubble of their homes and shelters, while corpses still line many streets as the occupation army continues to block ambulance and civil defense crews from reaching the sites of Israeli attacks.

In a report today, published in the American newspaper the Wall Street Journal, the news outlet said that the Biden administration is pushing the Zionist entity to accept one of the sticking points in negotiations with the Hamas resistance movement, the return of Palestinians to the northern Gaza Strip who've been displaced by the Israeli aggression.

This has been one of the main demands from Hamas in the negotiations, with the others being the withdrawal of Zionist forces from Gaza and the free flow of Humanitarian aid into the besieged enclave.

According to the report, the Biden administration asked that the Israeli entity's Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, allow a limited number of women and children to return to the north of Gaza, while continuing to block men between the ages of 18-50 from returning.

The newspaper said this would "allay American fears of an Israeli attack on the southern city of Rafah," essentially permitting a planned Israeli ground offensive in the area. More than 1.4 million displaced Palestinians have crowded into Rafah, a city of only 171'000 prior to October 7th, 2023, stretching the city's resources thin and helping to spread disease while under starvation conditions.

According to Arab negotiators mediating the talks, the Israeli entity has said it could accept the return of civilians to northern Gaza at a rate of just 2'000 people per day, as long as those returning are women and children, and with a cap of no more than 60'000 Palestinians allowed back to their utterly destroyed homes.

However, with the continued blocking of basic materials like concrete, and no men allowed to return, where the 60'000 Palestinian civilians would live seems an open question.

Hamas, for its part, according to a CNN report, rejected the idea of only allowing 60'000 women and children to return to the north. An unnamed diplomat involved in the negotiations told CNN that "They rejected (the proposal) and considered that it ignored their demands,” adding that the Israeli proposal "did not include anything new," and therefore the movement does not "see any need to change its proposal."

Meanwhile, the Zionist bombing and shelling campaign responsible for so many tens of thousands of civilian casualties over the previous six months has slowed since the recent massacre of 7 foreign aid workers in a series of targeted drone strikes back-to-back with a second atrocity, and a blatant war crime, when Zionist forces bombed the Iranian consulate in Damascus, the Syrian capital, but has yet to stop despite heavy international pressure, including some limited pressure put on the Netanyahu regime by the Americans.

In a recent letter sent to the American President, signed onto by the House Democratic leader Nancy Pelosi, dozens of Congressional Democrats urged U.S. President Joe Biden and Secretary of State Antony Blinkin to withhold arms transfers to the Israeli regime until a full investigation can be held and completed into the slaughter of the 7 foreign aid workers.

The letter was issued by U.S. Congressmembers Mark Pocan, Jim McGovern and Jan Schakowski and signed by 40 other lawmakers, including Pelosi, many of whom are considered staunch supporters of the Israeli entity.

According to a report about the letter, frustration has been mounting among House Democrats for months as the Netanyahu regime prosecuted its deadly Special Genocide Operation in Gaza, slaughtering tens of thousands of civilians, including over 14'000 children who've been killed since the start of the war.

However, Tuesday's deadly strike on the World Central Kitchen (WCK) personnel as they finished unloading many tons of humanitarian aid into a distribution warehouse in Deir al-Balah, in the central Gaza Strip, and bombed as they were leaving the city, has shook many lawmakers and their aides, many of whom believe the attack to be a turning point in U.S. support for the Israeli regime's genocide campaign.

Even some lawmakers who've refrained from criticizing "Israel" until now have since begun to call for a ceasefire, and some even signed onto the letter issued to the Biden administration, such as U.S. Congressmember Chris Coons, who came out on Thursday in favor of placing restrictions and conditions on American military aid to "Israel".

Meanwhile, the bombing and shelling in Gaza continued, albeit at a slower rate than before Tuesday's attacks on the WCK convoy, the Israeli occupation artillery forces shelled Al-Sika Street in the southeast of Gaza City, and also shelled Beit Hanoun, both in the northern Gaza Strip.

Zionist forces also fired artillery and live bullets at high intensity towards residential neighborhoods in southwestern Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip.

At the same time, the occupation army targeted several residential homes in the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City, along with the Al-Sabra neighborhood in central Gaza City, and also the Tal al-Hawa and Sheikh Ajlin neighborhoods southwest of Gaza City, resulting in the deaths of three Palestinian civilians, and wounding at least 10 others. Many of whom were transferred to Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital.

Similarly, Zionist occupation forces fired artillery shells towards neighborhoods in the southwest of Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip, while occupation forces also shelled the the central and western areas of the city as well.

IOF warplanes bombed several residential homes and buildings in the Al-Amal neighborhood west of Khan Yunis, while at the same time, live bullets fired by a Zionist sniper stationed on the border fence east of Al-Fukhari, located east of Khan Yunis, critically wounded one female Palestinian civilian.

The Zionist aggression continued when Israeli occupation soldiers detonated multiple residential homes in the northern areas of Al-Mughraqa, north of Al-Nuseirat, in the central Gaza Strip, while Paramedic crews recovered the corpses two martyrs in the same city while under the continuous artillery shelling of the occupation army.

In another Israeli war crime, Zionist warplanes bombed the Al-Sharafa family home, located in the Nuseirat Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, killing and wounding three displaced Palestinians sheltering in the building at the time.

Simultaneously, Zionist gunboats "intermittently" shelled the shores of Deir al-Balah, in central Gaza, where children and families often gather to enjoy the beach, even as the Israeli genocide has unfolded.

In yet another violation of International humanitarian law, occupation soldiers fired live bullets at Palestinian civilians gathered at the Al-Kuwaiti roundabout, south of Gaza City, at the intersection of Salah al-Din Street and Street 10, wounding at least 7 civilians who were transferred to Kamal Adwan Hospital in Beit Lahia, in the northern Gaza Strip.

Zionist forces also bombarded a residential home belonging to the Mansour family in Jabalia al-Balad, in the north of Gaza, killing a number of Palestinian civilians, while occupation artillery fire also concentrated on the east of the Jabalia area.

As a result of "Israel's" Special Genocide Operation in the Gaza Strip, the death toll among Palestinians has now risen in excess of 33'137 citizens killed, over 14'350 of which being children, while another 75'815 Palestinians have been wounded, and yet another 7'000 remain missing under the rubble of their homes since the start of the Zionist aggression on Gaza beginning on October 7th, 2023.

#source1

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#graphicsource

#videosource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

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curio-queries · 2 months

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ARE YOU SURE?!

Production Notes from eps 1 & 2

At this time, I'm not planning to do full response posts for these episodes. Maybe once I'm done with my Run BTS series but for now here's some production thoughts.

My initial thoughts are they've done an excellent job of merging the concepts for Bon Voyage and In The Soop while also adjusting for a reduction of members from seven to two.

To really understand this though, let's talk about some of the logistical requirements and goals of the previous shows for comparison.

Logistical Assumptions

So I think y'all do realize that there is SOME amount of planning that has to happen for a show like this to be made but honestly...the way some of you talk, it's like you think this footage just magically appears in front of an editor, capturing whatever the members happened to wander into. These aren't self-recorded vlogs. This is a full production with a crew, a budget, and a deliverable requirement; just like any other TV show.

One of the cutest moments for me was at the brewery when JM was teasing JK about a summary of what the show about. I KNOW this was the 5 second explanation that both of them would have had to say/hear dozens of times while pitching the show. That's what's so endearing about the way JM says it and JKs reaction.

They also know that statements like that, captured during filming often end up in promos. All the members are very aware as they're being filmed what footage ends up being used. We've heard them time and time again, 'please use this as the thumbnail', 'please keep this in', etc.

Jimin has always been the most vocal about questioning if the content works for their intended purpose. How many times have we heard him say 'can this even be used?' or 'this will be cut'. Usually it sounds to me like he's aware the footage they're getting in the moment doesn't align with the predetermined plan. But as is common with the footage we getnof the members, even though it wasn't according to plan, doesn't mean it's not releaseable.

The main point of JMs AYS concerns being his sickness. I'm sure he thought the show was in jeopardy of not fulfilling their deliverable requirements since it would be difficult to completely edit out. There is a legitimate concern that if they aren't able provide the agreed-upon footage, the show would never air. I'll talk more about this in my section on the edit.

For now, here's a list of SOME of the basics that have to be managed for y'all to keep in mind when consuming any kind of produced content.

Camera management: How many and what kinds of cameras need to be brought along? Are there special operators required like a drone operator. How often is the footage saved. How is it backed up? When and where are batteries charged? Who locations require early access so the crew can place stationary cameras prior to the member's arrival.

Sound management: Someone is making sure the microphones are charged, and capturing correctly. Being mic'd up is one of the easiest indicators of when the show is actively being filmed or not.

Security: this is BTS. The members didn't go anywhere without a security consultation and discussion of requirements.

Crew management: These are people that have to have places to eat, sleep, and have time off as well. They don't just vanish into thin air as soon as their job is done.

Location approval and tax requirements: Every country in the world has different regulations, incentives, and permits to be managed. The US varies these laws state-by-state.

Budget: Businesses don't stay in business by not managing the finances. We can talk more about this if anyone's interested but there are definitely some interesting points with how much on-screen time we got over the years regarding members' spending on the shows.

There's more but let's leave it at the for the moment and talk more about why I think this show was such a good blend of Bon Voyage and In The Soop from a production standpoint.

What was the initial goal of Bon Voyage?

I believe it was to promote the band and the members to viewers by giving us access to what it would be like to travel to various destinations around the globe. They knew the episodes still needed a catalyst though so there were various preplanned activities and games to motivate the editorial narrative.

BV1 was very experimental as they were obviously managing the challenges of such a production. There was a heavy emphasis on trying to make the members seem like regular ppl and seeing how they would tackle the problems many of us face with travel, chiefly budgetary and managing how to feed all of the travelers with strict spending limits.

BV2 completely game-ified the concept with the mini challenges and breaking everyone into different groups. It's very clear that this is not the strategy they preferred as BV3 was much lighter on the control. There were still some structured activities and events but the members were experienced enough to bring forth some of these moments themselves during the shoot rather than as a completely planned itinerary.

BV4 was a continuation of this with us also getting footage of the members being included in the event planning as well. I'm not saying they didn't have input in the planning of the previous seasons but by this point, production knew the members understood the requirements of a successful show as well as many of the necessary logistics. But it was still a travel show with some key events to fuel the storytelling.

