#i always said i could take whatever the show dished out as long as the starks got to end up together

[ellieputellas]

can you write roommate!alexia smut

caught in the act | a. putellas x reader

— You catch your roommate Alexia touching herself to your photos.

tags: roommate!Alexia, barçaB!reader, smut, masturbation, mentions of fingering, mention of age gap, a bit of degradation and dirty talk, not proofread 🔞 wc: 2k+

Alexia hated having you as a roommate.

It wasn't because of the fact that you had a bad habit of putting off washing the dishes until the next morning; she learned to deal with it and wash them for you whenever it did bother her. It also wasn't because you were always watching Netflix past midnight, at full volume while she tried to get enough sleep for early morning training the next day, fully knowing the walls between your rooms were paper thin. She's learned to fall asleep to the sound of Brooklyn 99 or whatever American TV show you were addicted to at the time. It wasn’t even the fact that she’d have to set her alarm at least 30 minutes ahead of the usual time she’d wake up just so she could force you out of bed so you could both attend your respective training sessions on time.

Instead, she hated how oblivious and clueless you were to how she felt about you.

Just now, there you were in the living room watching a dumb show on Netflix as you simultaneously swiped on Bumble. She hated seeing you looking at other girls, or even getting all dolled up for dates with other girls.

She knew your type. You liked tall, fellow athletes with great style. She wondered why you never noticed her when she fit your type so well. She rolled her eyes at the sight of you fiddling with the dating app and just wanted to return to her room but you already noticed her presence.

"Hey, Alexia." You said calmly. “Come over here.”

She sighed. "Yeah?"

"What do you think about her?" You said as you chewed on the chips you were loudly snacking on. (That was another thing Alexia let you get away with — snacking everywhere and anywhere leading to a mild ant problem.)

Alexia sat beside you on the couch and leaned in to look at your phone. It was someone from Levante’s B team. Alexia frowned. She had to admit. This girl was undeniably hot with her tattoos and fit body but she knew she looked just as good as this player. If not that, she sure as hell was a better player. That should have been some merit to her.

"She’s okay..." It was all she could say to you. She didn’t want to come off as the jealous roommate.

"Really? I kinda think she's smoking hot." You said with a confused look. “She’s the hottest player I’ve played against on the pitch.”

Alexia rolled her eyes and wanted to make a snide comment but let it slide.

“She asked me out after we switched shirts after our match, and I smelled her shirt and it smelled good as fuck.” You shared, making Alexia roll her eyes again. “Plus, she’s taller than I am and you know how that’s my type… but our texts have been stale and boring as fuck.”

Alexia shrugged and tried to focus on the show you were shamelessly ignoring already. “Then just don’t go out with her.”

You sighed. “Yeah… but there is this rookie footballer I matched with on Bumble, she plays for…” You continued to tell Alexia about the other girls you were talking to but she just didn’t give a fuck.

She didn’t wanna know anything about the other girls you were seeing while she’s been into you for so long.

"Anyway, can you help me pick photos from my weekend trip with Emma? She's so great at taking photos that I feel like I have to make two separate posts on instagram just to include all of my hot photos." You said before giving your phone to Alexia. "Just swipe through them and heart all the photos you like."

As soon as she grabbed your phone, she felt her body heat up. The first photo of you was you in front of the pool with your arms up, laughing gleefully. You were wearing the tiniest bikini with a bra top just big enough to cover your nipples and that incredibly skimpy underwear.

All Alexia could think about was pushing them to the side and fucking you hard with her fingers.

Alexia blinked. "You're so...." She couldn't find the words. "Naked?"

You laughed at the older woman’s reaction. "That's all you could say?"

Alexia ignored you, completely fixated by the photos of you. Alexia liked the first photo and proceeded to swipe. The second photo was you with your back turned, exposing your ass. Alexia could feel her mouth salivate as the dirtiest thoughts entered her mind. She kept scrolling, admiring every curve and crevice of your body. She loved the way your boobs spilled over your bra and the way your thong rode up your ass and accentuated your perfect hips. She loved your collarbones but she loved the thought of marking them with her mouth more.

She was practically liking every photo, unable to think objectively of what works on Instagram or whatever. She loved seeing you this exposed.

"You never dress like this usually." Alexia commented, still going back and forth with your photos. She was pretending to be analytical with your photos but her mind was just filled with obscenities.

You huffed. “You only see me in a kit or here at home when I dress like a slob. You don’t know what I dress like.”

Alexia furrowed her eyebrows. “I’ve seen you get dressed up for dates. You’re not usually so…” She shook her head. “Whatever. I never would have imagined you’d like wearing something so tiny.”

Alexia had to swallow as her mouth had been watering at the sight of your photos. You chuckled, oblivious to your roommate's reaction. "Well, you would know that I actually do love tiny swimwear if only you went swimming with us more.”

Alexia took a mental note to say yes to every opportunity to see you in a skimpy bikini. "Still, you never post stuff like this. You only ever post game photos or food photos. This is just out of character for you.” She added on. "You must be posting to impress someone, huh?"

You furrowed your eyebrows and rolled your eyes at her. "I feel like I’m just more grown now. Like, grown enough to post more skin.” You explained. “Besides, can’t I post for myself?”

Wish you would post for me, Alexia thought.

You looked over at Alexia who was still looking through your photos. "God, what's taking you so long? Mesmerized by my tits?"

"You're so cocky." It was all Alexia could say as she blushed. She felt like it was so wrong to be thirsting over her younger roommate like this but she couldn’t help it. You were exactly what she wanted.

You chuckled. "I told you. Emma took really good photos of me! I know I look hot in those."

You looked through the photos Alexia liked and realized the only photos of you she didn't like were the ones where you were covered up. You stifled a chuckle. "Okay, I guess I should post these immediately since it would be so selfish of me to deprive the world of these photos any longer."

"So arrogant." Alexia scoffed under her breath but unbeknownst to you, it turned her on. She loved it when you got all confident. It made her want to praise you and degrade you at the same time. "I'm going back to my room to review some things for some brand deal. Text me if you wanna order food or cook for dinner later."

You absentmindedly nodded as you typed up the perfect Instagram caption and chose the perfect thirst-trap song to go with the Instagram post.

Alexia headed back in her room and immediately pulled out her iPad, refreshing her Instagram feed incessantly. "C'mon, c'mon..." She muttered under her breath. "Just post already."

Finally, your post popped up.

Alexia felt like she couldn't breathe as she was finally able to get a better look at them through the bigger screen. She was finally free to zoom in to your perfectly shaped tits without worrying you'd see. She bit her lip.

It was almost a built-in instinct or bodily response to her the way she immediately positioned herself in front of her iPad; she wasted no time. She propped the device on her bed, blasted a song loud enough to mask her noise, swiftly took off her bottoms, and eventually, guided her hands to feel her own slick with her fingers. She was soaked already just from seeing you.

"Fuck," She muttered as she began rubbing herself, looking at the photo of you on her device. She wished she could have a gigantic TV screen just so she could see more of you at a bigger scale. She wanted to be overwhelmed by the sight of you — to be consumed by your beauty.

She rubbed her clit in circles as she kept her eyes glued on the screen. She cursed again. She thought about your tits. She wondered how they'd feel in her hands. She wanted to feel the softness against her rough and imposing hands; she wanted to know if that kind of touch would make you whimper. She wondered what colors your nipples were and how they'd look and feel... and taste. She so badly wanted to push her tongue against them.

Her legs shivered as she imagined taking your breast in her mouth, sucking on it mercilessly as you moaned under her.

In reality, Alexia was alone in the darkness of her room — her tanned skin illuminated by the sole source of light from her device that blasted music to mask her grunts and the obscene sounds of her wetness.

But in her imagination, Alexia was in your room on top of you, sucking on your breasts as she positioned her knee against your core. In her imagination, you loved to beg and whine. So there you were, underneath her, squirming as she sucked on your nipple and used her hands to play with the other one. She just could tell you were the sensitive type and the idea of you almost teary-eyed due to sheer pleasure caused by her made her even wetter.

She opened her eyes once again to catch a glimpse of you in that one photo where you had a serious face as you slightly bent over. She groaned as she caught sight once again of the flesh of your boobs pressing against the fabric of your bikini. "Fucking whore." It escaped her mouth in a grunt.

In her imagination, you were dressed in the same skimpy bikini. She had your bra cups pushed to the side to grant her easy access to lick all over your boobs, leaving the occasional mark whenever she desired.

"Please, Alexia." She could practically hear your voice say it. "Fuck me now."

Alexia plunged her fingers into her cunt, causing her to grunt loudly as she pumped in and out of herself as mercilessly as she would have with you.

She was fixated on the thought of her fingers thrusting so hard in and out of you that your tits jiggled with every thrust. Alexia somehow felt you were the type to moan loudly, grab your own tits, and beg to fuck her deeper.

"Alexia! Fuck me!"

"You want me so bad, huh? You fucking slut?" She groaned under her breath, almost breathless and winded from how rough she was fucking herself. "I'll fuck you so hard, you'd go stupid."

"Alexia, harder! Please!" The imaginary voice in her brain told her. It felt so realistic

"Yeah?" She called out your name, almost in the form of an animalistic grunt. "You fucking want it harder? You a fucking slut for me?"

She increased the speed of her thrusting, causing her to moan loudly in succession. "Fuck," She said, followed by calling out your name. "Tell me who you belong to."

She pumped in and out of herself, causing her to convulse in the building pressure inside her. Her eyes were shut close but the photo of you in your bikini was permanently burned inside her mind.

"I belong to you!" Her imagination called out.

"Say my name then." She groaned.

"Alexia," It sounded so soft and gentle.

"Louder." She growled as she imagined that it was your pussy she was roughly thrusting into. Her legs shook uncontrollably as she felt herself approaching orgasm. “Say it.”

"Alexia?!" It was practically an exclamation. It felt so real that your voice echoed in her ears.

As Alexia opened her eyes, she was met by the sight of you standing at the door of her room with a shocked face. Almost immediately after, Alexia moaned out loud as her orgasm arrived.

It took half a second for her to realize that she wasn't imagining it anymore. You were there, standing and watching her fuck herself while her obnoxiously larged iPad displayed a photo of you.

"Oh shit." She was in trouble.

a/n: not proofread. part 2 anyone? (also thank u for ur requests!)

[maxlarens]

saw that your requests are open! currently moving flats and cities and wow this is utterly exhausting and scary to do alone - would love to read a lil something with Lando where reader is moving and maybe it's pre relationship but they've known each other a long time and he somehow shows up to help reader out, in between races / on break whatever. Tysm!

omg good luck! genuinely moving is the worst and good on you for doing it all on your own that must be so difficult. i hope you enjoy this💝 i did it with best friend!reader, felt very perfect. and apparently i had some personal insecurities to address?

You’re starting to regret listening to Lando.

This isn’t a new feeling— you often regret listening to Lando. When he begs you to come out only to inevitably disappear with a girl. When he says that you look fine, only for you to look in a mirror and find your hair at weird angles or your makeup smudged. When he invites you to a race just for you to have to spend an awkward three hours around one of his flings; inevitably ending in disaster when he hops out of the car and hugs you first.

Lando’s not an idiot. Lando just doesn’t always know how to plan ahead.

Move to Monaco, he’d said. And you had. At the very least you’d had professional movers and your family then. It was hard work but you’d had help. Still, it had been such a nightmare that you’d sworn off moving again, deciding that the next time you did it’d be somewhere more permanent. That had been a nice dream— perhaps unattainable with Lando around.

It had been great, perfect even, or at least until Lando had found out about the vacant flat in his building. Then you’d been subject to a month of pointed sighs and wouldn’t it be awesome if we lived in the same building and we could work out at the same gym and we’d see each other all the time! Wouldn’t that be great?

You’d tried to tell him that you already see each other all the time, and if it really mattered to him you’d come all the way to his gym to work out. But Lando’s Lando and doesn’t know how to let a thing that he wants go. It quickly becomes a point of contention, a reason for him to whinge at dinner and direct his green puppy dog eyes at you. So, y’know, of course you fold.

Of course you do.

You don’t want him to feel unwanted. And you really do like the idea of living in the same building as him, even if moving is the last fucking thing you want to do.

You hire people to move the big things. The couch, the fridge, the bed. But you’re left with everything else and only your hatchback to move it with. You’ve collected truly an insurmountable amount of things— dishware, linens, random trinkets, clothes and books and decorative stuffed animals. You don’t realise how much it is until you’re packing it into cardboard boxes all on your own and nearly crying at how long it’s taking you.

By some cruel twist of fate there’s no one available to help you. All your friends in Monaco are Lando-adjacent, either his friends or people you’ve met through F1. You’ve got a few work buddies, but no one you feel like you can ask to give you a hand. Besides, Lando’s racing at Spa over the same weekend you’ve got to be out of your old flat— so you can’t rope him and his friends into your mess. Even Fewtrell, who would help, is on holiday.

By Monday morning you’re at your wits end. You’d slept on a thin little futon for three hours last night, and are up bubble wrapping dishes before the sun rises. You’ve got noise cancelling headphones on, blasting some house music playlist that Oscar had recommended you and you’re trying to be okay— trying to let the jumpy beat lift the panic in your heart. But you can feel yourself hiccuping, crying rather. You wipe salty tears off the bubble wrap to make sure the sticky tape stays.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

It’s just overwhelming. Doing this all alone, in Monaco, without your Mum, your Dad, without your best friend. It’s not anyone’s fault, not even Lando’s. Just you and this feeling of inadequacy that you harbour. This sense that you’re not grown up enough, that you’re not accomplished enough. Lando’s out there driving a Formula One car, flying in a private jet and partially running a business and you’re here crying over the amount of shit that you’ve accumulated.

It’s just—

You hear a faint thud, muffled by your headphones. Heart racing, thinking something might have fallen or broken, you rip them off and clamber up off the carpeted floor. You’re ready to run into the hallway, your bedroom, every room that’s still got things in it to find the inevitable wreckage.

But it’s just Lando—

Standing at your front door in an old t-shirt and shorts, with cardboard boxes tucked under his arm. He’s frowning at you. You’re not sure why until you remember that you’re still in yesterday’s clothes and there are dark circles carved out under your eyes. Tear tracks down your face as well, probably.

“What’s wrong?”

He drops the cardboard, it goes sliding onto the floor and he has to dodge out of its way as he steps towards you.

You shake your head, sniffing, “I’m fine, Lan.”

You don’t quite reject his attempt at a hug, just dodge it slightly. Force him to give you a one-armed, half-hearted thing, instead of the squeezing, reassuring hug you’re sure he meant to give you. He grumbles something into your hair that you can’t hear then says,

“Well, clearly you’re not fine.”

You sigh, push him away in your anger at yourself, “I’m fine, Lando. I just— I just can’t do anything on my own as per usual.”

You watch his shoulders drop, his eyebrows press into the bridge of his scarred nose, concern flooding his face. He shakes his head minutely, pink lips parting slightly.

“What are you saying?”

You shrug, looking away and feeling shame fill the cavity in your chest at your admittance of weakness, “You know what I’m saying.”

“That’s absolute shit and you know it,” he cuts back, “You’ve done all this by yourself haven’t you?”

He gestures around you and admittedly the room is rather empty of things. The whole flat in fact. You’ve got just the little things left pretty much, and a bunch of cardboard boxes that are ready to be ferried over to your new building. It’s not nothing that you’ve managed to do over the weekend. You sniff again.

“Don’t say that crap,” he manhandles you into a hug, winding an arm around the back of your shoulders, pulling you to him, “I’d have to pay movers a couple grand to move all my shit, you know that. I wouldn’t be able to get any of this done.”

“Yes you would,” you mutter into his chest, “You’re capable of things.”

He shakes you, just a little, like trying to knock some sense into you, like trying to make you hear your own words, “Okay. Then so are you.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “I guess.”

After a moment, he brings a hand up to your face, uses his thumb to tenderly wipe the tears that pool in your tear duct. You don’t think anything of it then— but you do later—

When the sun is setting over the water and you and Lando are watching it and eating takeaway burgers on your new balcony, in your new flat, that has every single bit of your stuff in it. And you’re thinking about the feeling of pad of his finger on your cheek and how he’s just spent his first day of a very well-deserved summer break helping his friend move—

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for Ibiza?”, you cut him a bit of an admonishing look, and scold yourself for not remembering sooner, not urging him to go pack.

He shrugs, turning his green gaze to you, the light of the sunset making him glow, “‘S fine. I can join later.”

You bite your lip, resisting the urge to tell him to go start packing straight away. You won’t change his mind, once he’s got his heart set on something he doesn’t know how to let it go.

“Will you come with me?”, he asks suddenly eager, as your heart skips several beats, “I know you said you had this to deal with. But.”

“But?”

“But. I want you to come. It’ll be no fun without you.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Ibiza will be no fun without me?”

He nods, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You’re going to say no. It’s on the tip of your tongue, on the verge of slipping out. You’ve got a million boxes to unpack, all your clothes are in suitcases, this is what your holiday leave is meant to be used for. Not the trip to Ibiza that you’d already said no to—

But, it’s Lando.

Of course you fold.

[2hightocare]

SWEET NOTHINGS ✷

Summary: You and Jungkook host thanksgiving dinner at your guys’ house, but Jungkook is head over heels in love with you.

pairing: husband!jungkook x wife!reader

warnings: pure fluff, jungkook is whipped, reader and jungkook are corny as hell, and a lot of curse words. A lot of kissing… a little bit of spanish. crying.

"Baby, what are you wearing? Are we going to match?" Your husband yells from upstairs, making you chuckle lightly. "I left your outfit hanging in the bathroom," you yell back while bending over, turning on the light of the oven where the turkey Jungkook added almost four hours ago stares back at you.

"Do I take the turkey out now, babe?" You yell for your husband upstairs to listen. "I don’t know; let me call my mom," he says. You jump, a small shriek leaving your lips as you put your hand over your heart and close your eyes.

"Fuck, you scared the shit outta me," a small chuckle slips past your mouth as Jungkook laughs with his head thrown back and dimples on full display.

"I’m so sorry, baby. I thought you heard me coming downstairs." His mouth adorned with a grin while slowly pulling you to him with his hands on your waist.

"Hi," you say as he kisses your lips.

"Hi, baby," he greets back, putting a loose piece of your hair behind your ear. "You look so beautiful," Jungkook gives you one more kiss before making you do a little spin for him.

Your brown long-sleeve off-shoulder mini dress matches his brown crewneck. His black jeans match your black stockings and black long boots you ended up stealing from your sister last time she visited. "You look sexy, so eatable I’m afraid." You look up at him with a big smile on your face before tiptoeing to give him a quick kiss before making your way back to the mashed potatoes you said you would do.

One thing about Jungkook is that he could stay mesmerized by your actions and words even if whatever you were doing was something so normal just like right now. The way your curled hair falls in front of your face, but with your hands occupied, you try to blow on it before trying to use your elbow to push it away, causing Jungkook to let out a chuckle, making his way to help you.

"I thought that was the reason you have a bow on, baby." Jungkook pushes both your long curtain bangs back to its place, securing it with the bow. "I’m not even going to ask how you were able to do that so fast," you throw a glare at Jungkook, making him burst into another laugh.

"Baby, I have to fix Ji-woo’s bows all the time." Jungkook laughs softly in the crook of your neck from behind, his hands wrapped around your waist.

Ji-woo being yours’ and Jungkook’s only goddaughter, and the only child in both of your families. You and Jungkook always brought up the topic of kids for it to always be shut down after seeing kids throw tantrums in tv shows or when going grocery shopping, which only ends with us looking at each other before shivering at the thought that one day that could be our future child.

The thought of having children it’s not completely shut down; you and Jungkook just feel like you guys will like to wait just a bit more before having a kid. Ji-woo and Bam were enough for you both.

You both sway to the song playing from the living room TV, coming from your ‘j🖤’ playlist.

"Did you ask your mom about the turkey?" You ask finally finishing smashing the potatoes, pushing the bowl to the center of the white counter where other dishes you made yesterday are gathered.

"Hm, texted her, and she said she was on her way," he murmurs from the crown of your head before finally letting go of you. "I have some to give you be right back," Jungkook makes his way to the garage door where both of your guys' cars are. As you wipe down the countertops and table, the door opens, making you look up, finding Jungkook holding the biggest flower bouquet you have ever seen.

A gasp leaves your mouth as you stare at the beautiful bright red roses. "Oh my god, baby, what?" Your lips pout as he kisses them and hands you the bouquet. "Fuck, this is heavy," you hold the flowers with both hands, the bouquet covering your entire face, making Jungkook chuckle. "Baby, I can’t even hug you to say thank you," you whine, feeling your eyes slightly water. You had always been so sensitive when it came to gestures Jungkook has done for you. That one time he took it upon himself to learn Spanish to be able to ask your parents in their native language for your hand in marriage, or the one time he took you to Paris on your one-year anniversary because you told him you always wished of going but never was able to due to your parents' financial issues.

"Baby, don’t cry," Jungkook quickly takes the flowers from your grip and puts them on the counter before cupping your face and blowing on your face, making you burst out laughing. Jungkook smiles while kissing your face.

"I just love you so much," you whisper all while he finishes kissing your closed eyes. "I love you so much more," Jungkook replies back before pulling you into a hug; you immediately melt into his warmth.

"I’m so seriously so in love with you," you say against his chest while he kisses the top of your head soothing you.

"And I'm in love with you," Jungkook says muffled against your hair; you stay there for a minute just feeling each other’s warmth and comfort while "Sweet Nothings" by Taylor Swift plays in the background.

"We’re so fucking corny, I swear," you joke, making both of you crack up until both your stomachs hurt.

"You had to ruin the moment huh?" He smirks at you before leaning down to leave a big fat kiss on your lips.

"I actually have one more thing, and I need you to close your eyes," Jungkook bites on his lip, his dimples showing. "Oh my god, are you serious? You just gave me around a hundred flowers, and there’s more?" Your mouth hangs open, earning another small laugh from Jungkook.

"Okay, no, for real though, close your eyes; I’ll be right back." Jungkook disappears again through the garage door. Not knowing what to expect, you close your eyes.

Funny how the butterflies and cartwheels your tummy still does even after all these years has you feeling so happy and thankful for the person you get to spend your whole life with.

The garage door opens, which makes you giddy like a teenage girl waiting for her crush to tell them they like them.

"Okay, open, baby." You open your eyes, your mouth drops open. "You’re fucking kidding, Jungkook."

You stare at the small white fluffy kitty with grey spots, that is laying comfortably in Jungkook’s arms. Your hands make their way to your mouth to conceal the small scream you want to let out. You had been begging Jungkook to let you get a cat for almost three months now.

Jungkook’s cheeks hurt from how hard he is smiling, looking down at you and how you softly caress it.

"What’s its name?" You look up at Jungkook, who is already looking at you with galaxies in his eyes. "You choose, baby, it’s yours." Jungkook places the small kitten into your arms. “Oh my fuck, it’s mine,” you squeal as the kitten looks up at you, making you melt even more.

“No mames” (you gotta be shitting me), you say in your native language, making Jungkook smile wider as he sees you struggle to find a name.

“It’s a boy, if that helps.” Jungkook leans against the counter, watching your every move, his heart swelling. “And if we named it ‘Bubbles’?” Your head snaps to Jungkook’s, waiting for his reaction to the name.

“I love that,” he scrunches his nose before nodding up and down. “Oh my god, I’m a mother,” you pick up Bubbles into the air, softly spinning around.

“Excuse you! You've been a mother, what about Bam!” Jungkook dramatically puts his hand on his heart, acting out like he just took a hit to the chest. “Stop! I love Bammy!” You defend yourself.

You make your way to your husband, kissing his lips over and over again, causing him to smile into your mouth. “Thank you so much, baby.” You thank him for the twelfth time before the doorbell to the entrance door rings. “Coming!” Jungkook yells, hoping whoever is outside heard.

…

As both of your families gather at the dining table, where we had to pull some chairs from outside so all eleven of us can eat around the table.

“Okay, so who’s going to start with what they are thankful for?” your sister says as her husband pokes her side, “I say you go first since you wanna share so bad,” your brother-in-law tells her, making everyone laugh.

Your sister scoffs before raising her wine glass to the air, then giving us a look to do the same, causing Jungkook’s mom to let out a small snort. “I’m thankful for all of you guys; you seriously make my days better by just opening the family group chat,” she jokes. “And I’m super thankful for everything I have accomplished this year, cheers!”

“Cheers!” Everyone clinks their glasses in the air, beside Ji-woo, who has her chubby fingers in her mouth, giggling along with whatever we’re saying.

The table goes around saying what they’re thankful for before stopping at Jungkook, his hand on your thigh squeezes before he starts.

“Okay, your turn, my love,” Jungkook’s mom says to Jungkook, who smiles at his mom. “Corny trigger warning, please!” Jung-hyun, Jungkook’s brother, jokes, which gets him a swat from his wife. “What the-“ Jung-hyun rubs the back of his head, staring agape at his wife. The table bursts into a fit of laughter.

“Okay, well, I wanted to start with thanking everybody for coming,” Jungkook starts off, making everyone say a small ‘you’re welcome’. “I’m super thankful for my family; I truly don’t know how I could’ve possibly turned out without you guys,” he continues. “I’m grateful for y/n’s family, my second family; thank you for welcoming me into your life, and god suegra, thank you for birthing y/n,” Jungkook rambles off, causing the biggest laugh to come out of everyone.

“And I’m so grateful for my wife,” his eyes find their way to yours, making you melt into your seat like putty; a bunch of collective ‘oohs’ come out of everyone’s mouth.

“I truly love you with everything in me, and I’m so grateful for you. Thank you for making me the happiest man ever since I met you. You’re literally the best thing that has ever been mine.” Jungkook finishes with a huge smile on his face. Your lip quivers, and your hands make their way to your eyes again, hoping the tears you’re holding in don’t come pouring. Everyone around the table claps and is in awe of you both.

“What’s with you making me cry today?” your hands flap in front of your face, like if that could help the tears blurring your vision.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Jungkook wipes the tears that fall down your eyes. “I love you so much I can’t-“ Jungkook shushes you with a small kiss and softly puts your loose hair strands behind your ear.

“Okay, enough lovey-dovey shit. I’m trying to eat!” Jung-hyun says, making everyone laugh as everyone starts digging into the food they put on their plates not so long ago.

Jungkook kisses the corner of your mouth before his fingers move to the gold ‘J’ necklace he got you years ago. Jungkook smiles to himself as his thumb moves across the letter. You pull him from his sweater until his ear is at the same level as your mouth before whispering.

“I love you, now eat.” Jungkook chuckles under his breath at your words before whispering back. “Yes, ma’am.” The hugest smile stays on everyone’s face the whole night.

A/n: hi omg this is my first ever fanfic I have posted, sorry if there’s some errors hope you enjoyed.🤍 (all of this is just fictional)

[skaruresonic]

The common rebuttal to "this reads like fanfic (derogatory)" is "read better fanfic," which is true in certain cases, but on the other hand, there is some grain of truth to the idea that you can tell when someone's primary mode of literary analysis is fanfic instead of... well... literally anything else. It's okay to like or even prefer fanfic, but if you want to take your craft seriously you also need to read books, dude. Published books will teach you a lot of stuff fanfic doesn't, like proper dialogue formatting and how to introduce your reader to unfamiliar characters. Even the crappiest book (well, if it's not After or 50 Shades, which started off as fanfic to begin with lol) will have been subjected to some sort of editing process to ensure at least the appearance of proper grammar. That's not a guarantee with your average fanfic, and hence why you can't always take all your writing cues from fanfic because it's "so much better" than commercially published original fiction or whatever. Frankly, fic writers tend to peddle some absolutist and downright bad takes sometimes. "Said is dead" is a terrible rule, though not because said is invisible and a perfectly serviceable tag; that's just part of it. Dialogue tags are a garnish, not a main dish that can be swapped out for more ostentatious words. If your characters murmur and mutter instead of simply saying stuff, your readers are going to wonder why nobody speaks up. "'I'm explaining some very plot-important shit right now lol,' she elaborated," likewise, is a form of telling. Instead of letting the reader extrapolate that "she elaborated" via the contents of the dialogue itself, you're telling them what to think about it. And that's why it's distracting: your authorial hand is showing. Writing is an act of camouflage. You, as the writer, need to make your presence as invisible as possible so as to not intrude on the reader's suspension of disbelief. That's the driving reason behind "show, don't tell." And overall, everyone could stand to cut down on the frequency of their dialogue tags anyway. Not every exchange needs "he said" or "she whispered" attached as long as you establish who is doing the talking before the exchange. Some people will complain of confusion if you go on for too long without a dialogue tag, and that definitely is a risk, but at some point you also need to resist the temptation of holding the reader's hand. If they can't follow a conversation between two people, chances are they weren't meeting you halfway and paying that much attention in the first place. In fact, you don't even necessarily need action beats in between every piece of dialogue, as Tumblr writing advice posts will often suggest as a fix. Pruning things often cleans them up just fine.

Another fanfic-influenced trend in writing is, I guess, beige prose? A heavy focus on internal narration with lots of telling. It's not a style I can concretely describe, but every time I click on a non-mutual's writing, I feel like it always has, like. This "samey" voice to it. There's no real attempt to experiment and use unique or provocative language, or even imagery half the time. It's almost a dry recital of narration that doesn't leave much room for subtext. I see this style most often in fanfic where you can meander and wax poetic about how the characters feel without ever really getting around to the plot. And it's like. DO something.

Other tells that the author is taking their cues from fanfic mores rather than books: >>too much minute description of eyes, especially their color and their movement >>doesn't leave much room for subtext (has a character speak their every thought aloud instead of letting the reader infer what they're thinking via action or implication) >>too much stage action ("X looked at Y. Y moved to push their seat in. X took a deep breath and stepped toward Y with a determined look on his face. 'We need to talk,' he said.") >>tells instead of shows, even when the example is about showing instead of telling ("he clenched his teeth in agony" instead of just "he clenched his teeth") >>has improper dialogue tag formatting, especially with putting full stops where there should be commas ("'Lol and lmao.' she said" instead of "'Lol and lmao,' she said." This one drives me up a wall) >>uses too many dialogue tags >>"em dashes, semi-colons and commas, my beloved" - I get the appeal but full stops are your friends. Too much alternate punctuation makes your writing seem stilted and choppy. >>"he's all tousled brown hair and hard muscle" and "she's all smiles and long legs." This turn of phrase is so cliche, it drives me up a wall. Find less trite ways of describing your characters pls. >>"X released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding" >>every fucking Hot Guy ever is described as lean and sinewy >>sobbing. why is everyone sobbing. some restraint, pls >>Tumblr in general tends to think a truism counts as good writing if you make the most melodramatic statement possible (bonus: if it's written in a faux-archaic way), garnish it with a hint of egotism, and toss in allusions to the Christian God, afterlife, or death. ("I will stare God in the face and walk backwards into hell," "What is a god to a nonbeliever?") It's indicative of emotional immaturity imo, that every emotional truth need be expressed That Intensely in order to resonate with people. >>pushes the "Oh." moment as the pinnacle of Romantic Epiphany >>Therapy Speak dialogue. why is this emotionally constipated forty-something man who drinks himself stupid every morning to escape gruesome war memories speaking about his trauma like a clinical psychologist >>"this well-established kuudere should Show More Emoshun. I want him to break down crying on his love interest's shoulder from all his repressed trauma" - I am begging u. stop >>"why don't the characters just talk to each other?" "why can't we have healthy relationships?" I don't know, maybe because fiction is not supposed to be a model for reality and perfect communication makes for boring drama?

>>improperly using actions as dialogue tags ("'Looks like we're going hunting,' he grinned") >>why is everyone muttering and murmuring. speak up >>too many adverbs, especially "weakly" and "shakily." use stronger verbs. ("trembled" instead of "shook weakly") >>too many epithets ("the younger man" or "the brunette detective") >>too many filter words ("he felt," "she thought," "I remembered")

>>no, Tumblr, first-person POV is not the devil; you're just using way too many filter words (see above) and not enough sentence variation to make it flow well enough. First-person POV is an actually pretty good POV (not just for unreliable and self-aware narrators) if you know what you're doing and a lot of fun crafting an engaging character voice. Tumblr's hatred of first-person baffles me, and all I can think is you would only hate it if your only frame of reference was, like, My Immortal. Have you tried reading A Book? First-person POV is just another tool in your toolbox, and like all tools, it can be used properly or improperly. But it's not inherently a marker of bad writing. The disdain surrounding it strikes me as about as sensical as making fun of the concept of characters. Oh, your work has characters in it? Ew, I automatically click off a fic if it has characters in it. like what.

