#i just love the running gag of them being bad at handling money and knowing shit all about the economy<33< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[jordblod]

the guys being broke

[huihuiheart]

Kinktober D15: Forbidden Fruit - Kang Yeosang

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Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Ateez Masterlist

Pairing:  Kang Yeosang x GN Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: It's forbidden, but perhaps it tastes sweeter that way.

Warnings: 69, some manhandling, some strength kink, cum eating, unprotected sex, mentions for crying from pleasure, forbidden relationship.

Word Count: 747

Perhaps shared preferences are what always drew you back to each other, but there was no denying that no one felt like he did against you, even if it shouldn’t be. Yeosang isn’t someone who you could have, and you weren’t someone he could have. The two most powerful families in Seoul and the only heir of each, the only request made of you was not something of heavy responsibility, but not to fraternize with the enemy. Though perhaps that is what had initially drawn you both in, the appeal of the forbidden. Now however, you each found the other too magnetic to resist no matter how you tried or whom you distracted yourself with. 

So here you were again in some lower class hotel room just to avoid being found out, after all with the money both your families had you would be nowhere near here. The method has worked well so far. Concealing your actions from anyone other than you both. Tangled up in some sheets that made your skin itch from being spoiled with silks and satins as long as you both could remember. Your crotch riding his face as you loved while you licked your lips at the sight of his hardened cock, tip red and angry. Before you could get a taste of what you had been craving however his grip tightens on your hips, pulling them down to his lips that work eagerly against you and make you moan. You’d squirm if he wasn’t gripping you so tightly, forearms flexing and reminding you how truly strong he was.

Still, you weren’t the only one obsessed with the feeling of oral. Licking his tip to take in the taste of his precum, something you’d spent the last three months craving as you tried to break this bad habit. Licking your lips in anticipation before your mouth was around him.

“Fuck just like that baby! Even after so long you know how to do it perfectly for me.” Yeosang praises when his lips move to mark up your thigh, one of his hands taking over your pleasure for that brief moment. “Jerked off to the thought of you so often.”

“Shit Yeosang don’t talk like that or I won’t last long.”  You warn against his cock with a soft hiss before taking him down your throat and gagging softly as his actions make you jump in pleasure taking him even deeper.

“That’s okay I won’t either. I’ve been needing to taste you so bad… don’t ever make me wait that long again. Even if it means someone finding out. I’ll deal with the consequences to taste your heaven again. Gonna have you on my tongue three times before we even fuck… I’ll give you the same too though, don't even worry.” He tells you before working twice as hard, his words and the thoughts they spur on makes your eyes roll. Only a moment later you do as he did though and work even harder, intent on ensuring he does give you that as well instead of only you cumming.  It proves to pay off too as he’s cumming a few seconds before you, letting you swallow his cum before moaning loudly as you cum for him. Letting his mouth work you through it and get every last taste of you he can before he’s attempting to start again. You’re quicker though turning around to kiss him while you both taste of the other, the kiss sloppy and full of spit as you both moan and groan into each other.

“May I make a counteroffer?” You finally ask panting softly as you look at him through hooded eyes, slowly lining up his half hard tip and dropping to start taking him inside, “I think we both taste better after we’ve fucked, so how about we handle the other two after that?”

“Fucking hell!” Yeosang cries out as you bottom out on him only to feel him hardening more inside of you, hands running down his face in disbelief, “You’re going to be the death of me babe… still that’s an offer I can’t refute.”

“Good, I’ll make it up to you for staying away so long too, by riding you until you cry.” You smirk down at him, though the way his fingertips dip into your waist only a moment later and he’s smirking back you’re thinking that perhaps he won’t be the one crying from the pleasure in a few more minutes.

If you enjoy my work please keep in mind how much time and effort goes into it and show support through comments and reblogs, or consider buying me a kofi. (Caffeine fuels the chaotic gremlin in me who creates content.)

[veggietales-and-trauma]

Growing up as a missionary kid with ARFID

I recently found out I may have ARFID. no official diagnosis yet, but learning about this disorder has resonated so strongly with me. It also has made me so angry and sad about the shit I had to go through because of my parents' decision to become missionaries.

If you don't know what ARFID is, it's basically an eating disorder that messes with the way your brain perceives food and causes you to avoid certain foods because of sensory issues like texture, or anxiety about possible reactions to food. in my case, I am very sensitive to textures, tastes, and smells, and cannot eat certain foods without gagging, nausea, and/or being unable to physically swallow. It is uncomfortable at best, painful at worst. As a kid, I had a much smaller list of safe, edible foods than I have now, but I have always had this experience with new or unsafe foods and still do at 28 years old.

Now, if you don't know what being a missionary kid is like, well, I don't blame you. I wish I didn't either. But here we are.

When I was a toddler, my parents decided God was calling them to go to a foreign country to win souls for the kingdom or whatever. This required us to travel around the states for years going to different churches and families to ask for money to support this lifestyle. Once we had enough money, we then moved to overseas to tell people about Jesus. Woohoo.

My ARFID pals can probably imagine what a horror this sounds like. Almost every week, I had to travel to a new church and go to a new restaurant or eat at a stranger's house. Sometimes we had lunch with the pastor, sometimes we stayed at a stranger's house for several nights and ate with them.

I had plenty of issues at home surrounding food. I was constantly getting in trouble for not finishing my potatoes, being sentenced to sit at the dinner table for hours until I ate 4 more bites of broccoli, or being threatened with no dessert or other punishments. None of this ever worked, and I would just sit there filled with shame but unable to eat.

Eating with strangers was another story. Most of my memories of this time are of my mother harshly whispering threats into my ear if I didn't eat, apologizing for me being a "picky eater" and complaining about me right in front of my face, or whisking me off to the bathroom to spank me. None of it helped me. I would cry, I would sulk, I would beg. But no matter the punishment, I could not make myself eat a bite of lasagna or try a bit of sauerkraut. On a couple of occassions, I even threw up at the table.

Unsurprisingly, things did not get better when we moved overseas. We moved to a country with a cuisine almost entirely comprised of food that I still can't stomach to this day. Seafood, lumpy potatoes, complicated stews, dry sandwiches, meats with large ribbons of fat running through them.

I don't mean to be culturally insensitive; there is nothing at all strange or bad about what they ate. My brain just couldn't handle it. Every time I had to go to a church lunch, I would basically starve and get sick from not eating. Church camp was the worst, with multiple days of suffering through meals that I could barely eat tiny bites of, getting constant headaches and feeling weak and unable to enjoy being with the other kids. I loved sleeping out in a tent, singing songs, playing games with them. But I hated the food experience so much, I would contemplate jumping out of my window so I could break my legs and not have to go.

I did get to eat at home more. But did you know that manufacturing processes are different in other countries? Did you know vegetables can have different shapes, sizes, and textures? I did. Nobody else could tell, but every single food was new and different and strange and unsafe to me, except for the peanut butter we brought over with us. Slowly, I would find foods I could handle and get accustomed to my new safe foods and eating routines. Then, we would have to go back the states to visit family and supporting churches.

Suddenly, everything was new again. I hated M&Ms because they were too small. Cheese and milk tasted weird. Hot dogs had too thick of a skin. Cucumber slices were too big and watery. Now the process had to start over again, forcing myself to find new safe foods, until it was time to return overseas and switch back to the old ones.