How about In The Soop?

Enter pandemic. They obviously still wanted to do another show once they worked out what was permissible to film at the time. But now the changing of locations would not be a part of the engine. How were they going to ensure they still had a viable show? They did put in place a semblance of their previous formula with that silly daily schedule (that was ignored nearly to the point of being completely edited out) and a couple of events like the 94s mountain hike and vhope's car drive. But overall, they realized they had to rely purely on the members to find story moments and insure they were captured. Their trust was rewarded though and ITS1 was a hit.

Now ITS2 is a more interesting case. I do believe it may have started with the same intent as season 1, but it must not have been long in the pre-planning stage before a new goal was added: controlled access of a BTS tourism destination. I'm sure I'll go further into this topic whenever I do finally make posts on this series, but it's very plain to even the casual fan that the ITS2 location was a planned financial investment.

Enough about the location though, what were the filming objectives? Honestly? Not much. The members were clearly ready for a break and were mired in the uncertainties of the time period. Balancing the focus of the english-solo-songs era with the preparations for ch.2 solo activities resulted in an odd lack of direction for the members, which is evident in the show. Yes, there are great moments and segments but there's no progression and very little footage of all the members all together except during certain meals.

But ITS2 is still hailed as enough of a success that there was justification to add to the franchise with Tae's friendship installment.

But what does all this mean for Are You Sure?

We'd heard from many of the members during ch.2 that they would like to continue Bon Voyage so it honestly wasn't surprising that we'd eventually get another travel show featuring our beloved BTS members. Early in episode 1 of AYS, Jungkook says he's never traveled so loosely before. However this show was justified, it definitely wasn't planned to be another hyper-detailed barrage of JM & JK going from activity-to-activity like early BV but it also couldn't be as aimless as ITS. For as long as the conversation was surrounding the name of the show, we never hear them suggest Bon Voyage 5 because AYS was never intended to be another installment of that series.

This is why I said AYS is a perfect mesh of the two kinds of shows. Granted, the first episodes definitely had some unexpected obstacles due to the unexpected health concerns but I think the production team managed it well. Although, I'm convinced there's at least one activity they did have planned that had to get scrapped to let our poor guys rest and recuperate. I also wouldn't be surprised if by the time they started filming in the US, they hadn't locked another destination and schedule with how unsure JM & JK are when talking about the scope of the show. (And I hope we get some update on the poor motorcycle, I want to know how it got where it needed to be from the rainy grocery parking lot).

The Edit

The overall tone of the show is very lighthearted. Kind of surprisingly so for me. It's not the vibe I would have necessarily expected but it's one of the points that leads me to say they have merged BV and ITS so wonderfully.

A major aspect of BTS's content is usually the chaos and shenanigans the surround the members. Now much of that is emphasized in the context of one of these shows but I honestly wouldn't have been surprised if the edit had tried to make up for the lowered member count. Instead, it's a very laid-back edit. The quality and tone of the on-screen captions was world's different from some of the BV seasons (thank goodness!)

Now, about Jimin's illness. There's a reason why the coverage is cut the way it was to only bring us in on the story once both JM and JK started talking about it lightheartedly. If we'd had all of that footage chronologically, we also would have had building tension throughout the day's activities. But this way, we're able to enjoy the show per the original pitch as much as possible.

This show would have been planned during the time when the members were under heavy scrutiny for how successful they'd be as individuals and how their content will be received without the full seven members. Again, the way some of y'all talk about these shows, it's like you don't realize that the members are aware of how this content is structured. They are. They absolutely are.

Also, a big part of greenlighting AYS would have been a discussion of how it could be made with just 2 of the 7 members. JM and JK would have to take on a lot more of the burden since there wouldn't be other member to cut to. The solo vlogs we got at the beginning of ch.2 absolutely would have been used as a proof of concept. There are easy comparisons to make between JKs camping vlog and the camping scenes we got in these first AYS episodes.

Another key justification of the show could have been as promotional material for the current musical releases. While they did highlight quite a bit of both JK and JM's work in these episodes, the narrative definitely wasn't tilted in the direction of promotion. I love that because it's absolutely not what I would have expected.

What am I looking forward to for the remainder of AYS?

From a production standpoint, I'm already curious about the following:

Will there be any tonal shift? Specifically now that JM and JK have some uncertainties about the viability of their US adventure. Will it seem like they're compensating?

We know Tae is going to be in at least the next episode. How is this going to handled narratively and will there be any visible contradictions from that narrative in the production?

At what point was the final quantity of locations and shoots locked down? And when/if will JM and JK make mention of this.

If/How will the music promotion narrative shift? It's clear that this episode could not have been released until after MUSE's release once they decided to keep the footage of JK listening to Who. But when was that decision made?

What are your thoughts on the production of AYS so far?

Editing to add a link to my post on episode 3. Surprisingly I had a lot more to say!

Are You Sure?! Production notes from ep 3.

And there has been even more to say so here's a MasterList link

Are You Sure?! MasterList

#park jimin #jeon jungkook #Are you sure?!#AYS

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

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Office Space 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you're an assistant to private and corporate investigator, Nick Fowler, and find yourself brought into the fold of his shady professional life.

Characters: Nick Fowler, Jonathan Pine, this reader is known as Elfie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Another thick folder falls on your desk. You look up as Mr. Fowler strides without a word into his office. No explanation, no directive, as ever he's elusive but demanding.

You sigh and push your mouse aside, bringing the folder in front of you. You open it up and find stacks of hand-written notes, receipts, and reports. You get the happy task of digitizing each one and sorting it into the electronic archive for investigation.

Your boss closes himself into his office as you sit in the vacant silence of the small lobby. It's no walk-in location. PI work doesn't exactly operate that way. Corporate investigations are even less advertised. Fowler does more than find the corruption, he scrubs it when necessary.

You expect the discretion of the work is why he hired you. You don't talk much. You do you work without question and clock out. Still, it doesn't keep you from after hours or early arrivals. He texts and you're where you need to be.

You sort through the thick folder. Chronological or by type? Some don't have dates and what would you categorize a cocktail napkin as? You get up and haul it all into the copier room. It's the smallest room in the rented space, made tighter by the filing cabinets and the industrial printer.

You unhook your laptop and bring it into the copier room. You put it on the narrow table and go to task. It's mindless work. You fall into the pattern of scanning, numbering, and cataloguing. The copier hums in the empty static.

No music, no noise. Your request for white noise was declined without consideration. You accept without argument. Fowler isn't the type to entertain pushback. He's the boss.

Whatever, you wouldn't trade the silence for the top ten on repeat at your previous retail gig. The people are enough to make you tolerate the isolation. Besides, it's a job, it's not meant to be fun.

You get your kicks after work; a drink with your fellow corporate drones down at Retro's. Thinking of, it's been some time since you had a spicy margarita. You pause your work and go to retrieve your phone from your purse. As you find it hiding in the middle pocket, Fowler's door opens and he promptly marches over to stamp his mug down on your desk. Shoot.

"Emergency?" He wonders as his blue eyes narrow at your grip on the phone.

"No, sir, checking the time," you lie and drop the cell back in your purse and hide it in your drawer. "Coffee?"

He doesn't answer, merely taps the brim and walks away. He leaves his office door open as he retreats. You give a tight smile to the empty office and snatch up the dark blue cup.

You take it into the little room meant to be some sort of break space. You don't take breaks and neither does he. You approach the expensive nespresso machine and go through the motions. Cappucino. You've become a pseudo-barista since you started the job.

The smell of coffee tempts you. You're permitted to have one of your own but you have to supply your own coffee and dairy. It's easier to hit the cafe on your way or pack a cup from home.

You carry it out and tentatively approach Mr. Fowler's door. You peer inside and clear your throat. He sneers at his phone without acknowledging you. You near and place his cup on the marble coaster beside his apple mouse.

"We have an extra mug?" He asks without looking up.

"Yes, sir, I think--"

"I don't need you to think, I need yes or no."

"Yes," you swallow down his bluntness. As you least you never have to wonder what's on his mind. He'll tell you.

"I'm in expecting someone in twenty minutes."

That's it. You have the pieces, put it together. His visitor will require their own beverage. Lovely. A rare drop-in is hardly exciting, more stressful. If they're important enough to come in, they're important enough to be concerned.

You go to find a second cup. You have your own, a red travel mug without a handle. You’ll leave the silicon lid in your drawer and give it a quick rinse.

You wait behind your desk, the mug clean and sparkling beside the nespresso in anticipation. You’ll go back to your scanning once you have the visitor settled. You know Fowler wouldn’t want them walking into an empty desk. In the meantime, you sift through another case file on your screen.

When the door opens, you pop up, overly alert. That’s not your usual state. This place makes you sleepy. You stand up to greet the man as he steps through.

He’s tall, taller than Fowler, but slender. While his shoulders are broad, the rest of him is trim. His blonde hair is kept neatly and his blue eyes are crystalline where your boss’ are dark and stormy. This man is like sunshine compared to the usual grim cloud over this place.

“Hello, uh, sir,” you smile, “you must be here to see Mr. Fowler.”

“Yes, that’s me,” he says breezily, “Jonathan Pine.”

“Okay, erm, I’ll let him know you’re here,” you round the desk, hitting your hip on the corner but hiding the pang it sends down your thigh, “uh, would you like a coffee?”

“How kind to offer, but no, I’m more of a tea drinker,” he replies, “pardon, but I didn’t get your name.”

“Elfie,” you utter instinctively, “er, excuse me, I’ll just go let Mr. Fowler--”

You scurry to the office door and it opens before you can reach it. Mr. Fowler steps out and sends you a sardonic look. You wince and step back out of his way. He struts by and approaches Jonathan, Mr. Pine properly, with his hand out in offering.

“Pine.”

“Nick,” the man answers familiarly, “long time.”

“Not long enough,” Fowler counters as they shake hands firmly. He’s a few inches shorter than Pine though hardly falters at the fact. “Elfie, coffee.”

“She did offer,” Pine intones, “I politely declined. You know it isn’t my style.”

“Mm, yes, I know your style too well,” Fowler rebuffs and lets him go, gesturing him through his office door. As he follows, he glances back at you and arches a brow. What did you do wrong this time?