[slayfics]

You help Eijiro dye his hair.

1,300 words~

You were finishing up your dinner and walking over to place your dishes in the kitchen when you passed Eijiro. He was adjusting the band tied around his head looking slightly self-conscious. Eijiro only wore a band around his head when his roots started to show.

You set down your tray and passed behind him being careful to whisper so no one else could hear.

"Do you want help with your hair tonight, Kirishima?" You said softly.

Eijiro turned around surprised and smiled.

"Yeah, that would be great!" He answered.

For some reason, he still wanted to keep it a secret that his true hair color wasn't red. You were the only one to know, and being a good friend you offered to help dye his hair whenever his dark roots started to show. Eijiro would never tell you when he needed help though he always waited for you to offer. No matter how many times you told him it wasn't a bother.

After everyone had gone into their respective dorms, you found yourself in the familiar place of helping Eijiro wash out his hair. This had become a routine that occurred about once a month. You'd bleach his roots, then slather them in whatever cheap red dye you both got your hands on. The two of you had the usual awkward conversation in his dorm while you waited for the dye to set.

Your fingers grazed his scalp as you pressed his head under the water and ran your fingers through his hair washing out the excess dye. For a moment you lost yourself in the useless conversation you were having while waiting for the dye. Why did you never know what to say to him? It came so easy in conversations with others but something about Eijiro always made you lose your usual cool demeanor.

"Hey, careful man, you're gonna drown me," Eijiro said under the faucet water.

"Oh sorry!" You responded, your stomach sinking. You knew Eijiro used the term man for almost anyone. It was meant to be an endearing term, but every time he called you it you couldn't help but wonder if that meant he saw you as purely a friend and not someone he'd be romantically interested in.

You turned the sink off having got off all the excess dye you needed to.

"Here," you handed Eijiro a towel.

"Thanks," he said, eyes half closed from the water causing him to grab more of your hand than he needed to when he reached for the towel.

A slight blush arrived on your cheeks due to his touch. Thankfully, Eijiro had his whole head under a towel and hadn't noticed. You left him in the bathroom and went to sit on his bed.

As he walked out of the bathroom removing the towel he saw you take a long yawn. You started dying his hair later than usual today. Everyone was pretty rowdy and it took them longer to clear out of the common room. Making it harder for you to sneak up into Eijiro's room.

"Oh-," He exclaimed, after seeing you sitting on the bed.

"Sorry, I'll go right now just needed to rest my feet for a second," You answered, taking his exclamation as a surprise for you still being in his room.

"No man, that's ok take as long as you need," He said, sitting down on the bed a few feet away from you as he continued to dry part of his hair.

You looked over and watched as he rubbed the towel through his hair. He peeked out from the towel revealing the left side of his face and noticed you watching him. That's when you noticed some red on his face.

"Oh, I'm sorry I think I got dye on your face this time," You said, reaching out to rub the red off of his left cheek.

Eijiro's eyes widened as he watched helplessly as you rubbed his cheek with your finger. Biting his lip and shivering slightly he seemed just like a deer lost in the headlights.

"Hu- it's being kind of stubborn," You laughed, not being able to remove the redness. Eijiro removed the towel from his head, uncovering his whole face. That's when you noticed it wasn't dye on his cheek. Both of his cheeks were beet red. He was blushing.

"Oh-," You exclaimed feeling embarrassed. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," You said, averting your gaze from him.

"No no it's fine-, It's just you sitting on my bed is a bit much ya know?" He laughed nervously.

"Right!" You stood up instantly not understanding what he meant. Eijiro was clearly flustered at having an attractive person on his bed but you interrupted his statement as meaning you overstepped your boundary. "I'm so sorry I'll go now!" You said hurriedly.

"No no! It's not like that. Sorry, I guess I didn't explain right," He laughed rubbing the back of his neck.

You looked up at him completely confused now.

"It's just you know- you're really hot and well having you here is always a bit overwhelming. Especially, walking out of the bathroom and seeing you sitting on my bed," He confessed, his cheeks flushing even more.

"Oh!" You said, finally understanding.

"Not that I was thinking anything disrespectful or anything! Promise I'm not trying to be a creep!" He explained, hurriedly feeling nervous about his confession.

You couldn't help but giggle at his explanation and obvious nervousness. It helped you to relax on your own not feeling so off put by him now. You sat back down on the bed but this time right next to him. "That's ok Kirishima! If we're being honest I think you're um- hot too," You laughed nervously, looking away from him, finding it too hard to watch his expression.

"What really? Are you being serious? You of all people think that?? No way! You're messing with me aren't you," He said.

"Hu?" You looked at him confused. "Why would I be messing with you?"

"Well... It's just you're amazing. You make everything look so easy. Like nothing is a challenge to you, nothing seems to discourage you. I... I admire that a lot and I've well... even taken a lot of inspiration from you. So hearing you think that about me... well it doesn't feel real..." He said, looking down, arms resting on his knees.

"Kirishima," you said, causing him to look up at you with widened eyes. "You're amazing yourself you know? You always stay so positive and never let setbacks get to you. You always show up ready to take on whatever. Plus you're like the sweetest boy I've ever met," You said, smiling at him.

"Wow, you really mean that don't you?" He said, finally accepting your confession to be true.

"Of course I do, I've admired you for a long time you know. And, I always look forward to being able to help with your hair. It's like the only alone time I get with you," You said, blushing slightly again.

"Yeah, I like it too, and it feels really good when you touch my hair," He covered his mouth instantly. "Sorry that sounded totally creepy didn't it!" He spoke, becoming flustered.

You giggled at his full honesty, "No, that was so cute," You said running your fingers through his hair causing his whole face to turn red once more. He turned to face you, eyes looking completely endearing as if it was the first time he was able to look at you the way he truly wanted to.

"Do you um..." You cut off feeling paralyzed by the pure sweetness in his eyes.

"Yeah...?" He mumbled, still watching you like a love-sick puppy.

"Do you want to kiss me?" You asked.

"I uh- umm... yeah I.-," Eijiro turned into a complete, bumbling mess unable to get a single word out.

Realizing you'd have to make the first move, you leaned in and gently pressed your lips to his, causing his rambling to instantly stop. He stayed frozen completely overwhelmed by the moment.

You pulled away slowly, both of you having deep blushes that mirrored each other.

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then," You said, trying to stay cool but feeling completely overwhelmed with happiness.

"Uh yeah, see you tomorrow," he said softly, as a dumb grin spread across his face.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Part 3 to the fwb series.

You leave Eddie feeling a little blue after your last encounter... In more ways than one. Wayne visits and Eddie finds out distressing news...

18+ only. Minors shoo!

Angst ahead 🖤

Eddie had spent the weekend after your visit unbelievably cranky, horny and on edge. His argument with Chrissy had resulted in her storming out. "I'm not coming back this time Eddie, I mean it" she warned him.

Was it bad that he was really struggling to care? All Eddie could think of quite frankly, was you. After you left there was a sick feeling in his gut, some weird ache in his chest that he hadn't felt before.

Whatever it was he didn't like it. Not one fucking bit. Even strumming along on his guitar was no comfort and that always helped when he was feeling out of sorts.

He jolts out of his by a knock on the door, it'd probably Chrissy he sighs and signals for her to come in, dreading the argument that's sure to follow.

Turns out that it isn't Chrissy, it's his Uncle Wayne who's holding a casserole dish full of macaroni cheese and sets it on the table.

Eddie greets his uncle with a wave, his uncle merely nods then promptly cuffs him around the head, Eddie yelps and his eyes widen.

"What the fuck old man?" Wayne glares at him, he looks disappointed and Eddie hasn't seen that look in a long time. It makes him feel like he's a kid again, or an unruly teenager.

"Sorry boy, you know I love you but you deserved that. Had a long chat with that lovely girl who's dating Joanthan, Nancy Wheeler'' Wayne pauses to glance at Eddie and make sure he's listening.

'Now you wanna tell me why you're stringing along some poor girl, hurt her real bad Nancy said" Eddie grows flustered, runs his hands through his hair and wilts under Wayne's stern gaze.

"It was just a friends with benefits type thing, I made that clear Uncle Wayne" his uncle cocks an eyebrow and settles at the rickety old table, that Eddie has been meaning to fix for a while.

"Right, and you never gave her false hope I take it?" Eddie opens his mouth to say something, then closes it and shuts up. ''That's what I thought boy" his uncle shakes his head.

"She left. We aren't together anymore" he tries to explain, doesn't dare mention what happened a few days ago. Wayne begins to dish out the macaroni cheese and two beers, sets the meal and the drinks down on the table.

"That's not the point son, the point is I raised you better than to be such an asshole to a lady. Same goes for Chrissy, that shit ain't working Eddie so you need to do the right thing"

Eddie slumps down on the chair and nods feeling suitably chastised. Begins to shove forkfuls of his Uncle's delicious mac and cheese in his mouth but his Uncle's next words stop him in his tracks.

"Suppose you'll be happy to know that you won't be bothered by that ex anymore. Yn is it? Heard she's on a date with some hot shot tonight" Wayne shrugs and looks to Eddie, who's mouth has went suddenly dry.

"She's on a date?" he asks just to make sure he's heard right, Uncle Wayne nods and he suddenly doesn't feel hungry anymore.

"It's not to late to fix things son" Wayne claps him on the shoulder, gives his a sympathetic look. Suddenly, the knee jerk reaction to saying to himself that he doesn't care isn't working so much anymore.

...

He doesn't know why he drives to your house, he's sure he's just being a fucking martyr... Or an idiot.

Still it doesn't take long before he's knocking on your door, shielding himself from the wind and rain.

You answer and don't look happy to see him, his heart sinks and he's beginning to realise how badly he's fucked up.

"Wayne said you had a date" he says to you and you nod, don't give anything else away.

"Why are you here Munson?" Munson not Eddie, he doesn't know what to say, he's scrambling for something, anything to think of.

"I messed up, I'm sorry sweetheart" you pause, clearly you weren't expecting Eddie to outright apologise, show up at your door.

"Apology accepted, but it's too late Eddie. You hurt me so many times, dangled hope in front of me that we could be more, then you swept it away. You didn't care when I left so why should I care that you're here now"

He growls frustrated, wants you to so desperately understand that he's sorry, that he knows he fucked up.

"I'm sorry okay? I don't want to lose you alright. I admit that now" he watches as tears pool in your eyes, you immediately chase them away and steel yourself.

"You already have lost me Eddie" your voice shakes but it doesn't stop you from closing the door on Eddie's face.

[itsgrimeytime]

drunk on you (part three) || Rick Grimes (TWD) × gn!reader (no apocalypse!AU)

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

series taglist: @ryoujoking

Part 1, 2.

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Summary: You'd known Rick forever, as far back as freshman year. He was a guy you (if you were honest) had a crush on; there was just something in his stance and the low drawl of his voice. You'd say that feeling only got worse from there. Before you could blink, he was married and had a kid; and suddenly, despite your best efforts, you felt very out of place. You faded out of his life, and he yours. So when Rick shows up at your door (drunk out of his mind) about 5 years after the last time you spoke to him, you have a lot of questions.

TWs: excessive use of pet names, making out, vague reference to sex, shameless flirting, crying, vague reference to Lori's infidelity, and unresolved feelings.

[[A/N: Rick Grimes in this one is simply whipped. also not me going back on my wordddddd. I might make more, we'll see. Also whoever made this gif has my whole heart. Y'all ever just want to hold a man and tell him everythings okay??? That he's allowed to feel??? No, just me? Okay. Enjoy :))]]

"Rick," you pursed your lips, rubbing at a dish in your sink.

Currently, you are at home -on babysitting duty. About a month after the wedding, their honeymoon kick-started and Carl went to stay with his Dad and Judith (who you'd briefly met at the wedding) staying with Lori's mom.

However, she had an appointment today (or at least that's what she said), so your home was currently filled with two tiny children. Luckily, you weren't doing it alone.

"Rick," you repeated -peering over the counter to look at him.

He was looking at you in that kind of way that you recognized to be just... adoration. The smile on his face perked up, as he watched you do whatever you were doing; he wouldn't even look away for a second. It felt kind of like when he told you he loved you, and you couldn't breathe-

"Stop looking at me that."

"Like what?" Rick countered with a smile -you couldn't decide if you wanted to slap it off or kiss him senseless. Later.

You huffed out a breath, finally rinsing the dish, "You know what you're doing, Grimes."

He suddenly seemed to notice what you're doing, standing up from his seat, "Baby, let me do those, you 'ave done enough."

"That's really sweet, babe, and I would gladly accept it in different circumstances," you hummed, grabbing the next one (as well as debating whether to kill him because of the pet name), "-but you're on kid duty."

His eyes instinctively went to the kids, who to his credit were quietly reading (Carl) and passed out on the couch (Judith). There wasn't much to watch.

These kids were way too well-behaved, it was kind of scary-

"If you won't let me help ya," he was slowly stepping toward you, "-why don't you take a break for a little while? You're stressed out-"

"I am not stressed out," you snapped -directly proving his point.

Rick wasn't moved at all though by your 'intimidation', coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. You sighed, instinctively leaning into him -breaths solid and mind stirring.

"I 'aven't seen ya like this since your last midterm," he commented -laughing lightly, slowly swaying the two of you in motion, "-what's goin' on in 'at pretty little head of yours?"

You let out a long breath, "I've really gotta finish these dishes, Rick."

"Finish 'em," he hummed, leaning down to put a featherlight kiss on your cheek, "-I'll be right 'ere, waitin'."

You did so, conveniently way less stressed. Every time your breath picked up and your moves started to become frantic, Rick would notice and pull you closer or kiss you on the temple. All the stress would promptly vanish out of your body.

He'd always been able to do that, even when you were kids, talk you down from ledges, 'relax, it's all goin' to be okay, I promise'. It was kind of weird the way you got him now, romantic, you'd never even dreamed of this. You wouldn't let yourself.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, darlin'?"

You laughed, finishing the last dish and putting it into the strainer, "How much young Y/N would lose their mind right now. With you."

Rick snickered, something delighted in his voice, "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah," you affirmed, "-They would be..."

You fell silent, even now, all you'd sacrificed, all you'd shoved down still hurt. You had Rick now, but that didn't erase the years you didn't.

"...happy," you finished, a little desolately.

Rick slowly spun you around in his grip, blue eyes searching for yours, and when they found them, smiling -it shot warmth through your chest.

"I love you."

You smiled, hands awkwardly at your side -before frowning, "My hands are all soapy."

"Why does 'at matter?" He tilted his head, grin giving no signs of disappearing.

"I want to kiss you," you explained, "-but I can't do that with-"

"Well," he laughed, moving forward -pulling one hand off your waist and sliding it up to hold your face, "-I can."

Before you could let out a word, he sealed your lips together. Rick always kissed with a little passion, you'd noticed that -so you were a bit lucky that the sink was just behind your back. Otherwise, he would've blindly pushed you into a wall -which hurt last time.

He was slow as if he was trying to treasure you, show you that he loved you. It was less desperate this time, although you were very sure he'd been wanting to kiss you for at least an hour. It was just calming, grounding; the push of his lips, solid and body sturdy against your body.

You couldn't help it then, your hands went to his shoulders, supporting yourself.

And then, he brought out his tongue.

Now, the tongue was new, a lot of trouble -you were really glad he hadn't brought it out in the closet because that would have gone much differently. A little less romantic. More fun though, probably-

He urged open your mouth without hesitation (you were very simple, what can you say), tongue twirling around your own. Still slow, still languid, as if he was carefully wanting to know every little bit of you.

You pulled yourself away, the familiar heat flushing through your body, eyes blinking open to match his. He had the most mischievous little grin there, eyes staying solid on your lips.

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

"Rick," he pushed forward with a simple press of lips, your will was weak, "-we cannot do this right now."

He pushed forward again, more power this time, slowly pulling back, "Your son is in the next room."

"I'd like 'im to see a display of healthy affection," he hummed, still a breath away.

"Don't you think he gets enough of that from Shane and Lori?"

He smiled then, twinkly, "Who says 'ere's is healthy?"

You burst into laughter, as his lips found solace on all the surfaces of his face -the bags of your eyes, the curve of your nose, the corners of your lips, and your cheeks. His grin only got brighter as you laughed -like it was the only sound he'd ever wanted to hear in the world. Or maybe like it was his favorite.

"Okay, okay," you let out a breath, pushing him backward, "-if this keeps going you're going to-"

Your eyes faltered to your hands, and the wet stains on his shirt, "Shit."

"'S no big deal, baby," he hummed, pressing forward to kiss you -simply, "-'ll just get a new one from my drawer."

Right, another new thing, the drawer. Rick stayed over a lot now, and to be fair, you had an extra room (you were going to get a roommate at one point, but that never happened) where Carl could sleep. So, it just started functioning that way. Plus, Rick had a terrible habit of just showing up at your place otherwise. It was much better than that.

The thing was, every time he came over, he brought more of him. Everywhere you looked you could see a little Rick -the boots by the door, the coat on the rack, the extra blanket on the couch, and he'd even brought over some dishes once. That one you weren't sure why.

And it was fine, good even. It's just that you hadn't talked about it. At all.

He still had his place at home, close to Bonnie and the town where you grew up. And while the town was lovely, you had moved on. You just weren't sure that Rick had moved on too.

He'd told you that after getting shot on the job and put in a coma, the department had essentially retired him -out of concern. So, he got a monthly check. He was at your apartment all the time, and yet it seemed like he couldn't get enough of it. You were a little worried about him going stir-crazy in the city on top of everything else. Would it be a good idea for him to even move here?

Selfishly, you still really wanted him to.

It was another day, Saturday to be specific, you were sitting on the couch and Rick's head lay in your lap -mindlessly, you ran your fingers through his hair. It was getting longer now, curling, and he was growing out his stubble -you'd told him frankly that you like both very much.

He had only smiled (the tips of his ears growing pink) and said promptly, "Guess I'll keep doin' it then."

You were happy that you had such an influence, because he was always handsome, but there was something special about having your very own Rick. Not the one when you were kids, not the one from his marriage with Lori, yours. With a kiss of curly hair and stubble.

"You really like the hair, don't ya?" He mumbled out, half-focused because of the rhythmic motion of your hand. It was cute, he was cute.

You hummed, happily -staring down at him, "I love your curls."

He smiled a little, cheeks dusting pink -you absentmindedly let your other hand brush against them. He kissed your fingertips when he could.

"I don't understand why you never let it grow out when we were kids," you expressed, staring at the baby curls on the top of his head, "-It's so pretty."

"'S hardly pretty," he muttered out.

You frowned, moving your hands to cup his face, ever-so-slightly, "You are very pretty, Grimes. Probably the most beautiful person I've ever seen."

Rick fell quiet, something crossing over his face.

"And if anyone else says otherwise," you moved your hand back to his hair, "-I'll beat the shit out of them."

He choked out a laugh, a big smile radiating up at you -eyes with that look again, you could indulge in it this time, though, "Would ya?"

"Well, yeah," you laughed, "-I smacked Shane, didn't I?"

He suddenly sat up, scooting close to your side and facing you -something in his eyss monstrously delighted, "You smacked Shane?"

"Shit," you gulped -trying to think back, "-did I not tell you that?"

"When?" He urged, and he was nearly jumping in place.

"At his wedding," you clarified, before frowning, "-that really doesn't sound good, does it?"

Rick laughed, roaming closer to you, "You did 'at for lil' old me?"

"He had it coming," you retorted, "-plus, me and Bonnie talked about much worse-"

"God," he said suddenly, using both of his hands to cup your face -leaning forward to connect your foreheads, "-I love you."

"I love you too," you responded, laughing a little, "-Does me slapping Shane really do it for you or?"

He laughed again, a bright twinkle, before settling back, "Just can't remember the last time someone did somethin' for me."

You frowned.

"But, of course, you did," he hummed, looking at you in sheer wonder, "-I didn't even ask ya to do 'at."

"I would hope not," you quipped, and his grin grew brighter, "-and, even from a friend's perspective, the guy deserved it. Deserved his shoes stomped too, but you didn't let me leave your side-"

Rick grinned, pressing a short kiss onto your lips, "I was kinda followin' you around like a lost puppy all night, wasn't I?"

You shook your head, letting out a breath, "It's okay though, I didn't mind."

He smiled at you, all soft and sweet.

"Plus, I asked Bonnie to do it for me-"

He laughed loud, eyes hazy onto your features for a moment. At his staring, all you could do was smile and start to laugh, fluster bubbling up your face. His eyes only shined brighter then, and before you could react, he pushed you down onto the couch -lips coming to find yours as you both burst into laughter.

And maybe it got a little feverish, and maybe it got a little rushed. And maybe he picked you up and carried you off to the bedroom without so much as a stuttered step (all hooded eyes and bright smiles).

But that was between the two of you.

A few months later, it was a weeknight -you had just tumbled through the door off your work shift. You usually got out pretty early, but today had been a rough one. You hadn't been expecting Rick, he was (last you'd known) at his place. Had to go back every month at least once for his check, and he usually stayed for a little bit. The drive wasn't long, but it was long enough to want to be avoided.

So, when you brought yourself through the door, you were expecting an empty apartment. You were exhausted, didn't even want to eat -you just wanted to sleep.

Instead, you walked in with the lights on and some shifting in the kitchen.

"Rick?" You offered, slipping off your shoes and shuffling to the kitchen.

"There ya are," he hummed, spinning around to meet you -before his eyes rested solely on you.

He faltered, dropping whatever he had in his hands gently on the counter (you weren't paying attention) -hands coming to rest on your shoulders. They smoothed there for a second, before he nudged up your chin.

"Bad day?"

"I'm exhausted," you sighed, fully leaning into his hands.

He pursed his lips for a second, moving his hand up to cup your face, "Ya eaten today?"

"This morning," you answered -honestly.

Frowning, his other hand dragged his fingertips over your arm, "'Gotta take better care of yourself, baby. You know 'at."

"Yeah, yeah," you groaned, but not making any motion to move, "-I know."

"I'm serious," he leveled with you, eyes starkly matching yours.

"I know, Rick," you responded, "-I'm just too tired-"

"Ya need to eat," he reinforced, guiding you to the bedroom gently -carefully steps to gently bring you there.

"Then why are you-"

"Sleep," he hummed, hands solidly on your shoulders -pulling aside the blankets, "-I'll bring ya some food in a minute."

"Rick," you looked at him, "-I can-"

"Shush," he pushed you forward but you didn't move, "-baby, lay down."

"Really, I can, it's late, you should sleep-"

"'At's enough," he hummed gruffly, grabbing you by the waist and lugging you over his shoulder.

"Rick!" You nearly squealed.

"Ya weren't workin' with me," he huffed out -trying to hold back a laugh, "-gotta do 'at I 'ave to."

"Okay, okay," you laughed, "-I get your point. You can put me down-"

"Too late," he pulled you forward, gently cradling your head onto the bed, "-already 'ere."

You looked at him for a moment, blue eyes the only thing lit up in the room and something in you softened.

His hand remained under your head, and he was close enough to feel his breath -you mindlessly looked at him. Hands blindly reaching for his face, you pulled him to you -one solid kiss.

As you parted, you still held him there -whispering, softly, "Thank you."

Rick smiled, you could see it in the distant dusting of lighting. Brushing your hands up along his jaw, you found his hair -threading through it for a moment. He leaned forward that time, a simple press of lips.

You smiled.

"Okay," he hummed, gruff and maybe tired, "-I've gotta go make ya some food, darlin'."

You nodded, solidly, "I love you."

"Love ya too," he smiled, leaning forward to kiss your forehead, "-sleep. I'll be 'ere in a minute."

"Okay," you hummed, as he pulled the blanket up over you -slowly sinking into the bed.

Just a few minutes.

You don't know how long you were out with a fuzzy mind and warm dreams. Sleep was always better when you were just tired.

"Hey, baby," his voice echoed out, a little sing-songy. The first thing, other than his voice, you noticed was the gentle smell wafting through the air. You instinctively sniffed, mumbling out.

He hummed, pulling you up, "'S getcha up, okay? Need to eat somethin'."

You groaned but moved with him -pushing the pillows up behind your back. Rick was shifting with you, being the one to primarily move you.

"Pick a show," he hummed, putting the plate on your nightstand and rumbling up to the other side of the bed, "-Let's eat, and then we can sleep again, 'kay?"

You sighed out a breath, rubbing at your eyes, and pulling the plate onto your lap, "You know what I wanna watch, Grimes, you put it on."

"Grumpy, aren't ya?" he huffed with a grin -mindlessly grabbing the remote, and putting on your favorite show.

You hummed, and ate.

There wasn't much said then, the silent hum of the TV and the shuffle of eating filling the air.

Eventually you ended up here, curled into Rick's side with your head on his chest and his arm wrapped tightly around you -fingers massaging your scalp. Your arms wrapped around his chest -as close as you could possibly be. He laughed at you, trying to get as close as you possibly could, but didn't object at all. You would never imagine him to. In fact, he actually pulled you closer -arm wrapped around you solidly.

"I don't know what I would've done if you weren't here," you murmured, low and just under the hum of the TV.

"Not eaten," he replied, teasingly.

You turned to face him, putting your chin on his chest -he simply moved his fingers to the other side, "Rick, I'm serious."

"I know, baby," he hummed, curling his hand behind your ear and trailing down your jaw, "-I know. 'M glad to be 'ere, 'specially wit' you."

You rolled your eyes, "You're cliché, Grimes."

"'At's the way you like it, though," he smiled, brushing his fingertips down your back, "-and I do like keepin' ya happy."

You sighed, trailing a hand up to dance around his jaw, "Ugh, why can't I just keep you here forever?"

There was a silence then, as your fingers fluttered over his skin -ending up at the nape of his neck, digging into curls.

"I could," he said finally, "-be 'ere, there's an openin' on the floor below ya, I asked."

"Rick," you laughed, "-don't be ridiculous."

His face contoured into something a little defensive, "Why is 'at ridiculous-"

"Move in with me," you breathed out.

Rick froze, breath fluttering out of his chest -blue eyes still lazily strolling along your face.

"If you're going to be in the same city for me," you argued, "-why not just be with me?"

He smiled, that dazzling sort of one that just made your heart twist in your chest -always so in love. You still couldn't wrap your head around it.

Fingers still dancing along your back, he countered, "Ya know 'at means Carl too, don't you?"

"Of course, I-" you spoke -a little in disbelief, "-Rick, I know that you and Carl are a package deal. Your kid comes first, I get that."

"Are you sure you wanna-"

"Rick," you reiterated, sitting up fully now and facing him, "-I love you, like crazy. If you think that I don't love him too, you're insane."

"Not everyone's," he paused, and you realized then he had been thinking about this a lot, "-ready for a kid-"

"Rick," you stressed -holding his face to guide to yours, "-I may not be the greatest at... at kids. But I am willing to try, for you and Carl."

His eyes scanned over you, a bit in wonder, like he really couldn't imagine you sat in front of him, asking what you were asking.

"I just-" he started, "-I wanna make sure you're sure. It's a big deal, and... I don't wanna scare ya away."

Again hung through the air for a moment.

"You're stuck with me," you readjusted your hands -cupping his face, "-I got away once but now you are stuck with me, Grimes. And Carl is a part of you. That means I'm stuck with him too, okay?"

Rick pursed his lips, like he hadn't expected this and something in your heart sunk.

"I'm sorry I ever made you feel like I wouldn't accept Carl-"

"No, you never-" he sighed big and long, eyes dropping to his lap for a moment, he sniffled, "-I just..."

You tilted his face back up to meet yours, and your eyes took in the tears settled in his eyes, you waited for him to talk. Mindlessly, your thumbs rubbed them away -patient.

"I never thought I'd get this after Lori," he cried, soft and just for you to hear, "-I always thought with Carl, people would never-"

You shifted onto his lap, straddling, pulling his head forward into your shoulder -fingers threading into his curls. Your other hand wrapped around his back, rubbing small little circles in its stead.

He cried into your skin for a moment, just tears creeping out of somewhere they had long settled. You wondered how long he'd been holding onto this.

You frowned at the thought, turning your head to kiss his jaw quickly.

"I'm sorry," you muttered out.

Rick seemed to want to move up and say something but you kept him there -gently carding through his hair with your fingers. He didn't put up much of a fight.

"I'm sorry for what she did to you," you clarified, before pulling his face back in front of you, "-really, I am."

"I'm not-"

"I know you're past it, Rick," you hummed, hand smoothing down the side of his face, "-doesn't mean you ever got what you deserved, an apology."

He opened his mouth, but you kept going.

"Just because you adapted," you presented, "-doesn't mean it can't still hurt, Rick. I know it doesn't hurt because of Lori anymore-"

He stared at you wordlessly, like he was desperately trying to listen.

"-but it's okay if it hurts for different reasons," you explained, gently rubbing your fingertips along his jaw, "-Your trust was broken by someone you loved, it's okay to be scared that it might happen again."

Rick hummed for a moment, eyes darting all over your face -like he was trying to figure out what to say. You merely waited patiently, in silence.

"I... I'm scared. Not that you'll... I trust ya, I do. It's just-"

"Rick, baby, stop," you interrupted him, meeting his eyes again, "-you don't have to explain yourself to me."

"But you-"

"Rick," you laughed a little, hands coming to rest on his shoulders -his eyes stayed squarely on you, "-you experienced something and reacted to it. I'm not taking that personally, you were hurt and now you don't want to be hurt again."

He seemed a little stunned, unsure of his own words. You took it as a motion to keep talking.

"I can tell you that I won't hurt you again, and maybe you'll believe it," you offered, "-but because someone broke that trust, there is gonna be a part of your brain that doesn't-"

His fingers brushed against your face for a moment, like he was grounding himself -listening to the words you were saying.

"-and that's not your fault or mine," you clarified, effectively shushing him, "-and we're gonna do our best to fix it, okay?"

Rick stared at you, a little in awe.

"Together," you reiterated, before adding on -less confidently, "-if you want to."

He didn't say anything.

"And," you cleared your throat, suddenly a little flustered with his sole attention and the ever-growing silence, "-you don't have to move in if you're not ready, that's a... a given."

You snapped your mouth shut, eyes dancing along his face -trying to read anything on it. All you got was wonder, and disbelief.

"Uh," you laughed, nervously, "-Rick? Are you... okay?"

He seemed to blink then, eyes clear of their haze, "Shit, sorry, I..."

His tone faltered off again, eyes dashing over you like you weren't even real; he just seemed so shaken by everything. You weren't sure exactly what to do.

"Shit, again, I-" He started, swallowing, "-I mean, yes to all of it."

"You want to move in?"

"Yeah," he repeated like it was the most obvious answer in the world, "-yeah, I want... I want it all."

You raised an eyebrow, asking for clarification.

"I want your help," he spoke, hands trailing up to properly cup your cheek, "-I need your help, I wanna be better. I wanna think... better."

You hummed, raising a hand to come up on top of his -turning and pressing a kiss to his palm, "Okay."

There was a silence then, as he looked at you and you looked at him. It was like a shift, somehow your relationship ticked -like suddenly it wasn't just love but a relationship. Intertwined lives, and goals to better each other; it felt different and you wondered if it was still the same-

"I get the baby thin' now," Rick murmured out, fingers playing with the neck of your shirt.

You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to remember, "Did I call you baby?"

"Mhm," he confirmed, "-'s really... special to hear it. Feels nice."

"Wait, so," your fingers danced around his chest, "-what are you saying, baby?"

Rick grinned, something twinkling in his eye, "Really? You gonna do this now?"

"Oh, yeah, baby," you laughed.

He smiled, fingers brushing over your cheekbones -blue eyes languid over your figure, "'Sure ya wanna do 'at tonight?"

You paused, noting the exhaustion deep in your skin and the sleep-slur of his words.

"Okay," you decided, yawning and nuzzling into his chest, "-fine. Tomorrow."

Rick pulled you into his chest -brushing his fingers along your back, something telling in his voice but everything else so casual, "Whatever ya want, baby."

"Rick-"

Yep, you realized, still the exact same.