So it went, like a yoyo, being yanked around the world, trying desperately to find safety and consistency. I was tiny, couldn't gain any weight until years after adulthood. I was full of constant guilt, and I always felt othered. Singled out for being too stupid and stubborn to just eat a fish sandwich with the rest of the kids. It compounded with my awkwardness and social anxiety and I ended up with no friends, just the weird kid who didn't talk and never ate lunch.

I know my parents were totally unprepared for this and they did what they thought was best. ARFID wasn't added to the DSM-V until after I had graduated high school. None of the strategies to deal with picky eaters worked on me. How could they know what to do?

I do wish they wouldn't have made me feel like such a useless sack of shit every time, though.

But I get it. I made them look bad in front of their donors.

Missionary kids are told they must be adventerous, brave, charismatic, intelligent, flexible, generous. We were supposed to evangelize too, after all. More importantly, we were supposed to be model kids that people would want to give money to.

Instead, my parents got a small, weird, unsocial, anxious kid who couldn't eat food, couldn't talk to people, couldn't take a car ride without throwing up, much less a plane ride.

It wasn't my fault. It was just too much for me.

Doesn't stop me from feeling like a failure.

[alieinthemorning]

Their Reactions To Your Monthly Cycle [Anemo, Geo, Electro Regions + Childe]

Content: Fluff, Mention of Menstrual Cycle

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Notes: UTC because this is really long lol.

Albedo

Albedo understands the technicalities of period cramps

But not the feelings all over the place side of things

He tries his best though

But he does kinda experiment with things to help lessen you’re cramps

Its honestly a hit or a miss most of the time

But it's the thought that counts

Diluc

Being a pyro vision user, Diluc is basically your personal heater.

If your cramps are really beating you up, he’ll put aside his Dark Knight duties

If they aren’t too bad, he’ll still put them aside because he loves you.

He still has to tend to the bar though sometimes, but he’ll make sure to tuck you in and have a nice hot cup of tea.

Eula

I feel like the Lawernce Clan, were just waited on just hand in foot in regards to their monthly

But also are trained to not show if they’re in any pain.

Eula is very good at not showing any pain

However, she had to learn from Amber on how to take care of herself in regards to her cramps.

She’ll make sure you have sweet treats and tea as she tucks you into bed and holds you close.

If you feel any discomfort, make sure to tell her.

If not then you will pay.

Jean

Jean, as busy as she is, still is able to pick up on your change in demonro.

Although she can’t directly help you, she’ll send in people like Lisa and Kaeya to help you with anything you need.

Both would also be very willing to help,

Anything to get out of working.

So, even though she wasn’t able to help you herself,

It's the thought that counts.

Kaeya

Opposite of Diluc, Kaeya and his Cryo vision does a bit more harm than help.

No cuddling unless there’s a blanket between the two of you.

He may only kiss you on your face

Which he makes sure to give lots of kisses to make up for not being able to cuddle you

Also wine and chocolate

Because you deserve something nice

Mona

Mona knows when your monthly is about to hit and prepares for it

Thank the archons for her study of hydromancy.

She saves up money for snacks and nice home cooked meals.

She even gets you some nice matching pj sets and blankets.

Then you’ll camp out in the living room until the worse of the pain has subsided

Usually, you’ll spend your time falling in and out of sleep as Mona tells you about different constellations.

Xiao

Xiao has no idea what’s going on with you nor how to help

But if you call for him, he shall come.

And awkwardly stand there as you wither away.

He gets better

Eventually.

Xinyan

Since Xinyan is best girl, she obviously knows what to do.

Everything is handmade.

She’s already knit you a blanket, big enough for the two of you to share.

She’s made some light but healthy soup with a side salad

And to top it all off: brownies!

They’re nice and gooey and just so good!

After all that’s done, you’ll snuggle up and watch movies until you fall asleep!

Zhongli

It’s a bit of a running gag that Zhongli has remedies that take forever to make

But what they don’t tell you is that these remedies also have a long shelf life

So, cramps attacking no only your pelvis but your thighs, third jar on the second self in the pantry

Don’t worry, mans got you covered

Now get under this blanket and listen to him ramble until you fall asleep.

Raiden Shogun

She has no idea what’s going on with you.

If she can’t slice it down with Musou Isshin then what’s the point?

Ei

Which is way Ei allows you in Plane of Euthymia

Since she knows the Shogun isn’t capable of handling something so delicate.

She really isn’t either

But she’s there to keep you company

She’ll even leave the Plane of Euthymia with you if you ask nicely enough.

Kazuha

Getting your monthly with Kazuha, means getting it while wandering about.

It's not a fun time.

Kazuha tries his best to help you to his best abilities.

He finds a place for the two of you to hunker down during this time.

He’ll ask the older woman in the area of their remedies.

It’s a hit or a miss.

The only thing that always works is when he lulls you to sleep with a poem.

Kokomi

Kokomi knows how draining this time is for you.

So she makes sure to have everything you’ll need before hand

Plenty of sweets, a nice comfortable place to rest

As well as making sure to leave Gorou directives before disappearing with you.

(So she too can recharge before having to return to the role of Divine Priestess

For now she’s just Mimi)

Thoma

Thoma is on it

He knows exactly when your cycle is about to hit and has everything read the moment you wake up.

The sheets were changed the night before as well as a towel being sneakily placed under you sometime in the night

Hontely, what more can I say?

He’s literally perfect.

Childe

Childe is a mix of Thoma, Jean and Kaeya all in one.

Thoma because he tries his absolute best to make sure your 100% comfy

Jean because if his Harbinger duties take him away from you, he has to go,

But you better bet that he’ll finish that mission in half the time to get back to you.

And Kaeya because he is all over the entire duration.

This cycle has been a one of the more cramp-y ones. Love that for me! Also this kinda went from their reactions to your period cramps to just the period in general lol

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

[obeymeluv]

Isnt devildom liquor weaker than human world liquor? Mc had beat Asmo in a drinking contest. How do you think it they'd act, completely hammered in the human world. I think harder liquor means stupider drunks.

Spoiler alert to the in-game MC’s “heritage” reveal. You know, the descendent/reincarnation thing. If you know, you know.

Below: Thoughts on Devildom liquor + the specific incident Nonnie is talking about with Asmo in game + THE ACTUAL ANSWER TO THE ASK. My bad, haha.

My thoughts on Devildom liquor at that point in the game:

The MC is not as affected because they are human/angel. Maybe the angel part fortifies MC and makes it harder for them to get drunk?

Maybe the HUMAN side of MC is what makes it harder for them to get drunk on Devildom liquor? Like...everything in the Devildom is made primarily for demons so maybe there are ingredients in there that specifically affect those with demon blood. Maybe humans don’t have the biology to be inebriated by those ingredients?

I am a little fuzzy on that point in the game but did Asmo pre-game? Like, a lot? Did we ever find out? I could see him being so emotionally distraught that his lovely MC is leaving that he just wants to be sloshed. Maybe he assumed MC beat him in a drinking contest because he forgot how much he already drank?

Maybe Solomon gave MC a heads up that Asmo was down for drinking and gave them a pre-game potion of their own to ward off the affects.

End hypothesis: Maybe Devildom liquor IS strong (for demons) but that potency just can’t translate in human bodies so the bros (Lucifer especially) don’t want MC drinking it because they’re not sure what it will do. They just ASSUME it will do to MC what it does to them.

Other thoughts: Because demons sprinkled little secrets to the humans over the course of history, gave them trinkets and magic and things, I’d like to think they gave humans the idea or process of alcohol-making but are TOTALLY not prepared for the end result. All the flavors, types, etc. 