#nick fowler #dark nick fowler #dark!nick fowler #jonathan pine #dark jonathan pine #dark!jonathan pine #nick fowler x reader #jonathan pine x reader #series #drabble #office space #the 355 #the night manager #au #bad bosses

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ineffable-endearments · 11 months

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Aziraphale as a natural collectivist and Crowley as a natural individualist raise their beautiful heads once again!

Aziraphale's huge mistake during the Final Fifteen is, obviously, as we've rehashed a lot, assuming Crowley would accept being reappointed as an angel. This isn't out of a lack of love for Crowley as a demon. It's because Aziraphale's first instinct when he's anxious is to look toward validation from a collective of some sort...and the Metatron has just reminded him of what Heaven could "offer" as that collective. A way to do good! Safety! Openness! He doesn't consider how Crowley will feel about this in large part because thinking individualistically doesn't come naturally to him; he's so busy thinking about the joy of Belonging that he doesn't consider how much Crowley values being outside the system - indeed, that it's an essential part of him.

Crowley's mistake, I think, is arguing that it can be very literally "just the two of us." Of course they can be a couple! Aziraphale wants that. He's happy with Crowley as his most unique, enduring, intimate connection. But just as Crowley's individuality is essential to him, Aziraphale is always going to need some cause to serve, somewhere to belong. That's who he is. And he loves Crowley so much that he wants, with utter desperation, for the two of them to belong in the same place, with the same people.

As I've said before, Aziraphale's sense of individuality is growing. He wants to be an individual, not just a faceless, passionless drone in a group of other drones. I think ultimately the reason he loves Crowley so much is that's the gift Crowley's given him - the safety to explore that thing he wants so badly. He needs, I hope, to reframe himself as "belonging" to Earth, rather than to Heaven.

And Crowley does not actually want to be isolated, adrift in the universe with just one other person. He wants to put down roots. He wants to belong somewhere. I think if you had to choose a reason why he loves Aziraphale, that would be it: Crowley can feel belonging with Aziraphale, and Aziraphale also gives him opportunities to connect with others - with humans, specifically - in ways that would ordinarily never be permitted for an agent of Hell. However, he's afraid to make his connection to Earth's community irrevocable, and his fear has always been entirely reasonable, both because it puts his and Aziraphale's safety at risk and because it's heartbreaking to watch what humans do to themselves and each other ("Humans. You don't let yourself get too attached."). He'll have to overcome those fears not because they're so wrong, but just because they're in the way of what he wants.

#good omens #good omens 2 spoilers #go s2 spoilers

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cherry-romper · 3 months

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hello!! i’m currently in love with your writing style and i wanted to request a superior officer! reader babying reno bc hes so baby, and maybe hes feeling insecure of his battle scars and his ability to kill kaijus and reader comforts him, angst to fluff? thank you!!!!

RENO X CAPTAIN!READER

Love requests like this! I had fun writing this, thank you anon <3 I've never written angst before, so idk if its any good :(

Warnings; none

Contains; GN!reader, angst to fluff

Word Count; 2065

Three tight knocks at your door pulled you from your work. “You wanted to see me, captain?” Reno’s voice was cautious, laced with worry. It wasn’t often you asked a subordinate to your office, and when you did it was never for a good reason.

“Ah, Ichikawa! Please come in, take a seat, I’ll be with you in just a moment,” you tried you best to sound inviting, but given the mountain of paperwork you were faced with, you just sounded stressed.

Reno strode into the room, as anxious as he was, his body language didn’t display it. He stood at the other side of your desk, back straight and arms tight to his sides, refusing to take a seat. Always so formal, you thought. Finishing up the sentence you were writing, you laid down your pen.

“I thought I told you to sit, Ichikawa?” You eyed him, watching as he tensed up at your stern voice.

“With all due respect, captain, I can’t.” You cocked a brow at him, looking between the empty seat and him. “Why not?”

“I sustained an injury on the field, captain. It makes it hard to move my hips.” He explained, slightly embarrassed, a dusting of pink on his cheeks. He’s hurt his ass, you chuckled to yourself.

“I understand, you can just stay standing then,” you permitted, an amused smile on your face. Standing from your seat, you walked round to where he stood. As young as he was, he was taller than you, only by a few inches, but taller. You weren’t much older than him, being the youngest captain in the Defence Force. Still, you sighed at the difference. He’s not even finished growing yet. You perched on the desk next to him, crossing your legs and arms. You stayed like that for a minute, in silence; half trying to find the right words, and half to tease him.

He looked to you, his body still facing forward despite you now being at his side. He shifted uncomfortably in the silence.

“You know, Ichikawa…” You started, staring up at him from where you were perched. He observed you, anticipating a beratement for his failings in the field. Instead, he was greeted with worry. “I was worried about you out there”.

Confused by your words, he questioned you “I don’t understand what you mean, captain…”

“Stop being so formal would you, its bugging me out, I told you to call me Y/N when we’re alone,” you winked at him, sending him spiralling. His blush deepened and he was certain that the whole country could hear his heartbeat. He tried hard to stammer out a reply of agreement, but his brain betrayed him. You’d made him incoherent. A smirk played on your lips, watching as he nodded his head instead of speaking. Sweet boy.

“When I heard what happened, with that kaiju, I mean…I feared the worst”. You didn’t meet his gaze, you couldn’t. Truth be told, underneath your exterior, you had such a soft spot from Reno. He was more than capable of looking after himself on the field, you knew that better than anyone, given how much you’d watched him, but still, he was young…and reckless at times. It scared you, knowing how often he’d put himself in danger for his friends. He wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice himself if it meant he could save them. He reminded you of your younger self. You admired him for that.

“You were injured. Badly from what I’d heard. And the drones were destroyed…I didn’t know if you were even alive…” You looked to him, hoping to find relief in his eyes that would mirror your own, but you were met with distain. His face was scrunched up and his brows knitted. He jerked his head away from you, disgust plastered on his face, like you were a rotted piece of meat.

Taken aback by the sight, you rose from the desk, turning your body to him. “Speak freely, Ichikawa.”

He took a moment to collect his thoughts, thinking of how best to convey his opinion respectfully. You were his superior, and he would always treat you with respect, no matter how much he disagreed with you.

“I came to you in a moment of need, after Kafka got injured, you told me to find you when I felt lost. You told me to treat you like a friend. Then you went and told me then not to get attached in this line of work, you said ‘it never ends well’. And now…now you’re telling me you were worried about me dying, captain?” He didn’t meet your eyes, he just stared out the window, his eyes glinting in the evening sun, a deep venom hung on his words.

You felt your heart sink. He’s not wrong, you thought. You tried to digest his words, to understand where he was coming from. His outburst wouldn’t have come without reason. You hummed, “I see”.

Thinking back to that time, you remembered trying to comfort him when Kafka had been injured. Poor kid was beside himself with worry. Again, that was something you deeply admired about Reno. When you told him not to get attached, you didn’t mean for him to stop caring. What you were trying to say is, in this line of work, you can get hurt in more ways than one. Emotional pain can kill a man as good as any Kaiju. You were trying to warn him that there is a price on emotions.

“Reno, I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he turned to you upon hearing you call him by his name, this time he looked at you softer, more composed, “will you allow me to explain myself?” He only nodded.

You’d originally called him in to your office to ask him how he was doing and to gush at his new injuries, something you did often to tease hi. You knew he’d blamed himself for the last Kaiju escaping, you wanted to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault.

After the mess that happened during the last kaiju attack, you’d been led to believe many members of your platoon had passed, Reno included. You weren’t on the mission, it had been classed as low risk, so you’d been watching from the surveillance room. After the drones got destroyed and the communication had been cut off, there was no way of knowing exactly what had happened. It quickly became a blur, an incomprehensible mess. The guilt made you feel sick. You were safe and sound while you believed your platoon was being massacred. It all felt like some big joke. Like the universe was playing a trick on you. These things happen, you told yourself, it’s an occupational hazard.

“It wasn’t just you I was worried for,” you forced eye contact with him, he needed to know you meant every word. “I care about all of you. Every last one of you out in the field are my responsibility. You’re all like family to me, something I never had. This place, the Defence Force, it’s my home, and all of you bring me such joy. Being able to serve alongside you, it’s a privilege I’m thankful for every single day”.

He didn’t move, didn’t even blink, it was hard to tell if he was even breathing. He just stared on as you talked, watching as you occasionally gesticulated to emphasise yourself.

“And you!” He raised a brow at you, as if to say ‘me?’ “I’ve grown to care for you, Reno Ichikawa. More than I should ever admit.” You both frowned slightly, knowing these are words better left unsaid. “And I thought…I thought I’d lost you out there.”

The two of you had grown close over the many months that he’d been enlisted into your division. He often came to you for advice, you were wise beyond your years. You’d seen too much and lost too many to not have learned from your mistakes, Reno saw that and wanted to learn too. He’d found a friend in you, and you’d found hope in him.

“May I speak freely again, captain?” His voice wavered slightly, nervous again.

“Y/N,” you breathed, “and you may.”

“Why me, Y/N?” he turned his body too you, looking deep into your eyes, searching for a sign, something, anything that would tell him he was understanding you wrong.

You couldn’t answer. Truth is, you didn’t know why you cared so deeply about him. Your care led to babying him often. Treating his wounds yourself, being sure his suit was on properly, checking if his guns worked. He’d asked you to stop, politely, of course, and you did. For the most part. You could never stop caring about him, and the urge to do things for him never went away, but you respected his space and need to grow freely. That didn’t mean you wouldn’t watch him like a hawk.

He had always felt the same to you, but scorched his emotions after you’d told him not to get attached. He’d thought you were referring to yourself. He took as a premature rejection.

You stammered out what could loosely be called words, “I…erm…well…”

Before you could collect your thoughts, he took a step towards you. You froze at the close proximity, your mind and heart racing. “Tell me,” he whispered, “you’re always so good with words, what’s stopping you now?” He was barely arms lengths from you, you could feel his warmth.

“I’ve never been good with emotions, Reno,” you didn’t know why you were so flustered. You’ve seen this man shirtless on multiple occasions as you dressed his wounds and kept a better composure then, than you are now.

“You told me not to get too attached. Why won’t you listen to your own advice? You know that we…” he trailed off, but you knew what he was going to say.

“Back then, what I meant was your emotions come with a price. I’ve seen grief kill just about as many as kaiju have. I was warning you that you must be prepared to pay if you care so much.” You peered up at him, his eyes softened, pieces falling into place for him. He reached for your arms, cupping your elbows, pulling you closer to him.