[fetishfairytales2]

The Ex, Pt. 1 (Story)

Hey, my pervy ladies and pathetic losers! It's time to dish the details on the moment I introduced the new and improved Sissy Brandi to her ex-girlfriend, Rachel, just like I promised! Oh, the look on poor Rach’s face when she realized her macho ex-boyfriend had transformed into a diapered little sissy...priceless! Guess maybe someone should have warned her a little more, oopsie! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- It had been way too long since I reconnected with one of my other college BFF’s, Rachel. It had been a minute since we last talked, and let's just say Brandi played a big part in that. During a break back in school, this loser actually dated one of my friends! I should have known he was going to be all red flags, even back then. I didn’t blame her, I just figured whatever, I was still oblivious to how much of a loser Brandi would turn out to be, and I wanted him back at the time, ugh, stupid me!  But when Brandon and I got back together, things between Rachel and me just didn't feel the same. We slowly drifted apart, only keeping in touch through occasional Instagram likes and birthday texts and that was it.

However, everything changed when Brandi was “born”. I just knew I had to introduce my adorable little girl to all the important women in her life. Brandi's sisters, Sarah and Grace, absolutely loved her new look, and I was excited to show off my handiwork to Rachel. I mean, we couldn't have anyone still thinking my little cucky was a real man, could we? It was time for a reunion and a big reveal!

I decided to take a chance and slide into Rachel's DMs on Instagram. I started off casual; "hey, girl, long time no talk!" We caught up on the usual boring adult stuff: work, relationships, the works. But then, it was time for the drama. I dropped a bomb: "Yeah, Brandon and I are still kind of dating. But guess what? He cheated!" I knew that would hook her. She immediately called, all worried and supportive, like we never stopped talking.

As she was trying to be calming and sweet, she asked how I was doing. She probably expected the typical breakup story. "I’m getting over him by getting under someone new," wasn't the response she was expecting. I went in on the whole thing, making sure to really talk about Brandon's flaws. Poor, poor me, abused, cheated on, and left alone. Sure, the loser messed up by cheating, but the rest was just a little creative storytelling. I wanted my former best friend, and Brandi’s ex-girlfriend, on my side, and it worked. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, eating up my bullshit. "What are you planning to do now?" she asked, so, so very sad for me!

"No, girl," I chuckled, "it's not about what I'm doing, it's about who." She was even more interested now; the little perv. I loved my friends. "Remember Conner?" I teased. We spent a minute talking about how cute Conner always was and how Brandon was always a douchebag to him. "Well, things have taken a twist," I said, smiling, "let's just say Brandon is a changed person. He's much sweeter now, almost unrecognizable even. It's like he's a whole new person! Sort of my little revenge for his cheating bullshit." I laughed. "Why don't you come over this weekend for a girl's night and some wine? You can meet the new Brandon... or should I say, Brandi?" I teased. This was going to be fun!

Three days later, I was buzzed and giddy, I practically skipped to the door when I heard the knock. It was showtime! Rachel was about to walk on something straight out of poor Brandi’s wildest nightmares. I'd spent the evening getting cute and downing wine, so excited for when I could show Rachel what I had done to the “man” she knew. Before I opened the door, I smiled at how fucked Brandi really was. In the center of the living room, was my hunky real man, Conner, naked and looking delicious. And bent over in front of him, my sweet sissy Brandi was on display. The poor thing was dressed to impress—or should I say, dressed to embarrass? My little princess looked absolutely perfect.

Bandi’s little schoolgirl outfit was perfect - she looked like a total sissy whore.. Her so short, and so cute plaid skirt was hiked way up, showing off her tight sissy booty. I made sure to  tie up her white crop top to really go with the look, but Conner had almost ripped it totally off her already! He just couldn't keep his hands to himself. She looked so slutty in her sky-high platform Mary Jane heels too. Bent over like that, it was like those sissy legs went on forever! I was almost jealous!. Her hair was done up in pigtails with pink ribbons, matching her glossy red lips and rosy cheeks. But the best part? Of course, it was the penis pacifier gagging her, muffling her stupid little whimpers as Conner pounded her from behind!

"Hey, girl!" I called out, pulling Rachel into a hug as I guided her inside, purposely  keeping her away from the living room. I wasn’t giving away the surprise yet! “Should we have some wi…” Rachel looked shocked as she heard a faint scream. "Mmm, someone's definitely having fun," I winked, pointing toward the muffled moans coming from the next room. 

Poor Rach didn’t know what to think. "Take it, you sissy slut!" Conner's voice boomed from the living room, followed by the sound of his hips slamming against Brandi's. "Fuck yourself on my cock, bitch!" he growled, his hands probably digging into Brandi's hips. God, he always knew how to fuck like a machine. Brandi sure was a lucky little whore right now! I could picture Conner spanking her little sissy's ass, leaving it red and sore.

"Conner's really giving it to her," I smiled like this was no big deal, pouring us both some wine. "He just loves to grab those sissy hips and force Brandi to take every inch of his, well...” I paused and cupped my hand over my mouth; “his really, really massive cock! And listen to her, sobbing like the little bitch she is." I smirked, taking a sip of my drink. 

Conner grew more demanding; "stop your fucking crying, slut! Take it like a good little sissy and thank Daddy!!" The sound of his hand connecting with Brandi's ass again echoed through the house. "That's it, scream for me, princess. Let Mommy hear how much you love getting fucked like the sissy you are!"

Rachel's eyes bulged as she listened. I led her to the living room so she could see for herself; our ex-boyfriend turned into my sissy plaything, getting plowed by my new man. I couldn't not laugh at the shock on Rachel’s face. Steering her by the shoulders, I guided her closer to the action.

"Rach, allow me to introduce you to Brandi!" I giggled, pointing toward the sobbing figure of Brandon, now just a whimpering mess. "Look at my little sissy, taking it like a cheap little whore. Isn't she adorable?"

Conner showed no signs of slowing down, driving his cock into Brandi's ass over and over. Rachel couldn’t find words, which made the whole thing even funnier for me. Poor thing. "Conner?! Brandon?! How—?" she stammered, her eyes darting between the two of them.

I placed my hand on her shoulder gently and led her back into the kitchen.  "Surprise!” I laughed, handing Rachael her wine. “I told you I changed Brandi into something much more fitting. She will never hurt another woman again. That’s what happens to cheaters."

"What the actual fuck, Heather? How did you even do all of this?" Rachel asked, downing all her wine in one go.  I explained to her how I caught Brandi cheating, about the videos of her sucking Conner's dick that I recorded, the photos of her dressed in diapers that I took, the nursery filled with dildos, and the cuckysitters I hired to keep an eye on her.

"Holy shit," Rachel finally said, shaking her head in disbelief. "A whole year?! He... or should I say, she, has been living like this for an entire year?"

Conner, who had just finished emptying another load into Brandi, joined us in the kitchen. "Mmmph," he grunted, wrapping his arms around my waist. "She's been mine for at least that long. That fucking loser has been living in diapers the whole time.”

I laughed, sharing the details of Brandi's miserable life. "And let's not forget, she has to call Conner 'Daddy.' I'd guess she sucks his dick at least five times a day, and that's on top of the cum-only diet she's on. Most of the time, she's swallowing loads from his used condoms after he fucks me!" I giggled. Rachael was stunned into silence, which isn’t easy for that girl! “Want to go meet her?” I asked excitedly. 

Shh, shh, cupcake," I cooed, walking into the room to find Brandi in the fetal position in the floor., I leaned down, gently stroking Brandi's hair as she lay there, a sobbing mess with her skirt still hiked up and cum leaking out of her poor, stretched asshole. Her shirt was nowhere to be seen, probably ripped off by Conner. He can be a really dominant Daddy when he needs to! 

"It's okay, Brandi-girl," I reassured her, channeling my inner Mommy. "I’m right here to make everything better... or worse, depending on my mood." I winked at Rachel, who was just staring at me shocked, and delivered a stinging slap to both of the crying sissy’s ass cheeks. “Wow,” I giggled, tracing the bright red handprints I’d left. "At least  both cheeks match!"

"Aww, what's wrong, Brandi? Did Daddy already make your bottom hurt? Well, too fucking bad, 'cause Mommy wants to have fun too!” I noticed Rachel's eyes widen when she spotted the massive plastic cock pacifier on the floor next to the shaking sissy. "That bad boy is only, like, half the size of Conner," I pointed out, raising my eyebrows and winking. "We gotta keep Brandi's sissy holes filled, but not too filled, right?" I paused, biting my lip. "Wouldn't want her to get too comfortable sucking Conner’s cock."

Rachel's hand shook as she held up the pacifier, her eyes wide with surprise. "It... goes in her mouth?" She asked, her voice laced with curiosity as she glanced between me and Brandi, who was a sobbing mess on the floor. I leaned in close to Rachel, whispering something that made her bite her lip nervously, but shrugged; “he was a cheating prick…”

Now she was into it! I knelt down next to Brandi, who was too exhausted from crying to put up much of a fight. I gently pinched her nose shut, watching as her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly. "Are you sure?" Rachel questioned  as she leaned in closer, I simply nodded, holding my grip on Brandi’s nose. “He was texting you while he was dating me, huh?” She asked, clearly pissed up now.

"Here comes the airplaaaane!" Rachel attempted a baby voice, It was adorable how she was getting into this now. “Open up you cheating little sissy fuck!” Brandi, on the other hand, was having none of it. She thrashed and squirmed, her eyes wild with panic. I reached under her skirt and gave her sissy marbles a firm squeeze, causing her to yelp and open her mouth wider. “You deserve it you douche!” Racheal yelled, jamming the cock into the back of Brandi’s throat and slapping her across the face. “I can’t believe you!”

I gently pushed the pacifier into her mouth, the huge plastic cock stretching her lips. "Thatagirl Sissy! You know you love your paci! It’s nice to have something other than Daddy’s cock in your mouth, huh?" Brandi and I both looked over at Rachael, surprised when she laughed. Even she was giggling at the little shithead now! "There, isn't that better, princess?" I asked, giving Brandi’s cotton balls one more squeeze, smiling down at her sweetly,

Brandi whimpered, her eyes pleading with me to stop. Before I can say anything else, Rachel noticed the tiny pink chastity cage on Brandi's cock. “Is that his…her dick?” She asked, pointing. “That’s her sissy clitty,” I giggled, bouncing her chastity cage up and down in my hand. "This little cage," I said, holding it, "makes sure Brandi doesn't get naughty. She's locked up tight, no squirties allowed."

I traced my nail through the bars of the little plastic pink cage slowly, just to tease the little cucky as much as I could; “Brandi's little clitty key is my favorite accessory, and not just because it looks cute around my neck,” I laughed, holding up the key. “It's a constant reminder that I own her and her teeny-tiny sissy stick. One tug on this little plastic prison, and she squirms like the little worm she is.” I giggled as Brandi struggled against me, trying to fight off the stiffie I was giving her; “She can’t help herself. She doesn’t want to, but it feels so good, doesn’t it, little girl? She knows I decide when she's free, and that's if I feel like it at all! Isn't that right, my pretty princess?"

Yanking on Brandi’s pigtails, I smiled listeningto Brandi moaning and whining behind her gag. "Aww, does my widdle baby want something? Is it diapee time? I think you're right, my precious sissy. We can't have you leaking Daddy's cum everywhere, now can we? That would be such a mess!"

I turned to Rachel, casually asking, "You don't mind if we take a quick break to change her, do you? It'll only take a second. Conner, honey, could you come and lend a hand? I am always such a sweetheart to my little girl of course, but Brandi might need some extra persuasion."

Rachel's eyes widened, and she hesitated for a moment before replying, "Umm, no, of course not. I mean, it's a bit... weird, but I do kinda want to see it…a little bit.”

Conner strolled into the room, his arms folded across his hulky chest and he leaned against the wall, rolling his eyes. “Why can’t this freak ever just not be a fucking weirdo?” he grumbled. He enjoyed seeing Brandi humiliated, but didn’t love it when I involved him. Whatever, if he wanted to fuck me, he had to fuck the sissy too!

I made an excited face at Brandi and put on my best mommy voice;. "Okay, baby girl, let's get you all nice and pampered. No more leaks, okay? Mommy's here to take care of you." I pulled my sissy onto the couch. “Legs up girlie!” I cooed, pulling her legs high into the air.

As I reached for the diaper bag, Rachel surprised me by joining in on her ex-boyfriend’s humiliation, practicing her own baby talk!  "Aww, good girl! let's get that diapee on you!” She kneeled down next to me and winked, continuing to humiliate Brandi. “No more leakies for our little baby girl, okay? We'll have you snug as a bug in no time!"  But just as we were about to get started, Brandi decided to put up a pathetic struggle. She writhed and kicked, trying to break free from our grasp!

"Now, now, Brandi," I chided, "that's not very ladylike. Be a good girl and lie still. You know you can't escape!" I laid the pink Pamper underneath of my little sissy, but she almost kicked me in the head! “Hey!” I yelled, her squirming and kicking were getting a bit out of hand, so I decided to take charge. "Alright, that's enough, princess. Time to get that diapee on. Be a good girl for Mommy!."

I pinned her arms above her head, staring daggers at her. "Now, be a good girl and relax. This will all be over soon…if you’re a good girl" But Brandi wasn't having any of it. She bucked her hips, trying to throw me off again. "Oh, come on, Brandi, don't be difficult. You know you’re not going anywhere.” The sweet darling huffed and puffed behind her pacifier, shaking her head.

Rachel, joining in the fun now, tried to hold Brandi’s legs up with me; "yeah, Brandi, stop squirming! We're just trying to keep you diapered and cute. It's for your own good!"

Now Rachael was holding her legs up and I was trying to pin her down on the couch and she was still freaking out. But I wasn't about to let her win, hell no! I grabbed the diaper and held it open, teasingly tapping her nose with it. "Come on, Brandi, time to cooperate. Lift that cute little bottom for Mommy. Don't make me call Daddy Conner over here. You know you don't want that, right?"

To Be Continued...

Note from Heather: I hope everyone enjoyed meeting Rachael so far, she definitely returns in some of Brandi's other misadventures!

[l0v3tast3]

*Peeks into the ask box* Hey, I got a request.

How would the 141 propose to their partner?

ARIZONA THIS IS THE CUTEST ASK EVER I LOVE YOU. this was so sweet to write i loved this so so much thank you lovely!!! ＼(≧▽≦)／

✎ tags: gn!reader, uber amounts of fluff !!

✎ word count: 1.2k words (not proofread)

masterlist | requests are open!

♡ simon "ghost" riley — simon proposes to you quietly, in the privacy of your bed, swaddled in blankets together while you lay on his chest. it's the most serene he's ever felt in his life, the both of you laying in a state of half-consciousness together just to be close. he'll look down at you and trace the line of your cheekbone lightly until your eyes crack open blearily and you tilt your head up to him with a content hum. — it'll take him quite some time, years of building an unbreakable bond of trust between the two of you, years of working on healing not just for you but for himself, for any future children you may have. simon will be so hesitant to settle down with anyone, to try to start a life of his own outside of taking others. so after long enough that he realizes things do work out, he'll cup your face and bend down to kiss you, soft and slow, filled with all the love he has for you. — when he draws away he'll say the words, so quiet you wonder if you imagine it: marry me. your eyes widen and simon presses his forehead to yours, noses brushing together as his thumbs trace the graceful lines of your face, and he says it again, only a tiny bit louder. when you finally say yes, he'll smile with a level of joy you've never seen in him before.

♡ john "soap" mactavish — johnny is not the kind of man to hide his love for you. once he knows how he feels for you, he wears it proudly, always boasting about how lucky he is to have you, how wonderful of a partner you are. his shows of affection are boisterous and grand, spoiling you with lavish gifts and more hugs and kisses than anyone could possibly count. the way he proposes is, of course, no different. — so much planning goes into it. of course, johnny makes sure to ask your friends to confirm that you're okay with a public proposal before it all, but once he gets the go ahead, he doesn't hold back. he'll throw a gorgeous party around a holiday or a significantly happy anniversary, your first date or kiss. he invites all your friends, family, anyone either of you care for and love all in one place. they're all in on it, there's no doubt about it; your friends help you plan your outfit and johnny pays for it all (which isn't unusual, thankfully). the engagement ring is either handed down from your family or bought from an absurdly expensive store with a design pre-approved by your best friends. — he'll bend down on one knee near the end of the party and when you turn back to him he's holding the ring up, looking at you with all the love he has in him. johnny says that all he needs is you, and when you say yes and let him slip on the ring he scoops you into a tight hug, tears of happiness pricking the corners of his eyes.

♡ kyle "gaz" garrick — kyle doesn't have the same flare for dramatics as johnny; he's a quiet man, so much so that he was practically given his callsign because of it. that being said, he's not as low-key as simon, either. kyle isn't a man with many close relationships (by his own choosing). the people he does keep close, though, mean everything to him- you especially. so while he won't throw a huge party or propose in front of your family and friends, kyle still makes sure he shows just how much he loves you. — it isn't abnormal for kyle to take you shopping like johnny does, so he takes out like usual and gently suggests the dress or suit he thinks you'd like best to get engaged in (for the pictures, if that's your thing). the night he plans to propose, kyle starts it off by taking you to the upscale restaurant that you swear puts crack in your favorite dish. after whatever dessert you choose and a bottle of your favorite wine or champagne, he'll suggest a detour on the brief walk back to your shared downtown apartment. — he brings you to a quiet little viewing spot along a river leading into a bay; the place you first met, classically bumping into each other at this very spot. kyle tries to prepare a little speech as a declaration of love before he asked you to marry him, and he swears it's the first time he's fumbled over this many words in years. when he sees the gears in your head turning and starting to realize, he chuckles nervously and says a quiet "fuck it" before he kneels down and pulls out the ring. kyle will unashamedly admit that he cried when you said yes, if anyone asks.

♡ john price — john won't throw a party, but he will throw a "formal gathering" consisting of close friends and family. it's something that he secretly plans months in advance; he won't admit how proud of himself he is, but over the course of those months he subtly finds out every specific detail he needs of what your favorite thing is for the not-party, and you still never figure it out. if you're close with your family he gets your parent's blessing and a handed down ring if they have one (if not, he isn't shy about how much he spends on your engagement ring, and he gets what you'd like it to be out of you too). he even gets your friends in on it too, to help him with their own knowledge of your likes and dislikes. — it's planned from the beginning that john proposes to you right at the start of the not-party. he plans it at a beautiful small venue and keeps it all as a surprise, but he's certain that it'll be obvious from the moment you step foot inside the place. so when you get there he pulls you to the balcony that overlooks a gorgeous lake and cups your face. despite your friends and family watching with dewy eyes, john will make this moment private. the words of how hopelessly in love with you and devoted to you he is shared quietly just between two lovers. — he doesn't even bother kneeling (because honestly you'd be crazy to not already be saying yes) when he pulls out the ring, and when you say yes as soon as he has the four-word question out he kisses you, pulling you as close to him as he can. the rest of the party is spent popping bottles of champagne and basically being inseparable from each other. john spares no expense and does everything in his power to make this the happiest night you've ever had, and will promise you that he'll do the same for every night for the rest of your lives.

[legacygirlingreen]

Easing Tensions

Pairing: Tech x F!Reader

Summary: When introductions go wrong, watch as Tech slowly has to earn back your good graces after he insults your abilities as a mechanic. From friendship to something more, eventually the two of you find some slice of heaven on Ord Mantell despite all odds...

Warning: Smut! Tech and reader are definetly not virgins so not first time (unless you wanna count first time together). Mild dom/sub vibes. Casual/playful spanking. Don't worry Tech's still really sweet. Mentions of Omega being kidnapped by Cad Bane and events of Bracca.

***no use of Y/N!!***

Notes: This is my first time posting for Bad Batch content so I really hope that everything goes okay! I want to thank my awesome friend @strawberrypinky for bearing with me and encouraging me despite her not having watched TBB before! It's so wonderful to have a friend who's so supportive!

Definitely pulled some inspo from some AMAZING fanart that I've seen on here. There's this wonderful image of Tech with tattoos by @cloned-eyes and so many incredible ones by @eggdrawsthings like this who often draws Tech with his cute little undercut!

Word Count: 16.5 words (I apologize for my inability to do porn without a plot!)

Ord Mantell wasn’t the nicest part of the galaxy, but- 

It is home..? 

It is tolerable..? 

It is a steaming pile of bantha shit? Yeah that’s probably as close as you could get to describing it. 

  No one intends to live in this sketchy city in the mid-rims: you just end up here. That’s how you got here after all. After having a few good years working on Coruscant, designing starships for Senators and the Aristocrats of the Republic. But then the war started. The Republic discovered they had been funding an army of clones, and all those privatized contracts dried up, rent went up and you’d been forced to leave the planet of lights. 

  After your ship had a malfunction, ending up in the space port just outside Cid’s place, the Trandoshan oddly taking pity on you, allowing you a place to crash in exchange for repairing her arcade machines… and the dish washer… and rewire her a new security system… and so much you lost track before word got around of your mechanical engineering skills. 

  Rotations kept going and it wasn’t long before you found yourself with a small shop, running jobs within the city on household appliances, droids, ships - you name it. It wasn’t much, just a tiny building full of spare parts, a work space, a front with some small devices to sell. Not to mention the small loft apartment above it - not that you actually made it up there, often falling asleep burning the midnight oil at your desk - but it was still a home. 

  Only occasionally getting robbed or having some creeps passing through town hitting on you being the few things that threw a damper in what turned out to be a decent enough existence. And as sketchy as Cid might be, or the cast of characters she keeps around, you still kept a soft spot for the lady. Always repairing whatever she claimed needed fixing… it was usually nothing. But you’d let her pour you a drink while you ‘fixed’ the slots for the hundredth time. After being tossed out of the highlight of the galaxy, you were finally at peace with where you wound up. 

  That was, until they showed up. 

  Bolo had stopped by in the morning, claiming Cid had broken the slot machine again, to which you said the usual: I’ll stop by after I finish this. 

  This being a machine for one of the only doctors in town. While most of the folks on Ord Mantell were less than ideal, the few good people made it worth sticking around. The doctor needing a medical device for internal issues fixed being an actual emergency over Cid’s loneliness. However, that rationalization soon would be something you’d regret. 

  Hours melted away, soldering iron finishing off the last of the repair. Standing from the desk, cracking your back and fingers prodding at the crick in your neck. Soreness being the reward for a hard day’s work. Well that and the small burns and cuts on your fingers. But that was an occupational hazard of doing repairs. 

  Slipping a coat on with the blaster you kept for protection underneath it was a quick delivery, with a joyful thank you - and a thank you pie courtesy of his lovely wife - and you finally made it to Cid’s. 

  You recognized the armor immediately. Having heard a few weeks back about the end of the war, you wondered what would happen to them. The clones. The ones that took your job. Took any chance at a promising career as a ship designer, because free labor is better than cheap labor. 

  Why were clones on Ord Mantell?

  All with their helmets removed, one near the bar turned to face you almost immediately. His face half covered in a tattoo as he made eye contact. You scowled, turned away, pushing your unresolved anger onto the man as if he personally was the cause of your misery. 

  Next to him was a clone that looked more metal than man. What had the Republic done with their clones if he wound up this bad? You thought to yourself, watching as his pale eyes glanced over your frame. The coat rack behind you suddenly reminds you that perhaps it best to remind these men you meant business. 

  Slipping off the outerwear, holster and gun on full display over the tight, oil stained work suit, you once again turn to examine just how many clones were in the parlor. A very large one, entertaining… a child? You knew for a fact these men were clones. Having been hit on by enough, regretfully having slept with a few before you skipped town - you had seen enough brown eyes to last a lifetime. 

  Then the joyful call of your name, Bolo and Ketch welcoming you over as Cid emerged from the back with yet another clone. 

  “Took you long enough,” she said, an almost undetectable smile working on her face as the others watched the interaction. 

  “Well, some of us had real work to do,” You tell her with a fake annoyed expression, stepping closer to the bar. 

  “You call tinkering in that dark room, work? When I - a paying customer - requested services,” Cid said. That caused the laugh to burst from your mouth, startling the watchful eyes of the new strangers. Soon Bolo and Ketch joined in, slapping the bar excitedly. 

  “I think I would be concerned if you did actually pay me,” You say through a chuckle, grabbing a tool off your belt as you turn towards the open room. “So where’s this slot machine that’s broken?” You emphasize the word, knowing it was likely from the one wire she always slightly disconnected to make you feel better for drinking without paying.

  “Same one as always, you know the drill. But hold on, I want you to meet my new boys. They are going to be running some jobs for me in order to keep a low profile with everything that’s going on,” Cid said, gesturing to the small squad of clones. 

  “I thought you said you would keep our business discreet?” Face-Tattoo growled as Cid waved him off. 

  “She’s a trusted acquaintance. The last stray I took in. Now look at her-” Cid started as Ketch spoke at the same time as her. 

  “A successful business woman-” Cid said.

“Covered in grease-” Ketch said.

  Bolo reacted immediately, laughing till he started coughing. The largest of the clones joining the Ithorian in laughter as you scowled at them. 

  “Cid it almost sounds as if you like me when you put it that way,” you warn her as she shakes her head, pushing you towards the slot machine. 

  “Eh don’t get carried away. Anyways, introductions. This is bandana-” she began as he grumpily spouted out, “Hunter”. 

  “This is muscles,” she pointed to the large one, who said “I’m Wrecker!” offering a smile and a hand, which she awkwardly shook. 

  “That’s tiny-” Cid pointed to the small girl, lingering near the one she called Wrecker. 

  “Hi! I’m Omega! You are really pretty-” she said, offering a hand as well. Her compliment catches you off guard from all the time with Cid’s sarcasm. 

  “Oh, uh… thanks kid. I like your uh… enthusiasm” you try to give her a compliment, the politeness so foreign it came off forced but the kid didn’t notice. 

  “Not sure what to call that one but he’s more metal than man at this point-” she pointed to the cybernetically enhanced one. 

  “Echo” he said plainly and you nod, appreciating the simplicity in his response. 

  “And this is goggles” she said, gesturing to the last one, who didn’t bother to look up from the device he was working on to even acknowledge you. 

  “Charming,” you reply sarcastically, finally drawing his attention as he watched the tail end of your eye roll. His own eyes fixating over the unique attire you donned along with the tools on your belt, his eyes narrowing as he wondered about your occupation. 

“His name is Tech, not Goggles,” giggles Omega. 

  “Ah, I see you are already acclimated to Cid’s show of affection. She must really like you all. Well, now that the introductions are out of the way, Cid-” You began, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible if there were now going to be clones at the parlor. Despite these one’s looking… vastly different, they still played a role in why you left. 

“Fix, then drink. You know the deal,” she explains. 

  Nodding you quickly sliding on your back, you open the circuit board, quickly locating the same wire that was always ‘altered’ prior to your arrival. Just as you went to reattach it however, a voice near your head startled you, the yelp leaving your lips as the wire’s exposed end shocked you.��

  “Ah!” filled the parlor, everyone’s attention turning towards the slot machine which Tech had inadvertently shoved himself underneath alongside you as he began troubleshooting the issue. 

  “Perhaps you should consider replacing the whole circuit board and wiring system if this one machine persists with issues. I am inclined to doubt your mechanic skills if you continually have to come back for repairs on the same device.” He spoke bluntly as you dropped the tool in your hand, anger rising to the surface as he stared at the machine, hands starting to trace the circuit board when you lost it. 

  “What are you doing?!” You demanded, finally drawing his attention, when Tech realized he had invaded your personal space a bit more than he intended. 

  “Oh, I was curious if my knowledge of engineering would be helpful given you seem to lack the knowledge in order to fix this devic-” he started but you weren’t hearing it, sliding away from him instantly as you brushed yourself off and stood, angrily stomping in the opposite direction.

  Cid called your name but you weren’t hearing it, reaching for your coat, tossing it on despite the many eyes watching your hasty exit. “Clones!” you gritted through clenched teeth, eyes rolling as you started up to street level. Steps on the stairs being the last anyone heard of you as you left a wake of confusion. 

  “Way to go Goggles” Cid chastised him as he stood, having propped himself up when you stomped away. 

  “I fail to see the issue. I merely pointed out the flaws in her previous attempts to fix the slot-” Tech began to defend himself. 

  “I don’t think insulting her was the right move,” Hunter groaned. 

  “Yeah, why did you make fun of how she fixes stuff? She was really pretty.” Wrecker said, sheepish look. 

  Echo remained silent, watching as Tech did not grasp what had happened, once again firing into an explanation as to why he believed he was not in the wrong.

  “If one continually has to return to fix the same device, I believe it only fair to question the validity of their credentials. Why else would it-” Tech spoke, only to have Omega step towards him, gently placing her hand on his armored shoulder before she said, “Tech, I think that for the two of them, fixing the machine is Cid’s way of asking for her company. That’s why it’s always the same device that’s broken-”

  “What you are saying is that the slot machine is a humorous bit of sorts?” He asked, glancing back at the way the panel lacked 2 bolts on its cover. When he looked at the spot, now vacated by you, he noticed you left a wrench on the ground. Walking towards it, he bent at the waist, picking it up and examining it. Carved into the handle were some initials, he assumed must be yours. 

  “It seems Tiny is smarter than you are Goggles,” Cid said with an eye roll, walking to the backroom, leaving the clones with the two regulars who awkwardly watched the interaction. 

  “I did not mean to appear rude-” Tech sighed, fingers probing his temples as Omega looked at Ketch. 

  “You know her don’t you?” Omega asked. 

  “Yeah… I can take it to her place on the way home. She tends to hole herself up there for days at a time-” Ketch explained only to have Omega shake her head. 

  “If you could tell us where it is, I can return it.” The small girl informed the group, immediately having Hunter protest, but Echo nudged him, pointing at Tech. 

  “Fine but take Tech with you,” Hunter realized Echo was alluding to Tech being granted an opportunity to apologize. 

  “I still believe it best to wait until morning given the nature of this town being less than ideal,” Tech protested. 

  “It’ll be fine Tech, we can take them!” Omega said enthusiastically, grabbing his hand and her newly acquired bow. 

  “I’m assuming them to be the metaphorical enemies we may run across?” He sighed, reaching for his helmet but Omega yanked him harder. 

  “Omega my helm-“ he yelped and she kept dragging.

  “It’ll be fine. Besides, if you are going to apologize it’s better to let her see your face when you do so,” omega explained. 

  “Why does seeing my face matter?” He groaned, the two of them coming to the street as Ketch pointed them in the direction of a street, giving them a piece of paper with your shop logo before leaving. 

  “Well, I don’t know. Maybe she’ll think you’re handsome,” Omega spoke with a mischievous grin, still tugging her brother along as he stumbled behind her. 

  “That is rather doubtful,” He told her, sigh passing over his lips as he realized it would likely be the same story he’d known many times at this point. Any time they were on Corrasaunt, they did worse with the presence of Regs, and the few women that glanced their way were always going for Wrecker, Crosshair or Hunter. He had lucked out in some ways, that Echo seemingly did just as bad with women, the two of them only rarely completing the mission so to speak. On the rare instance he did find himself, it usually felt awkward, unsatisfying and with them forgetting his name by morning. Despite being well versed in how to assist women, it always felt forced and against his nature to behave in the more dominant nature most females found appealing. Not that Tech was going to be the one to explain the intricacies of sexual relations to Omega. He was certain via scientific means that she was aware of how the act worked, but beyond that it felt more like a conversation between her and genuinely anyone else. 

  “I think that’s it!” She pointed out, and he raised the crude drawing on a napkin they had acquired that showed the logo of the shop. Above the shop was a light in what he figured to be a small domicile she occupied. 

  “I believe you are correct, however it may be best to attempt entry from the back. It appears there is a set of stairs that lead to-” he began, only to have the girl bound off without him for the alleyway, a slight skip in her step. 

  From within your apartment, you were angrily stomping about, tossing random parts into a crate. Circuit board, wires, tools. Who was he to question your ability to fix the damned machine? Fixing to make your way back to the parlor, you were dead set on proving him wrong. 

  In the midst of your sharp movements a knock at the apartment door startled you, causing you to stumble and ram your toes into the leg of the nearest table. The expletive ringing through the air as you hobbled towards the door, hand on the gun in case some creep had followed you. Pulling up the image display you had installed for security you saw the girl from the parlor and - 

  Door sliding open, you leaned against the frame to prevent putting weight on the throbbing extremity. 

  “Can I help you?” You grumpily scoffed at the pair, the little girl undeterred by your perturbed nature while the Clone, much less confident now glanced around awkwardly, his arms clutching his sides. 

  “We came to return your wrench,” she smiled up at you, her innocent brown eyes sparkling with the low lighting of your flat reflecting. Dammit. 

  “Well, that is unexpectedly kind I suppose. I assume Ketch told you where I live, so why not just let him do it?” You ask, still unsure why she sought you out to return something as simple as a wrench. You had hundreds. Still feeling the pain in your foot, you began to worry that you had actually broken or fractured something, given it had lingered, so as you looked down at the young girl you once again shifted weight, a slight hiss exiting your lips, nearly undetectable, but with the way Tech was scrutinizing you he noticed. 