As far as I understand it (at the point I’m at in the game), travel between the Devildom and human world was widely discouraged until Diavolo could make a program that united the three realms and improved the overall image. So basically everyone has been separated for thousands of years.

What if demons are equally bad at holding human world liquor? I could just see a drunk Asmo being like, “What is this? Sangria? This isn’t what I told them to call it.” as he’s trying to drink and (speed) walk away from Beel, who wants the fruit out of the pitcher.

I could just see them all getting TOTALLY wasted on human world stuff just because they thought “Ahh, we taught them this 5,000 years ago! Of COURSE we can handle it! We invented it!” (spoiler alert: they cannot). Like, I’d like to think their biology works against them here. They heal quicker and probably get over stomach aches and things quicker, so they probably metabolize alcohol quicker to restore bodily equilibrium so they probably get flash-drunk off of just about anything with a decent alcohol content. 

HOW THEY WOULD ACT (AKA: the real question)

The facts: 

They’re all going to be like drunk kittens, big bassy purrs and wanting to cuddle you or scent you. 

They’ll basically curl up in a pile together; you occasionally have to move body parts (so no one suffocates). 

Do a head count every now and then, give them some crackers/carbs when needed, and put water all around them like a summoning circle because when one of them wakes up, all of them will and they’ll act like big babies

Put a bucket near Lucifer and Asmo, they’re sympathy pukers.

Levi and Belphie need total sensory deprivation when they wake up. You may only breach the darkness to bring them things to settle their stomach and anything to kill the headache

Just give Beel bread and anything like Gatorade/Pedialite. He’ll help you with the others after three loaves or so.

Asmo will be especially pitiful and demand you take care of the others first. Once they’re decently able to take care of themselves he’s near teary-eyed, demanding tummy rubs and tell him he’s still pretty even though he feels awful. Please get him a sheet mask.

Mammon’s not functional enough to help with anything major but he’s standing the next day so he rubs that in everyone’s face. He’s the one shuffling around with a half-eaten sandwich, looking for any comfort item (heating pack, cold wrap for his head). He will demon screech at you if you touch any of the lights in the house.

As Mammon comes to, he demands dim lights and acts like a grumpy mom. He’s making porridge and they better shut up and eat it. Says it’s for him but there’s a suspicious amount of bowls nearby.

Satan just swears he’ll never drink again (like always). Dutifully waits for porridge. Spends most of his time letting cold water run over his head. Can’t spend too much time hunched over because he gets nauseous. Baby him a little. Find a way to let his head float in a bit of water where he can lay down and he’s as quiet as a mouse. 

Who can drink the most? (Best to worst - my opinions only)

1) Beel (body mass helps), 2) Mammon (party king), 3) Asmodeus (huuuge history with mixed drinks. Boy is READY), 4) Lucifer, 5) Satan (neck and neck with Lucifer - casual drinker only. Even wine is rare for him), 6) Leviathan, 7) Belphie (usually sleeping instead of drinking). 

Lucifer:

We’ve seen little gags about how ‘Lucifer got drunk and unplugged the router’ so this guy’s either going to be super cuddly, a hot mess, or both

You know the people who fluff their hair, comb it back, undo a tie or some buttons and just get comfy as they drink? That’s Lucifer.

He’ll smile a bit more, laugh a bit more, and there will be some color to his cheeks

He’s not sloppy, just cozy. 

Drunk Lucifer is not overly loud but he is honest. He won’t throw himself into groups or pester all the brothers, but he’s up for some accidentally-heartwarming one-on-one

When he’s drunk he’ll lay his head on your shoulder and let you play with his hair

Will not win any drinking games. Is actually a lightweight compared to his brothers (see best > worst drinker, above).

Mammon:

GO BIG OR GO HOME! MAMMON’S HERE TO PLAY FOR BIG MONEY! (AKA: bragging rights that he can handle more than his brothers)

He and Asmo are quick to get the drinks flowing because they want to try shots of everything. 

He and Asmo are pretty good at matching brothers to drinks and tasting subtle notes, things like that

Show Mammon beer pong once and it’s done. He’s betting the brothers he can whoop them and is somehow able to pull off ping pong ball math to get Lucifer shit-faced real quick (might do it even faster if Belphie or Satan slip him some money)

The type to be like “Bet you I can hit that cup right there--third row, second from the left.” and can do it flawlessly. You have to give him head pats or $5, that’s the rules.

He’ll be one of the bros you have to chase around and make put his clothes back on. Boy will try to strip and strut

Will definitely hoard his favorite bottle (picked it on smell) and spend a majority of the time trying to drink it and avoid the bros. (”YOU CAN’T MAKE ME SHARE IF YOU CAN’T CATCH ME!”)

Leviathan

Not the best drinker. Not a frequent drinker at all.

His envy makes him drink because as he starts to go on a tangent about how ‘it’s not fair! Everyone’s having a good time!’ when he realizes it’s as easy as picking up a drink. Like...he can join in too.

Levi won’t grab himself an alcoholic drink because he’s a nervous over-thinker. Asmo or Mammon will just hand him a cup like the resident Liquor Fairy and he trusts their judgement

The first one to let his demon form out just because the liquor is a little warm in his belly and he feels like he’s flying? Also comfortable?

The excited drunk who goes on animated, slurred rants

The loud laugher

He’s honestly so adorably animated that anyone who knew him would be surprised? He seems far from a shut in

Trade off: he can’t hold his liquor well

Boy probably trips on his own tail or thinks something snagged his ankle to bring him down when, in fact, he just fell down

Sways when he sits

When he’s done, he just wants a nice comfy lap to lay in and maybe play with his hair. 

Like Lucifer, liquor will make him confess all his feelings. 

Watch out for the tail. It will be all over you when he starts to lose the ability to wrap it around himself.

Satan:

It’s a toss-up as to whether he gets drunk before Lucifer or vice versa. I’d like to think his tolerance is slightly higher since he might run in the same circles as Asmo, but he is a part of Lucifer so I’m sure it balances out

He’s a drink snob and this is what hurts him the most. He goes to fancy tastings and random things he’s invited to, but this is a drop in the bucket

He’s never gone hardcore before because he’s afraid he’ll be prone to anger

He’s not. He’s actually a lot like Levi. He just wants to smile and laugh and have fun.

The one who knows a lot of random/interesting stuff and has unexpectedly awesome party tricks

He and Asmo act as instigators and somehow con everyone else into getting drunk. It’s mostly because he wants blackmail material, but he enjoys the mind games

He’s the one you’re going to have to carry BUT he’s super chill when he’s having a good time. You want him to wear a lampshade? Okay, but only if you call him Enlightened One (get it?)

Makes bad jokes. Lucifer definitely laughs

The one that randomly dances with someone at the party. But it’s a fancy dance or slow dance, not something crazy

Will try to prove he’s not as drunk as he is by reading or reciting something and just breaks down into snorts and giggles

Cat Mode: Activated. He wants to be all over you. Hug him and play with his hair, please.

Asmo:

Asmo isn’t really different from his usual self.

He’s a little social butterfly, making his rounds and checking on people

He’s the silent, sneaky drunk. No one notices he’s drunk until his face starts getting red and his eyes get glassy

The quiet cuddler. Just progressively gets closer to you until he’s resting his head on your shoulder, hugging you from the side and asking you to give him his drink.