The curve of his arm brought his new scars into the light. You looked down to his worn hands and silently gasped. “Reno, when did you get these?” your fingers trailed over the freshly healed scars.

He pulled his arms from yours, “don’t do that,” he half-joked.

“Do what?”

“Gush over me.”

You gave him a ‘really?’ look, “after everything we’ve just talked about, you think I’m not going to gush over them?” He sighed after you.

You gazed up at him through your lashes, a candied smile teasing your lips. “I don’t like them,” he admitted, crossing his arms in an attempt to hide them.

You fought the urge to ask why, but you were smarter than that, you knew why. To Reno, the scar were reminders of where he’d failed. “It wasn’t your fault, you know?” you started, keeping your voice soft and sweet, “you didn’t let that kaiju escape.”

He gave you an upside-down smile, he wanted to appreciate your attempts at comforting him, but he couldn’t help but feel like you were just saying it to make him feel better. He dropped his head slightly, taking in the sight of his arms.

A pang shot through your heart. It saddened you to see him like this. You knew that eventually, this insecurity is what will drive him to be better and to keep improving, but to see him now, with this dullness in his eyes, it pained you.

“Oh, Ichikawa,” you reach out your equally worn hands and smoothed your fingers along one of his scars. “These aren’t because you’re bad,” his eyes found your own, his body shivering at your touch. “They serve as reminders that we are alive. Like the rings of a tree, they show how far you’ve come. And when you’re old and grey, we can count them, and think back to the memories we’ve made and all the lives we’ve saved.”

You took his hands in your own, observing the callouses and bumps. “We?” he asked.

“We,” you said, “for us, I’m willing to pay the price.”

#kn8 #kn8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 #kaiju no 8 x reader #reno ichikawa #reno ichikawa x reader #reno x reader #ichikawa x reader

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gureumz · 1 year

Text

the thinker

rating: explicit

member: sunoo

premise: after someone on your dormitory floor dies, your professor, sunoo, seeks out to solve it himself. concerned and bearing responsibility, you offer to help (in more ways than just gathering evidence). what you discover is more than what you bargained for.

notes: MAJOR DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND DEATH, graphic retellings of murders, dark themes, again this is a dark fic pls if you can't stomach it don't force yourself, thriller/suspense, fem!reader, law student!reader, law professor!sunoo, student x teacher relationships (all concerned parties are legal), dom!sunoo, slight breeding, dirty talk, light gagging, mentions of pregnancy (unrelated to the reader), lmk if i missed anything i'm fading

a/n: second of my 1k follower special! this was a doozy. changed a little of the premise because the story just took a life of its own oops ! also a late birthday thing for our boy sunoo. longer than the last one please enjoy (responsibly).

ANOTHER DISCLAIMER: i do not, by any means, claim that this is how the person depicted in this story acts or is in real life. this is a work of fiction with a made-up persona. please consume RESPONSIBLY.

a figure stands silently outside her door.

all is quiet. the occasional laughter is heard, but nothing is amiss.

the figure knocks, bowing his head low. he knows about the eyes. the eyes all over the walls.

she opens the door. effortlessly beautiful. a swan blessed in grace.

the figure embraces her. cradles her in his arms. holds her in his hands.

the swan falls.

---

you couldn't wrap your head around it.

a murder. right down the hall from where you slept, where you studied, where you bathed, so oblivious to the carnage taking place just a few doors down.

you heard the guttural, terrified scream of her roommate. everyone on the same floor did. rushing out of your room, your own mind racing with thoughts of the unthinkable, you see yunjin sobbing on the floor in front of her dorm room.

the one she shared with kazuha.

the door was wide open, light spilling out onto the dim hallway. yunjin was still crying, clutching her stomach as if physically pained by what she's seeing.

"s-someone call security, police, anyone!" yunjin shrieked, hands reaching out towards her doorway, hesitant.

some students have rushed to her side to see what she's hysterical about. all of them recoiled once they saw what awaited them in the room.

"she's dead! kazuha's been attacked!"

you blink, unaware that your heart rate had picked up in the few minutes that you recounted the events of that night.

it's been a week now since the school announced an immediate lockdown of the campus. classes were canceled, no one was to leave their dorms unaccounted for. those who live in the university accommodations were not permitted to exit the campus unless personally picked up by their parents or guardians. those who had family in another district, another province, another country lamented feeling trapped.

'what if the killer comes back? isn't keeping us here the wrong move?'

'what if it's one of the students? they need to question us all. especially those on the same floor.'

you had the same thoughts. but you knew how important the first seventy-two hours of the investigation were. so, for the first three days no one left. every floor of every dorm building was guarded. no one was allowed to move about alone. always in twos or more.

you fidget now, unable to focus on the voice droning from the front of the lecture hall. you raise your eyes to see professor kim, pointing at a slide projected on the screen, explaining something about warrants.

he catches your eye and you immediately shift your focus to his presentation.

it's as if nothing happened. a funeral was held, a memorial erected for kazuha in the lobby of the law building, and eventually, classes resumed.

you've heard whispers that yunjin opted out of university accommodations altogether. no one has seen her since.

"right!" you hear professor kim bellow from the front, clapping his hands together and startling everyone in the lecture hall.

for someone with such an amicably handsome face, professor sunoo kim was a ruthless criminal law instructor. he was particular about punctuality and never entertained any suggestions regarding extra credit. he was, by all accounts, as stiff as a board inside the classroom.

"that's all the time i have for you all today. read up on the cases i gave you because i'll be expecting the digests by thursday," professor kim calls out, gathering his belongings.

a hushed chatter falls over the lecture hall as the students start to leave. there haven't been any memos or reminders put recently regarding the murder but it's still the same. in twos or threes. no one is comfortable moving about alone nowadays.

you start to follow, mindlessly collecting your papers and your laptop, but a figure approaching your desk causes you to stop dead in your tracks.

"________," professor kim's voice glides through your ears smoothly. he smiles down at you as you sink back into your seat.

"hi, professor kim, " you greet, nodding briefly in acknowledgment.

"how have you been doing? you've been uncharacteristically quiet today," professor kim points out.

it's true. you're usually one to participate in discussions, always caught up or ahead on the readings. but with the events of the past days, you couldn't bring yourself to care much about anything.

it's not as if you were particularly close to kazuha. she lived on your floor and you've had small talk with her in the common lounge. nothing ever went beyond polite chatter.

"i think everyone's kind of out of it, professor," you reply. "ever since...you know."

you look up to meet professor kim's eyes and his gaze softens when he realizes what you're referring to. he nods understandingly, watching as the rest of the class files out of the lecture hall.

"and whoever did it is still out there," you say lowly, voice dropping to a whisper.

"i know," professor kim agrees, voice suddenly gruff. you watch as his eyebrows pinch together.

"i've been...looking into it," professor kim continues.

you eye him curiously, your back straightening as professor kim perches himself on the table in front of you. you get a whiff of his perfume; sweet but still subtly masculine.

"the police are on the case, but of course i've worked criminal cases like this before, and with my knowledge of the school and its people...i couldn't help but pry a little," professor kim explains, shifting so he could look at you better from his vantage above you.

"what did you find?" you ask, feeling small under the watchful eye of your professor. he grins down at you, reaching over to squeeze your arm briefly.

"i can't tell you," professor kim deflects. after a few moments, he stands, walking back to his desk now but it's too late. you're intrigued, stomach churning in anticipation.

"you can't or you won't?" you call after him. professor kim stops and glances back at you.

"there's the ________ i know," he says, chuckling. he continues on to his desk, packing up the rest of his things. you watch with steely eyes.

"i don't want any rumors about this. it's a tragic event that has no business being turned into campus gossip that will most likely devolve into some urban legend decades from now," professor kim says pointedly as if berating you. you shake your head, unable to contain your curiosity.

"i won't tell anyone, professor kim, i promise," you implore. you rise from your seat, startling the professor.

he regards you for a moment, eyes traveling down your body and only now do you see professor kim. truly see him.

he towers over you, standing tall at a 5'10 or 5'11 based on your estimates. he dresses crisply, but you don't miss the brightly colored socks beneath his perfectly pressed trousers. you take note of the broad expanse of his upper body underneath the short sleeve button-up he has on.

his face, one that you've looked at two times a week for the past six months, fully came into focus now. striking eyes, a sharp nose, lips that were redder than your own. thicker, too. so thick and plump and always shining with what you could only assume was lip balm.

"sunoo," professor kim says after a moment. "call me sunoo when we're not in class."

you swallow, confused. "sir?"

"wrong," sunoo laughs. "just sunoo, please. i can't be any more than five years older than you."

that, too.

his age. so close to his students' that it's not uncommon for a lot of you to wonder if he'd ever messed around with one of you. you vaguely remember thinking that you wouldn't mind being that person.

"sunoo," you repeat. the name feels foreign on your tongue, as if you're stepping over a boundary you're not supposed to cross.

"okay, sunoo. i promise not to tell anyone what you know about the...the incident."

you catch yourself before you blurt out the word 'murder'. fear grips at you, as if saying the word out loud would bring down bad fortune.

sunoo takes a deep breath, slinging the strap of his messenger bag onto his shoulder. he approaches you again and with you standing, you're relatively eye to eye.

"you know what my consultation hours are. come by right after," sunoo says. you nod and seemingly satisfied, sunoo smiles, walking out the door of the lecture hall.

you linger for a moment before you realize you're all alon. a chill runs up your spine. you dash out of the hall faster than you've ever moved in your life.

---

"they're looking into the professors now. it's kind of fucked up, don't you think?"

you lift your eyes from the book you're reading, regarding your friend in confusion.

"what do you mean 'looking into the professors'?" you ask, scooting closer to hear better.

jake sighs, motioning for your whole table to squeeze in tighter. you scan the library quickly, to see if the coast was clear. your other friends press their shoulders against yours, waiting for jake to reveal what it is he has to say.

"they've cleared most of the students on kazuha's floor. it wasn't one of them." at this, jake turns to you and you nod.

you're brought back to the day after the murder. policemen knocked on everyone's door, questioning and taking witness statements. you had held your roommate's hand the whole time while you were being pressed for answers. you remember crying that night in fear for your own life.

"it only makes sense they widen their search," you supply. "they started with the professors teaching the classes kazuha was taking, correct?"

jake nods. "exactly."