  “Oh, I just thought that maybe since you and Cid are close, our squad could become friends with you-” Omega began only to have Tech interrupt her, stepping between the two of you. 

  “You are injured,” he bluntly said, gesturing down to your foot. 

  “Yes. I do not get visitors, especially this time of night, and certainly not men who have insulted me coming to my door. The knock startled me,” you hissed out as you straightened up, forcing him to maintain eye contact with you as you glared at him. 

  “Tech did not mean to be rude-” the girl began sensing the shift in hostility between the way you had spoken softly to her and the way tension grew the second Tech spoke up. 

  “I’m sure Tech-” you cut her off and test the waters by using his name before continuing “-doesn’t need you to apologize on his behalf. He’s a big boy. He can do it himself,” You glance down at her before once again turning to face him, arms crossing over your chest. “Unless of course, he isn’t sorry?” You challenge him to speak up with your tone. 

  “I-” she spoke after the beat of silence, only to have the man interrupt her once more. 

  “I believed myself to be perfectly within the bounds of questioning your skillset given the information I had at the time, being your frequent return to the parlor-” He began and you rolled your eyes, back of your head leaning back to meet the frame of the door as you scoffed. 

  “So you came to further insult me.” You said as he paused momentarily to look at you. 

  “No, I was-” Tech began and you waved him off, dismissing him. 

  “Sure sounds that way to me Brown Eyes,” You push off the frame of the door despite the pain in your toe, to get as close to face level as possible, despite his extremely tall frame. “I’ve dealt with enough clones to last a lifetime. And my experience has always been that of arrogant, inconsiderate men who think too highly of themselves and too lowly of me,” you lean in closer to his ear so only he will hear as you whisper, “especially for men who continually failed to finish me off…” 

  Leaning back you smirk watching the realization, possibly even horror cross his features as the tips of his ears burn red. 

  “Omega, go back to Cid’s-” he stuttered out as you laughed. 

  “Not this time of night Tech. Ord Mantell is far from the worst place in the galaxy but that doesn’t mean it's safe for her to navigate alone, especially with what’s on the horizon.” You warned him, eyes glancing up to the sky. 

  “Whatever do you mea-” Tech began, watching in horror as Omega’s hair began to slightly stand up as she giggled, while a large flash of light overhead. 

  “Electrical storms. I am surprised you didn’t note them in whatever archives I suspect someone of your calliber to have examined about Ord Mantell before or shortly after arrival,” You mention, looking down at the young girl. If it was just her, you would have no issue letting Omega in. But the extremely tall trooper wasn’t exactly in your best sights currently. Sighing you step aside, gesturing to come inside. 

  “I have not had proper time to examine known information on-” Tech straightened up as you interrupted him. 

  “Save it. Just get inside. They get downright nasty. I may not like you very much, but I am also not a monster who’s going to let you get electrocuted in the streets,” you scoffed at him, allowing the pair to pass through your flat’s entryway. 

  “Wow you have your own room!” Omega joyfully exclaimed, rushing around to look at your sparse belongings and wall decorations. Some random plans, some spare parts, a few drawings, a few photos - nothing abnormal. 

  “I can’t say I make it up here most nights to actually enjoy it, so apologies about the mess,” you hush out. Tech’s eyes were wide as he had trained them onto the back of your small sofa. Getting closer you realized what caused his nervousness as a bra tossed over the back came into view from where you’d flung it one evening. Crossing ahead of him, you reached for it, shoving it into the cushions. 

  While Tech commed back to the rest of their team, informing them the plan to wait out the normal evening storm here, you double checked no other artifacts of awkward origins to be lingering about. 

  The apartment wasn’t much, just a bed in the back corner behind a screen, a small kitchen with one burner and a stove, along side a small refrigeration unit. A refresher behind a door right at the entry way and some sparse furniture. Mostly, the space just spilled over spare parts from downstairs. 

  “Omega stop meddling in belongings that are not yours, it’s rude” Tech warned as he came back from discussing with Hunter. Omega hadn’t sat still, running around your flat as new items of interest took over her young mind. 

  “She’s fine,” you tell him, leaning against a wall looking at how he shifted slightly under your scrutiny. 

  “Tech look! It’s our ship!” Omega shouted from near one of the windows and he moved towards her, assuming her to be pointing outside in the direction of the hanger, but as he got closer he saw a small model of the standard ship, along with some drawings on the wall. 

  “Well, technically Omega we use a heavily modified version and this is the standard model of the-” he started as you chuckled. 

  “Omicron Class Attack Shuttle,” You tell him, coming to stand on the other side of Tech. 

  “How do you know have these? They are for military usage only, and I calculate the probability of one ending up here during the war to be quite low,” Tech asked. 

  “She helped design it.” Omega mentioned very plainly as Tech’s eyes bulged, turning to the young girl in time to see her fingers pointing towards some of your old sketches, signature and date marked many moons ago. 

  “But that-” he came closer to what Omega pointed out, heart beat picking up as he realized not only had he flown a ship you apparently helped design, but he had just earlier insulted your knowledge of mechanics. 

  “Was a lifetime ago. But yes. I used to live on Coruscant and worked as an engineer. Until contracts for civilians dried up. When I left, my ship had a malfunction and this was the safest planet to land for repairs. Haven’t left.” You explain to him, shifting the weight back off the injured toe, which you could feel swelling in the confines of your sock. 

  “These drawings do not match the standard regulation manuels for the shuttle. Why are they different? They closer resemble some of the modifications I have personally installed.” Tech asked you, fingers tracing over the worn schematics as he noted a different configuration for the main compressor and hyperdrive. 

  “I was only a junior engineer at the time. My supervisor demanded the changes be made no matter how much I protested. That’s why I was surprised to hear you boys fly one, but I suppose your modifications have extended it’s life. The changes my team made were less than ideal. But still, it’s my favorite ship I’ve designed,” you explain, feeling a strange mixture of relief and anxiety to bring up the past like this. 

  “Fascinating… What other ships have you designed if you don’t mind me asking?” he asked without looking up from the remnants of your old work. 

  “There’s a data pad right there on the table. Not sure if it’s got enough power to charge up, but it has the schematics of what I worked on. I’ll warn you, it’s mostly shuttles for senators or higher ranking military personale. Not many are military craft,” you explain pointing out the data pad, noting the Omega had disappeared from view, finding her sitting on the sofa as she smiled and waved to you. 

  Moving across the apartment you sat next to her, curious why 4 clones were traveling with a child. 

  “So what’s your story kid?” You ask her, watching as Tech poked around your small corner of relics from time spent as an engineer, his fingers picking up some of the small models as he continued to flip through the data pad he got working with a small transportable battery pack, muttering out undistinguishable words ever few moments. 

  You split your attention between half listening to Omega’s explanation of how she was a clone like the others to watching Tech’s half smile as he glanced over your old work. Strangely enough when he wasn’t insulting you, he was handsome. Different from other clone’s you’d met in the fact his face was more angularly and thin. Hair and skin lighter in color than the others, he looked so familiar and yet so unique. 

  Suddenly a weight on your shoulder broke you out of the trance you had developed as you stared at Tech, who was still distracted as he propped himself up against the wall. Omega, having fallen asleep, was leaning on you as her breathing evened out. 

  You knew sleep wouldn’t come with the strange clones in your apartment so you carefully lifted her, as she weighted very little, and began to move her towards your bed. Least you could do was let her sleep on a real bed for the first time in a while. Tech’s eyes flashed when he saw the movement, not saying anying as he watched you carry her.  Setting down the datapad he realized you would not be able to move the privacy screen while your arms were occupied, so he adjusted it out of the way as you bent a bit to set the young girl on the bed, pulling the recently washed covers up around her. 

  Omega’s eyes cracked open slightly as she smiled and snuggled down into the bed before drifting back to sleep, the two of you bearing witness to how sweet she looked as sleep overtook her young body. Nodding your head he stepped aside, allowing you both to leave the designated area for the bed and he once again closed the screen. 

  “You did not have to do that, my calculations show that the storm is likely to pass within the next few hours,” Tech whispered as you shrugged. 

  “When was the last time she slept in a real bed?” You challenged. 

  “Point taken. I do have several questions on various ships I examined while looking through your datapad, but I feel it inappropriate to ask given I insulted you earlier,” He said in a hushed breath as you nodded. 

  “So how do you plan to rectify that hotshot?” You aren’t sure why you felt the need to shift your tone to playful as you nudged his shoulder, forgetting he had on plastoid as it made contact and immediately stung.

  “I am uncertain. I do not have data to base interactions such as this upon in order to determine the best possible course of action,” He whispered out as you sighed, going to put on the kettle. 

  “It’s as simple as saying you are apologetic,” you explain to him calmly, realizing now that perhaps Tech lacked some social awareness despite that big brain of his.  You were used to it in the field of engineers. Kind people who weren’t always the most adept at dealing with emotions.  

  Tech’s eyes watched as you began to heat up water on the stove, the slight hobble in your step still apparent. 

  “I apologize for being rude. You are still injured from earlier,” he nodded to your foot. 

  “I’ll live. But thank you for your apology. Tea? Calf? What’s your poison?” You ask him nodding to the water. 

  “I don’t think there’s any reason to trouble you with either on my behalf,” he said simply as you rolled your eyes. 

  “It's no trouble at all. Besides with how nasty those electrical storms are you are going to want to get comfortable. Feel free to take off the plastoid, I can’t imagine it’s pleasant to be in all the time,” you tell him. 

  He simply stands, not wanting to argue, carefully removing the pieces and stacking them in a neat pile on the floor. You take out two mugs from the cabinet, deciding that he seemed like more of a cheap ration calf man, much like yourself, so you spoon it into the cups and pour the water on top before setting one down in front of him before grabbing the sugar from the pantry and setting it out. 

  “Thank you,” Tech mentioned, ignoring the sugar and just began to sip it as is. 

  “No problem, so these questions?” you came to sit on the adjacent barstool, nodding towards the schematics he had pulled up. 

  Tech felt his stomach drop seeing you so close, leaning over the holopad ready to answer his questions when only an hour ago you were content to ring his neck out. Having someone to discuss his area of expertise with was rare, especially not someone so pretty… 

  ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

  Several rotations and jobs for Cid under the Batch’s belt, you’d formed a very unique relationship with the clone to say the least. When getting along, things were great. However, you still occasionally found yourself frustrated with his affinity for saying things, while true, that came off as callus or dismissive. 

  Such as the most recent issue. Tech let you poke around the modifications he’d made to their ship in some down time, during which you pointed out a better alternative for the power cufflinks. This led the man to get defensive, jumping to an explanation that once again challenged your expertise. Leading to a speedy exit from the hanger and ignoring his feeble attempts at knocking on your door, Tech left Ord Mantell to meet Rex on Bracca with you still very much angry at him. 

  He’d sent a message, to which you ignored on the private com channel he set up for you, as you warned the boys that while you adored Cid, she wasn’t particularly known for being trustworthy. Despite your occasional frustration at times with Tech’s less than appealing behavior, you didn’t want anything bad to happen to them. 

  Going off-world for an unknown amount of time to remove a device that might cause us to lose bodily autonomy and certain cognitive functions that were part of our programming. It is imperative we do so, however there are unknowns with such a procedure. Things may not go according to plan. ~ Tech

  You didn’t respond, set in your stubbornness as you ignored his message that matter of factly stated his plans. Your largest complaint about the man, despite his very kind nature overall, was that he struggled admitting he was wrong or had hurt your feelings. 

  After a few hours you received another ping. 

  Landed and waiting to meet our contact. ~ Tech

  You sigh, continuing to twist the bolt holding together the maintenance droid someone recently allowed you to have, trying to fix the pile of scrap so you could gain some relief with fulfilling projects. 

  Another ping came in less than an hour later. 

  I apologize for once again hurting your pride. I am unused to dealing with those who are not my brothers, and they have acclimated themselves to my more undesirable traits. It is not an excuse, but please know that I am attempting to correct such habits in the name of maintaining our friendship, as it is something I am coming to value. ~ Tech

  You look at the screen. He was trying his best and you could recognize that. It softened the anger you felt. You weren’t fully ready to discuss with him however, leaving the message open on your tablet, losing yourself in the work in front of you as your mind tried to form a proper response. 

  [Incoming message from Tech]

  Wrecker’s inhibitor chip activated. Things were more intense than I initially anticipated. He did not hesitate to try and harm us. Omega was frightened by his actions, however no one was injured beyond him briefly rendering me unconscious. That being said, I am fine. We are waiting for him to wake up. Still unsure the safety of this procedure as his vitals have not stabilized. I will continue to keep you posted even if you are neglecting to respond. ~ Tech

  Staring at the screen the sudden concern for the safety of their team outweighed you silly argument with Tech, fingers forming a response, and hitting send despite the several crafted responses you had spent the last hours mentally cataloging. 

  From the ruins of the jedi cruiser on Bracca, Tech was surprised as he saw an incoming response from you, sitting up immediately as he read it. 

  I am sorry for not responding. I needed time to mentally process your apology, as your words do hurt sometimes. That being said, we do not have to discuss things further. I hope Omega is doing better. I cannot imagine how frightening that must have been for her. Tell her she's got a girl's only night when she returns filled with all the street food her heart desires. Let me know when Wrecker wakes up. Please try and stay safe. Drinks are on me when you all get back to Ord Mantell. 

  Tech smiled down at the message, leaning back some in the seat. He didn’t want to push his luck by responding to you. You were kind enough to offer an olive branch and accept his apology once more.

  Soon Wrecker woke up, prompting the others to take turns removing their chips. Tech wasn’t sure why he felt the need to wait to be last. Perhaps he wanted confirmation that things would be alright? Perhaps he was more nervous than he anticipated. But when it was finally his turn to lay down, his last thought before drifting off was of a pretty mechanic back on their new home waiting for him. 

  ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

  “This is the Havoc-Marauder - *static* please, come in,” the vocal element of your com began blaring through the otherwise quiet shop as you continued to repair projects. Boosting the signal you reached down to the tablet, pressing the button, trying to figure out why the boys seemed so distressed. 

  Tech had informed you that they were all able to remove the inhibitor chips successfully and that they were going to attempt to recover valuable assets from the ship before their departure. Not worried about the plan, you were surprised to hear the fear in their voices as you waited for a response. 

  “The empire showed up and in the chaos of it all, a bounty hunter named Cad Bane took Omega and injured Hunter. We are trying to locate where they may have taken her, since it was off-world. Do you have any contacts who may know more? We can’t get a hold of Cid-” Echo spoke through the coms instead of Tech. 

  “Actually, I have more information that may be useful” came Tech’s faded voice from the back of the transmission, as you allowed him to speak. “Omega is more valuable than we realized,” Tech spoke, leading a winded Hunter to question why, as you held your breath waiting for information that may be useful. 

  “I further analyzed Omega’s genetic profile and discovered she has pure, first generation DNA-” Tech spoke, and while you weren’t fully versed in cloning or the Kamino process, you assumed that made her more valuable than the others. As Tech continued to explain for the others to understand, you reached over for the long range transmitter and sent a message to an old friend, who quickly read and began typing. 

  “If she’s vital to the Kaminoans cloning operation, they must have put the bounty on her-” you heard Echo say, confirming the suspicions you already had. 

  “So how do we find this bounty Hunter?” Wrecker grumbled just in time for you to speak up. 

  “I may have an idea, if anyone’s up for it-” you offer, wishing more than anything the boys were in range to see them instead of just hear them. Something about putting eyes on them would’ve been a comfort, but you’d settle for their voices. 

  “That is why we contacted you, so please,” Hunter mentioned. 

  “Well, I had a friend back when I was on Coruscant. She worked closely with the cloning operations medical staff, and was transferred to Coruscant at the start of the war. She said there’s several decommissioned Kaminoan facilities throughout the galaxy. If the Kaminoans are the one’s after Omega, shouldn’t they want a secure location that only they are aware of? At the very least, it’s a starting point. She was able to inform me of 3 she knew about. Two in close proximity to your location. The other is closer to Ord Mantell if you wish for me to check it out-” you explain only to have Tech cut you off. 

  “Negative. With a bounty hunter as dangerous as Cad Bane I do not wish for you to go anywhere near that facility. Transmit the coordinates and we shall examine the closer one’s first-” he said. 

  “If Omega is at that facility, you all will miss her transfer between the bounty hunter and Kaminoans. That’s not worth chancing it. I can decide what risks I wish to undertake on my own-” your voice raises to accommodate the frustration you feel.

  “Regardless it is not a job you should undertake given your skillset is not that of combat,” he tells you, the others growing silent as you dismiss his concerns. 

  “I am transmitting the coordinates. See you all when you get back. Let me know if something happens.” You state bluntly, and as Tech goes to question you once more, you cut the call, not wanting to hear his concerns. You didn’t want Omega injured or removed from her brothers. He wasn’t going to stop you from looking. That wasn’t Tech’s call to make.

  Quickly rushing around the messy flat, you collected what you through you may need before going down to the hanger which held your rusty bucket of bolts. It wasn’t much, but it would do. Rarely having time to work on it, you knew the ship needed a massive overhaul, but that could come after you saved Omega. 

  It was when you came out of hyperspace in your small shuttle that you received another transmission. 

  “Omega was able to get away from the bounty hunter but we aren’t sure for how long she’ll be free. She is at the location closer to Ord Mantell, in the Lido system but we are uncertain if we will reach it in time-” Hunter spoke feverishly as you looked down at the planet’s surface. 

  “Then it’s a good thing I am already here,” you tell them, flying close by to the facility seeing three ships already landed, meaning the transfer was happening or soon to be over, and that a possible third party was involved.

  “I thought I cautioned you to stay on Ord Mantell where it was safe,” Tech said, anger laced in his tone as you set the ship down on an abandoned platform, reaching for the baster you kept on you at all times. You may not be the best at fighting, but you did have the ability to cloak, as you developed a small experimental hood that utilized the same technology as your cloaked shuttle. It would have to be enough to locate Omega and hope you all could slip away from the bounty hunter before someone realized you were here.

  “You did. But it’s a good thing I elected to ignore it. Do hurry, I will try and find Omega or at the very least stall until you all can reach the system. Over-” you called, turning off the device so that the sound would not give you away and slipped outside. 

  You didn’t make it very far before you heard shouting and Omega fell onto the platform adjacent to your own after awkwardly riding atop a small droid - possibly a techno service droid but it was too far away to notice. Rushing towards her before she could get very far, you removed the hood disguising your head. 

  “Omega!” you shouted, drawing her attention as she turned and quickly ran back in your direction, a small limp in her step which must have occurred at some point during her escape.

  “You came for me!” she leapt into your arms, as you reached for a small multitool from your belt to cut her binders. 

  “Of course I did, your brothers aren’t that far behind, we need to get out of her-” you started, only to be cut off as you watched in horror. The droid, which Omega was running from, had activated a panel on the platform your ship was on, causing it to fall into the ocean depths below, preventing your escape.

  “I just paid that off,” you cried watching it fall as Omega dragged you down a small set of stairs, noting the pods for escaping the Kaminan facility just ahead. 

  “I’m sure Tech will help you fix a new one, we need to hurry, the bounty hunter who tried to get me on Pantora is here fighting the one who took me. We don’t have much time” she mentioned, the two of you cramming into the pod before one of the bounty hunters could emerge. 

  Just as the pod was activated however, the little droid who destroyed your shuttle appeared in the viewport, demanding to know where you were going. Omega didn’t respond, angrily typing until the pod launched, her falling into your lap and you held her tightly and the droid flew out of the view. 

  “Do we have any control over this thing?” You demanded to know, the little girl turning in your lap as she shook her head no, loud blaring of an emergency alarm filling the pod. 

  “Alright, we aren’t going to panic. If we survive the landing your brothers will be here soon enough okay? So just hold on-” you try to reassure her, running a gentle hand through her hair as you continue to fall towards the ocean. Not sure if you even believed your attempt at calming her, you didn’t want your final moments to be filled with fear before the unknown of what came after all this. 

  “I’m scared-” she said quietly, eyes closing as she snuggled into you. You didn’t respond, pulling her close, the scent of blaster fire lingering on her frame. You were going to be okay. The boys weren’t close behind. Everything would be fine-

  Suddenly a loud thud came over the top of the pod, stalling the descent. Pulling the blaster you looked up, pushing Omega as far behind you as it would allow in the cramped space, ready to shoot if it was the bounty hunter who’d locked onto the escape pod. When it opened however, and the smoke cleared, Wrecker leaned his face into view. 

  “Omega?! Are you in there?” He shouted, looking down as his eyes landed on the both of you. Putting the gun back at your side you lifted her into his waiting arms. Once she was being lifted out of the pod, you began climbing the small ladder, as Wrecker welcomed her back. 

  “Tech your girlfriend is in here too-” he said cheerfully, Echo reaching down to help pull you out as well. 

  “Wrecker that is inappropriate as we are not courting-” Tech yelled from the cockpit as you found footing inside their ship. Hunter, who was still heavily bandaged turning to you as Omega greeted Echo from within Wrecker’s arms. 

  “You came to help. Why?” He asked you, pain still evident in his voice from whatever injuries he sustained. 

  “Because she needed it.  I didn’t really do much if I am honest, just covered her exit-” you explained as Omega solemnly looked at you, tears welling in her eyes. 

  “I am so sorry about your ship,” she said as you shook your head. 

  “Don’t worry about it kid. Ships are replaceable. You aren’t.” You told her, ruffling her hair as she made her way to Hunter. Suddenly the waterworks started and he checked on her as you moved back, to allow them a reunion. You couldn’t imagine how frightening it must have been for her the last few days. 

  “Thank you for helping us find her. We would not have been able to do so in a timely manner had it not been for you.” Echo complimented.

  “No need to thank me,” you began, only to have a clearing throat behind you prevent you from speaking further. Tech was leaning up against the wall leading into the cockpit, his face turned completely to the side, facing the control panel. 

  “If you’ll excuse me-” you told Echo, following Tech's stomping footsteps as he led you into the cockpit, promptly shutting the door behind you to allow privacy. 

  “Before you berate me can you at least-” you started, only to feel arms pull you, quite awkwardly, into a plastoid covered chest. 

  His helmet was off. You could tell by the way his breath ruffled your hair gently as he leaned his face down along the top of your head. Once the initial shock wore off, your arms moved behind him, tightening around his back in that section between his armor and utility belt, feeling the warmth as his body gave off from beneath the black suit. 

  Sure he was a bit musky from having gone a few rotations without a refresher to clean up, but he was here, solid and strong. Under the lingering scent of sweat, ash, and grime you could smell that GAR issued soap they kept on board, which always clung to him and became apparent when you leaned in to see the datapad over his shoulder. 

  “Thank you. Despite being reckless, your actions and intel were able to help us retrieve Omega,” he whispered against your hairline, his lips barely brushing the skin there as he spoke. The featherlike contact, making you shiver, goosebumps raising along your skin. 

  Not anticipating his gratitude, you didn’t respond initially, soaking up the rare affection as you noticed Tech didn’t often seem to enjoy people in his personal space. Any time you got too close he’d clear his throat, shifting away. Any time you’d accidentally brush your fingers against his own, he’d wipe his gloved palms over his thighs as if to remove any traces of you. This jump to initiating contact catching you off guard. 

  “I don’t regret anything. She’s safe. That’s all that matters,” you tell him, fingers finding the area just below the chest plate as you rub your hand up and down his back slowly, as if to test the waters. He doesn’t say anything, even if it did bother him, as you remain there for a moment longer. 

  “While Omega is a large priority of mine, I argue that your safety is also important,” he said, uncertainty laced in his voice. 

  “Well, that’s good to hear. I am glad you all are safe. I was worried when you said Wrecker temporarily went rogue.” You admit to him, removing your cheek from the harsh chestplate, putting your forehead there instead. Removing your arms from behind him, you prepared to end the embrace, despite not really wanting to. 

  “We are fine,” he said softly, noticing you pulling back as he dropped his hands slowly. 

  “Really? All here now? No missing limbs-” you start to tease as you pull away, finally catching a glimpse of him as you chuckle. “Oh. Missing hair though it would seem-” you point up, noticing the way he now sported a shaved patch on almost the entirety of one side of his head, where a small bandage covered a section just back from his temple. 

  Tech’s gloved fingers immediately sought out the side of his head, grazing the patch as he looked down, almost embarrassingly as his arm fell back to his side. 

  “Rather unfortunate but it’ll grow back. Although, Echo did take off more than I believe to have been necessary. Small price to pay for the removal of those chips. After seeing what it did to Wrecker, I do not mind having the peace of knowing that it will not affect me in the future-” He began to ramble, only to trail off as he noticed you lean up some, inspecting his hair with an unreadable expression. “Something wrong?” he asked, uneasiness setting in.

  Not responding, you looked closer. Reaching your hand up gently, fingertips tracing a similar path that his own had, his eyes growing wide as you inspected the short hairs now on that side of his head, which contradicted the opposing side, where it remained slicked back. Small smile on your face as your hand fell away, but you kept close proximity to his stunned face. 

  “Not at all. I don’t hate it actually,” you slyly smile as his eyebrows shoot up in response. 

  “I find that hard to believe-” he states plainly as his eyes drift away momentarily before coming back to search for the truth. A part of him partly expects you to be playfully teasing him, as he’d come to accept that as part of your personality.

  “Be that as it may, if I were you, I’d consider keeping it,” you tell him honestly, eyes glancing back to his own from within the confines of his goggles. 

  “Really?” he pressed, uncertain as he imagined it looked horrid, since he’d only felt around for it with the chaos that persisted after they removed the chips. 

  “I like it. It’s rugged in a way that is quite handsome,” you tell him honestly, stepping back from the almost trance you were in caused by the change in his appearance. Your cheeks burning red at the honesty you had spoken. The quick departure from his personal space made you miss the mirroring pair of pink tinted cheeks on the soldier. 

  “Oh,” he said, almost surprised as you turned away to rejoin the others. When you opened the door back to the main hull you barely heard Tech’s soft voice say, “fascinating…” as his fingers once again grazed his short hair with a childlike grin gracing his face. 

  ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

  You were going to kill Cid. That was, assuming the Pykes didn’t kill you first. Not only had she conspired to have the bad batch steal spice to get rid of Roland Durand, who had moved in and taken the city in their absence. Fortunately your shop, not valuable without your knowledge of how to use the spare parts, had been spared, but not Cid’s. 

  When things had gone south, they lost the spice in an old mine shaft filled with a hive of irlings. Returning to the parlor, Omega were held in order to make the boys co-operate, and yourself to make Cid. 

  Hands bound next to the Devaronian male who instigated the whole situation, you couldn’t fully fault his anxiety. If the batch wasn’t able to recover the spice, you were as good as dead. So was Omega. Which is why you put your trust in them, praying to the maker Tech could figure out a solution that left you all to walk away. 

  You tried to remove the image of Tech’s very angry face as the leader of the Pykes told them that Omega and you would remain with them as collateral, his eyes snapping to yours as his hand reached for the pistol on his hip and held it up ready to fire without a second thought. Something about it was so incredibly protective. As someone who’d been on their own for such a long time, it made your stomach swarm with butterflies. 

  “Don’t try it. They’ll kill you,” Roland warned, your eyes snapping to Omega who was eying an abandoned gun on the floor near where you were all bound. 

  “I hate to agree but he’s right,” you whispered, gesturing for her to stay put. If there’s one thing you knew, it was to not mess with the Pykes. 

  “If your friends don’t return with the spice, we’re all dead. That’s what happens when you meddle in other people’s business,” he said very pessimistically. 

  “Us? You’re the one who took Cid’s parlor from her-” Omega began to argue, and not wishing to participate in their spat, you leaned your head back.

  Ever since you all had rescued Omega from the bounty hunter, things had been different with you and Tech. Not incredibly so. He resumed the distance physically he always kept between you. It seemed he truly didn’t wish to invade your space and kept you from doing the same. That being said, there had not been an argument to date. Not even a slip of tongue from him that indicated a lack in your skills. 

  A part worried that he regretted it, or was possibly trying to keep you from making another advancement. You aren’t sure why you had complimented him, and despite the positive reaction it seemed to warrant, things had gotten somewhat stagnant. More awkward when you were alone, as if he was unsure. At this rate you left it in his court to decide. You made up your mind some time ago in that cockpit that you had feelings for the man, regardless of if he returned them. 

  You hoped he did. After all, he had decided to keep his hair buzzed down on the sides once it began growing back in, since you mentioned that you found it attractive, the shorter hair accentuating his more prominent features like his sharp jaw or chiseled cheekbones. That’s got to count for something, right? And when they were away on missions, he still messaged when he could check in or chat on long flights. You assumed that was a good sign. 

  There had also been an uptick in time he spent at your shop or flat. Sure, the others did as well. Omega often came by since she needed escapes from her brothers. Wrecker loving to come pilfer food from your pantry. Echo occasionally needed help with malfunctions in his mechanical arm or legs. Hunter was the one you saw the least, and never alone, but he tended to keep to himself. However Tech was there at seemingly every free moment he had - fixing stuff alongside you in the shop, occasionally reading up on manuals late at night in your flat as you briefly spoke about ideas for projects to help their jobs with Cid. 

  Just as nightfall began you all were ushered to the hanger, the Marauder visible you were pushed outside, landing on your knees next to Rolland and Omega. The boys exited the ship, Cid on their tails as Wrecker began to unload the spice. Glancing up at Tech’s worried eyes you felt relief knowing that the hard part was over. 

  Once Wrecker unloaded the last crate, one of the Pyke’s came behind you, knife in hand as you grew nervous. The Pykes weren’t galactically known for playing fair, and with Omega off to the side, you worried that they might punish you for Cid’s rash actions. 

  Tech watched, fingers reaching for his weapon as he saw the fear in your eyes. You made eye contact with him once more as you waited for whatever outcome may present itself, hoping that they would do their best to take care of you if it got ugly. Feeling movement on your wrists, you were relieved when they cut the bindings, pushing you forward. 

  “Since the spice has been returned, the matter between us is resolved,” they spoke, as you reached forward, Tech’s hand pulling you next to him as Hunter grabbed Omega. From over Cid’s head, you watched as they weren’t finished with the Devaronian, and you didn’t really care watching him deal with their anger. 

  “Are you unharmed?” Tech’s eyes found yours as you stabilize yourself, nodding to him. From the corner of your eye the others attempted to defuse the situation, to no avail as Roland had one of his horns shorn and the Pykes left. 

  The way Cid turned, offering everyone drinks as if she hadn’t looped you all into her mess, angered you. She’d almost gotten you, Omega, and the other’s killed because she wasn’t strong enough to stand up for herself in the face of a gangster. 

  Fire and brimstone in your blood, you felt your hands shaking as you let go of Tech’s arm. “I just want to go home,” you said, pushing his armored chest and began stomping away from the others, who were heading inside the Parlor, excited things had worked out. 

  Tech watched your retreating form, understanding your frustration but confused as to why you hadn’t wanted to celebrate with the others. After all, things had worked out, no one was injured. His voice calling your name wasn’t enough to halt your exit from the hanger, as you continued walking away from him. 

  Tech shot a glance at the others before diverting from their path to follow you back to your apartment, quicking his strides as he attempted to gain on you. You weren’t really sure why you kept on, ignoring his calls for you to wait. Perhaps anger at Cid. Maybe frustration at the situation. Or a feeling you couldn't quite put your finger on - either way you kept walking, rushing up the stairs as he was hot on your heels. 

  Just as you opened the door to your flat with a shoosh, Tech shoved his foot in the door before you could close it, pushing his way inside before you could lock him out. A bit presumptuous, but a small part of you felt relief seeing him make it in before you shut the world out. 

  “You heard me calling after you,” he said bluntly. 

  “I did,” you tell him, catching your breath from running, scowling when you realized that he didn’t have the same issue. Curse those genetically modified lungs. 

  “So why did you keep going?” He asked you, staring down at you. His helmet still held in his hands as you shifted your weight to the other leg, uncertain how to answer. 

  “I am not sure,” you tell him honestly. He pauses, before speaking. 

  “Do you wish for me to leave?” 

  You shake your head. 

  “Do you wish for me to stay with you?” 

  You nod. 

  He lets out a deep breath, setting the helmet on the table right near the door and probing his temple with his extremely long fingers. 

  “Should we just sit? Talk? What can I do? I need direction on how you wish to proceed,” he quietly begged as he set down the heavy backpack and removed the utility belt. It wasn’t the first time he’d been here and easily began stripping down to his blacks. 