Would be the happiest person on the planet if you literally just held his drink up to his lips and let him drink it when he wanted to. You just love him so much?! You’re so thoughtful?! He wants to cry

Guilty party #2 for ‘chase him around and make him put his clothes back on’

Next in line for ‘Liquor makes me tell the truth and my darkest secrets’.

Will try any activity at the party and will dance at least once with everybody

If he gets in a fight, that’s because someone doesn’t respect what he put on the party playlist. He knows good music, okay?!

Has a personal goal to steal one drink from everyone, drink it before they realize, and hand them back the empty cup as he slips away. Something about it just amuses him.

Wants to leave lipstick/lip gloss kisses on people. Thinks they’re the cutest accessory!

The one who loses something at the party and makes everyone look for it the next day

The one who’s passed out in a random spot and no one has the heart to move them but everyone checks on them to make sure they’re safe. When everyone’s turned in for the night, he is safely moved like the precious baby he is.

Beel:

The one who takes the longest to get drunk. You don’t know if it’s because of his build or how much he ate to offset the alcohol

Unofficial baby sitter of the group. Pays special attention to everyone but Belphie, Asmo, and Levi in particular.

Not super loud. Just vibes and enjoys time with his family.

He’ll participate in the party activities because he does have that competitive streak but he’s not as invested in it as Mammon. If he wins at least once he’s proved his point and is on to something else

Surprsingly, #3 to ‘you might have to chase him and make him put his clothes on’. Drunk Beel is convinced he’ll get over the alcohol faster with less clothes because of temperature regulation and something that doesn’t really make sense because he’s slurring

Will drink more if Belphie is nearby or if he can hold onto Belphie. Taking care of Belphie and knowing he’s okay (in a tactile way) makes him a little more carefree. 

Doesn’t really confess like the other bros but he’s the one no one can really hear talking because his purr takes over everything. His purrs are so loud and deep! Big boy is truly happy

Drunk Beel is affectionate as ever and this is where you learn that demons can express affection by licking people. Most of the bros end up with a Simba-style mohawk. It’s just one lick but Beel’s got a long tongue and it fucks with hair real good.

Will jump in for a song or two if karaoke is a thing at the party. A really good singer but wouldn’t do it unless he had a decent amount of alcohol in him.

He’s the type to trip over stuff trying to help clean up. If he falls down he says he’s just ‘taking a break’ and will ‘help in a minute’. Might not get up again.

Once Beel lays down, Belphie, Satan, and Levi drunk crawl/stumble/slither over to him for warmth. This is how the cuddle pile starts.

When he lays down, if you get anywhere near him, he’s begging you to lay down with him. Wants to whisper little compliments and lovely things. A big sap. Handsy but will definitely know when to lay off and will listen if you get uncomfortable. 

Belphie:

Honestly, doesn’t really drink. He’s more interested in the nap.

His biggest motivation is to get the others drunk so everyone’s quiet and he can sleep. Definitely wants Lucifer blackmail.

He’ll have a few things but he prefers a lot of something mild versus a mix or a few shots of something super potent

Will try the funnel drink challenge.

The third enticer. He wants to work everyone up (Lucifer especially) and get the booze going.

Borrows off of Beel’s body mass and ability to handle alcohol here and there, but it all catches up with him eventually

The type to have really diluted drinks because he’s already sleepy by nature and doesn’t want to faceplant with a shot glass.

Will slow dance with Asmo. When Asmo starts to struggle with his weight as Belphie gets cozy and sleepy, Beel steps in and you just see the twins purring and warbling to each other as Beel just scoops him up and lets him sit on his hip like a toddler.

Another one who wants to slither into your lap and take all your attention.

The type to do random shit like boop your nose and giggle about it.

The one who doesn’t want anyone else to touch you. If he’s laying on you then the others need to leave you alone. It’s not hard to understand!

[rocorambles]

Home Schooling

Pairing: Stepdaddy!Meian x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Pseudo-Cest, NSFW, Invasion of Privacy, Overbearing and Controlling Behavior, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Non-Con/Rape, Degradation, Overstimulation, Humiliation

Summary: Why would Meian let you go to college in Tokyo when he can teach you everything you need to know right here in Osaka?

A/N: Happy birthday @iwaasfairy ! Of course I need to dedicate my first ever Meian fic to you on this very special day~ I hope this fic manifests a real life DILF Meian for you!!!

Meian has always been protective, even before your mother’s untimely demise. You remember how uncomfortable you had been about this handsome man waltzing into your family home one day, acting like a father figure almost since day one. Only your love for your mother and your desire for her to find happiness again kept your mouth shut, although when she wasn’t in view, you not so subtly found ways to keep your contact with the older man as minimal as possible.

There’s nothing necessarily “wrong” with Meian. In all honesty, if he weren’t so overwhelmingly involved with your life, you’d even argue that he’s a great guy. You can tell he truly cares for your mom, maybe even loves her— although you gag at the cheeky winks and flirtatious touches they generously dote on each other in front of you. And you’re happy for her! You really are. It’s been a long time since you’ve been forced to rely only on yourselves, only on each other. You’ve seen how hard she’s tried, keeping a strong front whenever you’re around, working twice as hard as anyone else to try and fill the aching hole in both your hearts from the loss of your father. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s her.

But there’s something unnerving, even aggravating, about the way Meian interferes with every aspect of your life. You can’t help a strange foreboding feeling twisting inside of you as a heavy gaze trails after you wherever you go, as he begins to rope you into every conversation he has with your mother, almost demanding and insistent about not letting you withdraw to your room despite your well-meaning wishes to give them their privacy.

You try to be on your best behavior, not wanting to be the reason your mom’s new relationship is ruined, especially when you can see just how much she likes him. But every time he opens his mouth and questions everything you do, everything you wear, and everything you say, you can feel your temper rise, wondering where his audacity to act as a father figure comes from.

It’s easy enough to retreat to your room, closing your door and sighing in relief as you escape those sharp eyes. You find comfort in the fact that you have at least one safe place he can’t breach, finding false security in the hope that he’d never invade an adult woman’s bedroom. Except he does, and your heart drops when you notice the miniscule adjustments in your room — your underwear drawer slightly ajar with some pieces missing, your bedsheets slightly rumpled in a way you know you hadn’t left them this morning. Things you know you could never bring up to your mother without sounding like a madwoman. So without irrefutable proof, you keep quiet, knowing that at least there’s not much more time left before you can truly run away from all of this.

Being an adult comes with many responsibilities and adventures, and together, your mother and you pore over myriads of college pamphlets, debating which locations make the most sense, planning how you’re going to make the finances work, and thinking about which colleges have the courses best suited for you. It’s a fun and stressful rollercoaster, but you beam when your mother proudly ruffles your hair, when you both agree on you leaving Osaka behind and adventuring out, creating new memories and beginnings in a different city.

(“Plus, I’ll be able to visit you and play tourist”, your mom excitedly says, and you giggle, letting her affectionately hold you as you stare at the universities you’ve narrowed your choices down to.)

The future seems bright and exciting as you studiously sit down and scan over textbooks and practice exams, dutifully attending your tutoring sessions, cramming for the college entrance exam. It’s all going to plan, except Meian has different opinions. And this time, you can’t hold back the scowl when he yet again goes on and on about how he doesn’t understand why you can’t just stay in Osaka for college.

It’s not a new argument by any means. Just the same few questions being twisted and worded differently and tossed back in your face on a daily basis.

“Don’t you think your mom will be lonely if you move away and only come back for the holidays?”

“Isn’t that what you’re here for? To keep her company?”