"how is that fucked up?" sunghoon asks from your left, directly across jake. the latter rolls his eyes, tapping the table in mild annoyance.

"think about your own professors. do any of them look like the type to murder you? to want to murder you?" jake says in a whisper-shout. the whole table falls silent, nervous eyes meeting each other.

"no," sunghoon finally answers.

"right?! but what if one of them was capable. we wouldn't know. and if it was one of her professors, i'm sure kazuha suspected nothing, either" jake explains, emphasizing every word with a finger to the table.

you shiver, suddenly overcome with a dreadful fear.

"i need to go," you say, pushing yourself off your chair. you glance at your watch and realize it's time for you to meet sunoo, anyway.

you bid a quick goodbye to everyone before storming out of the library. the hallway seems even chillier than the freezing library. you wrap your arms around you protectively.

---

"you look shaken up. what's wrong?"

you swallow thickly as you shut the door behind you, eyes downcast. your breathing is labored, having run all the way from the library to the building that housed the professor's offices.

you look up to see sunoo standing by his desk, a look of concern on his face. he crosses the room in a few wide strides, fingers gently prying your chin up so you could look at him.

"did you run?" sunoo asks, reaching into his pocket. he hands a handkerchief to you, gesturing at your forehead.

"it's chilly in here. dry off before you get a cold," sunoo advises.

you take the handkerchief, absently dabbing at your forehead. you lean against the heavy wooden door.

"sorry, prof—i mean, sunoo," you begin, trying to steady your breath. "i came from a class and didn't want to miss you here."

sunoo smiles. "i was going to wait for you, anyway."

you meet his eyes but you say nothing, opting to straighten yourself up instead. this is the closest you've been to sunoo, and the way he looks so worried for you nearly threatens a smile out of you.

"you know, we could both get into big trouble for this," sunoo points out, walking back to his desk. he eases himself onto his chair, motioning for you to do the same on one of the two seats provided for his consultees.

you sit, suddenly nervous about what sunoo could possibly have figured out. you watch him rifle through a folder of papers before pulling one out.

"did you know kazuha had a boyfriend?" sunoo begins, setting the paper down and pointing to it. it's a copy of someone's student file.

you lift it to see better and a familiar name is typed at the very top.

yoshi kanemoto.

another post-grad getting his master's in anthropology or some other. part of the post-grad and law school varsity basketball team. he's a friendly enough guy, if just a tad bit shy. he and kazuha haven't been going out long, or so you've heard. you've seen him around your floor a few times and he didn't seem to ring any alarm bells in your head.

"it's always the boyfriend first," you observe.

when violent crimes against women are committed, the first place law enforcement looks into is any present or past relationships.

"accomplished young man, if i do say so myself," sunoo declares. "totally cooperative and was said to be devastated with the news."

"but...?" you ask, anticipating a caveat with the positive introduction.

"reports say they were fighting the night of the murder," sunoo expounds, shrugging.

"was there ever a history of violence? abuse?" you question.

sunoo shakes his head. "none that i've heard. but i was trying to pull some strings at the detective's office the other day. i guess i pulled one that put this whole thing into perspective."

you suck in a breath. "what did you find?"

there was a pause. sunoo purses his lips, exhaling.

"kazuha was nine weeks pregnant when she was killed."

you blink. it takes you a moment to realize what you just heard. you fall back against your chair, a hand coming up to cover your mouth. the hairs on your arm prickle.

"so...you think the fight was because of that. a-and yoshi killed her to get out of the responsibility?" you ask, voice trembling.

sunoo shrugs again. "maybe. maybe not. but it definitely puts kanemoto in a bad light."

you don't say anything, a weight in your chest rendering you speechless. you and sunoo sit in silence for nearly a minute, with sunoo carefully studying your expression.

"no one else knows this. only the detectives and me. and now, you," sunoo informs. "so, i need you to be very quiet about this."

"of course," you immediately agree. "i won't tell a soul."

sunoo smiles sympathetically, pushing himself off his chair. he comes around the desk, moving to sit across from you. he holds his hand out to you, waiting.

you place your hand in his, relaxing as he runs a thumb over your knuckles.

"i'm sorry for dragging you into this," sunoo says, patting the top of your hand with his other one. "but when my top student asks, it's hard to refuse."

you laugh at this, eyes landing on your clasped hands.

"thank you for entertaining my...unusual request," you say, chuckling lightly.

"anything else you've discovered?" you ask, averting your eyes to the papers on sunoo's desk.

"if...i'm allowed to ask," you add, peering back at sunoo momentarily.

sunoo hums, reaching over to the scattered papers on his desk.

"yunjin is taking the rest of semester off, i hear," sunoo says, idly toying with the files.

"smart move," he adds.

you nod, throat thick once again with uncertainty. you stand, pulling your hand away, much to sunoo's surprise.

"leaving so soon?" sunoo questions. you smile, nodding politely.

"it's getting late and i don't really trust the campus nowadays after dark," you reason.

sunoo nods. he gestures for the door and you follow.

"let me walk you to your dorm, then," sunoo offers, smiling. a flash of something passes his eyes and you recognize it as hesitance.

"you don't have to," you automatically answer. you pause, realizing that you'd be walking alone at dusk through paths and hallways where a killer may have potentially walked.

the thought alone fills you with a visceral fear.

"i know," sunoo agrees. he hurriedly rushes to his desk, grabs his phone and keys before returning to your side.

"and i totally understand if you don't want me to, but i would feel much more at ease if i did," sunoo says, eyes pleading.

you nod, already reaching for the knob. "alright."

sunoo seems relieved as the two of you walk out of his office. he locks it before you start your way down the hall.

the journey is quiet, with sunoo's hands in his pockets and yours clasped tightly around the strap of your book bag. the night is chilly as you cross the courtyard to get to your dorm building, with barely anyone out at this hour. the walkways are lighted up to the extreme, illuminating every corner of the campus that the beams of light can reach.

you arrive at the entrance to your building and sunoo turns to you.

"now i can go to bed later tonight without any worry," sunoo says with a smile, eyes shaping into crescents. you can't help but grin back.

"please be careful on your way back," you remind. "and go straight home, if you can."

sunoo chuckles, reaching over to lay a hand on your arm. you inhale, the warmth from his palm bleeding through your thin sweater.

"i will," sunoo reassures. "i'll see you thursday, okay?"

you reach up shakily to grasp sunoo's outstretched arm, your own fingers curling around it.

"i'll see you."

---

somewhere, in a shadowy corner behind a bundle of brush, the figure stands, unmoving. concealed by the darkness, he watches through the windows, etching onto his mind the little details.

someone is playing the guitar next to an open window, puffing out smoke despite the building's prohibition on any narcotic substance. someone else is reading, the thick tome in their lap illuminated by a nearby lamp.

and someone else is merely looking out into the night sky. a pretty bundle of hair on their head billowing in the soft breeze. they seem nervous, shaken. lines appear between their eyebrows. like they're deep in thought.

the figure in the dark watches the thinker a little bit more, entranced by their beauty. eventually, they're satisfied. they stalk off into the night, the image of that one person's hair burned into the back of their eyelids.

---

"now, i understand midterms are coming up so i need you to be more attentive with your grades," sunoo eyes the lecture hall, staring pointedly at everyone's faces.

"don't wait until finals to scramble for that passing grade. i try to be gracious, but it's not a free-for-all," he continues. sunoo closes his laptop and the screen behind him goes black.

"remember, pre-test next week. you have tomorrow, the weekend, and monday to study," sunoo says with an air of finality.

"you may leave," he concludes with a wave of his hand. the room lets out a collective breath.

a few students stay behind as the rest trickle out of the doors, hounding sunoo with questions. he answers, face stoic and eyes focused as he gives curt, direct answers.

you stand from your seat, hovering around your desk, unsure when the others would leave. finally, they seem satisfied enough with their ambush on sunoo and they walk off, letting the door slam behind them.

sunoo spots you and his expression brightens. he beckons you over and you approach him, watching his slender fingers work on the stacks of paper in front of him.

"i must say, i'm excited to read your digest later tonight," sunoo admits, a bashful look in his eyes.

you laugh. "who gets excited to read a case digest?"

"i do," sunoo responds abruptly. "only when it comes to yours, though. you're always thorough, including all the details but organizing them in a way that's quick and easy to understand."

"that is an impressive feat, _______," he adds.

you feel your face heat up, your stomach giving way as if falling to the floor beneath you.

"you give me too much credit," you answer meekly, avoiding sunoo's eyes.

"you're a talented student. and i'm sure you'd be a talented lawyer eventually," sunoo reassures, shrugging on his bag. he steps in front of you.

"do you have a class after this?" sunoo asks. you shake your head 'no'.

sunoo nods, eyes trailing off to the side momentarily, as if pondering on something. he turns back to look at you, his signature bright smile returning.

"do you want to grab a bite together?"

you're taken aback by sunoo's offer, unsure what to do or say. the automatic response making its way up was a polite refusal. but sunoo has done you a favor and you think that this might be him asking for something back.

"are you sure?" is what you opt to say. sunoo's eyes narrow but he's smirking, as if this wasn't what he was expecting you to say.

"yes, i'm sure," sunoo replies. "don't worry about all that ethical stuff. i'm only taking you out for coffee and some snacks. besides, we're done with my class now, aren't we? i'm just plain old sunoo to you."

you giggle. "you could never be plain to me."

sunoo's head bows, his cheeks rounding even more as a blush creeps onto his face. you watch, amused, as sunoo obstructs half of his face with his hand.

"just say yes, _______," sunoo says from behind his hand.

you laugh fully this time, noticing as sunoo's ears turn red as well.

"alright, yes. i'd love a coffee with you."

---

the campus cafe stays open until midnight on most days, but since the incident, they've bumped it down to 9 pm.

it's now 8:30 and no one else was at the cafe but you and sunoo, seated at a booth tucked away near the back. the baristas have started to discreetly clean up for the night, emptying the pastry case little by little, but neither you nor sunoo had the heart to suggest leaving.

"that's some gnarly stuff," you comment as you try to digest the story sunoo had just told you about one case he worked on recently involving one woman literally stealing another woman's baby from her womb.

"it was sad overall," sunoo counters, leaning back in his chair from across you. you feel his legs shift against yours and a shiver runs up your spine.

at some point during the hours you've spent talking, sunoo had managed to sandwich your leg between both of his under the table. he held it there, rubbing against your ankle from time to time with his own, like your very own version of footsie.