  You didn’t respond, using your toes to put pressure on each of your heels as you slipped out of the worn leather boots and made quiet footfalls to your bed, sitting on it as you looked out the window. The electrical storm your devices predicted would be starting any minute. Despite the more destructive tendency they had, you thoroughly enjoyed watching them - even if they knocked out the power temporarily from time to time. 

  Tech watched you from near the entryway, your legs tucked up near your chest as you stared out the window, chin resting on your knees. Following behind you he made his way to your bed, neglecting how uncertain it felt as he lowered himself onto the comfortable surface. Never having sat on it before, he was surprised the way he sank into the plush material of your duvet. Sitting at the end of the bed, while you had propped yourself up near the wall, there was still a sizable distance between you both.  

  “We don’t have to talk if you do not wish, but may I try something-” he asked and you nodded, not tearing your eyes away from the first few flashes of light. 

  Gentle hands pried your shoulders away from where your legs were pushed up, as he pulled you back with ease. Positioning his body between yours and the wall, Tech arranged you between his long legs, leaning you back once more onto his chest. Arms dancing along your waist, he wasn’t sure if he should fully hold you or allow you to just rest against him, but something internal told him that this position was appropriate given the circumstances. 

  You made the call for him, pulling his arms up across your chest, sinking back into him more, eyes drifting close momentarily as he brushed the hair from your right shoulder to over your left. Soon his nose found the back of your neck as he leaned into your body, picking up the faint hint of the perfume you must’ve applied there hours ago. 

  “I am sorry that you got caught in the crossfire between Cid, Roland and the Pykes,” he whispered against your skin. 

  “It’s Cid’s fault, not yours,” you whisper, enjoying the way his exhales felt against the delicate skin of your neck. He doesn’t speak immediately, pulling you tighter to his chest as you feel his heartbeat along your back.  

  “Had we not agreed to assist in stealing the spice to begin with, none of it would not have occurred the way in which it did,” Tech admitted the error in judgment which nearly cost you and Omega your lives. 

  “You were trying to help out Cid-” you tried to reason.

  “Which would’ve destroyed me if you had gotten hurt due to my poor decision to do so,” he whispered. 

  “Why is that Tech?” you whisper back, eyes watching the electrical storm pick up outside the window. 

  Once again he let the silence linger. Nervous to speak or not wanting to hurt your feelings with his response - you couldn’t be quite sure. Turning slightly, so that your shoulder rested against his chest to look at his face for answers. With the reflection of the window you couldn’t see his eyes.

  Deciding to be brave if he wasn’t, you lifted your hands, fingers probing the edges of the goggles that always adorned his face as you quietly asked, “may I?” He only nodded as you lifted them very carefully up and over his head, setting them down on the bed next to you. His eyes had closed when you started to lift them, so you had yet to see his eyes unobstructed. Not pushing him you turned back towards the window, allowing him to speak when he gathered the nerve. 

  “I don’t like the thoughts of you getting hurt because I-” he started to murmur once more, a baited breath entering your lungs and staying there as you waited for him to continue. The air stinging your lungs as you realized he had paused once more, softly blowing it back out past your lips as you repeated the action once more. 

  Tech gathered as much nerve as humanly possible. He could easily be thrust into high stress scenarios. Battles? No issues. Firefights with gangsters? He always had a plan. But when it came to you? He had no baseline to establish it from. Sure he had been intimate before with strangers when the opportunity presented itself. He found it to usually lead to an unsatisfying place in which he was pretending to be something he wasn’t. Usually forcing himself to touch them despite feeling repulsed at being that close with someone. But when he was in proximity to you things were different. 

  That spark of electricity often cited as being drawn out by a member of the opposite gender was present, catching him off guard every time your fingers crossed paths. He found your sweet aroma to be so intoxicating. The flash of your smile, utterly adorable. The face you made when you concentrated on a repair - where your tongue darted out of the corner of your full lips - to be nearly stunting. Everything about you he found captivating. 

  I care for you. 

  You almost didn’t hear him whisper it, as the volume was so minimal it barely passed over his lips audibly. Turning to face him once more, you saw the nervous eyes of a caged animal, finally unguarded by those yellow frames. 

  Brown. But not dark and unwavering like Hunters or tinged with the grayish hue of Echo’s. Wreckers one good eye had a more blue undertone and Omega’s were nearly hazel. But Tech  - Tech’s resembled honey. His iris illuminated with each flash of lightning from outside the window. And then suddenly, with a bright flash, the power went out, leaving you both in the dark as you continued to remain in his arms. Only sound being the matching pair of unsteady breathing.

  “Tech…?” you whispered, while he looked back down at your anticipating face. 

  “Yes?” Tech questioned, knots in his stomach as you hadn’t responded to his admission of caring for you. 

  “Would you do something for me?” you posed the question. 

  Tech was certain you were going to kick him out, despite the storm, or at the very least make him go downstairs to leave you alone. Your silence only told him that you were likely formulating a way to let him down gently because surely someone one like you wouldn’t want anything to do with him. He was a clone. Clones stole your promising future. He frequently was unaware how to speak to you. His frustrations occasionally came out poorly as his jealousy for your knowledge plagued his mind. His blunt nature, often at odds with your proper socialization. You were perfect and he was just a copy of a man who was long gone, and a relic of an army that had been corrupted. 

  Distracted by his racing mind he almost didn’t hear you whisper it at the conclusion of his small nod. 

  Kiss me. 

  Tech did a double take, his attention snapping to you as your eyes locked with his own.  He couldn’t stop the lump that formed in his throat as your angelic eyes blinked up at him through your lashes. The distance between you insurmountable as, despite the seated position, he would always tower over you. His gangly limbs and narrow frame creating such a divergence between your sizes.

  “You want me to-” 

“Kiss me. Please.” You begged, eyes trying to catch his own to reassure him it is what you wanted. 

  You were growing concerned with the way his mind seemed to still be running astray. Perhaps he meant he cared for you in a similar way that he did Omega. Oh maker, what if he meant it that way. Suddenly you were glad the lights were off. That way he couldn’t see your crumbling self esteem and wavering confidence. You were certain when he spoke the way he had, paired with the many small moments mounting over the last months, that he liked you. Only now to realize he most likely hadn’t meant it in a non romantic way. 

  “Tech, I am so-” you began only to have his warm, ungloved hand find purchase on the side of your cheek, lips meeting yours in fury. 

  The first thing you noticed, when the shock wore off, was that his lips were so incredibly soft. How could a soldier, constantly on the run from danger, be this plush and inviting? That sharp wit and wise energy always spilling past these lips - the same ones that insulted you when you first met - now on your own in a heated embrace. 

  Soft sighs exiting your lips, entering his mouth as Tech opened his own to invite tongues to this lovely endeavor. He had hardly needed to caress your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue before you both fell into that wonderful song and dance of exploring each other’s mouths. 

  Breaking away due to the unfortunate need for air, you tried to see him the best you could with the limited lighting situation. His hand falling to the side of your neck instead of on your cheek, he pulled your forehead towards his, resting his nose against your own. Eyes searching yours for any sign to end this interaction. 

  “You are the most enchanting woman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting,” he admitted with a small chuckle, almost embarrassed of the words falling out of his mouth. Surely they resembled the words of a love drunken fool, not a soldier and engineer such as himself.  Perhaps that is because they came from his heart, not his logical mind. 

  “Please do that again,” you beg him, a smile working its way on your face as you trail a hand up his chest, finding stability by wrapping it around the back of his neck. Your breathing having leveled out from the heated exchange, just as he instigated another one. 

  This time, he didn’t wait to request entrance to your mouth, tongue slipping in almost immediately. As soon as he began kissing you once more, your hand traveled up into the brown locks that sat just against his collar, tangling in them, separating the obnoxious gel he insisted on using to keep it from matting inside his helmet. It made you long to see him first thing in the morning or right after getting out of the refresher - when his hair was wild and carefree. 

  That wasn’t the only thing that you wanted to come undone as he effortlessly pulled you from being on the bed in front of him into his lap, legs going around his thighs as you perched yourself against him. Tech’s wandering hands began as soon as your bottom left the bed, his large palm tracing over the skin of your clothed ass, caressing it before his fingers flexed, digging into the roundness as he groaned into your mouth. 

  Tech, despite his reservations for touching anyone, had always enjoyed the roundness of an ass under his feelings. Especially an unclothed one. His brothers, arguing for a pair of breasts as more appealing, but he would always remain on the team that supported his large hands grabbing the meat of an ass.  

  For someone so lanky, and much thinner than his brothers, Tech certainly had a hidden strength to his frame that you hadn’t anticipated. Briefly on display as he lifted you into his lap with ease, he continued to further prove his ability as his demanding hands found your hips and squeezed, bicep flexing as your free hand landed on his left arm. 

  You aren’t sure what possessed you to do it either, but breaking away from his lips as you trailed kisses over his cheekbones until you found the skin of his earlobe, nibbling it between your teeth all while he groaned. Watching the always poised and put together pilot turn to putty under your mouth and body, making that wet spot of arousal in your undergarments grow by the second. 

  As you continued to trail the nipping to his neck, you mumbled out something about his shirt being in the way, fingers reaching under the top near his lower back as you tried in vain to remove it from his body. Pulling back, since he had developed that unexplainable sense of urgency at your kissing, he stripped it away with skilled ease, tossing it to the floor with reckless abandon. 

  It was odd. When he normally removed the parts of his armor in your flat, they were carefully and methodically unlatched and organized in a neat pile. Now, rocking into his lap as you stared down into his wild eyes, the dynamic propelled into a direction you never could’ve dreamed. Something in the pair of you had shifted from just awkwardly maneuvering around each other to actively lighting that fuse within your bodies. 

  He didn’t allow you the chance to examine his unclothed top however, as he quickly reattached your lips to his, pulling you closer as his head tipped ever so slightly to the side, accommodating the clashing of teeth and tongues in the fury. Still anxious to know exactly what he was like under that thick black suit or vest he always wore, you allowed your fingers to act as your eyes in the moment, all while getting such a lovely taste of his mouth while you exhaled through your nose which was harshly pressed against his cheek from the intensity the kisses you’d both developed.

  Your hands trailed along his flamed but extremely solid body. Fingers finding purchase along the defined lines of his chest, and the valley that separated two pectorals that were much harsher than you would’ve anticipated given his much thinner frame. Sliding down, that same hand counted six definite sections in his abdomen as well, as you removed your lips from his in hast to such a much needed breath of air while your mind stilled. 

  Eyes finally seeing just how wonderful tanned skin of a soldier could be, you enjoyed the lovely view of dark hair trailing down just below his navel and into tight pants. The nearly vacant patch of hair along his chest meaning he either removed it or didn’t have it wasn’t a bother - you didn’t really love overly hairy men any way - as you gasp. He was the perfect blend of scars, moles, muscles, and… tattoos? 

  The chuckle that tore from your throat at the sight of black ink along his skin, was met with that ever so quizzical eyebrow as he flushed at your laugh. 

  “I must admit that laughter at the sight of one’s nakedness does not instill confidence,” he noted as you shook your head. 

  “I hadn’t expected you to have tattoos, it was more of a shock than a jest,” you comment, sliding back ever so slightly while remaining on his lap to get a good view. 

  “Why would you assume I would refrain from body modifications? You have seen Hunter’s face, and you’ve heard me mention our brother Crosshair-” he started as you placed your index finger along the seam of his lip, effectively silencing him with a sultry stare and the simple action. 

  “You just seem so much more straight laced than your brothers, I hadn’t expected you to cover yourself in something as trivial as artwork. But, that being said, I can’t help but find it so incredibly alluring…” you lean down to the simple ‘99’ tattooed along the same shoulder his armor detailed a similar marking, lips familiarizing yourself with the lines as you pulled back. 

  “I can assure you, despite my reserved nature, I am hardly straight laced, as you say,” he quipped, relinquishing the time he allowed you to study the marks in his bronze skin. He’d let you examine them some other time, possibly even with explanations of their origins. Right now, he was growing impatient. 

  Pulling you forward by the back of your neck, he changed his mind at the last moment, deciding that your collar bones sticking out of the shifted top you wore looked delectable, sucking them between his teeth as you squirmed along his lap once more. Satisfied with the mark it left in his wake, Tech found himself in your sex-hazed gaze once more. 

  “Tell me that you wish for this to continue. Please. I am not sure I can find it in myself to behave like a gentleman if you wish to stop much further than this,” he groaned, voice strained by a tone you had never heard from him. Tech’s voice was quite different from his brothers. The husky tone he now used, reminiscent of a crackling campfire as it came from the back of his throat, and laced itself into a pleasured groan. 

  “Please. I want this- I want you,” came your whisper into his jaw, lips grazing the sharp bone there.

  I want you. 

  Tech couldn’t remember a time he was truly wanted. Usually his hookups stemmed from mutual boredom or someone realizing his brothers weren’t interested in them. A system of happenstance, of convenience of simple chance and mutual need for release. But to be told that he was desired, and that an intimate connection was wanted with someone he actually cared for on a personal level? A first.  

  And as for you, you wouldn’t admit it out loud but things certainly got lonely on Ord Mantell. Those friends on Coruscant slowly lost interest once you departed, leaving you with just Cid and acquaintances. The rest of your time alone in a dingy workshop or flat hidden away from the world. That was until Tech and the others came around. He brought a sense of belonging you hadn’t known. He brought company you’d been craving. He made you feel seen, appreciated and cared for.

  He brought his hand up under your shirt and bra to cup your breast. 

  One of the first things you had noticed about him, all those rotations ago, was how long and dexterous his whole body was, but particularly his hands. Fingers so thin and nimble, wound with callouses, scars and distinguishable marks from his times tinkering. It had been rare to see him without gloves, but that barrier’s first time being removed showed just truly how captivating such a mundane body part could be. 

  These were the hands of a soldier. A man bred specifically for war. These were the hands of a pilot, who’s tight grip upon the steering wheel had saved thousands of lives. These were the hands of a fellow engineer and mechanic who understood the complexities of how your mind worked. These were the hands of a man who cared for you. 

  And those hands currently were squeezing your nipple with the perfect amount of firmness to make you purr. 

  Deciding that the only thing in the world you wished for right now was the feeling of his chest on your unclothed one, you pulled back, hands finding the bottom of your top as you flung it just as unceremoniously as he had done with his own. Tech wasted no time in finding the latches on your bra, unhooking the material and tossing it to the side as his hands finally held the weight of both your breasts within him. 

  Despite his larger than normal hand size, your breasts fit inside his palms like a perfect handful, while his thumbs continue that onslaught along your nipples, his lips finding that wonderful spot below your ear that makes you breathe heavily. 

  Your own hands, still running through his caramel locks while he worked your body with such expertise, tugging every now and again as he groaned against your neck between kisses and leaving smaller marks that would likely fade in only a few hours. 

  “Are you adequately protected?” came the husky question into your jaw, followed by another nip. 

  “Implant…” you hummed out, head falling to the side to accommodate his mouth as he snickered slightly in response. 

  Lifting you from his lap with no warning, Tech’s fingers found the latches of your pants with no problem, undoing them and tugging them down your legs as you wobbled from where you stood on the floor. Once they were lowered enough, Tech abruptly stood next to you, steading your arm as you stepped out of them, his feet stepping on the trousers in order to help you remove them easily. 

  Your face turned to meet his own, his body towering over your own as he looked down at you. Despite the full head’s distance between you both, and the darkness of the flat with the power being knocked out, you could still see the way his eyes darted from your full, unclothed breasts to the newly revealed skin of your legs. 

  One of his hands found purchase along your chin, tipping your face up even higher as you rose along your tiptoes to match his height the best you could. His other hand started along your mid back, trailing down until he found your panty clad rear, rubbing along the now exposed right cheek. 

  “Would you allow me to take charge here Mesh’la?” He asked gently, his hand still caressing your skin reverently, but despite the unexpected softness of the words and actions, you felt that with the look he gave you there was something more. Something almost predatory in his eyes. 

  “What does that mean?” you ask, unable to shake the curiosity at his use of the language you presumed to be Mando’a. 

  “Such an inquisitive mind you have…” he chuckled, using the hand on your chin to move your face to the side. Your eyes drifted close as he pressed a sweet his to the side of your face, trailing down more until he reached your ear. “I can’t get enough of that mind of yours,” he admitted, nibbling your earlobe once before continuing, hand tightening around your ass as the tone shifted. “Beautiful. It means beautiful. Which is exactly what you are, my mirdala girl…” he whispered so gently as he pulled back, hand dropping as he wound them both around your lower back. 

  “You keep using words I do not understand, and you have to realize I will continue to ask what they mean,” you tease with a small smile, hands finding his shoulders as you lock yourself in the embrace. Tech still had on trousers and you only had on underwear, but something about the stillness of it all, yet with contradictory the electrical storm raging outside, was strangely peaceful. Tearing clothes off one another and jumping into bed was one thing, but this, this was building towards something much more intimate. 

  “Clever. I called you my clever girl,” he nods your direction, fingers trailing up and down the expanse of your exposed back ever so slightly. 

  “Ah,” you thrum out as your lips tug at the corner into a small smirk, barely visible in the low lighting. “Your clever girl? I wasn’t aware you had claimed me. Sounds a bit possessive don’t you think?” 

  “I suppose it could be considered possessive, although I do not see you running away from the notion. I am to assume that not only are you fine with that, but based on the way your grip in my hair has just tightened and your pupils have dilated, that you want that. That you want me to claim you in some way,” he notes, and you realize he is correct. His attunement to your body language is uncanny as you hadn’t realized you had done so. Unable to form a response, you nod gently. 

  “If you wish for me to stop, at any point, all you need to do is say so. Do you understand,” Tech let one hand fall from your back, reaching for his belt and once again you nodded, causing him to pause. 

  “Verbally. I want verbal consent. You can do that for me right my clever girl?” he used the phrase once again and you shuttered. Something about the way his voice dribbled with arousal in the fact he found your mind to be brilliant brought forth a surge of confidence. 

  “Yes. I trust you Tech,” you speak calmly and clearly despite the shaking in your hands. Anticipation building to the point your body could not contain the excitement of what he had planned. 

  You barely caught the smirk on his thin lips before he gripped your hips and spun you around, pushing your back down as you got the memo, laying yourself across the bed as you heard the sound of the belt buckle being undone and pants abruptly being shoved to the floor. 

  Once again his hands resumed that gentle and reverant stroking along your backside as a hum spilled from his lips. Looking back over your shoulder you saw such a glorious sight. Tech’s hands wrapped around his length as he stroked it slightly with one hand while holding your ass in the other. He glanced up from your bottom to make eye contact briefly as he took his bottom lip under straight white teeth. 

  Pausing momentarily he saw the thin scrap of underwear disappearing between your lower cheeks and decided now was a good time to rid you of the offending material, grabbing them and tugging them down slightly until they landed near your knees, allowing you to step out of them. 

  His hand resumed its position on your body, but this time, it gently nudged you up onto the bed, and you complied with his nonverbal request, positioning your body just slightly up on the bed as you held yourself up on your knees. From behind you could hear the way Tech sucked in a breath between his clenched teeth as his hand found that spot along your backside once more. 

  You had deduced early in this exchange of kissing that he likely was a man who preferred a bottom to breasts. Most men had a likeness to one over the other, and Tech was no different. The knowledge made you feel proud, arching your back ever so slightly as if to present it to him in the most appealing way you could given the position. 

  “You look so wonderful like this. I wish you weren’t behaving so nicely, so I would have an excuse to bring my hand down on you and mark you right here. However I would feel guilty doing such actions when you are being so perfect,” he admitted and you smiled at the wall, glancing back over your shoulder at him. 

  “Who said you can’t anyway. I hardly need to be a brat in order for you to spa-” you began the permission and he quickly resolved himself to take it the second you had granted it. The smack, not nearly as hard as you were anticipating but still firm, filling the air and stopping your sentence midway as you let out a squeak at the contact. 

  Your biceps flexing as you locked your arms to maintain your position on the bed, holding yourself up as his hand soothed the red flushed skin with care and attention. Tracing the hand up, you felt him rest it along your upper back as his fingers hooked over your shoulder, and near your knees you felt the mattress dip ever so slightly. 

  Tech covered the expanse of your back with his body, his left arm coming up to the side of you as he braced himself up just hovering over your back, his right hand moving to brush your hair over your shoulder so that his nose could trace along your upper back. You could feel his eyelashes fluttering along the skin of your shoulder blades as he lowered his mouth to kiss your back a few times gently. 

  “So pliable for me…” he praised as he continued to issue praise in the form of tender kisses that slowly made their way ending with your sweat-dampened temple. 

  Tech had always had sexual relationships from behind. There was an impersonal attitude that came with engaging in the act similarly to the way animals did. Not seeing the woman’s face, and only focusing on the connection of his body with theirs - it made him feel less awkward about the exchange. But something about the way his body caved around yours felt right. He was touching your body with his own almost completely, and he nearly fainted when he realized that he was enjoying the contact. Instead of feeling overwhelmed by the damp nature both your bodies had developed in the precursor to intercourse, he felt delighted knowing he’d caused such reactions. So against every previous metric in his mind for engaging in sexual relations, he manuvored your body to your back, so that you could stare up at him as he lowered himself on top of you. 

  Tech wasn’t sure how to quantify the way his stomach began to flutter at the way you stared at him, nor the way your velvety skin along his felt, other than bliss. Something about the intimacy shook him to the core. It made him want to come undone and he hadn’t even slid into you yet. 

  You were surprised as his ability to be tender, as his index finger pushed the hair back from your face, cupping the back of your neck to lift it from the pillow as he pulled the longer strands of your hair - which you’d uncomfortably been laying on - above and around your face like a halo. How he’d realized you were slightly uncomfortable with the tugging caused by your back, you’d never know, but you’d be grateful for long after this exchange nonetheless. 

  “I’ve never met someone who had made me experience what I am feeling at this present moment,” he admitted, his nose leaning down as he gently caressed your own. Keeping it there, his forehead soon pressed against your own as his eyes searched yours for a reply. 

  “What are you feeling?” you whisper, eyes focusing on his right iris as the pupil waivered slightly larger before he continued speaking. 

  “Bliss. Euphoria. Revelry. Perhaps those are words that I could use to quantify it, and yet-” Tech began, hand searching for yours as you allowed him to wrap his fingers around yours while you stared at him expectantly. Your legs widening to accommodate him as you feel his tip slide between your folds and line up expertly with your hole. You are uncertain what he is trying to say, and in all honesty it appears that he is as well. His eyes drift close as, in a rare turn of events, his body wins out over his mind, and he presses within you before completing his thought. You can’t stop the way your eyes flutter shut at the feeling, no point in remaining open if his own are closed anyway. 

  You had expected him to slide in slowly, as his sweet words and actions leading to this point had been cautious almost, but instead he is direct in the way his cock slides into you as if it’s coming home. As if he’s returning to a place he was always meant to be. The stretch is gone in an instant as he plows into you abruptly at first, but pausing as he reaches the entrance of your womb with his tip. “They do not come close to describing the way I feel right now,” he whispered, making your eyes fly open once more as you stare up at him.

  You have died and gone to the afterlife. The Pykes most certainly killed you and left you in an alley on Ord Mantell. That is the only logical explanation for the way you were feeling. The only thing you can do is affectionately tighten your grip on your joined hands as you raise your hips slightly, giving him permission to move. 

  Tech didn’t need to be encouraged twice, sliding in and out of you with joy as he held himself up with one of his arms. Your head falling back into the pillow as you lose yourself between his calculated thrusts, he decides that not being able to look into your eyes while he continues to make himself at home within your body isn’t what he wants.

  You feel his grip slipping from your hand and anticipate it will go to your breasts for a playful tug, but when you feel his fingers on your jaw, pulling your face back you once again look up at him, curiously. 

  “I. Want. To. See. Your. Eyes. On. Me.” he commands and you feel a shiver that starts near your neck and travels the length of your body as you nod, legs widening even further as he picks up the pace ever so slightly. 

  His hand abandons your chin as he places it along your side, raising your body at the hips so you can meet his thrusts, your eyes staring deeply into his own. Tech had surprised even himself in demanding to see you staring at him while he plowed into you, but something about watching your face as he pushed you both in the direction of release made him feel a pride he’d never known before. With each lewd noise coming from where you were joined, to each whimper or sigh leaving your lips, to the sweat he felt along his brow from exertion - he felt more of that blossoming heat in his stomach at the passion between your bodies. 

  You feel similarly, as you wrap your legs around his thin waist, holding him there so that your union is only intensified and he can reach that absolutely tender spot within your walls that becomes electric when he begins to repeatedly stimulate it over and over again with his steady thrusts. “Tech…” you whimpered as he continued his movement, no external indications that he is approaching orgasm, despite the fact it is true. 

  “Say my name again, please-” he whimpers as you nod, once again saying his name while he pushes inside of you especially hard, a yell tearing from your throat as your hips chant up after his retreat, wanting another harsh thrust. He delivers it immediately, his body pushing you into the bed as he begins frantically diving into you with reckless abandon. 

  “Where?” he demands, your hips held in his hand as his fingers squeeze harshly. You can tell he’s close now, the fire in his eyes doing nothing to dull the flames of desire that both of your bodies are feeling as he plunges into your warmth.

  “Inside-” you give him the permission and once again he does not hesitate to take it, his hand abandoning your waist in order to rub feverish circles upon your clit so that you approach orgasm the same time he does. Your voice calls out his name loudly as you feel every nerve ending within your body set ablaze. He responds to you, chanting yours in response as he pushes his load so deeply within your walls you gasp at the way his tip quivers against the opening of your womb. You feel the throbbing inside until he slows to a stop, body collapsing on top of yours as you both gasp for air. 

  His breathing, erratic against your neck as you push his now half gelled and half wild hair off his forehead while you slow your heart rate the best you can. He’s growing soft within you, but you can tell that even while flaccid he’s still larger than the average man. Tech eventually pulls back from your neck, eyes searching for yours as his hand cups the side of your face lovingly. 

  “You are incredible,” he comments kindly as you blush, feeling as he begins to slip from within you, his spill landing somewhere on the covers below you. You don’t really care. You can clean it later. 

  “So are you,” you return the compliment as he smiles, leaning in to kiss you once more, this time only using his lips in order to show affection not reignite the passion of your endeavor. 

  “Yes, but I was genetically engineered that way. You have come by your splendor naturally,” Tech replies as you laugh, lights immediately flickering back on as you both startle at the suddenness of seeing each other without the dulled darkness of your flat. 

  “That is one way to put it. Still doesn’t make you any less wonderful Tech,” you tell him, immediately feeling more self conscious with the added light. This becomes something he notices almost immediately, as he leans up to get a better view of you. Your body was covered in small love bites and a few bruises from where he’d gripped a bit too hard. Lips swollen from his kisses and sweat covering all of you. Hair disheveled and yet - you looked like the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. 

  “And I thought you were lovely in the twilight, but my dear you look positively exquisite,” he encourages you as he lowers his mouth to your brow before kisses between your eyebrows and then over each closed eyelid. 

  “Such a way with words,”  you say sweetly and he immediately begins snickering as you blink confused at his outburst. 

  “If I recall, the first time we met, I insulted your ability to fix Cid’s gambling device” he reminds her. It seemed so long ago he had done that, and from then you had only grown closer. Finding a mutual understanding. Finding friendship. Finding the beginnings of love. 

  “You did,” you scoff at the memory. 

  “I remember crawling under the control panel and when you yelped, thinking that I thought I was going to stop breathing,” Tech admits and you are surprised. 

  “What do you mean?” 

  “I just couldn’t help but think that I had suddenly found myself in close proximity with a very beautiful woman. And that feeling only intensified once I discovered your love of engineering. Since then it’s grown to a point I find it distracting,” Tech explains and you smile. 

  “Oh so you really like me then,” you chide, almost childishly as he rolls his eyes at your antics. 

  “I believe the fact that my seed is actively leaking out of you to be sufficient proof as to my interest in you,” he bluntly states. You grimace looking down at the sheer quantity of said mess. It was more than you realized. 

  “Would you like to get in the refres-”

“Yes,” he cuts you off abruptly as you laugh. You figured he wouldn’t enjoy being unclean. He lifts his body off of you with ease and holds out a hand to help you rise from the bed. 

  “I am going to want a full detailed report on all of these,” you tell him, finger tracing one of the tattoos on his shoulder. 

  “I believe I can arrange that,” he chides with a small peck to your forehead, pulling you along to the small shower stall your flat has. 

  As he walks just ahead of you, you can’t help but think that this blossoming romance might have been worth the emergency landing on Ord Mantell all those years ago. 

The end.

[kingdumkum]

WHERE THE RIVER MEETS THE SEA

this has been a long, long time coming. hopefully it’ll live up to the obscenely high expectations i’ve set. agree or disagree, please reblog/comment/send an anon with your thoughts--but make sure you read the RULES of interaction first.

summary: your date stood you up… again. Don’t worry, though, Baji will be there to pick up the pieces, like he always is. The only question… what will you do when you find out his secret? wc: 15k (we don't talk about it)

cw: virgin fem afab!reader x virgin!Baji, a lil itty bitty baby bit of blood, somewhat public (initially), bc why not, marking, creampie, Confessions galore, somewhat gendered pet names (princess, babe, sweetheart), actually gendered pet names (one handful of "good girl," "pretty girl," and "my girl"), subtle yandere themes but not to the extent a DC label is needed—correct me if I’m wrong though—be nice if I missed something, this is my first time :) way too many words but c’est la vie such is the way.

dedication: Storm, my friend, your support and advice has made me a better writer. Without you, this would probably still be sitting in my drafts, collecting dust and every hateful thought I’ve ever had about my writing. Thank you for being you and all of your aid in getting this to where it is. 💛

Your coffee’s cold when you give up. Well—second coffee, to be precise; the first you’d ordered after Tadashi said he was a few minutes away. That one had grown cold too, but the barista, taking pity, had given you a piping hot refill—for free.

It feels like an insult when she offers you a third.

An hour and a half has passed since Tadashi said he’d be there, and… well, you were still kinda hoping he might show up. But when the manager approaches with a tight-lipped smile, not-so-kindly pointing at their hours plastered ever so neatly on the glass door and indicating they’re just a few minutes to closing, your hope ebbs entirely.

The heat in your cheeks could’ve rewarmed your cup—but not one to cause a scene, you offer a tight-lip smile of your own and apologize. You don’t explain that you were waiting for someone; the pitying look in the barista’s eye as she mouths sorry and slides the unwanted third cup your way says they know.

You slip into the bathroom, wondering how in the world you could be so stupid— again. This was your third first date in three months… and the third time in three months that you’ve been stood up. 

It hurts more when you check your phone. Two new messages from Emma, asking how it’s going and if you want to grab dinner to dish; one from Draken, asking if you can bring back a vanilla frappe and a triple dark roast espresso with two pumps of caramel; one from Baji, saying he might be late to pick you up, but he’d be there, and could you get him an order of whatever you’re having?

Nothing from Tadashi.

You don’t respond, instead letting your phone rest against the mirror while you stare at your reflection and try, desperately, to convince yourself it isn’t your fault.

Everything had been going great—you thought. You thought he really liked you, that he was excited to get to know you, and that this one, this one for sure would show up. You made jokes that he found funny, you were just the right amount of flirty, and you knew—thought—hoped—the picture you’d sent of your outfit (a simple sundress that accentuated your best features and wedges that made your legs seem endless) was enticing enough that he’d want to see it in person.

But here you are. Crying in the bathroom of a cafe you’ll never be able to return to, wondering how you’re going to explain to your friends that you got stood up.

Again.

Your phone starts to buzz. With a deep breath, you wipe off your dripping mascara. You force yourself to smile at the hollow reflection staring back at you, then answer with an overly-cheerful, “what’s up?”

“Kenny’s worried.” Baji’s familiar drawl echos, making the space seem even smaller. “I said he was being too overprotective, but—well, you know how he is. Said it’s his duty or some shit to make sure you’re okay. He tried to come down here himself, wanted to meet the guy trying to woo you—can you believe that? He actually said woo—“

“What do you want?” you interrupt. Too harsh, you realize when Baji doesn’t answer. “It’s just—I’m kinda in the middle of something, you know?” 

Baji takes a moment, then forces a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, the little princess’s got a date, we know. God, they wouldn’t let it go. You should be thanking me, ya know, I’m the only reason they’re not all crashing—”

“Baji.”

The line falls quiet. Then, softly, “where are you, y/n?”