“Don’t you feel bad about spending your mom’s carefully saved money on room and board when you could just continue living with us instead and just pay tuition?”

You silently thank your mom when she steps in, firmly telling Meian that she doesn’t mind, that this is exactly why she’s saved up.

But the arguments keep on coming, and you can feel the tension growing in your household, your own stomach churning with guilt and worry, wondering if you’ll end being the cause of their breakup after all as you constantly hear their raised voices going back and forth about you leaving or staying in Osaka.

So despite your discomfort and wariness towards Meian, you can’t help the relieved grin that stretches across your face when your mom comes squealing to you, flinging her arms around your body and shoving her gorgeous engagement ring in your face. You even muster up a slightly tight smile, that only feels a little forced, as you look to the tall man who leans in the doorway, muttering congratulations before directing your attention back to your mom, fondly smiling as she continues raving about her new piece of jewelry, ignoring the way Meian continues to loiter around the both of you.

Your mom is the most beautiful bride as she walks down the aisle and you stare in awe at how she glows, hoping one day you’ll look even remotely as mesmerizing as she does. And while you look on, star-eyed and in wonder, at the woman who had raised you, you miss the way dark eyes intently gaze at you, eyes that should be on the woman he’s about to publicly vow to be with his entire life.

Maybe if you had been more aware, more cautious, you wouldn’t have so eagerly waved both of them off on their honeymoon, wouldn’t have been so excited to shove your mom towards the airport, giving her one last hug and kiss before sillily demanding that she enjoy herself and have the best time of her life.

Maybe then your heart wouldn’t be shattered into a thousand tiny pieces as you collapse in Meian’s strong arms, sobbing uncontrollably and shaking your head in denial when he returns by himself and breaks the news of your mother’s passing.

You delay going to college in Tokyo for a year, allowing yourself time and space to grieve. Or so you had planned, but it seems that Meian has no intention of letting you have your privacy. You share the house with him after your mother’s funeral, unable to argue against him completely moving in when he now owns the property.

He’s still up to his usual overbearing ways, although his tone is softer as he treats you like a wounded animal, carefully handling you as he rouses you from your sleep in the mornings, startling you the first few times he sits on the edge of your bed and wakes you up by tenderly stroking your cheek, preparing all your meals for you and scolding you when he thinks you haven’t eaten enough. It’s almost frightening how easily you fall into his rhythm, not even flinching after a while when his large hand finds itself on your face, your shoulder, your back, your hand, your thigh. Tiny, seemingly platonic touches border the line of what’s appropriate for a guardian and their ward. Although, deep down, you know the two of you are diving in dangerous territory when you feel his knuckle brush against the swell of your ass briefly, his calloused fingertips quickly skimming your breasts, his palm squeezing just a tad too high up your thigh.

But you seek any remaining softness your mother had instilled in your heart for a man who’s lost his wife of just a few days, letting your new guardian (you don’t dare call him father) do as he pleases, not wanting to deal with any more conflict when your heart is still mending. And maybe, just maybe, you find some solace in his touches, in the love he forces upon you, seeking even just a hint of the parental affection your mother had bestowed upon you.

Time heals all wounds, or so they say. You can’t agree that it resolves everything, but you can admit that you’re feeling much better now that a year is almost up, ready to move on, live your life, and make your mother proud. You start re-looking into Tokyo housing, comparing the expenses of living off-campus versus living in the dorms, typing and reworking budgets over and over again in your Excel sheet until your eyes burn and you let out a huge yawn.

Coffee now. Budgets later.

You trudge to the kitchen, brewing a fresh pot of dark caffeinated liquid, letting out a pleased sound when the aroma fills the air, happily making your way back to your room to revisit some of your calculations, mug in hand. But you freeze when you see Meian sitting at your desk, clicking through the different tabs of apartment and dorm options you had been looking at, scrutinizing your planned expenses.

There’s no reason for the guilt that claws at your chest when you see the way his jaw clenches as he turns to look at you, hurt in his eyes as he silently demands an explanation for what he’s looking at. But it’s guilt that has you slamming down the mug on your desk and planting your firsts on your hips in a confrontational stance, that has defensive angry words spewing from your lips as you yell at him for invading your privacy, that has you storming towards him and trying to shove his much larger and stronger frame away from your computer.

But it’s futile and you gasp when you’re pulled into his lap, his hands easily pinning you to him and holding you still as he holds you in a mockery of an embrace, your back against his toned chest, his mouth right against your ear.

“You were just going to leave for Tokyo without telling me?”

You want to stay angry, want to continue twisting and fighting against his grip. But the vulnerability you hear in his words has you staying still, has you anxiously biting your lower lip as you try and find the right words to soothe the man clutching you.

“I- I didn’t think I needed to tell you anything. This was always the plan. You knew I only put off attending college for a year to take some time for myself. But I’ll come back and visit during the holidays-”

Your words are cut off by a pained gasp as thick arms tighten their hold on you, but the growled threat in your ear has your anger bubbling over, masking any other feeling.

“You’re not leaving.”

The matter of fact tone, the final decisiveness of the words, the way Meian leaves no room for discourse or arguments, has you lashing out at him and before you can second guess yourself, the position you’re in, or the difference in power between the two of you. In a matter of seconds, you’re snarling right back at him.

“You’re not my father! You can’t tell me what I can or can’t do.”

Righteous pride swells in your chest and you spare him a sharp, wicked grin, haughtily tilting your head up condescendingly, basking in the viciousness of your words. But what you aren’t expecting is the hearty laugh he responds with, something dark and gleeful swirling in his eyes as a cruel smile cuts across his face.

“You’re right. I’m not your father, not even your guardian. So this is fine, right?”

You scream as the arms still wrapped around you haul you up, your limbs thrashing and flailing as you try to force your way free from his iron grip to no avail. Fear and anger make you hysteric as you register the fact that you’re quickly approaching the room that once belonged to your mother, the room Meian now resides in. Disbelief and nausea overtake you when you’re assaulted by the familiar four walls as you’re haphazardly tossed onto the bed, sobbing as memories of your mother surround you and invade your thoughts while calloused hands easily tear your clothes off your body.

But you’re immediately silenced, sobs turning into choked whimpers as a large hand grabs the bottom half of your face, fingers digging into your cheeks, a palm suctioning your mouth shut.

“Where are all those manners your mother taught you? What would she think if she heard you throwing a temper tantrum like a child?”

The callousness of his words hits you like a ton of bricks. Meian smirks at the new round of fat, watery drops that stream down your face, mockingly cooing down at you, calling you a good girl, praising your newfound silence as his hand slowly drags down until it's wrapped around your neck, where he lightly squeezes, reveling in the adorable whimper you release.

But as pathetically amusing as you are, sniveling and choking under him, there’s more that he’s keen on seeing. You feel like a slab of meat under his observant gaze. Prized meat, but meat all the same as he runs his hands across your figure like a butcher testing the firmness of his livestock, pinching and prodding almost methodically, coldly. Only the amusement and hunger in his eyes are indicative of how much this is truly affecting him. Yet it’s tolerable, barely, if you just stare up at the ceiling, pretending you’re at an incredibly invasive medical exam.

He’d be offended by how hard you’re trying to ignore him if it weren’t for the telltale signs of your arousal that you desperately try to deny. He grins at how your nipples harden from just a few teasing circles, how your clit stands to attention, your pretty folds already beginning to glisten as he pets your velvety walls. You’re even more beautiful than he had imagined after watching you prance around the home in your skimpy loungewear. And suddenly, his pants are far too tight, cock straining uncomfortably against the fabric he’s quick to rip off. It’s music to his ears when you shakily say his name over and over again, as you try and resist the way he forces himself between your legs, hands spreading your thighs apart, toned body pinning you down, something hard nudging at your tight entrance.