"the trauma the actual mother got from it was unimaginable. and as for the woman who took her baby away from her, it was clear that she was not right in the right state of mind. those around her refused to see it as that and withheld proper care for her," sunoo recounts, staring directly into your eyes.

his brown irises seem brighter under the yellow-tinged light of the cafe, dancing with something you can't quite put your finger on.

before you could say anything in response, sunoo reaches over the table to where your hand rests. he takes it in his, slowly intertwining your fingers together.

your heart hammers against your chest. sunoo is still looking at you, silent, but a thousand words poring from his intense gaze.

"i'm parked not far from here and my apartment's just a short drive away," sunoo begins, his thumb drawing patterns onto your palm.

your eyebrows raise, your chest heaving as you take deeper breaths. your body seems to seize up.

is this really happening?

"gonna tell me more about your cases, professor?" you ask, purposely taking up his title again in conversation.

sunoo smiles knowingly, digging the nail on his thumb a little deeper into your palm. your breath hitches and you nearly quiver.

"i can. but i'd like to know more about the stories you have to tell if that's okay," sunoo says, rubbing over the little crescent-shaped dent he made.

"what do you want to know?" you question, raising an eyebrow.

sunoo grins.

"everything."

---

true to his word, sunoo seems to want to know everything.

everything about your body, that is. but he reasons that your body can tell a million different stories about yourself, too.

"like how you like being kissed," sunoo says, pulling away momentarily from your lips as he slams the front door shut behind him.

he presses his mouth against yours once more and you groan, pulling him closer by the front of his shirt. sunoo slips his hands under your own blouse, nails dragging down your back as he guides you to the couch.

sunoo distances himself again, kissing down your neck, still clawing at your back. you squirm, whimpering pathetically.

"your body can tell me what your pain tolerance is," sunoo whispers lowly next to your ear, catching your earlobe between his teeth.

"and i have a feeling it's pretty high, sweetheart."

you moan, pressing yourself closer to sunoo. he retaliates by shoving you down onto the sofa. your hair is a mess, your blouse skewed and wrinkled on your body.

"it is," you confirm, quickly pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it to the floor.

sunoo bites his lip, fingers working deftly on his belt. he gets it undone and hurriedly unbuttons and unzips his pants, pulling it down along with his underwear.

"show me," sunoo commands, reaching down to grab your jaw, lining your face up with his half-hard cock.

you sit up, grabbing onto sunoo's firm thighs with one hand to steady yourself. you grab the base of sunoo's cock in the other, pumping slowly. gathering spit in your mouth, you envelop sunoo's length with your mouth, a hiss escaping the man standing above you.

"god, that mouth," sunoo begins, threading his fingers through your hair. "i knew it did more than give me the right answers in class."

you moan around him, peering up at sunoo through your lashes. sunoo's eyes darken as he watches you take more of him, going down all the way to the very base.

you pull back, coughing. sunoo tugs you closer by the hair and you yelp in surprise.

"come on, i know you can do better," sunoo urges.

you wrap your lips around sunoo again, sucking in hard. you start to move, bobbing up and down, taking more and more of sunoo in as you go. he doesn't shy away from noise, moaning and groaning as you repeatedly let his tip hit the back of your throat.

"fuck," sunoo mutters, yanking you off him.

"bend over the back of the couch, baby. keep that cute skirt on."

you wipe the spit from your chin, tears pooling at the corner of your eyes. despite your debauched appearance, looking as if close to crying, the wetness between your legs is undeniable. you reach down to pull your panties off, and a dark spot is clearly visible on the fabric.

sunoo takes it from you, grabbing your chin.

"open," sunoo says. you oblige, letting your jaw fall slack. he shoves your panties in your waiting mouth and you gasp in surprise. the sound muffles around the damp cloth.

"bend over," sunoo barks. "don't make me repeat myself."

you lean over the back of the couch, sticking your hips out as far as they would go. you hear sunoo give a sound of satisfaction, his hands moving your skirt up further your body and exposing your ass and drenched pussy.

without a word of warning, sunoo plunges in half of himself and you cry out. you breathe through your nose, your underwear constricting any airflow through your mouth.

sunoo eases the rest of his way in and your eyes roll into the back of your head.

'yes! god yes! feels so good, sunoo!' is what you want to say but it comes out a garbled mess.

sunoo starts moving, shallow at first, as if pacing himself. slowly, he moves more and more of him out of your pussy before roughly thrusting back in. eventually, he finds a suitable rhythm, his hands gripping at your waist tightly.

"feels amazing," sunoo compliments. "my favorite student. so good for me, so obedient, always doing what i tell her to do."

you whine, looking back at sunoo. you'd give anything to see his face up close at this moment.

sunoo leans down, kissing your temple. he reaches in front of you, pulling the panties from your mouth. drool drips from your lips and you sob in embarrassment.

"dirty," sunoo comments disapprovingly. "drooling all over my couch like some whore."

"i-i'm your whore," you croak out weakly. despite the wetness in your mouth, your throat had seemingly dried up.

sunoo seems impressed by this, chuckling darkly. "yeah? you're my whore? mine to use?"

you nod, moaning wantonly as you feel sunoo deliver a particularly hard thrust.

"yes. d-do anything to me, please," you continue. sunoo grunts, movements speeding up.

your head spins, a knot in your abdomen tightening with each drag of sunoo's cock against your walls. you press your face against the couch, sunoo's name falling from your mouth like a mantra.

"gonna cum? gonna cum all over my cock?" sunoo taunts, pressing his chest against your back.

"yes," is all you can reply. sunoo' bites into your shoulder and you shudder, the sting adding to the sensations coursing through your whole body.

"me too," sunoo says. "gonna pump this pussy with my cum."

you whimper pathetically and this eggs sunoo on. his thrusts turn erratic and you're thrown into another level of pleasure.

"sunoo, i-i'm—!"

your sentence is cut off as your orgasm rocks through your whole body, a high-pitched moan echoing off sunoo's apartment walls. he continues to stretch you out, despite the sensitivity, chasing his own high.

"just like that, sweetheart, so tight, so goddamn tight," sunoo chants. a moment later, he shudders, finishing deep inside you, his whole cock buried in your pulsating hole.

soft whimpers continuously escape you, too dazed to form a coherent sentence. sunoo pulls out moments later, replacing his length with two of his fingers. you protest but it falls on deaf ears.

"i know sweetheart, i know," sunoo coos, kissing down the expanse of your back. you slump against the sofa, weak and panting.

sunoo gently moves you to face him, a soft smile on his face, a total contrast to the filthy act you just participated in.

"feel good?" sunoo asks, kissing your nose.

you nod, eyes suddenly heavy. "s'good."

sunoo chuckles, wrapping his arms around you.

"come on, we need to get you cleaned up."

---

the figure observes through glass tonight.

some of the thinker's hair is pinned up, the other half of it flowing down their shoulders. they laugh at a joke.

the thinker's phone goes off. the figure in the dark gives a start, fingertips tingling in excitement.

the figure slinks back into the shadow.

the thinker will finally be theirs.

---

"they made an arrest today."

you look up nervously from your phone, having just read the local news reports.

"the boyfriend, right?" sunghoon continues, holding his own phone up for everyone to see.

just as he says this, the rest of the bar's chatter slowly turns grim and quiet as patrons, mostly students from your university, discover the new development in kazuha's case through their own social media.

"she was pregnant," jake says in disbelief, eyes glued to his screen.

"he probably thought getting rid of them was the easiest way out," sunghoon deduces.

"but on campus? by stabbing her?" you counter. "he could have gone about this differently."

"maybe he panicked," jake offers. "or wasn't thinking straight."

"they're still going to put him on trial so he still has a chance to be proven innocent," sunghoon says.

you shake your head, leaning back in your seat. "i'm not convinced, is all."

jake snickers. "you have a better theory, ms. law student?"

you give him a look and jake holds his hands up in defeat. your phone suddenly vibrates on the table, momentarily distracting you. picking it up, you see a notification.

you're at paradoxx bar right?

you suppress a smile, realizing it's a text from sunoo. you type out a reply confirming your location and he responds just as quickly.

come meet me outside for a bit? i'm in the alley out back.

you take a quick glance around the table at your friends, but it seems as if jake and sunghoon were engaged in another topic. you pocket your phone, clearing your throat.

"i'm gonna go meet a friend real quick outside if you don't mind. i'll be back before you know it," you say, sliding out of your seat, ignoring the curious looks from your jake and sunghoon.

"want us to come with you?" sunghoon asks.

you wave him off. "i'll be fine. it's a busy night. lots of witnesses."

jake snickers at this but a look of discomfort washes over sunghoon's face. you pat his back reassuringly.

"i won't be long, i promise," you say, already walking away.

you exit the bar and the wind immediately whips your hair around. you sweep it out of your face, making your way to the alley between the bar and the building beside it, the designated smoking spot for the bar patrons or any other people passing by.

you're startled to see that it's completely empty. worrying for sunoo, you rush the rest of the way, footsteps bouncing off the walls.

"sunoo?" you call out as you round the corner.

true enough, your criminal law professor is standing there, partially concealed by the shadows, but you'd know that strikingly pale face from a mile away.

"hey," he responds, stepping fully into the glow of the bar's back door light, the only source of illumination in this little corner. he's wearing a black hoodie and black jeans, making him look younger, possibly passing as a student himself.

"i missed you," sunoo whispers just as you step into his arms. he pulls you into an embrace, kissing the top of your head.

"we saw each other at class earlier," you point out, beaming up at him. sunoo chuckles, leaning down to kiss you square on the mouth this time.

he pulls away barely an inch, your noses still touching. his breath fans against your face.

"yeah, but i missed you," sunoo reiterates.

your mind flashes back to the night in his apartment, yet to be repeated. a fire ignites in you at the thought of having sunoo to yourself like that a second time.

"so much that we're agreeing to meet behind dingy bars now?" you tease, kissing a spot on sunoo's jaw.

sunoo hums, a large hand resting loosely around your neck. his grip tightens and you gasp softly, the first hints of arousal appearing within your core.

"exactly," sunoo responds.

you laugh lightly as sunoo backs you up against the bar's back wall, a knee pressing between your legs.

"here? really?" you ask, a hint of amusement in your voice. you wanted to berate him playfully for his choice of a quickie location but his hand around your neck tightens even more.