You frown and start searching for your mascara. “At the coffee shop. Why, where are you?”

Another pause. This one heavier. With the phone tucked to one ear, you slowly swipe the wand over your lashes. It’s clumpier than you usually like, but it’s better than nothing—

“I’m outside.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he echoes. You mouth another fuck, heart plummeting, then start reapplying your mascara. More carefully, now that you’re out of time. “I, uh—I’ve been here. A while.”

“Oh… yeah?” you question, teeth starting to grind. “How long’s a while?”

Baji clears his throat. “Long enough. You gonna come out, or are ya gonna make me come in?”

Mascara gets tossed in your purse, gloss comes out. “You’re not exactly welcome in the ladies room, Baji.”

You can picture the dangerous curl in his smile when he replies, “not without an invitation, babe—why, you asking?”

Your laugh isn’t completely real, but not unnatural, either. You hover the gloss over your lips, and for a moment, you imagine what it’d be like. To sneak someone into the bathroom, kissing until your lips start to bruise, his hands playing with the hem of your dress, his lips marking your skin, his voice whispering your name…

You shake the thought away. There’s no point in getting your heart broken twice in one day.

“Three’s a bit of a crowd for a single stall,” you deflect. “Be out in a minute.”

Baji hums. Your gloss feels too thick, but you don’t take it off. You fluff your hair again, placing it the way you like, turning your necklace so the clasp faces the right way, lips smacking together once, twice, three times—

By the time you run out of things to do, you think you’re ready. You pick up your purse and give yourself a final once-over. Pretty, you think. Doesn’t look like you spent the last seven minutes sobbing in a public restroom.

When you exit, Baji’s still on the line, but he doesn’t hang up. You know, because the teasing, “well shit, babe, if I had known you’d worn that, I would’ve come two hours ago,” echoes; once from your phone, and the other from the man himself, standing right in front of you.

You laugh, and this one isn’t forced at all.

Baji’s smile gleams in the evening sun. A low wolf-whistle causes your face to warm pleasantly—the way it should have, when you met Tadashi. You take Baji’s extended hand, not flinching when his callouses rub against your soft palms. 

You’re used to their roughness. Much like the others, Baji’s always been a hands-on friend (and fighter), so over the years, you’ve gotten used to the various bumps, cuts, and jagged edges, to the extent that the only hands that’ve ever felt comfortable have been those rough ones, soft only for you. 

Baji spins you, over-exaggerating the way he checks you out. “Sweetheart, you’re going to stop traffic looking like that.”

“Oh, please,” you deny, but your smile hasn’t been this genuine all day. “Laying it on a little thick, Baj.”

“Only the realest truth for the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” is his sly reply, accompanied by a slyer wink. It’s his usual charm, but you’re oblivious to his sincerity, the way you always are. Baji pulls you into a tight hug and closes his eyes, and for a moment, he allows himself to pretend this was your intention all along; to wind up in his arms, with his compliments, by his side—the way it always seems to go after every failed date.

But you never say as much, and you always seem so genuinely excited for the next one that he’s never going to ask. Instead, he’ll take these moments. The ones where you turn to him for comfort, where he gets to hold you, your knight-in-shining-armor, and do all that he can to make everything better.

He’s so close that you almost miss his muffled whisper of, “fucking—stupid bastard. Doesn’t know what he’s missed.”

Your smile slips. Your thumb rubs against the back of his knuckles, familiarly cracked with scabs that never seem to heal. These are fresh, though; you can tell by how his hand darts to the back of his neck, preventing you from looking too closely. 

“Been up to no good?” you question with a raised brow.

“‘Course I have,” he responds easily, “you’ve been busy.”

Baji won’t meet your gaze. ‘If only you knew,’ he thinks—but he’ll never say it. Not that. Not to you. He shrugs off his black leather jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, fingertips lingering as he straightens the collar. His dark eyes flick to yours, a coy smirk almost hiding his guilt as he hopes beyond all hope you don’t see through him.

You almost do.

Not enough to call him out on it, though, so instead, you roll your eyes—but you can’t deny how this—him—is making everything better. He picks up the helmet he only brings when he’s driving you and puts it on for you, visor up so he can brush the hair out of your eyes. Baji offers a comforting smile, then juts his chin to his bike. “Wanna ride?”

The answer, of course, is yes; for him, it will always be yes.

Silently, you climb on and wrap your hands around him, chin tucking into his shoulder as if you were made to be there. He revs and pulls off, seamlessly weaving in and out of traffic. Your eyes close. The wind whips in your hair, and the familiar scent of nicotine, mint, and Baji’s crisp aftershave envelopes you. For a moment, you feel like everything’ll be okay. Your heart might hurt now, but after an evening with him, it’ll all be okay.

That’s the power of Keisuke Baji, though; the sense of embarking on your greatest adventure but feeling like being home, all at once.

It’s nearly sunset when he stops. Pulls up to the river, kicks the bike stand, then grabs your waist to lift you off the seat.

“I can do that,” you say, even as you let him lift you.

“More fun when I do,” he replies with an easy grin. Your feet hit the ground, but Baji keeps one hand around your waist. He takes off the helmet with the other and laughs when your hair flops out. Hurriedly you go to smooth it, but Baji catches your wrist after setting the helmet down. “You don’t have to do that. Not with me.”

He cages you between the bike and his hips with just a few inches of space—and suddenly, your heart starts to race. When did he get this close? How hadn’t you noticed the way his leg slid between yours? Why isn’t he taking his hand away? Why can’t you breathe?

Baji’s dark eyes dart between yours, then down to your lips, and for a second, for a split second, you think he’s about to kiss you—

“Not like anything can make it better now,” he smirks, and if it weren’t for how his fingers were locked in yours, you would’ve slapped him.

“Asshole.” 

Baji laughs, and you swear the moon shines a little brighter. You’re grateful that he turns to check out the area before he can see just how much of an impact his laugh has on you—though you don’t doubt that he knows. He’s Baji, after all, and you’re not blind (or deaf). He’s handsome, witty, flirty with anything that moves—and that laugh of his could bring even the tides to a standstill.

“Coast’s clear,” he says, looking back at you, a lazy smirk curling his features. It shouldn’t be a surprise, hardly any ever comes this far south of the city—but a few weeks ago, you’d accidentally stumbled upon a couple who were… not expecting company, to put it delicately, and ever since, Baji had been extra cautious to make sure it was just the two of you before getting settled.

He takes a few steps backwards, leading you to your spot; a grassy knoll that overlooks the river as it feeds into the darkened sea. The moon slowly rises over rolling waves while the sun, more a memory, sets over the river’s bend. It’s a secret, sacred place for the two of you, where heartache and daydreams don’t exist; only the moon, the tides, and each other.

Your stomach flips but you can’t tell why; this is exactly what happens every time you come here, from the way he helps you off the bike to how he stops you from picking at your appearance. The only difference is the way his hand is still wrapped in yours. 

You wonder if Tadashi’s would have been this warm. 

But Tadashi isn’t here—Baji is, and it’s Baji’s warm hands that always make things better. So you let him keep his hand in yours, even though you’re not sure you should, and you let him gently tug you along when you don’t move fast enough. Let him take his time in taking his jacket back, in spreading it on the grass before waiting for you to sit. You even let him settle next to you, instinctively leaning into the familiar comfort of his body and for a minute, you wonder how you ever could’ve wanted your day to end different.

Then Baji meets your gaze, smiles that sweet, genuinely kind half smile that he only shares with you, and you remember: Baji is your friend—and no matter how many heartaches he heals, that’s all he’ll ever be.

You can’t remember when things got so complicated.

When it was just you and Kenny, you’d sneak up to the roof of the brothel and watch the sun dip behind the buildings and talk about how one day, you’d get a house that was that color pink, and it’d be on the far side of Japan where you could watch the sunset from your porch and life would be good. The sunset was the only dream you’d ever need, and it would be good.

Then Mikey started coming. More often than not he’d fall asleep before the sun did, and on the days he didn’t—the roof felt too… small. The dreams, too… little. They evolved, from a porch where you could watch the sunset to a skyline that never sleeps.

Dreams change, and that’s okay… but a part of you aches for the time when the sunset felt like enough—when the family you had, the brothers you’d found and the friends you’d made—was enough. You still had the sunset, but rarely. More often than not, you were by yourself up there, or stuck to Kenny’s side somewhere out there, or brushing against Baji’s shoulder down here.

So these days, you prefer to watch the moon rise. There’s more comfort in a light to guide you through the night, rather than watching your dreams disappear with the day.

And you do, the way you do every time you’re stood up or don’t feel—enough. You sit beside Baji with the full moon crawling towards you, staring at the conjunction of the river and the sea, and focus on how you’re going to get through this.

Baji cut his hair since the last date—the last time you’d been stood up, you correct. Still long, but now only to the edge of his jaw, not mid-back like you were used to. The light is bright behind him, bringing out the warm undertones in his onyx hair. You can make out the scab on his cheek from a bar fight a few weeks ago; the scar on his nose from when Mikey split it the first time they fought; the tender bruise along his jaw that looks too new to have told you the story yet.

Instinctively, you reach for it… then chicken out, instead teasing the edge of his hair. You’re left wondering if an angel’s wings would be as soft.

Baji glances at you from the corner of his eye. “You don’t like it?”

“What? I didn’t say that.” Your hand falls back to your lap, eyes quick to follow. The light behind him is too bright—too blinding. Too much like a halo. It’s impossible to hide the truth from an angel, and you know you don’t have the right words to convey just how beautiful you find him. “Just… gonna take some getting used to. I don’t think you’ve ever had it this short.”

He scoffs. “Maybe at birth.”

The idea of baby Baji flashes through your mind; sweet, chubby cheeks, little fists flailing at the world. A tuft of hair, dark as his and long already, but when he opens his eyes, they’re yours—

“Why’d you cut it?” your voice is steadier than you expect. It does nothing to change your thoughts, especially when Baji’s slender fingers start pulling at grass, just the way a baby grasps what's in front of him.

He stares straight ahead, letting one hand splay by your lower back as he watches the green blades dance in the wind. “Figured it was time for a change.”

You hmm in acknowledgement, brain too traitorous to come up with anything other than, ‘I bet you were a cute baby’ or ‘you look handsome either way’ or, worst of all, ‘why would you ever want to change?’

He probably meant nothing by it. Baji’s as flexible as they come; sets his own hours at the shop, varies what time he wakes or goes to bed, never eats the same thing too many times in a row… there’s not much permanency in his life as it is, so it sticks with you that he still wants something different.

If he thinks you’re being weird, he doesn’t say so. He waits for you to speak, like always, and like always, you find yourself loving him a little more for it. Baji’s so—quick; to judge, to speak, to fight… but in these moments, when it’s the two of you and the moon and no one else, he’s not. He’s slow; slow to speak, slow to touch, slow to pull away…

Slow to make you wonder why you keep wasting time with boys who don’t deserve it when he might be enough.

The silence becomes too much; too easy to drown in. Too tempting to fill with all the wrong things.

“What happened to your jaw?” is the best you come up with.

It’s no surprise when he answers, “got into a fight,” but how he says it… how he immediately ducks his head and covers the darkening bruise with a broad palm, as if he’d forgotten all about it and wished you would, too… that makes you pause.

One tenet of your relationship is that you don’t lie to each other. There are often times you wish he would, like when Chifuyu teases him about the pretty girl at the pet shop who came back and asked for the number of the flirty hunk who sold her a dog collar and Baji admits she was pretty cute and he’ll take her to drinks tomorrow night, or when Kazutora reminds Baji that he promised to go on a double date with the twins they met clubbing so no, he can’t take a look at that leaky pipe in your bathroom—but you’d never say that. Not when he could, so easily, call you out for keeping your own.

So when he goes out of his way to not have to tell you the truth, you know better than to push.

“Did it hurt?”

Baji looks to you with a cocky smile. “You should see the other guy.” You snort. Baji knocks his shoulder into yours. “I’m good, really. Just… had some business, s’all.”

It’s supposed to be comforting, but it’s not. It only flares your curiosity… and honestly? Your annoyance. “I hadn’t realized a pet shop needed such security.”

Baji barks out a laugh. “I mean, you’ve seen how crazy some people get about their pets, ‘specially when they think Dr. Google is a better resource than Chifuyu’s degree… but nah, this was… off the books.” He catches your inquisitive gaze and offers a smile, but it’s more like a grimace in the lowlight. His hand creeps closer, fingers pressing into your back, and for a moment, you’re willing to let it go. He gently grazes the middle of your spine. “It’s done, alright? Finished. Won’t happen again.”

You know he’s lying because he holds you close, the way he only does when he thinks you’re about to leave.

But you don’t leave; you never leave. You just give him a withering glare you know he can’t see, then turn back to the ocean.

You hate this feeling. The one where the world becomes unsteady, and everything you’d been trying to keep buried since you were thirteen sneaks up on you. That horrid, awful, destructive fascination and jealousy and yearning that’s plagued you since Baji first bragged about stealing a kiss from the pretty girl that lived three floors above him and only gets worse every time he mentions someone new.

Going on dates was supposed to squash this. Meeting a nice guy, having a good time, and getting a kiss or two of your own was supposed to end this. This—obsession—you’ve had since the first time Baji said he hopes that one day, you meet the right guy and you accidentally thought, ‘maybe it’s you.’ Because at the end of the day, he’s the one who’s there. Not Tadashi, who couldn’t even be bothered to show up. Not Draken, who recently started putting Emma above all else (even you). It’s been Baji, your Baji, whose mere existence makes everything better, that’s been the last one standing.

You can’t ruin that. You can’t risk pushing away the only companion who still puts you first for something you’re positive you can find somewhere else.

At least, that’s what you have to tell yourself, as yet another date fails and Baji is here, again, picking up the pieces and making you feel more whole than when the day started.

The sky is nearly dark when you finally ask the question that’s been on your mind since the barista gave you that pity cup—the one that’s probably still sitting in the bathroom, the last witness to your heartbreak. Just as alone and unwanted as you. 

“What’s… wrong with me?”

Baji’s sharp. He alway has been, from the stern angle of his nose to the feral way his teeth carve like a predator’s. He watches everything—the road, the fighters, you—with a scrutiny that’s often clouded behind cheshire grins and snide quips.

But there’s nothing sharp about him tonight; only soft. Soft hands that gently grab your chin and force you to look at him. Soft breathes as he pulls you close. Soft words as he makes sure you hear him whisper, “nothing.” 

Baji’s eyes, dark and teeming with something you can’t place, move from one eye to the other; to the fingers on your cheek; to your tongue, wetting your lips. He leans in, forehead resting against yours as his hand slides back, gripping your hair like you're his lifeline and not the other way around, and you’re back to thinking okay, this is it, he’s going to kiss me, he’s finally going to kiss me—

But all he does is repeat, “absolutely—fuckin’ nothing, alright? And—‘n fuck whoever makes you feel otherwise,” before resuming his seat like nothing happened.

You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. It’s stale and hot and full of fury, your fury, and suddenly, you can’t take it anymore.

“Fuck you, Keisuke.”

“What?” Baji scrambles for your arm as you abruptly stand, too furious to even look at him. You rip away but don’t stop, trying to will the stupidness of—whatever this is—to go away, to release you so you can go back to feeling better and right and whole. “Wait—come on, I didn’t—what did I say? Did I do something? Where the hell are you going?”

“Forget it!” you snap. His every question—the fact he wants to make it right even though he’s the reason it hurts—just makes it worse. “Just—leave it alone, alright? It obviously doesn’t matter—” 

This time when he grabs your arm, he doesn’t let you leave. He pulls you in to him, nearly crashing you into his chest as he holds you in place.

“Damnit, y/n, what the hell? What did—why are you being like this?” For the first time tonight, he meets your eyes without falter. He tucks a hand under your chin, all but pries your eyes open himself to search for what you're hiding. You try shrugging out of his iron grip, but he’s too strong. “What did I do?”

“Nothing—” You’re horrified at the way your voice cracks. “Fucking—nothing, Baji, you did nothing—“

“Then why’re you so fucking mad, hunh? Why’re you acting like I’m the bad guy here?” His fingers tighten. It would’ve hurt, if you weren’t so angry. “I’m not the asshole who stood ya up—I’m not the one who’s been dickin’ everyone around, pretending like everything’s fine when I know, Draken knows—even fuckin’—Pah-chin—can tell that something’s wrong—“

“You’re calling me an asshole?” you gasp incredulously. “Are you fucking serious?” 

“Yes!” he retorts hotly—then, upon realizing how horribly angry you’re growing, quickly backtracks, “I mean—no! Actually, no, you know what, I did mean yeah, because guess what, princess? You are acting like an ass! You’ve got—all these people who wanna be here for you, I want to be here for you, and all you’re doing is getting mad at me for it—”

“What do you want me to say, Baji?” It’s useless, trying to get free, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. “That I’m—heartbroken—at being stood up—again? That I’m done with dating, that I’m giving up, that everyone fucking sucks but I must suck worse—”

“They don’t deserve you—”

“Like hell!” Your tone is scalding. It must burn him just as bad, because a single lapse in his grip lets you rip your arm away. “That’s the whole goddamn point of dating, jackass, to figure out who’s worth what—and all this has shown is that I’m not worth it, to anyone.” You slam your hands against his chest, tears stinging your lash line. If you weren’t so angry, you might not have missed how his face falters when you push him away. “And you just—sitting there, and—and holding me like that, and—and telling me that I’m not the problem when I’m the only common denominator—you’re such a fucking liar—”

“You think it’s any easier for me?” he’s quick to yell, frustration making him bare his teeth like fangs. Anyone else would’ve cowered—but you stand your ground. Place two hands on his chest and shove, hard, forcing him back as he continues, “you think it’s any easier to see you gettin’ your hopes up, to freak out over what to text, what to wear, what to do—all for those fuckin’ dickweeds? Hunh? Guys who can’t even—spell your name right, or remember what your favorite flower is, or fucking—show up? You think it’s any fucking easier seeing you so goddamn upset over someone who doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone spend time with you–be with you? Because it’s not, sweetheart!”

The sweet pet name that usually makes your heart skip a beat only aggravates you further. Your hands go from shoving to slamming, open palms against the hard muscle of his chest—but he doesn’t even flinch. Just catches your wrists before you can do it again and stares, like you’ve started speaking in tongues. “Oh, poor Baji, must be hard, hunh, thinking no one’s good enough, thinking everyone’s so lucky as to have people throwing themselves at them left and right—but newsflash, Keisuke, not all of us are like you! Not all of us have the ability to pick whoever we want, some of us actually have to work at it—“

“Stop working on the wrong guys then!”

“You’ve never even met them, how would you know—“

“Because they let me stand in the way!”

The world stills. 

You can’t place why; why this feels like a sucker punch, why your heart is suddenly skipping beats–why you can’t tell if this hurts. Not until Baji’s grip tightens, then his eyes widen, and you have a sneaking suspicion you know where this is going—but still, you ask, “what?”

He doesn’t respond. He can’t.

He lets go of you, though every fiber in his being begs him to stay. He takes a step back, though his heart pleads for him to wrap you in his arms and hold you close and tell you the truth, about what he did, why he did it, why he can’t bring himself to regret it…

He has to turn his back to you, to stare at the waves crashing along the sand as he tries to process just how badly he’s fucked this up and if there’s any possibility for redemption. It’s too late to lie. Too late to try and salvage this.

He’s made his bed; it’s time to lie in it.

Baji sighs–or something close. Something choked, not quite a laugh but also not quite a sob. Something is stuck in him, and even with the ice in your veins, you piece it together. Somehow, this—the failed dates, the heartache, the loneliness—it's all his fault.

Still, you have to ask. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You try making the venom in your voice match that in your blood, but you can’t. Not when he looks so—defeated. He runs his hands through his hair, doing a miserable job of either pretending he can’t hear you or attempting to buy enough time to come up with a plausible lie—though you don’t need him to. Not when his actions say enough.

It’s your turn to reach for him. Your turn to grab his arm, to keep him in place. You want to hold on to your anger, but the way his hands are shaking makes it impossible.

You draw him close, voice gentle as you say his name. You reach for his cheek, keeping his hands still with one of yours, and you tilt his head; he lets you tilt his head so that he has no choice but to look at you. 

When your gazes meet, you wait.

“I had to,” he eventually says. His voice is steady, but his hands aren’t. His fingers wrap around your wrists tightly, as if he’s afraid you might try leaving—but your grip on him is equally tight. “They weren’t good for you. They were jerks, and they were only going to break your heart, and I couldn’t let that happen. Not to you. I had to—I had to.”

“Had to… what?” He doesn’t answer, not until you prompt, “had to what, Baji?”

“Don’t—” he breathes. “Don’t… call me that.” His eyes close, and he leans into the palm on his cheek. For a moment, you pretend that he’s memorizing the feel of you, as if he’s scared to lose you—but that can’t be it. Keisuke Baji isn’t afraid of anything.

You’re not sure what’s more painful: the knots in your stomach or the hope in your heart. “Tell me what you did,” you muster up. “Keisuke, tell me what you did.”

When his eyes finally open, all of his anger is gone. In its place is something you’ve rarely seen, and even rarer directed at you: desperation.

“I stopped them.”

For a moment, all you hear is your own heart… then the waves of truth come crashing down.

“I—I found them, and I swear on my life, on your life—I only meant to talk to them, to figure out if—if they had good intentions, if they were gonna treat you right—but they all sucked, y/n, they were awful—going on and on about how they were—how they wanted to—to fuck you, just to say they could—or they weren’t—serious about how they felt and I couldn’t—I couldn’t let them do that, I couldn’t let them hurt you like that, so I… I hurt them first. Not—not much, just enough so they’d—get the idea. Leave you alone. Stay away from my girl—”

He cuts himself off, and for a moment, you’re frozen. You don’t know what to do, what to think—is this real? Is he saying what you think he’s saying? Does he really mean it?

Baji’s voice cracks when he says your name.

“Y/n, listen—listen to me,” he pleads. His forehead presses against yours. Your cheeks grow wet, though you can’t tell if that’s because of you or him. “You are—the most amazing person in this whole freaking world. You get that? You’re—smart, and pretty, and so fucking funny and—and anyone who can’t see that is an idiot. And it fucking—kills me—that you’ve got it in your head that what these—stupid pricks think is the only thing that matters, because it’s not. It’s never mattered. The only thing—the only thing that has ever mattered… is you. Okay? You.”

Your throat closes. Your hands reach for his, catching only wrists as he cradles your face, trying to ground yourself in this moment. In all the things he says and all the things he doesn’t; in the silent, desperate dream that refused—refuses—to die, taking over you once more.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” His lips are so close, they brush your nose. “I’d say I regret it, but I don’t, because— you deserve better. You deserve the world, if you want, or—or the moon and all the stars, and—and unless they’d get it for you, they don’t deserve you. Okay? None of them deserved you.”

You’re just a hair away from kissing him, from caving to the impulses you thought were dead and gone and hopeless all these years, and the worst possible sentence sinks out: “you’re an idiot, Kei.”

Then you lean forward and kiss him.

In an instant—you feel whole. You feel right, in a way you haven’t since you decided you never had a chance with him; in a way you’ve been searching for in the words of all the others who’d let you down, who’d broken your heart and always, always, always led you back to moonrise with Baji, back home—

Baji jolts. He pulls away and stares at you with a wild mixture of shock and confusion. His fingers ghost his lips, only to draw back as he stares at them, then at you, then back at them, like he can’t quite comprehend this hand is attached to his body—like you were. Like you want to be, like you thought he wanted to be, like you thought he was asking you to be—

Your heart plummets as he just—stands, no witty quip or teasing remark at the ready. No lines to read between; no phrasing to draw false confessions from; nothing other than the stillness of the night, and the pounding of your heart.

“Wait—” you shrink as you realize just how hoarse a single stolen kiss has left you. “I thought—please, Kei—”

A flicker of… something dances in his eyes, and then—he watches you. Studies you, with the same scrutiny he holds before a fight or when picking apart a bike to see what parts are broke and what can be saved.

“Say it again.”

It’s your turn to blink; your turn to have wide eyes and parted lips, to study him like you’re not sure how to fix it. “I don’t—“

“My name,” he says, and your heart starts to leap. “Say my name, sweetheart.”

“I say your name all the time, Keisuke.” You’re barely above a whisper. Barely above the fear that this time, he’ll break your heart and there’ll be no one to pick up the pieces because—you ruined this.

“Not like that,” he breathes. You forget how to. “Say it like it means something. Like—you don’t hate me. Like—”

“Kei,” you interrupt, hands coming to cradle his cheeks as you read between the lines, “I forgive y—”

He doesn’t even let the final word form before his lips are on yours. Hard, aggressively melding like he’s worried you might change your mind and wants to milk every second out of this as he can—but you reciprocate just as desperately. Keisuke’s hands wrap around you, one gripping the base of your neck and the other resting on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly close, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His mouth opens, teasing your lips apart as you trade air, fingers digging into your soft skin like it’s the last thing he’ll ever touch.

You pull away first, and that’s only because your lungs are aching—not that you mind. The pain helps make this feel real. 

For once, Keisuke’s grin doesn’t seem mocking. He moves a hand to cradle your face, thumb rubbing against your cheek. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that, sweetheart.”

“Not as long as I have,” you admit with a breathy laugh. Your hands lock around his neck, fingers playing with his hair, and you realize you’re smiling.

You kissed. Keisuke kissed you, you kissed him—everything makes sense. Everything is right, and with the moon and tides as your witness, everything is good again.

“Can I…” Keisuke starts, eyes flicking to your lips in an unspoken question. You finish his sentence with a kiss.

“You can always kiss me, Kei,” you say. “You don’t even have to ask.”

There’s the grin you recognize; the scheming, teasing grin that always makes your stomach flip in a way you thought meant he’s up to no good, but now realize as a sign you’d fallen for him long ago. 

“Oh, yeah?” he questions, brushing his lips against yours. “Only here? Or can I kiss… here?” He moves to the corner of your lips, then to the hollow of your cheek as he continues, “and… here? And maybe…”

He trails off, and he trails down, letting his lips drag against your cheek while his hand keeps you firmly in place, lips going done to your chin, down the column of your throat and back up. Your breathy yes would be pathetic—if it ever made it out. All that escapes is a breathy groan of displeasure when he stops, teasing lips hovering just above your own. “What’s that, babe? Want me t’stop?”

“You’re such an asshole.”

Your hands tangle in his hair, lips melding as your make-out turns heated. He slides his tongue along the seam of your lips, silently asking you to open—and you do. His hands curl around you, bringing you closer until there’s no space left between you.

Something digs into your leg. Something hard and unmistakable, and it leaves you grinning deeper than Kei.

You break away, laughing at his whine of protest and briefly glance down. Keisuke follows your eyes and is quick to splutter a nervous chuckle, hands dropping as he tries to step away with a short apology—though the way you catch his belt loops stops him. “Shit—sorry, I didn’t—I just—it’s your fault, y’know—“

“Shut up,” you giggle and drag him back. Now, you kiss him; once, twice, then a third before trailing your lips along the sharp ridge of his cheekbone, along his temple, to his ear. “How about you take me home, Kei?”

Keisuke’s whiplash nearly hurts you. His eyes, big and brown and wide, stare like you’ve grown an extra head. His hands shakily splay against your back, as if he wants to keep you close but he’s not sure he’s allowed to. His voice wavers slightly when he asks, “but I thought… aren’t… I mean, isn’t this… what you wanted?”

Slowly, you nod. Even slower, you pointedly look at the space between you, bridged only by the tent of his black pants. You smile at the sweet way a blush covers his cheeks, and risk slowly trailing your hand along his belt until your fingertips are hovering over that stupid, shiny, obnoxiously big belt buckle you always tease him for.

“I want you, Keisuke, and I want you to take me home.”

He doesn’t need more encouragement. 

Keisuke’s kisses grow fiercer. He devours you, never once breaking contact as his hands slide to find firm purchase on the back of your thighs. With ease, he lifts you atop his bike, setting you in front of him and stepping between your spread legs. The hem of your dress slides up with his calloused palms, collecting in a bunch then pooling down to protect your modesty as he finds two handfuls of ass. He gives a squeeze, eliciting a delighted gasp from you, then pulls back with a toothy smile.

“Then have me, sweetheart. Always been yours, anyways.” 

Your stomach twists, the way it always does when he looks at you like that, and you like it. It makes sense, it feels right—and you don’t have to pretend to justify why it makes your panties wet.

“Gotta—gotta get home—“ you try saying, but Keisuke’s hands have a mind of their own. They’re the only reason you’re still upright as he starts kissing along your neck, carefully grazing his sharp teeth but never once digging in. Your arms lop around him, digging into his scalp and shoulders as he finds this one spot that makes you moan, and you almost curse him for what that smile has done to you.

“Fuckin’—insane—if you think I'ma make it,” he mumbles into your skin, and you think you finally understand how some people can climax from someone’s voice alone.

You laugh and intend to push him away and demand that he do, that you have to, that you need to, because this—isn’t like you, you’re not one to get hot and heavy like this, certainly not in public—

But you can’t think straight. Not when Keisuke’s hands are kneading your ass, pinching and releasing like he can’t decide if he wants to hold on forever or explore somewhere new. Not when his teeth nibble your neck, and you shudder at the unbelievably primal sensation running through you.

Not when the unmistakable hardness of Keisuke’s boner finds home between your thighs, and he starts bucking his hips. It’s subtle, and he doesn’t tease you for the pathetic way you start whimpering. He focuses on continuing to explore the expanse of your otherwise untouched skin, while all you can do is revel in the way your high starts building.

You’ve been kissed before, on the lips and neck and once a little lower, but no one’s ever done this to you; pressed against your collarbone. Moved your neckline aside to suck on the fat of your breast. Left a mark that’ll last longer than a minute. For a moment, you wonder if you should tell him he’s the first, but when the zipper of his pants starts catching your clit, the only thing you’re able to do is moan his name.

Loudly.

Breathy and passionate and different than before, and he pauses. Lifts his head from your collarbone, a thin tendril of salvia keeping his lips still attached to the sensitive skin you know will bruise. He lets one hand trail up your side and cup your face, staring like this might be the last time he ever sees you, all while his hips continue to rut against you.

“Say it again,” he breathes, thumb catching your bottom lip. “Just—just like that.”

“Kei,” you repeat, giggling at the way he brightens and starts kissing you, “we need to go home—now.” For good measure, you boldly let your fingers slide to the edge of his belt buckle, in case he needs some more convincing. His free hand darts to yours, but he doesn’t stop you. He laces his fingers in yours and guides you, letting you palm at his thick hard-on. He lets out a low groan and drops his head from your lips to rest at your chest, just above the collar of your dress. You card one hand through his hair, the other applying light pressure to the (you assume) very painful ache between his legs—and not at all because you know, if he kept bucking into your core the way he just was, the way he keeps doing against your palm—you wouldn’t be able to make it home, either. “Take—take me home, Kei—”

“Not—” he huffs. His grip on your ass tightens, but you can barely feel it. Not when Keisuke whines, low and needy, teeth coming out to nip at your breast, and all you can focus on is the ache between your own legs, getting even worse as his hips start moving faster, forcing the back of your hand against your cunt as you continue to palm him. His hips don’t stop; they push against you so fiercely, so desperately, that you cave, taking away your hand so there’s nothing between you but your clothes. 

You’re on the precipice in minutes; hands digging into his shoulders as you choke on a sob, pleading with him to go faster, to not stop, to keep making you feel good—and it’s made all the worse when he does, pressing his throbbing erection even harder against your soaked panties, all the while pleading into your skin, “can’t—can’t—fuck, baby, I can’t—y/n—“

You gasp when his teeth break skin.

Keisuke’s hips still. Warm air saturates your chest as he groans into it, and for a moment you’re frozen. Your whole body aches, and you want to scream at the cruel way your orgasm was stolen—but you’re too in shock that he got you there that fast, that easily. Something warm trickles down your cheeks, between your breasts—blood? saliva? tears?—he doesn’t move. You don’t move. You’re not even sure he’s breathing, until his shoulders heave and your skin is warmed once more. A slight burn starts to spread across your chest, and when you open your mouth to ask him why the hell he stopped—all that comes out is his name.

You say it softly, then a little louder, but it’s not until you grab his face and force him to look up that he speaks—but his eyes are fixed firmly on the reddening bite mark forming atop your breast.

“M’sorry…”

A mean part of you wants to tell him he owes you a lot more than sorry, but the way his lower lip disappears as he nervously chews on it has you choosing otherwise. “It’s okay,” you comfort instead, “it didn’t hurt that bad.”