“Meian, please. Please! Please, Meian.”

He ignores your tears, ignores the other words of resistance that slip past your mouth, head dipping down to your mouth and neck, kissing and marking every part of you he can reach, murmuring for you to call him by his first name. And when he loses patience with your whining, you finally acquiesce as he forcefully shoves himself balls deep inside you, a sneer ruining his handsome face as he lightly slaps your face in approval when you wail his first name, “Shugo” howled in an agonizing exclamation as you try to somehow dislodge him from ripping you in two.

“Look at that, the little slut can behave when she wants to. I bet your mother would be so proud.”

You hate how he drags your mom’s name in the ground as he defiles you, violates you in the bed they had once shared. You hate how his large frame feels crushing you, overpowering you, making you feel so incredibly helpless and weak. But mostly, you hate the slick lewd sounds your pussy makes as he pounds hard and fast into you, the undeniable proof that your body doesn’t hate this nearly as much as it should. Hot angry disgusted tears roll down your face as you glare up at him, desperately fighting back the rising moans threatening to humiliate you even more.

Your little defiant attitude is punished by Meian thrusting even harder into you, practically bending you in half as he pushes down on the back of your thighs, forcing you into a mating press. And he laughs at your wrecked face, hungrily taking in the way your eyes roll back in your head, the way your jaw drops wide open, your tongue and rivulets of drool trickling down your face, wanton moans loudly filling the room.

“For all your whining and complaining, you sure do look like you’re enjoying this, sweetheart.”

You wish you could deny his words, retort back with a scathing remark, do anything really. But when he reaches a hand between the two of you and rubs rapid circles against your erect clit, hips still pistoning against yours, cock stuffing you full, your mind blanks and an animal-like howl tears through the room as your body convulses, pussy walls clamping down and quivering as you cream all over the shaft still dragging against your sensitive walls, only heightening your peak.

Meian briefly wonders if this is what heaven feels like (or as close to heaven as someone like him is going to get) as he groans at the way your velvety walls milk his cock, gritting his teeth to not be dragged over the edge with you. He’s not delusional to think that any of this is right, the photo of his ex-wife, your mother silently watching you from the nightstand only emphasizing just how wrong this all is, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when you’re a fucked out mess underneath him, so obediently and submissively slurring his name over and over again, drowning in pleasure and bliss.

There’s nothing more he wants than to just lose himself in the feeling of your tight walls, to fill you, mark you, claim you with his seed, but he’s not quite ready for a full house just yet. He has a few more years alone with you all planned out in his head before he breeds your pretty little womb. So just as his control teeters on the edge, he pulls out of you, casually sitting back and spreading his legs, slowly stroking his cock as he orders you to come and suck him off.

He’s almost proud of the little fight you still have left in you, lips quirking upwards at the way you try to ignore him, trying to look anywhere but at him. But his balls are almost painfully tight, his cock aching for release.

“Suck me off like a good girl or I’m going to cum inside of you over and over again until you’re knocked up. Bet your mother would have loved that for you. Her precious college-bound girl turned into a pregnant uneducated whore.”

It’s an empty threat, but you don’t ever need to know that, not when it has you obeying so well as he threads his fingers through your hair, groaning as your hot wet mouth sinks down on his cock still covered in your essence. All it takes is a few harsh shoves of your face, his hand pulling you up and down like a warm fleshlight, and as he finally reaches his end, he completely pulls you off, arching your neck back in a way that leaves your mouth open as he spurts thick white stripes all over your face and in your orifice.

You make to wipe your face, grateful at least that this is all over, but before you can move even an inch, you yelp as you’re shoved back down on your back, hands instinctively trying to push at broad shoulders as your legs are once again forced open. You’re a quick learner though, and with one dark warning look from the man whose face is now hovering over your spent hole, you instantly bring your hands down to your sides, clawing and fisting the ruined bed sheets instead as Meian ravenously licks and laps at your dripping cunt. The disgusting wet sounds echo in your ears as pleasure and shame swirl inside of you, a crescendo ascending too quickly, too high.

But your thrashing and blissed out pleas to stop, to let you rest, only serve to whet Meian’s appetite even more. Time becomes surreal and meaningless as you drown and float in a mixture of pain and pleasure, brought to climax over and over again until you feel boneless, your pussy and body ceaselessly twitching, mind broken beyond repair as you babble incoherently, unsure of anything except the lips and tongue at work between your thighs.

You cum one last time, body barely moving aside from a slight shudder, too worn out, too dazed to even comprehend the fact that Meian unravels himself from you, wiping his face of your arousal and taking a few swigs of water before making his way towards your desk and dialing the admissions office number he finds. And as the phone rings and he leans back in your chair, he adoringly gazes at the sinful display you make, looking like the epitome of debauchery as your body splays out, a stupid blissed out expression on your face, reeking of sex and sweat.

He strokes his cock as it rises back to life, raring to go again as he licks his lips, tasting your sweet juices on his tongue, never stopping even when a voice finally comes through the line. He only pauses slightly to bite back a laugh when something shatters in your pretty eyes, a sliver of realization piercing through your dazed look as you hone in on his conversation.

But you do nothing to stop him, unable to do anything but listlessly stare and watch as he cancels your enrollment in front of you, hangs up the phone, and casually makes his way back towards you as if he hadn’t ruined years of hard work and decimated your future plans in mere minutes.

“There’s no need to go all the way to Tokyo for education, sweetheart. Not when I can teach you everything you need to know right here. Now open up your mouth so we can get your first lesson started.”

[spikesbimbo]

Silver spoon

Pairing: ukai Ikkei x f!reader

Tags: made this a Mafia au just so he would have a reason to have a gun, nurse!reader, actual age agp, gilf, gun play, gun fucking (?), idk giving his gun sum sloppy toppy, oral sex, creampie

Summary: how to be a beneficiary 

wc: 3.5k

@keishinslove , come get ur mans, ; ), @fawn-daydreams thanks so much for the pic! @dreamsandabyss

18 + Minors dni

“Look, someone has to have it...” he spoke into the phone, leaning back as you did with him. The feeling of his warm body against yours putting you to sleep, resting your head on his chest as you curled up into him. 

His smirk widened as he ran his hand down your sides, enjoying your company as you grew more comfortable in his lap, the feeling of cold hard metal touching your skin as you adjusted yourself on his legs, seeing it peek from below his waistband, handle hanging out of his belt reminded you of what he was, breaking you out of your daydream.

Looking up at him as your hands rested on his chest and neck, pulling away from his stroking his scuff and fingers untangling themselves from his golden chain. Getting off his thighs seeing as this call was going to last long, legs growing numb, jestering with your hands that you were going to the kitchen, responding with a subtle nod as he watched you leave.

Hearing his voice get sterner, sending chills down your spine as his tone changed completely. “Send guards up there to get him…. and hold him until they arrive.” Seeing that he got confirmation, as his head tilted back, a sigh escaping lips as he rubbed his eyes. Eyebrows furrowing, not knowing if you should have left him there alone, just putting it in the back of your head that you left some time for him to cool down.