"s-sunoo—"

sunoo clamps down even harder on your throat and your eyes grow wide. you open your mouth to utter something, a safeword, but you belatedly realize you don't have one. not with sunoo.

"yes, here," sunoo confirms, smiling sweetly. you shake your head, tapping rapidly on his arm to signal that no, you need to stop.

but sunoo digs his fingers deeper into your skin. you gasp, but no sound comes out. your head starts to feel light and that's when you see sunoo pull something out of his back pocket.

the smooth glide of metal against metal reaches your ears. a moment later, you feel a sharp prick on your side.

a switchblade.

"do you get it yet?" sunoo asks, looking down at you with the same look he gave you whenever he asks a question in class. as if quizzing you on details of a case.

"i am the same height as kazuha's boyfriend," sunoo begins, piercing your torso deeper.

you tremble. you feel the urge to throw up.

"he doesn't dress a particular way, either. a mask, a hoodie with the hood up, and plain pants would do it. any camera that would have captured me going in and out of her room would have been fooled."

you claw at his arm now, frantically swiping at any part of him that you can reach, but you know that the oxygen is rapidly decreasing in your body, rendering you weak.

"you want to ask me 'how?'. 'why?'" sunoo continues. you wrap your hands around sunoo's arm that's holding you down instead, scared that any more movement would lead to the knife plunging even deeper into you.

"she was my closest colleague's student," sunoo says. "i saw her exit his office one time and i thought she was the prettiest thing i've ever laid eyes on."

"after you, of course," sunoo adds, kissing your cheek. you jerk away but pain shoots through your head.

you're losing too much air.

"it wasn't hard for me to gather enough information about her. you saw how easily i could weasel information out of the police. the university registrar is a walk in the park," sunoo explains with an amused laugh.

"now, why did i do it?" sunoo repeats. he smiles, placing another, longer kiss to the side of your mouth.

"just because."

what follows next is a blur to you.

you feel pain rip through your torso and you feel it repeatedly, over and over and over again. you want to scream. you have to scream.

but you can't.

the damp ground greets you like an old friend, slamming into you as you fall. there's a pain in your face as you lie facedown, in your head, too, but nothing compares to the burning you feel in your stomach, climbing up and down and all around all at once.

the pain disappears moments later, replaced by a dull, numbing throb. you feel cold but warm at the same time.

you feel sleepy.

you hear footsteps fading somewhere behind you but you don't give them any mind.

at this point, you just want to sleep.

the wind blows. your hair flutters one last time.

and then, you sleep.

#enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #sunoo smut #sunoo scenarios #w: sunoo

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dronesbynomad · 2 years

Text

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Original Source: drone company uae

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0 notes

scarlethexelove · 2 months

Note

The reader is concern about dating a centuries-old witch, Agatha. Feeling like a fleeting moment in her long existence can be daunting

Fleeting

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word Count: 1067

Warnings: A bit of angst, Some fluff, A little bit of magic talk

A/n: At first I was really struggling with a way to write this out but I'm happy with how it turned out. But I got to put in that happy ending.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

The tv plays on as Agatha talks over it. This isn’t anything new to you and you love to listen to her explain the inaccuracies of history. You think of how amazing it is that your girlfriend is a great and powerful witch who has lived centuries. She knows history better than anyone you have ever met before in your life.

But it always makes you think. Your mind wanders to another aspect of life with the witch. While right now things are good and happy between the two of you it won’t always be. You will slowly age until you look older than her and she will stay looking the same as ever. You love Agatha so much but it’s hard to think about the future. Having kids with her and growing old together, but the problem is she won’t grow old. She is already centuries old having lived so many lifetimes already.

You don’t notice the tear that has fallen until a hand cups your cheek gently wiping the fallen tear away. “Sweetheart what’s wrong?” Agatha asks her voice soft and calming to your racing mind. Despite her calm demeanor your breath quickens as your mind spirals and you panic. You didn’t think you could love someone so much and to think of losing her is crushing you. “Woah, woah, woah baby please talk to me.” Agatha cups your face in her hands forcing you to look at her as more tears stream down your cheeks.

Agatha has no idea what happened. You were just smiling at her as she droned on about how wrong the history books got the Salem witch trials. When her eyes landed on you she noticed the tears and the far off look on your face. How your body slightly trembled in front of her. She doesn’t know what triggered it but she wants to help. So she pulls you in her lap and hugs you close. Your hand grip the front of her shirt tightly like she is going to disappear from right in front of you. It breaks her heart to see the sudden change and having no idea what is going on. How can she help you? The only thing she can do right now is hold you tight and try to calm you down.

It takes time for Agatha to calm you down. Your grip on her shirt never falters even as your sobs turn into sniffles. You don’t want her to go, to leave in the past like all the others. So you hold on. It doesn’t bother her though she lets your grip stay as she cups your cheeks in her hands again. “Please sweetheart tell me what’s wrong.” You’re quiet for a bit trying to collect the thoughts, too scared to tell her how you really feel. You know you have to tell her, but how do you explain it? Would that mean she starts to age and dies. Can she even do that, you know she is powerful but how powerful is she really.

“I’m scared.” You mumble slightly nuzzling her hand for comfort. “Scared of what baby?” Agatha is truly lost on where all of this is coming from. “I’m just a fleeting part of your life Aggie. You have lived many lives and loved so many people. I’m nothing special in the spectacle of your whole life. I’ll be but a memory soon enough to you but to me… to me you mean everything.” More tears cascade down your face as your voice shakes. “I want to hold on to everything in this moment, but how can I? I’m just another chapter to a book that already has so much. I’m not worth you wasting your time here with me. I’m nothing in the grand scheme of your life.”

Your words break Agatha’s heart. “No sweetheart, you are not nothing. You are my everything. I can say in all of the lives that I have lived on this earth not one person compares to you. You are the earth, the moon, and the stars to me. You want to make me keep living.” Tears start to flow down her cheeks. “I need you more than anything in this world Y/n. You are my love, my one and only.”

Agatha leans her forehead against yours. You want to accept her words to believe that all of it is true but the question that still remains is that you will age and she won’t. There isn’t anything that can be done about that. You are human with no way of extending your life beyond that of what your own body can handle. “Aggie-” You breath out a watery sigh. “I’m still mortal. One day I will leave you.” Agatha shakes her head with her forehead still pressed against yours. Her hands encasing yours as they still hold onto her shirt. “What if I told you that I have a way.” You pull back looking at her face searching for any hint that this isn’t real. “H-how?” You question her. “There’s a spell. It’s dangerous but it would bind our life forces together. As long as one of us is living, so shall the other.” Agatha leans in kissing you deeply before pulling back again. “I have never met a person in my existence that I would have wanted to risk it all to spend my time with… That was until I met you my love. I want you now and forever.”

Your once sad tears turn to happy tears. “Yes!” You shout. “I want nothing more than to be with you forever.” You kiss her again, excitement coursing through your veins, hope rising in a once sorrowful heart. “Baby it will be dangerous. I-I don’t know what will happen if it doesn’t work.” Agatha’s voice laced with concern. As much as she wants to do it she doesn’t want to kill you in the process. “I trust you Aggie. I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you.”

And so that is what you two did. It took many extensive conversations and many nights of practice before Agatha was sure she was ready to try. It wasn’t easy and with a bit of a scare the spell was successful. You never expected to see so many different lifetimes pass by but with Agatha by your side those lives were worth living.

#syd answers #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x fem reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness #agatha x reader fluff #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness fluff #agatha harkness x reader fluff #agatha harkness x reader angst #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x female reader

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 1 year

Text

title: at his side (in his bed)

pairing: mand’alor!din djarin x female reader x paz vizsla

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 2586

chapters: 1/1

summary:

They call you the whore of Mandalore.

Nothing more than the woman at side of the ruler of New Mandalore, Din Djarin, a pretty little prize that he likes to share with with his General Commander, Paz Vizsla.

Mandalorians have always been good at keeping their secrets.

AO3

author’s note: this is just filthy. if you enjoy, please consider leaving a comment as they really make my day 💕

content warnings/additional tags: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), explicit language, writer considers din his first name, alternate universe - Mand’alor din djarin, use of Mando’a, threesome (MFM), degradation kink, pet names (sweet AND derogatory), explicit breeding kink, spitroasting, unprotected p in v, oral sex (m&f receiving), come play, semi-public sex, dom/sub undertones, bratty reader, fingering, no plot just smut. let me know if any are missing!

Your mind has drifted as the political proceedings occurring around you continue to drone on with no end in sight. You’re not even sure why you’ve been brought here. It’s not like you’re being paid any attention.

As if conjured by your thoughts, a gloved hand grips your thigh beneath the heavy stone table. Fingers curl into the gauzy fabric of your gown. You have to bite your lip to prevent your face from giving any sort of indication that something salacious is occurring beneath the keen gazes of the gathered leaders.

“We will not agree to those terms. The mines are plentiful. We have no use for the imports offered by Dulvarra,” the deep modulated voice of the man beside you comments easily.

Din Djarin. Mand’alor. The ruler of New Mandalore.

You peek at him from the corner of your eye. He sits reclined in the high back stone chair, an elbow propped on the armrest. His visor remains trained on the Nemoidian representative while his hand creeps further up your thigh.

His fingers brush against your center, causing you to inhale sharply. This is one of the Mand’alor’s favorite games. He enjoys watching you squirm, trying to keep your thoughts straight and your whimpers caged as he works you beneath a table or in a crowded room. His helmet picks up your quiet sounds, amplifies them for his ears alone, and he revels in the opportunity to make you fall apart at the seams.

He lifts your leg, placing it across his knee, the cold bite of beskar against your skin forcing you to stifle a gasp. The gowns he has you wear are sheer, the bodice adorned with the crystals mined from the planet that was once thought uninhabitable in its destruction. They gleam around your neck and waist, pulling the layers of delicate fabric together to cover your body only just enough to not be obscene.

His hand explores beneath the fabric that covers your core, a gloved finger running through your slick folds. You swallow harshly, slumping against your seat, curling your fingers into the stone armrest. He circles your clit once, twice, before dipping lower and pressing to your soaked entrance. All the while, he appears stoic and unbothered, aided by his anonymity and power.

The Nemoidian’s eyes flick to you. It’s brief, and for a moment you think it goes unnoticed.

You should have known better.