Keisuke grimaces. “No, I—” 

He sighs, head dropping back to your chest. Both arms wrap around your waist, and he presses a light kiss to the place he’d just bitten; the only way he probably figures he can keep close without meeting your gaze. He mumbles something, but you only know because you feel his lips moving.

“Can’t hear you…” you try prompting, but it only makes him snuggle deeper. He sighs again, loud and warm and in a way you’re familiar with—the way that really means, I can’t believe I have to do this… “C’mon, Kei, don’t you want to take me home?”

“Ididntmakeit.”

You have never, ever, in your life ever seen Keisuke embarrassed. Not when he told you about needing Chifuyu to tutor him post-juvie; not when he failed his college entry exams; not even when you accidentally walked in on him showering (in hindsight, he was probably a little too comfortable with how long it might’ve taken you to leave).

This was the man who went skinny dipping for fun. He’ll order fruity drinks for his friends who are too embarrassed to do it themselves. His approach to a lost fight is to get a rematch, not pretend it didn’t exist, and even in mundane moments that have you at a loss for words, like mistaking someone’s name or forgetting a face, Kei’s always quick for a retort or defense or a smile that makes everything better.

Keisuke Baji doesn’t get embarrassed—but that’s the only word that fits. His cheeks are redder than you’ve ever seen, his breathing faster than his pulse. His eyes refuse to meet yours, and his fingers knead into clumsy, nervous patterns along the side of your thighs.

Then he takes a deep breath, and with one shaking hand, he slowly brings your palm to the crotch of his pants… that are now sticky.

Your eyes widen, and you’re almost too late to choke down a gasp. Kei’s eyes close, and he ducks his head in shame. “I didn’t—I mean, I haven’t—you're just—I’m so sorry—”

“Why?” It sounds curt, and you don’t intend it to. Better than laughing, you reason—although you will absolutely get him for this later… when it stops feeling like the most humiliating thing in the world.

Keisuke swallows. “I haven’t ever… you know.”

“What, cum early?” It’s cruel to tease, you know that, but you can’t stop the slight satisfaction that you—you—are able to bring a man like Keisuke Baji to his knees.

“No! I mean—no, I…” Kei looks out to the ocean, fingers still anxiously kneading into your thighs. The temperature drops, though you’re not sure if it actually does or you’re just feeling like it as you try to understand what’s happened, what’s happening—what you’re to do next. His jaw clenches and he tries to pull away from you, but you don’t let him. You wrap your legs around the backs of his thighs, keeping him in place.

“Kei…” you say softly. You don’t force him to look at you. Instead, you let your fingers trail up his abs, curling around his neck so you can rest your forehead against his temple and kiss his cheek. “I don’t care. Just means you gotta make it up to me—”

“I’ve never had sex before.”

You’re grateful he doesn’t look at you, because you’re not able to control the utter shock coloring your face. How is that possible? You’ve heard the whispers when you go out; you’ve seen the looks. At parties or bars or clubs, he’d find a pretty thing and disappear, and you assumed you knew what happened behind those closed doors—because why, why, why would you want to ask about that? 

The others didn’t dispel it, either; in fact, they’d constantly rip on him for his… gift, and Keisuke never fought back. He’d just smirk and wink and say, “it’s never disappointed,” and by the time you’d turned red, thinking about when you caught him in the shower and knew what they were saying was true, they’d moved on to taunting someone else.

So how the hell is it possible that Keisuke’s a virgin—and, more importantly, how didn’t you know?

You’re not sure how long it takes you to recover. If he were to ask, you’d say you were just waiting for him—because when you do speak, it’s only when Keisuke turns to you with narrowed eyes, an apprehensive blush clear on his face. 

“Wanna know a secret?” you ask, forcing a teasing lilt to your voice—though your stomach twists. This isn’t exactly the way you wanted to tell him, and for a flash, you think of how disappointed he might be to learn the truth. 

But when he meets your gaze, eyes wide and focused entirely on you, somewhere between hopeful and nervous, you know it’s for the best. Your smile is sweet, but not as sweet as your lips when you kiss the crinkle between his eyes. He immediately relaxes, hands stilling as he leans into you. “Neither have I.”

He straightens and pulls far enough away so he can examine you. For a minute, your confession hangs between the two of you, then Kei starts floundering, “but I thought… you said… but he… what about your ex?”

You shrug, your own cheeks starting to flush. “It never felt right.”

Keisuke blinks. His mouth parts, eyes darting between yours like he’s waiting for the gotcha!, but all he receives is the embarrassed way you can’t meet his gaze, feeling as if you’ve somehow let him down. You squirm, his warm hands still atop your thighs sending butterflies to your stomach, and shrug again. “I dunno, I just—didn’t think it was fair. Doing that with someone, when all I could think about…” you swallow, lips twisting as you debate whether or not to tell him the truth. 

He catches your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Think about what, sweetheart?”

The way he asks tells you he already knows; but like earlier, when you knew and had to hear it anyway, he needs you to say it, too.

So you take a steadying breath. You gently trail a finger down the side of his jaw, and you make yourself smile as you say, “you, Kei. It didn’t seem right if it wasn’t you.”

This time when he kisses you, it’s slow. He takes his time in tasting you, in savoring the moment. He lets you guide where his lips go, how his hands wander, and he waits for you to pull back before he suggests, “how about I take you home now?”

Your stomach flutters. Fingers knot at the base of his skull, and slowly, a smile spreads on your face. 

“I’d like that.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your temple. You can feel the joy in it, one that doesn’t fade for either of you as he unhooks your legs so you can properly straddle the bike, then tucks the helmet on you and pops on himself.

“Hold on,” he calls as he revs the engine, “might be goin’ a bit faster than usual.”

“Don’t worry,” you laugh, and even though you know he probably can’t hear you, you add, “I’m never letting go.”

You make it to Keisuke’s apartment in seven minutes flat—which, normally, would leave you terrified, given his place is twenty minutes from your spot, but you doubt that’s what’s got your heart racing. He barely gives you enough time to take the helmet off before his hands are back on you, easily scooping you up and carrying you up the stairs. You bump into a few walls, and the way you’ve got a loose grasp on his helmet sends it craning into his back just as often, but neither of you care. Between fits of giggles and cautious glances to make sure he’s not about to walk you through a glass door (or down a stairwell), you kiss like it’ll be the last time you ever get the chance to.

“Anyone home?” you mumble into his lips. He slams you against the front door of his shared three-bedroom apartment, using his hips to keep you up while he tries to find the lock by memory.

“Nope,” he replies, lips busy with your skin, fingers fumbling uselessly behind you. “Stupid—fucking lock—told Tora to leave it—never fuckin’ listens—”

“Relax,” you laugh, although that’s rich coming from you. Your legs tighten around him as you break free from his kiss, instead sucking along the column of his throat. Freeing his face is supposed to give him enough room to actually look for the lock, so the two of you can stop dry-humping in the hall and finally get the privacy you need—but like always, Keisuke does the unexpected.

He throws his head back and moans, giving you more access to leave a matching hickey—and you’re not strong enough to resist the temptation. A whine starts in his throat, from where you’re sucking on his pale skin. The keys clatter to the ground.

“Keisuke,” you scold—but before you can tease him for being in a rush, his lips are back on yours.

“Never gonna make it,” is his only defense.

“Gonna—gonna have to,” you reply, but every time you try pulling away or reach for the keys yourself, he grabs you. Wraps your wrists in his rough hands, pins them to the door beside your head, and leans so far forward that, even with your limp legs, he’s able to keep you up himself. “Kei—“

“So help me sweetheart,” he warns, hips rolling against yours with a sense of urgency only outmatched by his kiss, “if you keep saying my name like that, I swear to the gods I’m gonna fuck you right here.”

“So help me, sweetheart,” you shoot back, breathy and hot as you try to avoid the way his lips chase yours, “if you don’t get me inside right now, I might let you.”

He freezes. Pulls away from the delightful bruise he’d just been leaving below your ear and stares at you with a mixture of awe and utter delight. “Really?”

You swat the back of his head. “No, dumbass, open the fucking door.”

Keisuke’s lips, pink and bruising slightly, twist in a pretend pout as he squats. He keeps one thick palm under your thigh, keeping your leg wrapped around him as he snags his keys. “You’re such a fucking tease.”

“Says the guy who does—that,” you try scoffing, but you’re cut off with a moan when Kei stands and bounces you against his hips. His boner is back and harder than before, pressing into your core, the messy, wet mix of your drenched panties and his earlier cum making a lewd sound in the otherwise silent hallway. 

“Does… what, babe?” he teases. “C’mon, finish that sentence.” 

You don’t know how he finds the focus to actually find the lock this time, but you thank every deity in the world that he does—because it takes just a second, a single, solitary second for him to jimmy it in, slam the door open, and you’re finally alone.

The door frame rattles. Something falls, but you can’t tell if it’s the mirror you insisted he hang above the entry table you insisted he get or if it’s the rickety old coat rack Chifuyu said would ‘class up the joint’; all you know is that as soon as the key is in, Baji’s hands are back to cradling your thighs for support as he crosses the threshold. 

You reach for the door, but he catches it with his ankle and slams it shut, quickly spinning to pin you against it.

“Really—” you pant, “really got the place—to ourselves?”

“Mhm,” Keisuke confirms. He leans into you, palms rubbing along your thighs until they get to your knees, silently asking you to wrap tighter around him. You do, and the moment he feels your ankles cross at the small of his back, his hands move to your waist. “Told ‘em—needed space.”

“Oh?” you question, your hands reaching for the hem of his shirt and tug, tug, tugging—“And when’d you do that?”

He reaches behind his head and yanks his tee off, tossing it carelessly into the darkness of the apartment. You hadn’t even paused to turn on the lights.

“After I saw Tadashi.” You can tell he’s grinning, especially as you drag your nails along the chiseled plane of his abs. His hands slide up your torso, thumb rubbing your stomach through the thin cotton of your dress, grazing the underwire of your bra. “Told Tora this one wasn’t gonna work, either, ’n he said I should just tell ya the truth, 'cause he couldn’t watch me mope around all night again—”

“Mope?” you tease. Kei’s fingers dig in. “Kazutora accused you of moping?”

“Well—shut up!” he whines. “You try watching the person you’re in love with go out with guys who don’t deserve them and tell me you wouldn’t start moping either—y/n? Why… are you looking at me like that?”

Your eyes are wide. Your hands go limp, the helmet falling to the floor with a loud clatter. Your lips part to say… something, but you’re not sure what.

Keisuke’s told you he’s loves you a thousand times; the brief ‘kay love ya! before he hangs up; the gentle love you, see ya tomorrow whenever he’d bring you home; the drawn out gods I love you after you’ve surprised him with his favorite meal—but none like this.

None so… blatant. So unmistakable.

Kei stares at you curiously, as if he isn’t even aware of what he’s just said. He repeats your name, hands leaving your waist to catch your chin.

“You’re… in love with me?” 

Keisuke blinks.

For a moment, you think you must’ve misheard, he must’ve misspoke, you must have misunderstood—but a brilliant smile breaks his face, and he nuzzles his nose against yours. “‘Course I’m in love with you, sweetheart. I’ve been in love with you, and I ain’t ever gonna stop loving you—”

You kiss him.

The gentlest one yet. The way you always dreamed your first one would be; soft, sweet, lips pressing together while your hands held him close. Heartbeats synching. The world falling away as it’s just the two of you, in this moment, endless and forever.

There’s only one thing to say when you pause: “I love you too, Keisuke.”

Your teeth knock together as Keisuke can’t contain his smile, either. Hands move, one around the small of your back and the other under a single thigh. Your lips never part as he carries you to his room.

He sets you at the foot of his bed and stands above you. His chest heaves, bare and flushed with need. Your hands slip from his neck to his bed to keep yourself propped up, legs still wrapped tightly around his waist. Keisuke’s hands travel to your knees, and he just—stares.

He loves you. How could he not, with the way that pretty dress puddles on his mattress, exposing nearly all of your leg but hiding what he’s been waiting for his whole adult life? How could he not, with the way his spit makes your collar glistens in the moonlight, filtering in from behind those sheer curtains you insisted he get? How could he not love the way you say his name, reaching towards him, fingers catching on his belt buckle as you ask him if he’s ready?

“Not yet,” he whispers. The hoarseness of his voice, the way it’s dropped several octaves from merely seeing you on his bed, sends a jolt of electricity through you. You’re about to ask why, but the reverence in how he’s looking at you makes you not want to break this spell.

He trails his fingers along your calves. Gently, he unhooks your legs from his waist. His fingers shake as he struggles with the straps of your heels, but when you go to help, he catches your wrist. 

“No,” he repeats, “not yet.”

You keep quiet and merely watch as your best friend, the man of your dreams, takes his time in undressing you. One wedge, then the other, falling off your feet with a dull clank! on the carpet. Keisuke kisses your ankles, then starts kissing up your calves, then your knees, then your thighs—

The anticipation has you dripping. Your thighs instinctively clench when he gets to your hem, hands curling into fists by your sides. Your panties are uncomfortably glued to your cunt, sticky in a way you’ve never been before, and he’s not even lifted your dress to see yet.

Keisuke rests his chin atop your thigh. “Please,” he pleads—pleads—“Let me—baby, let me. I wanna taste you.”

Today is not the day you learn to refuse him.

Your muscles shake from anticipation as you slowly spread your legs, but that’s not enough for him. “Baby, no, I—I wanna hear you say it.” His voice is soft, shaky. A little hesitant, as if he’s not sure if this’ll ruin the moment but he knows he has to be sure—he has to hear you say it… if only to revel in the desperate way you say his name. 

“Keisuke, please… whatever you want, have it. Just—touch me, Kei, please, I need you—“

“Need you too, sweetheart,” he praises, running his lips along your thigh. “Gonna—gonna have you now, okay?”

His fingers still shake when he lifts your dress, exposing the black lace of your panties to him. At first glance, he can’t tell that they’re absolutely soaked—but that doesn’t stop the way you start to squirm in embarrassment as he just… stares. His thumbs dig into the fat of your hips, broad palms keeping your thighs spread and pinned to the bed.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s not breathing.

“Kei?”

He doesn’t look up. 

His grip gets tighter. His eyes narrow. Before you get the chance to ask him what’s wrong, he growls, “you wore these for him?”

You blink. That is not what you were expecting, but before you can defend with they’re my lucky pair, or I wanted to feel sexy, or it doesn’t matter, I’m here with you—Keisuke’s ripped them off.

You yelp when the fabric bites your skin, failing to wriggling away as Keisuke strips them off your ankle. “What the fuck—“

“I’ll get you a new pair,” he mutters. “Shit—I’ll get you a hundred pairs, but you get rid of every single set someone else has seen. Got it?”

Your lips purse. He’s being unreasonable, you think, and totally ridiculous… but no matter how much your brain tries to reason he’s out of line, your fluttering pussy doesn’t get the message. Your slick is evident now, exposed and iridescent in the moonlight, dripping down your hole and slowly saturating the sheets.

Usually, Keisuke wouldn’t let it go. Usually, he’d keep picking at it until you cave, or at least recognize you heard him—but usually, he’s not staring at your cunt. 

Right now, he can’t focus on anything but how desperate he is to be inside you.

“Yeah, think ya got it… fuck, babe… seems like you like it when I say shit like that, hunh?” 

You whimper slightly, having to bite your lip to keep it together. Slowly, he drags the tip of his finger from the sheet beneath you up along your wet folds. He barely touches you, but when he pulls his finger away, it’s covered in a layer of you. 

He brings it to his face with a cocky grin, watching how the pad shines in the moonlight. “You always this wet, or am I special?”

“Shut up,” you shoot back, preparing to bring up how special he found you earlier—only to immediately throw your head back and moan as Keisuke buries his face between your legs.

There is no preamble. There are no more teasing quips or pauses; Keisuke dives in like a man starved, and the only thing that can sate his appetite is you.

He starts with broad strokes, gathering as much of your slick as he can. He’s messy, messier than you, and soon there’s more of his spit than your wetness between your legs. His arms wrap around your thighs, keeping them pinned and spread on his shoulders as he continues to feast, thumbs spreading your lips open so he can truly devour you.

When Keisuke starts suckling on your clit, your fingers knot in his hair. You moan, loud and whiney and plead for him to keep going as your orgasm starts to boil—faster than before, more powerful too, with greater ease than you’ve ever managed to pull from yourself.

Keisuke brings a hand to your clit, quickly swiping the puffy bud with the pad of his thumb as he focuses his tongue on your fluttering hole. In and out, up and down, the warm muscle drives you insane. Your grip on his hair must hurt, but he says nothing; he focuses on making you feel as good as humanly possible, never once letting up, not even when you start to choke, “Kei—I’m—I’m gonna—“

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he commands. “C’mon, pretty girl, make a mess on my face, wanna feel how you clench, wanna make ya cry—”

It sends you over the edge.

With a scream of his name, your back arches. Your thighs try closing around him but still, he doesn’t let up. He keeps pace, tongue-fucking you, lapping up all the juice that spills out as his thumb continues caressing your clit until you do start crying and you do have to plead, “no—no more, Kei, can’t—“

“Can,” he corrects—but he stops. His hand stills, moving so that the warmth of his palm covers that sensitive bundle of nerves, and only then does he stop lapping at your hole. He presses a gentle kiss to your sex, then to your inner thigh. “But I’ll be nice tonight, sweetheart. Only ‘cause I love you, though.”

You stare at the ceiling as you catch your breath. The paint is peeling in the corner. The glow-in-the-dark stars you helped him put up when he first moved in are dim. The walls are covered in motorcycle posters. A calendar set to the wrong month hangs above a salvaged desk, covered with various veterinary textbooks, barely legible notebooks, a handful of empty beer cans, and a handful of DVD cases, one of which you know is Dyslexia; How to Read When Even Your Brain Doesn’t Want You To. A neon sign advertising Margaritaville is unlit beside his closet. A pile of clothes that didn’t make it to the hamper rests beneath it.

 The room is so—Keisuke , you feel at peace, even as your limbs turn to jelly.

Your heart is racing faster than if you’d just run a marathon. “Thought—thought you said you hadn’t—“ you try panting, but it’s too much effort, too soon. You end up collapsing back on the bed, head swimming with euphoria.

“Said I hadn’t had sex,” Keisuke corrects as he stands, your limp thighs falling to the either side of his waist, “not that I’ve never eaten pussy.” He scoffs, as if that should’ve been obvious. “I’m not an idiot, babe. I respect women enough to know where the clit is.”

A little laugh escapes you. The fan motor is the only other sound. It’s cool, your nipples perk beneath your bra, but you’re still hot. Still hyper aware that Keisuke is just a few inches away, watching your bare cunt flutter and beg him for more.

Keisuke does love you. You know he does, because he gives you time to catch your breathe before he starts up again, only pressing soft kisses to the inside of your legs and quiet offerings of, “so fuckin’ pretty” and “can’t believe you’re here” and, your favorite, the only one you respond to: “so in love with you.” 

“I love you too, Kei.”

He runs his hands along your sides, slowly taking more and more of your dress up with it until the entire thing is resting by your neck. He makes quick work of your bra, not even needing you to sit up as he unhooks it and lifts the cups away.

He says nothing; just stares at your naked body with the same adoration and awe he held when taking off your shoes.

“You’re—so beautiful,” he whispers. “Y’know that? So—so fuckin’ beautiful.”

He bends down and takes a pert nipple in his mouth. You whine, hate yourself for doing so, then whine again as his free hand starts tweaking your other nipple. He runs his tongue over every inch of your chest, making sure you’re covered with his spit and hands, traversing as much of you as he can.

When he gets to your face, he smiles. “You’re mine, yeah? All mine?”

Your fingers run over his jaw, over the bruise that’s barely discernible in the moonlight. No one’s touched you like him; no one’s even kissed you like him, either, and you’re not sure if it’s the “Keisuke” of it all making you feel like this, or if this is how it’s supposed to have felt all along. 

The answer comes easily.

“Yeah,” you agree with a smile of your own, “yeah, m’all yours, Keisuke. Pretty sure I always have been.”

“Always, hunh?” He holds you gently now; a stark contrast to the hungry way he’d just devoured you. “That mean you’ve always loved me, too?”

Your breathy yes is lost in a gasp when his hand slides between your legs. Gently, he prods a single thick finger into your virgin hole, shallowly dipping in and out. “Never had someone else in here, hunh? M’gonna be your first?”

“Y-yes,” you repeat, voice cracking. Your eyes flutter close as he keeps fingering you. You’d had fingers in there before, but none like this. Your own couldn’t compare, two of yours barely able to stretch the way one of his does… and he’s not even going all the way. Not even knuckle deep as he explores only the shallows, letting you adjust.

Your face scrunches when he adds a second.

“This okay?” he asks. You look at him, hand wrapping around his neck as you bring his forehead down to meet yours.

You nod, then remember what he said earlier, how you could feel his cock jumping when you were sweet and needy for him. “Yeah, Keisuke. Yes—yes, I want this. I want you.”

He cups your face and trails soft kisses from corner to corner, breaking apart only to lift your dress and bra over your head. They’re carelessly thrown to the floor, you have half a mind to scold him that it’ll wrinkle—but when he goes back to your cunt, two fingers halfway in, all you’re able to say is the harsh inhale of his name.

They’re shallow, never pushing in deep enough to hurt, slowly stretching your rim to its max. He goes a little deeper, then starts scissoring them, and it becomes nearly impossible to believe he hasn’t done this before.

“No—no way you’re a virgin,” you hiss when Keisuke’s lips travel to your breast. He alternates between sucking hickeys and kneading them while staring at the way your cunt sucks him in, never stopping his ministrations.

Keisuke lets out a short scoff and shifts. “You literally made me cum my pants like a teenager.”

“Then how—“

“I told ya, babe, I respect women,” is his only reply. The only one he’s willing to give, at least, because he starts paying more attention to your tits than what questions are spilling his way.

You feel like you’ve got to be ready when he adds a third, and you say as much—only for Keisuke to meet your gaze with a cocky grin. “Trust me, sweetheart. You’re gonna thank me for this.” 

It can’t be much longer until he deems you ready, but it feels like forever, even if he keeps you distracted from the slight burn between your legs by playing with your breasts, sucking on your throat, praising you.

“Taking m’fingers so well, pretty thing. You’re such a good girl f’me, can’t believe you made me wait this long…”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you scold. He curls his fingers mid-way through your sentence, rubbing against a sensitive spot you’ve never been able to find on your own. You keen his name, hand snapping down to catch his forearm. He pauses.

“Too much?”

Slowly, you shake your head, eyes watering. “Please, Kei, I—I want you to fuck me.”

Keisuke presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Never could say no to you, sweetheart.”

If you could think clearly, you’d start listing all the times he has denied you, starting with just a few seconds ago—but him withdrawing his fingers leaves you feeling too empty to do much but pout.

When he pulls away, you chase after him, only for him to shake his head with a fond grin. “How am I supposed to fuck you if you won’t let me take my pants off?”

With hot cheeks, your lips twist. “You were the one who wanted to fuck on your bike, and then in the hall—what, were you planning on stripping naked then, too?”

You’re rewarded with a very rare, very endearing blush. He sits back on his knees and rubs his neck, eyes dropping from yours—then his lip curls in a smirk. “With how wet you got, seems like you wanted me to. What—you like the idea of that? Getting fucked in public? Don’t worry, sweetheart, maybe we’ll try that one day…” He laughs at the way you squirm, but he’s not wrong; your cunt clenches at the thought.

“You’re such a dick.” Your hands reach for his belt, fumbling slightly as you try to undo it. Keisuke’s hands take over, getting rid of the black leather in seconds.

“Your dick,” he corrects, hands back on you, gently laying you back against his pillows, trailing over your now completely naked body, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You roll your eyes but say nothing, heart in your throat, pussy pulsing in anticipation.

He straightens, taking in the display in front of him. Taking in you.

You sit up slightly, chewing your lower lip. He’s beautiful, but even more so in the moonlight. It illuminates his pale skin, almost making him glow in the darkness of the rest of his room. Obsidian hair falls in a straight sheet around his flushed cheeks, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Violet and red marks adorn his neck and chest. His abs flex when he watches the way your eyes trail down; down the inlet between them, down the stern jut of his prominent v-line, over the faint trail of dark hair that disappears into the band of his jeans.

His fingers—the ones just inside you—hover on the button. They’re covered in your slick, resting just above a bulge that looks absolutely delicious, one that you know he can’t wait to bury inside you—but still, he hesitates.

“I love you, Keisuke,” you say. He smiles. It’s the only further confirmation he needs before he’s pushing off the bed and pulling down his jeans and underwear in one go.

The others have lied about a lot—like Baji’s lack of virginity—but the size of Keisuke is not one of them.

Your jaw drops as you push to your knees, staring at Keisuke’s cock like it’s the first you’ve ever seen. It’s not, and technically speaking, it’s not even the first time you’ve seen his—but that time in the shower, when it was hanging heavily between his legs and you only caught a glimpse… apparently, that was him soft.

Keisuke hard is more impressive than any porn you’ve seen. So heavy that it can barely support its own weight, even with all the blood rushing through it, and so wide around even Keisuke, with his broad palms and lanky fingers, doesn’t dwarf it. 

A thick bead of pre slips out the tip, trailing along the bulging vein that disappears under Keisuke’s hand as he starts to stroke it.

“This… is where the others tapped out,” he says slowly, taking in the way you watch. “I mean—not that I’m thinking about them—but I just—“

“You’re big.”

Keisuke chokes on a laugh. “So I’ve heard. Pretty virgin like you wouldn’t know any better though, would you?”

You give him a withering glare. “I’ve sucked dick before, asshole. You’re big.”

Keisuke’s jaw clenches. “Yeah? Go on, then. Show me how you’ve sucked dick.”

Later, you’ll tease him for how jealous he got, and later, you’ll revel in the possessive way he determines to erase every other touch from your memory—but now, you obediently crawl towards him, one of your smaller hands overlapping his, and you take control.

You press a soft kiss to his flushed tip. It’s larger than your lips, his pre a salty gloss as you kiss again and again—Keisuke grips your hair. “Suck.”

It’s as much a plea as it is a command, one you can’t ignore. You take him,—just the tip—in your mouth, tongue swirling over his warm head as your hand replaces his on the rest of his dick. Your fingers barely touch, and no matter how you adjust, how you lay your palm or spread your fingers… there’s still at least an inch of him exposed.

He hisses, nearly drowning out the lewd, wet sound your pussy makes as it clenches around nothing.

“This—turning you on?” he says, as if his cock isn’t twitching obscenely against your tongue. “Fuckin—sucking on a big cock making you wet?”

You let go with a wet pop! and bat your eyelashes at him. You know exactly what you’re doing when you say, “No, Kei. I’m this wet ‘cause of you.”

With a groan, Keisuke pulls your head back to his dick and thrusts in, sliding as far as you’ll let him before you start to gag. “That’s—that’s it, sweetheart, get it nice and wet.”

He holds you there for a moment, waiting until you tap on his thigh before sliding out. Your eyes are teary, saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth. Deftly, you twist your wrist while catching your breath. His fingers go from knotting in your hair to petting the back of your head.

“You keep doing that, I’m gonna bust,” he warns, but his fond smile gives him away.

You merely smile. “Telling me you’ve never had your cock sucked, Kei?” 

His lip curls in a snarl, which disappears with a groan when you take him in your throat once more. Slowly, lips pursing around him, tongue flicking along the sensitive underside of his cockhead as you try going as far as you can. Your jaw is already starting to ache, but you’re determined to prove yourself.

“Not—like this,” he moans, pushing your head a little further down. Your lips split in a smile, and you raise your hand to start fondling his balls—a trick that’s always gotten you success before—but before you make contact, Keisuke is sliding out and grabbing your jaw. He’s breathing heavily, pupils blown out with lust. He stares at your lips then leans forward, not flinching at the taste of himself on you.

“Wanna fuck you now,” he mumbles. You wrap your arms around his neck and start to lean back, nodding.

“Want you to fuck me too,” you agree. One of Keisuke’s muscular thighs slides between your legs, easing them apart. He keeps kissing you, letting you fall softly against his pillows while he keeps stroking his member, slick with your spit.

He taps the tip of his cock against your clit. You hiss in surprise, eyes closing shut at the sudden sensation of pleasure that rushes through you. “Let me know if it hurts,” he says quietly. He grips his cock right beneath the head, guiding it through your slick folds, getting as much of your fluids on him as he can. 

He’s torn between needing to see the way you suck him in, and the need to squeeze his eyes shut. The sight of you alone, legs spread on either side, pussy gushing because of him, covering in marks because of him, mewling his name as you beg him to fuck you—it’s almost enough for him to cum on the spot. 

Faintly, honks echo from the street below. It’s amazing that in this instant, as your world is about to change forever and for the better, everyone else is going about their business like nothing’s happening. They’re catching a late-dinner with their partner; walking home from a late-night meeting that could’ve been an email; swinging by the grocer’s to pick up snacks and drinks to share with their friends… The whole world is continuing on, just beyond that window, but for you and Keisuke… it’s as if time’s stopped. 

The world is only real for the two of you.

He bends down to kiss you, making sure to pour every ounce of love and care he has into this one. You respond just as sweetly, reveling in the power of this moment, this one decision that will irrevocably tie you together forever, the way you were always meant to be.

He loves you, you love him, and there’s nothing else that matters.

“Ready?” he asks. You nod, then echo, “ready,” and he puts it in; just the tip, spearing past your tight hole. The two of you let out a synchronous gasp.

It’s even more than three of his fingers; warm, too, and thick, softer but also harder and full—you’re so, so, so full as he slowly edges in. It hurts—it feels good—it burns—you need more—

“Baby,” Keisuke pants. He’s let go of his cock, letting just the first inch or so rest comfortably within your walls. You feel him twitch, feel how tight his fingers dig into the sheets on either side of you so he doesn’t add more bruises to your ever-growing collection. “Baby, talk to me. Tell me—are you—are you okay?”

You whimper slightly when he sinks a little further. Eyes scrunching, your fingers digging into his thighs as you try to even your breath. “It—it’s so—“ you try saying, but it’s like you can feel him in your stomach, the pressure tightening all the way up your throat and cutting you off.

“So—good,” Keisuke gasps. He does the best he can, really, but you—you’re so—warm, and wet, and inviting—the place you’re joined might be the best thing he’s ever felt–ever seen. He slides a little further, presses a kiss to wherever he can reach as he waits until your chest stops heaving as horribly. He tries telling you he loves you, he really tries telling you how amazing you are, how perfect you are, how good you feel—but all that comes out are choked, half-sentences that fade into groans.

Tears prick at your lash line by the time he’s securely sheathed in you. Your fingers dig into his back, trying to pull him flush to your chest and bury his head in your neck so he can’t see. You know how he’ll feel; he’ll pull out and say he’s sorry, that he never meant to hurt you and it’s not worth it and he won’t try again–and that’s not what you want. You just need some time to adjust, that’s all. 

You never realized how empty you were.

Keisuke lifts up from the crook of your neck when the first tear slides against his cheek. “M’sorry,” he breathes, kissing one eye, then the other, licking the tear tracks and kissing you again. “M’sorry, I don’t wanna hurt—“ His arms shake on either side of you. The urge to start shifting his hips is sinful, but he doesn’t. He can’t, not until you're okay, not until you tell him it’s okay.

“It’s—okay,” you breathe. Your face says otherwise, but really… it’s okay. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck, offering him a little smile as you shift your hips ever-so-slightly against his. “I’m—I’m okay, baby, really. Just—just go slow.”

Keisuke kisses you. Slowly, deeply, spreading your lips with his as he gently pulls out and slides back in, heeding your directive to go slow. It hurts, it still hurts, is it supposed to hurt like this—but right when you’re about to give up, right when you’re about to tell him it's too much and maybe you should stop… it starts to feel good.

Not just full, but satisfying, bumping against the back of your messy cunt with every stroke. The ridge of his cockhead catches your insides in a way that makes your toes curl, and before long, your legs are wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Gods—fuck, Kei, fuck—“ you hiss, burying your head in his shoulder, biting his collarbone to keep yourself from screaming. “Just—there, like that, don’t—fuck—“

“Thought you said you were a virgin,” he hisses. Your broken pleas of, I am, I am, I am—go unrecognized as he slowly picks up speed. “Virgin pussy—heh—always feel this—fuckin’ good?”