Walking down the staircase headed towards the kitchen, almost still getting lost in this villa as you remember him telling the first time you came here ‘it was down the staircase and to the left’. Stopping to look at the big picture of him hung up on the wall followed by many others, looking like a victorian portrait encased in the glass frames made you realize how big of a name they really were, generations following you down the hall as you continued moving down the steps.

Finally seeing the walls of windows and the bar you felt relieved, walking up to the fridge and opening it, seeing every drink but water. Grabbing some type of lemonade as you leaned against the marble counter while you took a sip, tasting the unknown alcohol in it as it hit the back of your throat, quickly coughing while smacking your chest a few times to calm it down. Tears filling your eyes as you shakily set the glass down.

“Sorry about that. Should've probably just drank it all yesterday.” 

You turned your blurry eyes to see his grandson, an almost spitting image of him when he was younger, noticing him handing you some water that you wanted in the first place.

“What a surprise...” you choked out, lifting the bottle to your mouth, throat finally feeling some ease.

The two of you had an almost sibling-like relationship, starting from the moment he met you after you patched his friend up in an alleyway, not even questing or caring why, moving on with your day like nothing happened.

Guessing you were on your way home from work, seeing you in scrubs, and after running into you again he swore it was fate. Persuading you to join them as you easily said yes, knowing you wouldn't say no the salary and the ‘benefits’ that came along with it, just wanting to finally relax with your student loans paid off.

But the last thing he would've expected after all of this, was you, with his grandad. Essentially getting yourself stuck in this kind of life, knowing that you'd never be able to leave as soon as they found out you were 'with’ him. But you obviously had a smart head on you, letting you do whatever your heart wanted as he supported you. Grabbing another drink from the bar, this time knowing it was alcohol as you two joked around for a minute.

A smile appearing on your face when you heard steps walking towards you, seeing ikkei appear from the corner of the hallway as keishin turned his head and guessed right, looking at you already skip over to him like a puppy following its owner.

Greeting you while he let you cling onto him, arms wrapped around his as he lifted his hand saying hello to his grandson. All his attention on your pretty little smile as his thumb traced your cheek, bringing up your hand to his lips, placing his lips on it gently as you were acting like you've never been touched before, giggling shyly into his arm as he chuckled out.

Keishin gagging at the sight before him, “Why don't you just retire already,” not wanting to see this cringy shit anymore, but deep down just wanting him to be safe and content, never seeing him smile this hard in his life. Knowing he's never felt this way before, his ex wife being set up by an arranged marriage, she wasn't bad but he definitely didn't love her along with her complaining, but luckily a quick swipe of his card shut her up, finally divorcing after all theses years.

“My dad isn't still too young to take over, you know?”  

“No.” he stated, stepping outside to light his cigar, resting his back against the wall as he took a puff. “Great men are taught, not born.” He uttered out, choking on the smoke as he brought it back up to his lips. He was dependable, not regretting having his son at a young age, but swearing to never push this life on his son and grandson until he was gone.

“Yeah, he's stubborn.” keishin uttered under his breath, running his hands through his hair as he grabbed his drink and keys, walking towards the door while waving a quick goodbye to you.

“How the hell is someone younger than me gonna be my step grandma, can’t get someone your own age to date you?” he chuckled out in awe. But at the end of the day he was on your side, family was family, defending you like your own personal bodyguard. Hearing something along the lines of “She’s some old man’s sugar baby.” almost daily until he ‘took care of it’ a few months ago.

“You're just mad, that an old man like me gets more than you.” ikkei laughed, coughing out the rest of the smoke while coming up behind you. Wrapping his arm around your waist already pulling you back to his office as you gladly let him.

“Ok, shitty old man.” keshin replied, closing the door behind him. He knew it wasn't because of the money or the power, because there were many other men on his level trying to win your attention. Thinking there must be something going on in your head to be with him, and there was.

Love.

The first man to ever make you feel some type of way, to make you blush. Was it practical, no. Putting it to the back of your head that he would be long gone by the time you were even close to his age.

But the way he made you feel so light and free around him after only being here for a while. Looking into your eyes as you fixed him up, making you genuinely laugh as he didn't want you to stress over him, surprising him that you were just naturally calm.

You two fell for each other quickly, not even lasting a week before you two fucked. Hearts appearing in your eyes around him; not caring about having your own family, just becoming part of his as he always kept his promises. 

“You wanna go out later.” he said loosely wrapping his hand around your waist, pulling you back into his lap. “m’sorry i haven't had time for you lately.” Looking up at his gray hair, eyes moving down to his body still this toned after all these years, aging like the finest wine.

“No.” you mumbled out, fingers running down his chest, getting caught up in his chain again. “Just wanna…..stay with you.” A shy smirk appearing on your face as the words left your lips.

Leaning into your shoulder, lips touching your neck as he whispered into your ear, scruff tickling your jaw as you let out a slight smile.“Stay with me, hmm? And what does that entail...?” 

Already getting off his thighs, standing in front of him as you ran your hands up your body, his joining you as he wrapped them around your waist pulling you closer to him, chin resting on your stomach while his hands gently rested on your hips. “No one has ever managed to capture my attention like you have.” he said, hands lingering on you.

He had no shame in admitting it, his words plaguing your head, “I always tell the truth, no matter how hard it is.” Looking up to your flustered face, no one could ever make you feel as loved and appreciated as him.

“Ok old man.” you giggled out, taking your time stripping in front of him. Resting your hand on his shoulder for support as you slowly slid your skirt down, hugging your ass just right as you felt his soft, intense gaze never once leaving you. Eyeing you up as you fumbled with your buttons, hands meeting yours taking it off for you, being bare as the day you were born.

“You getting on your knees pretty girl?”

Nodding while letting out a quiet, shy “yeah” at the words that left his mouth. Lowering yourself onto the ground, trying to replace your timidness that only came around him. Hands resting on his knees working their way up his thighs, his stress already disappearing as your fingers played with his zipper, eyes locking with yours as you pulled it down.

The nervousness leaving you as his warm hand rested on your cheek, whimpering in need as your gaze fell on the hard cold metal that was standing before his cock. Resting on his abdomen, cunt growing wetter at the thought of the previous events, wanting it in your mouth, fucked down your throat.

Reading your mind, already loosening his pants enough to set it free. Pointer finger resting on the side as he parted your lips, immediately giving way. Tongue sticking out lewdly, spit and drool already falling off the tip of it, his other hand angling it down toward your mouth. “You trust me, don’t you Baby?”

Moaning out another muffled “yeah” at the weight of the barrel resting on your tongue, pushing it deeper down your mouth, the whines getting caught at the back of your throat. Body growing tingly, cunt leaking onto the floor as he gently bobbed your head head back and forth until you got the hang of it.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck... your sweet little mouth taking it all.” Whimpering at his words, eyes fluttering open at him, meeting his gaze as your vision grew blurry. Hands reaching for his cock, working there way up his thighs until you felt his bulge, groaning at the touch. Wanting to make him feel as good as you.

Letting your spit make a mess on his fingers as he slowly pushed the glock farther down until you choked on the muzzle. Pulling it out at the lewd sound of your wet gasp, catching your breath, looking at your lashes still wet, lips covered in drool. Dragging the spit covered barrel down, sliding between your tits pressing it against your nipples, shivering at the cold feeling. 

“You gonna let me fuck your throat, sweetheart?”

Nodding quickly, letting out a strained “mhmm” as you moved your fingers around the base of his cock. Adjusting himself as he stroked it a few times before letting you take control. A moan leaving his mouth as you tilted your head to kiss his tip, parting your lips without his help as you flicked your tongue against it, your shiny lips making a mess already.