Din’s hand leaves you to grasp the hilt of the Darksaber from his utility belt. A broad body shifts into a defensive stance near the door.

Paz Vizsla. Al’verde. General Commander of New Mandalore.

You wrap your hand around Din’s vambrace. His visor turns to regard you. You try to convey with your eyes what you are not permitted to with words.

The room is silent during the exchange, but bursts with noise when the Mand’alor turns his head to Paz and gives him a curt nod.

The whore of Mandalore, the voices murmur.

You have learned to ignore them. The speculation circulates around the mysterious leader of the once forgotten planet rather than it does you, a human he rescued from a slave trade ship. A pretty prize for the new ruler.

Nothing more.

Paz approaches the table, standing at rest behind your seat. He holds a hand out to you.

With a lingering glance at the Mand’alor, you take the General’s offered hand, leather warm against your skin. He holds an elbow to you for you to grasp as he leads you from the table, the weight of a dozen curious eyes on your back.

The man at your side is silent, muscles tense for a fight that will never come here in the empty halls of the new palace of Mandalore.

“How are you this evening, General?” You ask, fingers curling against the canvas of his flight suit.

“Well enough,” he grunts. He has always been a man of few words, your Paz.

“You know, I’m not sure I need an escort just to return to my quarters,” you comment.

Paz turns his head, the dark visor of his helmet free of expression as he says, “Do not play dumb. It is unbecoming.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“I am not in the mood,” Paz growls. You smirk.

“A shame,” you murmur, letting go of his elbow to walk ahead of him, adding an extra sway to your hips.

He catches up to you in a few steps, his arm circling your waist as he pulls you back against his broad body, his grip on you as solid as the beskar pressing against your exposed skin.

“Do not test me, veriduur,” he says. Whore. “Do you need to be reminded of your place?”

“My place,” you hiss, “is beneath the Mand’alor. Perhaps you should be reminded of yours, t’adyc.” Second. A reminder and a threat.

Paz turns you roughly and crouches, the press of his pauldron into your stomach the only warning you receive he lifts you in the air. You struggle against him, an exercise in futility, as he carries you down the hall, the echo of his steps and the smack of your palms on his armor the only noise to be heard.

The doors to your quarters open with a whoosh of air and Paz enters, taking immediate course for the large bed in the center of the room. The breath leaves your lungs as he tosses you onto the mattress, immediately tugging you by your ankle until your legs hang off the side of the bed, his wide hips keeping them pressed apart.

“Not so mouthy on your back,” he comments as he removes his utility belt and codpiece. “I suppose that’s why the Mand’alor likes you so much.”

“He seems to like my mouth just fine,” you reply with a raised brow. “I could show you, Al’verde.”

He works his flight plants over his hips. Though the helmet shields his face, you can imagine the fury twisting the man’s features. You’ve not seen him, not with your eyes, but you are intimately familiar with the feel of his lips between your legs, the drag of his stubbled chin across your skin.

His cock slaps against his thick middle when finally freed. “I would rather teach your cunt a lesson,” he growls, fisting his thick girth.

“Not one it hasn’t learned before, I’m afraid,” you reply, a deep sigh escaping your lips. Paz removes his gloves, scarred and calloused hands immediately ripping at the fabric of your dress to expose your body to him.

“Kriffing brat,” he snaps, slipping his fingers against your wetness, probing at your aching entrance. “Does my vod always let you get your way?”

Your back arches as his fingers slip into your tight heat and you fight to keep your sounds contained, wanting to drive Paz to fury with your insubordination. His fingers drag against your walls as he withdraws and lands a harsh smack against your clit that has you crying out.

“I asked you a question, atin dala.” Stubborn woman. The lilt of his voice is pleased now that he’s broken a sound from you.

“Of course he does,” you tell him, voice breathy. “His little prize. He’d do anything to keep me happy.”

He slides his cock through the obscene wetness coating you, his modulated groan like music to your ears. The fat tip of him pressing to your entrance, forcing your body to accommodate his size with a harsh thrust into your heat.

“Paz!” You shout, back arching from the bed as your fingers seek for desperate purchase against the smooth metal of the armor over his shoulders. He’s kind enough to hold still and let you adjust.

“That’s it, sweet little whore. You scream my name,” he growls as he withdraws slowly, thrusting back inside just as slow. “Who’s fucking your pretty little cunt?”

“Y-you, P-Paz,” you stutter. Your breasts bounce with the power of his hips, the fabric that once covered your nipples loosening and falling free in his ferocity.

“Does the Mand’alor fuck you like this? Hmm?” He asks. He uses a hand to grip the back of one thigh, pressing your legs so wide it almost hurts. “Tell me, does he fuck you better than me?”

To compare the two men would be unfair, the comparison of a sun versus a dark moon. Paz is harsh, hateful words laced with lust spilling from his lips when he’s buried to the hilt inside of you.

Din, despite his hard edges, is soft with you. Gentle touches and sweet words murmured against your skin.

Where Paz can break you apart, Din can put you back together. You crave both in equal measure.

“It is not a competition, vod,” a familiar deep voice says. You turn your head, the familiar figure of the Mand’alor emerging from the shadows. How long has he been there?

“Says you,” Paz grunts. “Words of a loser, isn’t that right?”

Din only chuckles.

You whimper when you hear the clink of armor being removed. Paz gives a particularly hard thrust that has you crying out and you hear the large man chuckle.

Din smooths a thumb across your lips. “Open for me, cyar’ika.” Sweetheart. The endearment makes your heart pound and brain go fuzzy as you obey. “So good for me. For us.”

“Speak for yourself, vod. She’s been nothing but a brat,” Paz says. “Guess she just needed something to keep that mouth occupied.”

The tip of Din’s cock slides against your tongue, the salty taste of him exploding across your taste buds. You moan as he slips deeper.

“Go dark,” Din commands roughly. Paz groans.

“No,” he replies, hips picking up speed, chasing his release.

“It was a command, Al’verde,” Din snaps.

Paz grumbles, his hips going still as you whine around Din’s cock. “You may blame your riduur for having to wait for your release.”

Riduur. Your husband.

It was known by very few that the whore at the Mand’alor’s side was actually his wife. Din keeps the knowledge close to his chest, knowing what an adversary may do with the information and never wanting harm to befall you on his behalf.

“Gone dark,” Paz confirms. He slides his cock nearly free from your body before slamming back inside with such force it shifts you up the bed.

“Di’kut.” Idiot. Din withdraws his cock from your mouth before removing his helmet. His eyes remain fixed on you as he stands from the bed to remove the remaining pieces of his armor.

“Make her cum,” Din says as he returns to your side, gripping a breast in one hand as he leans forward to wrap his lips around one tight nipple, flicking the sensitive nub with his tongue.

“That another command, Mand’alor?” Paz grunts. He maneuvers your body better to his liking, pressing your thighs together and draping your legs against his shoulder.

“Yes,” Din replies. His hand slides down your stomach to swirl his fingers around your clit. You shout, throwing your head back against the mattress in a drawn out moan of both men’s names.

“That’s it, cyare,” Din says. “Be good and let go. Paz won’t fill you up otherwise.”

That thread of control you still had snaps and your release washes through you, your muscles going taut as you clench around Paz. The man growls, a feral sound that makes you pulse and flutter around his length as his own warm release floods your body.

“Very good, mesh’la, get every drop from him,” Din murmurs. You whimper as he stretches to plant a kiss to your lips. His strong nose brushes yours tenderly when he pulls back.

Paz withdraws. You feel the warmth of his body leave yours, the slow trickle of his cum from your entrance making you blush. Din’s fingers slide through the mess, gathering it up and pushing it back in as you gasp.

“Return to your post, Al’verde. Our guests have left,” Din says to Paz, eyes never leaving yours. His fingers continue to work your over sensitive cunt as you whimper and writhe against him.

Paz rights himself in his armor before turning to leave. You hear the telltale clang of metal hitting a wall, followed by a litany of curses from the large man. Helm still dark, he’s collided with a wall.

“Kriffing wall,” he says, giving the offending architecture a curse before locating the door and exiting.

Din moves himself between your legs, the warmth of his hands trailing up your thighs leaving goosebumps across your skin. He grins down at you, boyish in the vulnerability he displays for you.

“You never did answer Paz,” he says casually, even as he settles on his stomach and trails his lips across your inner thigh. “Does he fuck you better than me?”

“No, my love,” you whine as his tongue swirls around your clit. He chuckles darkly.

“That’s what I thought.”

He eats your pussy like a starving man, more enthusiasm than finesse in his eagerness to please you. Because while he may be Mand’alor by battle and blood, you are the one he bows to in this life and the next.

Your hips move against his mouth, your fingers tangling in his thick dark hair. He works his tongue against you until you’re a whining mess, begging for his cock as he just shushes you for your impatience.

Finally, he sits up. His chin is glossy with your juices and his eyes are glassy with lust as he grips your hips and turns you on your belly, yanking your ass in the air.

He doesn’t waste time sliding inside of you, the length of him stretching you in a different way than Paz’s own thick cock did not. You gasp, fingers tightening in the sheets as he pounds against your backside.

“My riduur,” he says reverently. “Ner kar’ta.”

My heart.

“Din,” you moan. “Gedet’ye.” Please.

He groans, fingers curling into your hips in a manner sure to leave the shadows of bruises by morning. His thrusts grow more powerful, hitting a spot inside you that has another orgasm building so quickly your head goes fuzzy with the rush.

“I’m going to fill you to the brim,” he grunts. “Leave no room for failure in making you round with our child. Our future.”

Your cry is muffled against the sheets as you pulse around him with your release, so powerful that you collapse to the bed, only his broad hands on your hips keeping up for his use.

He presses deep inside you, coming with a shout of your name in the dark of the room. His cock pulses inside you, another wave of warm release filling you as you whimper his name.

Din removes himself briefly in order to help you lay on your side before settling in behind you, slipping his softening cock back inside your pussy.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” Din says as he presses his lips to your shoulder.

“I love you,” you repeat to him.

You’re both quiet for a moment. You trace patterns against the tan skin of the arm that he has around your middle.

“Din?” You ask.

“Yes, cyare?”

“What if the baby is Paz’s?” You ask. It’s a valid concern. Din likes sharing and you like to be shared.

“My only concern is how insufferable my vod will be,” he says.

You giggle, the tension easing from your shoulders.

“Rest now, riduur. There is more to be done tomorrow.”

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