You moan, loud and unreserved, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. Your stomach burns. Your pussy clenches, but for the first time, there’s finally something to hold on to, finally something to fill you up—you’ve never been so full, never felt so good. The coil tightens in your stomach, made all the more tense by the fact there’s something inside— “Gonna— gonna cum, Kei, don’t—don’t stop, please—“

“Yeah, sweetheart? You gonna—gonna cum for me? Go on, cum f’me. Cum on my cock, baby, show me what we’ve been—been waitin’ for—“

You cry when your orgasm finally washes over you.

You’ve never climaxed this powerfully before, to the point that you’ve felt like—this. The world is empty besides the two of you. Bells ring in your ear as you struggle to keep your eyes open, your whole body floating. You feel everything and nothing; like you’re weightless but have never been so heavy in your life.

You gasp for air, fingers digging into Keisuke’s shoulders as his hips stutter a few more times then still. His moans into your ear as his own orgasms consumes him, painting your insides white, shooting so much it drips out of your spent pussy and starts to puddle between you.

He stays there for a moment. Lets his lips trace lazy patterns beneath your ear, still half-hard inside you, one hand gripping the back of your neck and the other holding your breast. Even though you’re spent, your hands delicately trail up and down his spine. Your breathing is heavy and your smile bright and you think you could stay right here forever.

The plastic stars one his ceiling smile down at you, and you imagine the ones outside are doing the same. ‘About time!’ they seem to say. After all these years, about time. There’s a shrill whistle of bus brakes, screeching to a halt; a muffled shout from one pedestrian to another. The fan creaks slightly, the cool air washing over you and helping calm the raging fire on your skin. The clock on Keisuke’s lopsided nightstand, made even with a stack of textbooks he never got to put to use, beeps at midnight: the end of one day, the start of forever.

Kei takes a deep breath and slides off, hissing as his sensitive cock is exposed to the cool air of his bedroom. He lays on his back, taking a hand and placing it over his eyes as he tries to calm his racing heart.

Your legs are sticky. They’re already getting sore. Your hips ache, your spine stretches, your chest burns—but you relish it. Kei’s breathing evens beside you. 

Glancing, you check if he’s asleep—but with the way his forearm covers his eyes, you can’t tell. He looks even more like an angel now. Light, from a city just waking up, creeps past the curtains, illuminating slivers of his pale and flushed skin. He looks–relaxed. Content, even with the blush still coloring his high cheeks bones. His lips are parted, shallow gasps of air being sucked through them, but the longer you look, the more it looks like they’re curling in a smile.

His chest rises and falls steadily, and just when you start to think he might actually be asleep, the hand beneath your neck starts playing with your hair.

“Think it’s—always this good?” he asks breathlessly, pulling you in a little closer.

You pretend to think. He tilts his head, cracking an eye to look down at you curiously. You smile. “I don’t know. Think we better try again—y’know, just to be sure.”

Kei barks out a laugh and pulls you to his chest, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And right now, with the gentle light filtering through his open window, sweaty and smiling and with his cum dripping from between your legs to make a mess of his thigh, you are.

You play with the edges of his hair, sprawled lazily across his sweaty forehead. With a soft smile, he reaches for your fingers and pulls them to his lips. “Do you actually like it? My haircut, I mean. Pretty sure you liked the other stuff.”

You answer with a laugh, pressing a kiss to where the edges fall. “I love it.”

He grins and rolls over, pinning you to the mattress. The short locks make a curtain, hiding the two of you from anything but each other. “Good. Did it f’you.”

“For me?”

He hums and buries his face in your neck, delicately kissing the bruising skin. “Noticed your type. None of them had long hair, ’n I thought…”

With a pealing laugh, you grab his cheeks and bring his face to yours, smothering him with kisses. “Keisuke, you are such an idiot.”

He pretends to frown, but kisses you all the same. “Weren’t calling me that when I was making you scream earlier.”

“Kei,” you say, forcing him back so you can really meet his eyes, “short hair, long hair. No hair. The only kind of guy I’ve ever truly wanted has been you.”

Keisuke blinks. Short, thick lashes bat against those endlessly high cheekbones of his, and then he smiles. He lowers his lips to yours once more and gifts you a kiss; deep, slow. A kiss that’s been years in the making, that says all that your words have and then some.

“I love you,” he says, and you barely have time to say the same before he’s kissing you, hardening cock easily gliding back through your sticky folds, and you go for round two.

So... happy adventuring :) thank you for reading! if you made it this far… pls reblog, drop a comment, or leave an ask if you enjoyed!! I worked really, really hard on this, and it would mean the absolute world to me that, if y’all enjoyed it, you told me why. if you hated it, tell me why. if i made you cry or scream or fall in love or fierce fiercely full of disappointed rage, tell me why!! i won’t bite (unless you ask)!

hopefully the next adventure gets even better. thanks for reading!

[tavshortfortavern]

Companions with a Tav from Modern Earth

Modern!Tav who still has their things from earth

Characters: Astarion, Gale, Karlach

Astarion

Learns that you have never met another race other than your own and he was the first elf you've met outside of stories, he's all smug that he was the first one you've met and horrified of a world without elves.

"Well darling, how is your first meeting with an elf?" He asks, posing proudly. "Must be a momentous day."

You stare at him up and down. "I thought you'd be taller." He gasps and glares indignantly but you kept making fun of his height

When he mentions not being able to see his reflection, you take a picture of him with your phone. He's alarmed with whatever your doing with that strange device until you show him his picture

"Is that me?" he's stunned, reaching out towards where his image is shown. The curse doesn't take into account digital reflection.

You do your best to explain the cellular device but most importantly the camera feature. You've been using it to snap pictures of places, fantastical scenes in this fantasyland and documenting memories

He listens enraptured. You come to almost regret it bc now said phone frequently goes missing. Astarion having pickpocket it to take selfies or simply admire himself in the screen

Soon your memory is almost full thanks to the selfies he's taking. He remarks you should be thankful to have such gorgeous sights immortalized in your device. He's doing you a favor

You will admit he's gotten real good at taking photos of himself. He'd quickly become a popular social media influencer/model back home.

Found out your little hand mirror could also show his reflection. The way your world made mirrors was without silver and could reflect him. You give it to him freely, as long as it means your phone is stolen less

Genuinely thankful for the gift. Keeps it close to him at all times. You know this when you observe him gazing at himself thru the mirror, touching his face with a look that says he can't quite believe what he's seeing. Quickly earns you a lot of approval.

Asks for your handmade soaps and shampoo made from natural resources you scavenged and bought. It eases the experience of roughing it out in the wild

When he feeds on you the first time, its great but immediately notices something wrong. Your blood tastes different somehow.

You explain microplastics and he's horrified. (but if he canonically gets a taste for Gale's blood, he will for yours)

Gale

Can't wrap his head around a world without magic.

Listens to you explain you and the majority of the population believing magic was a fairy tale and never heard of this 'Weave'

Wants to hear about your world, its history and how its progressing having no magic and only containing humans.

He understands this must be a lot for you and is willing to teach you everything you need to know about Faerun

Always interested in whatever device you pull out. Asking plenty of questions. From your phone to a ballpoint pen. Once spent a day studying the taser you had.

Loves the look of childlike wonder on your face whenever a spell is cast. Even a simple cantrip. Gladly shows off and soaks in the rapt attention you give him whenever he talks about spellcraft.

Helps you out with your own casting, if you obtained the ability to use magic, he could provide a little insight in guiding a new power

Soon you'll be sharing your stationary items. Started with the pen, next the multi-colored ones and so on.

Usually protective over kitchen duties but welcomes you to make dishes from your home world. Some even become a staple in camp.

If you have any soda, don't let him drink without warning him. He'll startle when the fizz hits his tongue and maybe choke.

Understands your homesickness. Being torn from everything you've ever known to a dangerous environment must be a lot. Is very patient when answering your questions even if they seem inane.

Show him pictures and videos of your home and he'd be intrigued, the glass towers, structures that pierce the sky, streets lit with colorful lights, and flying machines. Some parts remind him of Waterdeep.

Karlach

Loves soda and whatever fast food you have. Could go months just eating that if Gale hadn't put his foot down.

Introduce her to rock music and heavy metal. Hypes her up for a fight. Even music that's nice to dance to. Will be dancing a lot in camp. And jamming out.

Also learns you're still new to meeting other races. Thinks its great how your willing to help people you might have been alarmed to see at first and being so open minded to befriend anyone

Sympathetic when your homesick. She has her own experience being sent off into a different plane for years with nothing to connect her to home

You talk about modern medicine back home and heart surgery. Both of you wonder if they could just get her engine out and replace it with a normal heart in a hospital. It's a frequent topic of conversation as you work out the logistics

Is also happy to listen to any stories from your world. From classic fairy tales to history. Asks for them whenever it gets too quiet

Wants to see your world some day. If her engines gets fixed wants to visit and see everything you've told her and places shown in the pcitures in your phone

Photobombs your pictures. Its especially funny when she does it to Astarion trying to take another pic of himself, he complains but never deletes the picture

Will go through your photo album and ask about them. Who are the people your with, what are you doing in this, where is this and whats it like there

[h0tb0x1nnac0ff1n]

Very excited to see your page grow ! 🤍 sorry for the long request 😣😣❕

Can i request a Daryl x fem!reader where the reader’s whole love language was cooking for people before everything went to shit? But because to the outbreak and where they ran from place to place.. she just could never make anything and because lack of ingredients which sort of kills her morale.

However, when they’re staying at Alexandria.. One day she gets one look at their pantry and is strangely super excited and very much productive for the whole afternoon. Which causes confusion among the group because “woah reader is rlly happy, wonder what’s up.” And it’s because she can finally cook the food she loved to make and it’s now time for Daryl to test-taste each and every single dish made all with her love 🤍 .

Just some wholesome fluffiness bc i personally imagine Daryl had like food made by someone for him. He deserves the best as he just eats everything up bc its made with all of our love 🤍🤍🤍

Hello!!! I think this is an amazing idea! Can I just say that I’ve found my people 🤧

Here’s to my first X Reader on here 🥂

Warning: Talks about food/ fluff/ killing walkers (normal TWD stuff)

HOPE YALL ENJOY❤️

You a chef or something’?

For as long as you could remember, you always loved to cook for the people closest to you.

You would make them their favorite foods and the look on their faces when they would take that first bite was enough to make your entire day.

But when everything happened, cooking food that actually tasted good was the least of your concern, breaking your little chef heart. But when you walked into Alexandria for the first time and saw the plethora of food they had, your heart practically sung.

“What type of herbs do you have?”

“Just about everything, basil, thyme, rosemary, paprika. You name it we probably have it.”

“Where did you get all of them?” You said with a little giggle in your throat.

“Out scavenging, this area used to be a huge neighborhood so there was lots of herbs and seasonings that were left behind”

You were so excited for all of the possibilities! You could make so many different foods and you can now FINALLY show off to everyone how much you loved to cook. But there was one person who you especially wanted to impress.

He sat outside of the house cleaning his bow you and Rick’s group had decided to stay in until you could trust these new people.

You walked up to the house with a huge basket of cans, herbs, seasonings, and just whatever you could put into a meal.

“What gotcha all skipping down the street like a child?” the bowman said with his southern twang, an accent you been hearing since you joined the group back at the quarry.

“Just some herbs and seasonings”

“Whatcha gonna use tha for?”

“Uh, cooking?” You said in a questionable tone.

“Do you want me to cook you something?”

“Nah, you don’ gotta do tha. Whatcha gonna make with all of those anyway?”

“I have lots of ideas on what to make, you know it’s been a while since I cooked, maybe you could come inside and taste everything?”

Daryl gave it a second of thought, but in his normal gruff voice “Fine, but you gotta cook what I ask for”

“Okay!”

Ever since you first met Daryl and the quarry you always thought he was a hard working man. Always went out and got food. He was a survivor, a man the world couldn’t take down no matter what it threw to him.

When he saved you after the walkers invaded the camp, you began to not just think he was a cool guy but also to have a sense of respect for him.

“What do you want me to cook you?”

“Well, I got this squirrel that I plan of skinning, be nice to do somethin with it.”

And that got you thinking. “Maybe we could do a stew, or a baked squirrel, or maybe-“ “Woah, calm down ther’ just make a stew that’ll be simple enough all righ’?”

“Okay, a stew. Hmm.” You go inside the house and walk to the kitchen placing down the basket, and you start looking at the seasonings, and vegetables in your basket. You pick out the cucumber, carrots, squash, flour, and eggs “How many squirrels do you have?”

“I got five”

“Okay, I can make a broth from the squirrels and make a minestrone soup”

“The hell is a minestrone soup?” “It’s a soup from Italy, filled with vegetables.”

“Well okay, tell me when it done”

You gave him a big smile and turned around to get started on this soup, you had Daryl skin the squirrels for you, you baked the squirrel and toon of the meat, then placed the meat in a bag and put it in the fridge for the stew. You then got the bones and some meat from the squirrel, put it in a pot filled with garlic, carrots, onions, and you put it to the top of the got with water. Then you let it cook on the stove top for HOURS.

The next day you strained the broth and started on the soup. You chopped up the vegetables and you made the pasta. Using the flour and eggs you used 3 parts flour, and 2 parts egg. You than mixed with your hands and used a rolling pin to flatten it out. Daryl than came up to you to check what you were doing “Why ya just now startin tha?” “I had to make the broth, that took all night.”

“Ya didn’t have to do tha it justa soup I woulda had you make me somethin else if I knew it would take that long.”

“Don’t be an ass Daryl I’m doing this because I care.”

“But why do you care, why do ya care about the way food tastes n all tha, it jus ment for ya to survive.”

“I know, but mankind invented art, and I believe cooking is an art. You deserve some good food after everything you do, just let me show that I care.”

“Fine, just stop being philosophical.”

“That a big word even for you Mr. Dixon.” You joked.

He just scoffed and walked away. ‘Finally some peace to myself’ you thought. You loved that man you do but sometimes he can just get in your nerves. But you know he’s an ass out of love.

One hour later, the soup is finally now just simmering in the pot. You decided it would be a good idea to make a cake because you think Daryl might appreciate it for taking so long to cook the soup.

You ran down to the little ‘Grocery store’ they had down the street and picked up some sugar, butter, and vanilla flavoring.

You devoted to them start on the cake, also making your own butter crème frosting. After two hours, everything was perfect.

You decided to set up the table and piped open a glass of red wine.

“Daryl ! Dinners ready!”

Daryl walked slowly into the house to see you dressed in a beautiful floral summer dress and some fake pearl earrings from the mall back when you were in the quarry.

“Wha’ with all this?” He asked not knowing how to react. All he knew was this beautiful woman whom he adored had made him a meal that smelled sweeter than anything else.

“I thought you would enjoy it, so I decided to get some wine, and the nicest bowl I could find”

“Well, tha’ sweet of ya, wish I dressed up a bit more now.”

Daryl was wearing what he usually does, his t-shirt with his beautiful arms showing, with his angel wing vest and his cargo pants with boots.

“You look just fine Daryl, not like we have many clothes anyway.”

Daryl silently agreed and sat down

You served him the soup with a slice of buttered Italian bread and a glass of wine.

You sat yourself across from him and Daryl instantly started to eat.

“Oh wow-“ Daryl’s face looked as if he had never eaten before.

“This the best soup I ever had”

“Are you messing with me?” Daryl had never really given many compliments to anybody, so him saying so ment a lot.

“I’m serious, the carrots are nice, ion think I ever had squash before so that new.”

“Aw well thank you Daryl”

“Nah thank you, so tell me sunshine” and nickname he had given to you that just made your heart flutter.

“Why is cooking so important to ya?”

“I think it just the feeling that, I can make people happy, that I could make them something and they would enjoy it.”

“Mm” he replied nodding.

After dinner you and Daryl had a slice of the cake you had decided to bake last minute, he also said that the cake was and I quote “Fucking amazing”.

You two decided to hang out and talk while you both cleaned up the kitchen.

“Hey Daryl.”

“Ya what’s up sunshine?”

“Do you think I could cook for you more often? I mean I hope you liked it”

“Woman, I loved your cooking, imma be coming over every nigh’ now.”

You were so happy to hear that, Daryl actually loved your cooking. You felt so happy you couldn’t hold back your smile, making your face a bit red.

Daryl smiled and continued wiping down the table.

After that you decided to go to bed, Daryl had decided to as well, but he slept downstairs still.

You kissed him a goodnight kiss on his cheek and walked up stairs. Thinking about the day, Daryl fell asleep with a smile on his face excited for what tomorrow will bring.

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THANK YOU ALL FOR READING!!!!! So sorry if it shitty but thank you all for reading my first x reader on this app 🤧 ❤️

[euniexenoblade]

I may have asked you this before, and I'm really sorry, so I'm gonna be on anon for this. I. hate. cleaning. I've always hated cleaning. I just...have some strange aversion to cleaning. When I'm elsewhere, I clean just fine. But when it's my own stuff and area...I just avoid it for as long as possible. Executive dysfunction really sucks. What advice do you have that you can give me?

Executive dysfunction is tough, because it's really really hard to get around sometimes. Nothing I say will be a sure fire way to get through it, but I hope something I say can be helpful.

First of all, do not expect that you'll clean the whole house or anything. Just focus on a small amount at a time. Doesn't even have to be a whole room. Make it like, "today I will take care of x in the bathroom." It'll be so much easier. Maybe do like, one task a day if possible, and allow yourself to not keep up with that. You're allowed to skip chores, it's not the end of the world.

I like to open up the windows and let sunlight in, I also really like to blast music (or headphones if need be) and just go for it. I approach it like a jog, activity i need to power through and music is the energy. Serious about that sunlight, it wakes you up and brightens the mood.

As I said, start small. Is there garbage in your room? Pick it up and throw it out. There you go, there's one task. You can call it done there if you want. Do you have dishes scattered around your room? Pick em up and put them in the sink. There you go! A whole new task completed!

If the trash needs to go out, take it out when you leave the house. On your way to work? Take the trash out on the way. Gonna check the mail? Take the trash out.

Dishes can be daunting but if you break it into smaller tasks it can be a lot more manageable. When I'm at my girlfriend's house I tend to do the dishes immediately following the meal. (This is largely cuz they have so few dishes in general and so they're available when we want to eat next buuuut) This makes it so dishes don't stack up. Washing one bowl and one spoon and maybe a pan is a lot less work than a collected stack. You could also just load dishes into a dishwasher (assuming you have one) as you go. A lot of people don't do this which kinda always surprises me, but if you finish your meal, immediately when getting up, put the dishes in the dishwasher. No wait. Just do it. Dishes can't stack if they're already in the machine that's going to clean them.

Executive dysfunction is really hard to get around sometimes, and I'm sorry if none of this actually helped. But, with a lot of things with low energy or depression, you gotta kinda just make yourself do it. I know that seems redundant, "I can't make myself do it that's why it's a problem" but it is genuinely true. Sometimes you gotta just force it to happen. It's ok not to always be on top of everything. It's ok if today you just can't do it. It's ok if there are things you can't do and need help. Don't beat yourself up over it, that's not gonna help. Remember that it's ok to take breaks and not finish tasks.

Reward yourself. After you do the thing, do something you like. Eat chocolate, watch that show you've been waiting for, get high, whatever you want. (I like to take a big hot bath with a lush bath bomb, it's a great reward hehe~)

Buy a maid uniform, lots of people have told me that helps them power through chores :)

I don't know if any of that will help, but I hope it does.

Also, while I'm doing this, back on my last blog I wrote a post in reply to an ask of "how exactly do I clean my room" and I haven't been able to find it. So I think it'd be good to recreate it here. This is a lot more intensive, so anon plz don't feel inclined to do any of this. This is entirely for if people have the energy and ability, a bit closer to what I do.

Put on music. Absolutely the most important thing is having fun with it. Put on that song you like to sing along to, or that song you like to dance to, get yourself some energy. Jam the fuck out.

This is big optional, so feel free to skip this one if you don't want to do it. If you have a ceiling fan, wipe the top of the blades. Dust collects there even if you've been using it. But, if you haven't been using it, you don't want to knock all that dust down when you finally do. Go get yourself a duster for like $5 somewhere. If you just can't do that I'd recommend using a dry rag (always use dry things for dusting).

Do you have any dirty clothes? Whether in a hamper or on the floor, pick them up first and get the washer going, do the rest while the washer runs.

Get a trash bag. Do you have any trash in your room? Empty bottles, cans, wrappers, paper, any trash whatsoever: pick it up and put it in the bag.

Do you have any dishes laying around? Pick them up now and put them in the sink.

Wipe down any surfaces that might be dusty. Again, duster or dry rag. You can use paper towels if you want but I feel they're not very good for this task. Now wipe down any that might be dirty, from trash, dishes or whatever. Wet paper towel is allowed if you have no alternative, wet rag is probably better, lysol wipes tend to be my preference, if you're really fancy then you can get specific cleaners for wood and stuff (I wouldn't worry about this if all your shits cheap Ikea or Walmart though).

Whenever the washer finishes, of course move it to the dryer, but also put your bedding in the wash. You're cleaning the whole room, there's no way there isn't gunk on your bedding. This bit is kinda predicated on being able to wash/dry whenever you want. if you're reliant on a laundromat, edit this to whatever makes sense to you.

If you have carpet, I'd recommend to vacuum now. If you don't have a vacuum, no shame but I do recommend them. I wouldn't recommend a Dyson even though they look and seem cool, if you want a decent vacuum just stick to the normal top brands and you'll be fine. If you want one but don't have much money, get one of those small hand ones. If you have a hard floor, swiffer that shit.

You are largely done! Sometimes things may not be this easy but try your best with what you have and it'll be fine. Even doing just one of these things will feel good afterwards. Feel free to take breaks, to stop all together, reward yourself when you're done. It's just cleaning your room, don't think of it as a big deal.

[lillian-gallows]

Kinktober Day 24: Praise with Nancy Wheeler

Pairing: Nancy Wheeler X Fem!Reader Word Count: 1819 Warnings: Praise kink, Non-sexual kink, Non-sexual Intimacy, No smut, Fluff (So much fluff), Mommy kink (Reader call Nancy Mama as a title), Dom/Sub dynamics, Pet names, Bathing together, Kneeling, Reader is a little insecure but Nancy eases it.

Kinktober 2024 Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

Today had been long. Not bad, just long.

A coworker had called in sick, which meant all her time-sensitive work had gotten passed onto you.

You didn’t blame her, it’s not her fault she got the flu, but it did mean you spent the day rushing hither and to, trying to get everything done and now were absolutely exhausted.

Your keys jingled as you opened the door to your shared apartment, knowing that Nancy would already be home and waiting for your return.

God, you loved her.

You can still recall the day you met her like it was yesterday.

She’d been at your job doing research for one of her articles and you’d been assigned as the liaison from your company.

It was simple, answer her questions as best you could and show her some basic files for her to use as references later.

You’d walked away blushing beet red with a coffee date.

That coffee date turned into a dinner date, then a movie date, then you were meeting at her home for drinks.

Along the way you learned that you two were two sides of the same coin in so many ways.

You loved to cook, while she couldn’t boil water. You loved to talk, she loved to listen. You hated doing the dishes but loved doing the laundry, she would rather die than fold a shirt and found washing dishes calming. You didn’t have a dominant bone in your body, and she was more than happy to take control.

“Nance?” You called into the house as you slipped your jacket from your shoulders, hanging it in the same motion as you kicked your shoes off.

“Hey, welcome home.” She smiled as she came into sight at the end of the entryway hall, her slipper shuffling with every step. “How was work?” She asked as she noticed your sagging shoulders.

“Good, very busy, but good.” You answered as you reached her, leaning in for a kiss. “Tracy called out with the flu, so her work became my problem.” You shrugged, truly not bothered by it.

She returned your kiss without hesitation, blue eyes fluttering closed for a moment before regarding you. “It was sweet of you to take that on for her. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.” She said, a light tone of praise in her voice that had warmth rising in your face.

“Not so sweet, it was assigned to me.” You countered with another shrug.

“Yeah, but you still did it, and knowing you, you went above and beyond. Am I right?” She asked with a lifted brow. When your only answer was to look away and purse your lips she smirked slightly. “See? Sweet.” She established before pulling you into another kiss.

“My sweet girl.” She whispered against your lips, knowing fully how it would affect you.

You flushed even more, the heat spreading down your neck. “Quit…” You whined, not really wanting her to stop but at the same time having no energy to pursue the desire she created in you.

Like everything else about you, she saw right to the root of the problem, and pressed her lips to your forehead. “Why don’t we take a bath, and then we can relax?” She offered softly.

“We?” You questioned, assuming she was being suggestive.

“I want to take care of my Good Girl and help her relax, no funny business. Promise.” She answered softly.

You adored that she always seemed to know exactly what you needed.

As you both stood there, her waiting for your consent before she went to do as promised, you worried at your lip lightly. “C-Can I…Kneel for you…After…?” You asked, easily slipping into that submissive headspace.

Her smile widened, full of fondness and love. “Of course, Baby. Whatever you want after being so good today.” She answered, gentle hand brushing the soft strands of your hair from your face, tucking them behind your ear before cradling your cheek in her palm. “Go put your things down, get undressed, and I’ll get the bath ready. Okay?” She directed easily.

“Okay.” You answered, about to walk away from her but paused. “Can I have another kiss?”

This pulled a chuckle from her. “Yes, Sweetheart. You can have another kiss.” Then her lips were pressing to yours, soft and warm and tasting of the cinnamon tea she must have been drinking before you came home.

She’s an addiction you never want to kick.

As she parts from you, you try to follow her lips, still craving more. “Go on, I’ll meet you in the bathroom…” She coaxed with a nudge to your side, when had her hand found your hip?

“Okay, Mama…” Her smile widened at the use of her title, and she watched you go till you disappeared into the bedroom.

Your bag found its place on your dresser, and in the same motion you opened the pajama drawer, grabbing a soft long-sleeved shirt and pajama pants.

Your work clothes only barely landed in the hamper in your hurry to get out of them, and once you were free of them you took your bundle of clean clothes and made for the bathroom.

She was already naked when you entered, leaned over the bathtub to feel the temperature as it filled, and she looked over her shoulder at you. “Ready?” She asked as she sat up, offering a damp hand to you.

The bundle found its place on the counter before you took her hand as she helped you step into the warm water, little bubbles forming a white foam on the surface. It smelled of lavender.

Nancy stepped in after you and guided you to sit down with her, leaning back against her chest while she let her fingers drift along your skin. “There we go, pretty girl…” She cooed into your hair before pressing her lips to your bare shoulder.

Had she been someone else, you might have thought she was going to try for more, but you knew she was true to her promises, and her touches would remain innocent.

“I know you are but what am I?” You said teasingly. You were fishing for more praise and you both knew it, but she was more than happy to oblige.

She hummed as if in thought. “Beautiful, smart, sexy, resourceful, sweet as we’ve already established.” She said with an air of jest before turning serious once more. “Perfect.”

Your skin felt as hot as the water you sat in. “Not perfect.” You denied, though it was far from a jest, nor was it fishing this time.

Her gentle hand turned your face to meet her gaze. “You’re my perfect girl, and I won’t hear anything less.” She said with a gentle sternness.

You knew it drove her crazy when you spoke down of yourself, but you simply couldn’t help it, mean words throughout your life had imprinted on you.

“Am I understood?” She asked when you didn’t say anything.

Your lips pursed as if to decline, but you nodded. “Yes, Mama…” You answered softly.

Her smile returned after that. “Good.” She said before kissing your temple. “Now, let’s get you clean.” Continued as she took the washcloth in hand and dipped it in the water.

Her touch was gentle yet thorough as she washed your body for you, not missing a single spot as she went.

Normally this act would have turned heated, especially when she cleaned between your legs, but instead she let you lay back against her as she took care of you, careful not to linger and give your runaway brain anything to grasp onto.

By the time she was done the water had cooled and neither of you wanted to stay in it any longer.

After helping you out of the water, Nancy dried and dressed you and herself before having you sit on the toilet so she could brush your hair with a delicate touch, working each knot out with a practiced ease.

Your eyes fluttered closed as she did this, already getting that wonderful floaty feeling as your brain started to turn off.

“Sweety?” She cooed down at you, pulling you back to earth a little.

“Hm?” You managed, heavy eyelids fluttering open to look up at her.

“Ready to go sit down?” She asked, knowing full well what the answer was, but she liked making you talk when you got like this, how light your voice became, how at ease you were.

No worries, just you and her.

“Mm-hmm…” Was the best you could offer before trying to stand, only to stagger slightly on your wobbly legs.

Her strong hands caught you, helping keep you steady. “Careful, Baby.” She murmured, leading you out of the bathroom and down the hallway slowly, careful not to let go of you.

“Mama’s sweet too…” You whispered as you followed her.

“Hm? What was that, Baby?” She asked, looking back at you.

“You said I was sweet. Mama’s sweet too.” You said slightly louder this time, though you couldn’t manage much more.

Her smile was like sunshine as she stopped and faced you fully. “Thank you, Sweety. But you.” She tucked the wet strands of hair behind your ear once more. “Are the sweetest, and I’m afraid that’s simply not up for debate.” Then she gave you a tender kiss, arms wrapping around you in a warm hug.

“Love you…” You whispered into her shoulder.

“I love you too.” She answered before taking your hand in hers to continue the path to the living room.

Stopping in front of the couch she took one of the thick blankets you kept there and folded it into fourths before laying it on the floor and sitting down with her feet under it and her knees parted before offering her hand once more.

There was no hesitation in taking it, letting her guide you to the floor on the blanket between her legs, where you rested your cheek on her thigh and wrapped your hands around the backs of her knees, thumbs running up and down along the soft material of her pajama pants.

“Comfortable?” She asked as she ran her fingers through your hair.

“Mm-hmm…” You gave a slow nod.

“Want me to read to you? It’s Sherlock Holms.” She offered softly, holding up the book she must have been reading before you got home.

“Please?” You hummed, looking up at her with big eyes.

“Of course.” She answered before settling back into her seat and opening the book, holding it with one hand while the other continued to play with your hair, only leaving every so often to turn the page, her warm voice was hypnotic, and you quickly drifted off into that sea of calm known as subspace.

“Mama…?” You murmured after a while.

“Yes, Baby?” You could feel her eyes on you, attention undivided.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Sweety.”

[silverhart-makes-art]

This week's Bestiary Posting is the Gerzlaem, and I can't wait to find out what it actually is. I can't even tell if this is a real critter or a mythical one. And I must apologize because it seems a lot of the warm tones in my piece got dulled down when I exported this - there's always a little bit of color difference, but for whatever reason this one suffered more than most and I don't have the patience to try and fix it.

The description tells us this creature has three varieties, but only describes two to us; a short, curly-haired one who is quite peaceable, and a tall, straight-haired one who is quite fierce. Kind of reminds me of how some sheep have hair instead of wool. I imagine the short one is about large dog sized with the larger one being the size of a black bear.

For having such a long description, there's not a whole lot to go off of this week. Reading it for the first time I actually thought it could be a winged creature, given that it is said to 'take flight', and was going for a sort of a giant harpy eagle azhdarchid, since it's described as eating apes. Clearly, I didn't go that direction, as rereading it, it seemed that 'flight' probably was being used to describe it fleeing on foot. Plus it was said to have paws and a long tail, so I opted to nix the flight idea. That said, I liked the shapes of the creature I originally sketched out, so I used that as my base. The beak was especially heavy in the front with the mouth turning up in a way that reminded me of gorgonopsids, so I leaned into that. I kept the floofy cheeks of the harpy eagle as well, which I think works well with the internal ears I went with. Sort of like how owls face feathers make a dish for collecting sound, the gerzlaem's floofy cheeks do the same for it. The internal ears, and the coloring I went with does also kind of make them look like seals with legs, which is a very fun idea.

The gerzlaem seems to be well regarded by the author - it's described as being compassionate, proud, strong, with courage in it's breast, resolution in it's head, and with a brow and tail that showed mettle. So I did my best to make a very handsome, noble-looking creature. Something that brought to mind big cats, bears, wolves and other big-brained charismatic megafauna we humans love so much. It's brow being described as showing mettle, I decided to give it very deep-set eyes to reflect this. It needed a large cranium, and intelligent eyes to fit it's compassionate, shy nature. I also think giving it a little beard makes it look very distinguished.

It's said to live amid the mountain peaks, so I decided to give it grippy little hoof toes, like wild sheep, but let it keep it's paw pads so it still has 'paws' as the description states. For coloration I went with a mix of greys and browns to better blend into the rocks of it's mountain home. Lastly, it has a long bushy tail to sweep the ground with, hiding it's tracks from any pursuers.