“Fuck angel, such a good girl. Open up that little mouth more for me sweetheart.” His hand came behind your neck, the firm grip leaving your mouth open as he pulled himself out, admiring the sight below him as the praise made you listen to his silent command. Soft wet smacks from him slapping the head of his cock against your tongue, looking so lewd, like the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his life.

“… goddamn baby. Fuck…”

His scratchy voice letting out another moan as he leaned back onto the headrest of the couch. Your trembling hands gripping onto his thighs, nails leaving imprints as he continued to abuse your throat. The office was quiet besides the filthy wet sounds of you choking around him.

Opening your lids and gazing up at him, pupils so wide and eyes so red. Looking the prettiest you could, so needy and compliant, letting him use your throat as he pleased. “That’s it, angel… oh, fuck…m’gonna-”

Tears freely down your cheeks as you gagged, little strings of saliva dripping from your chin, body on fire as his thrusts got rougher, fucking up into your mouth as his hands gripped tighter around your neck holding you in place.

Sealing your lips around him, sucking in more as his hips stalled, grabbing your head with both of his hands. And with a long groan, music to your ears, shoving your face all the way down into his crotch, balls resting on your chin as you felt him release in your mouth, so hot and thick. Doing as you were told, always wanting to be his good girl, someone he could always rely on, someone he could always use when needed.

“You okay?” He asked, stroking your cheek as dizzily shook your head up and down. Reaching his hand forward, tipping your jaw upward to see you better. Cunt throbbing as his eyes met yours, clenching and releasing around nothing while he dragged his thumb across your swollen lips. 

“Words, sweetheart.” His voice was soft and stern, ordering you around gently as you did you best to choke it out.

“y-yes”

“Let me see.” Parting your lips, with his ring covered finger, mouth opening to show him that his cum was still there. Smiling as he let go, muttering out “good girl.”, mouth closing as he let you swallow, the salty taste making you wince under your breath while he pet the side of your face down to your neck. 

“You sure angel? ….You know i don't like lying.” he said, resting his hand on your cunt, fingers dipping in shallowly as you almost went limp in his hold, Knees locking just in time, so focused on keeping your composure that you didn't see him smirking at your state. His finger curling inside you, as you tried to hold back your whimper, body unconsciously rocking back and forth into his hand.

Finally snapping, trying to be on your best behavior best you couldn't help it anymore, knowing what he was doing to you. “Please,” you whined out. “Want you to fuck me like you always do, want you to fuck me so good.” No shame left in your body as you started taking action, nails clawing into his bicep, your eyes half lidded trying to hold back the tears forming.

Letting out a whine muttered by your teeth sinking into your lips when his hand pulls away, lingering there not for long as he easily hikes your leg up over his waist, aligning his cock to your dripping cunt, rubbing it over your folds, teasing you, wanting to make his sweet angel beg. 

“i-ikkei, please” you lead, gripping his arms, as pushed into you slowly. Cooing at you for being so patient with him. Head dropping onto his shoulder as a broken noise escaped your lips, legs tightening around his waist, clenching around him.

Pushing the rest of himself inside you, hissing as you swallow him up in your warmth. “Fuck sweetheart, you always… feel so, -fuck, so goddamn good,”

“Relax baby,” he groaned out, head thrown back. “Little cunt’s so tight, gonna get my will instead of my kids if you keep it up.” Your smile barely forming before it gets cut off, moaning at the painful feeling of his cock stretching you out.

“Such a... fuck, such a good little girl for me,” He praises, hot breath on your neck as you clench even tighter at his words, the feeling of bhim so deep inside of you, nudging your cervix making your head spin. “So pretty,  I'd do anything for you, you know that?”

“m’close.” you whimpered. His love confessions making you lose your mind completely, nails digging into his chest, slightly groaning at the sting.. “Please, p-please please,” you begged through a sob, tears swelling up in your eyes. Placing his lips on yours before you can gasp out begs anymore. Trying to whimper out his name before he fucks you roughly with a thrust that hits your g spot, making you cum all over him, sticky wetness enclosing the both of you as it dripped down his balls and onto the sofa. 

“There you go baby,” he muttered against your lips, but you’re too far gone to even pay attention. Working his cock inside of you, gently pushing up into your cunt as your shaking body twitches in his hold, eyes rolling to the back of your head from your orgasm, still trying to come down from your high. “You know I always got you.”

He pulls out of you slowly when you have calmed down but you weren’t done. “w-wanna make you cum.” your croaky voice pouted out.

“Hm? You already did sweetheart.” Shaky legs positioning yourself on top of him, resting your hands on his shoulders. “no...want you to cum in me.”

Watching as you spread open you cunt, placing his tip on your entrance. Looking down at him with a heavy lust in your eyes, not wasting any time sliding back into you. “You’re so greedy.” He says into your ear, a roughness to his voice. Back arching as his arm wraps around your waist, leaning back to give him a view of himself bottoming out in you. The feeling of the fullness already has you cumming again. “...So fucking perfect.” 

Rubbing your clit with his fingers as his lips attached to your nipple, locking you in his hold, your body trembling from the overstimulation. Cock repeatedly ramming into your g spot as your cunt is being lovingly abused. “Fuck” He mutters out, words getting trapped into your skin, fingers pinching your swollen clit, letting out a loud sob as tears break free. 

“Fuck baby, I’m close.” He said, breath growing sporadic as his hips start stuttering. Chasing after his high, fingers slapping your clit as you squealed.

“C-, cum in me, please. You gotta, p-please!” You cry out, pushing him over the edge. Breaking free of your tits, mouth letting out deep groans as he is spilling his load into you, coming for the third around him. Body freezing up, seeing black and stars, walls clamping around him even tighter, wanting to milk him dry for everything he's got. 

Not even realizing that he's holding you into him, balls resting on you cunt as he's still inside of you, knowing you'd throw a fit if he pulled out. Body slump and tired as he presses a light kiss on the top of your head, large hands soothing your body as they worked their way up and down your back.

“I-, I love you,” you choked out, resting your head into his shoulder. His heart softening as he kissed your lips softly, sighing as he leaned back with you in his arms. Gently humming to ease you into sleep, not caring how he was gonna take care of this later. ”I love you too, baby.” He whispered into your ear, looking around his office full of money and countless items worth millions, but none made his heart race like you could, not even close.

“...I love you, more than you'll ever know.” 

[authoratmidnight]

Potentially controversial YGO fandom opinion but...

Yu-Gi-Oh Sevens is good actually. In fact I think I might have to put it as one of my favourites.

Now that it’s over (alas) I wanna ramble about it. Cause it IS good. It’s fun and entertaining. Yes it is aimed at a younger audience than some of the past series (like VRAINS) but that doesn’t make it bad. And yes, the animation is different since it’s by a different studio and different animators but, again, that doesn’t make it bad. The art style works and it looks just fine imo. (Also Gallop ain’t coming back to do ygo again, fuck I don’t think they’re even doing *anime* any more period, all the animators are spread out to the wind to other studios. save for like, one long running show that’s been going since like 1996 so)

But I digress.

Honestly, it gives me early GX vibes with the zaniness and off the walls weird shit it does (which is a lot). But it works! And the foreshadowing and set up, is great! Like, probably better than a lot of the past series if I’m being honest. Stuff that you thought was a one off-throw away gag suddenly returns and you’re like ‘holy shit it was important!’ And I love that shit! And the characters really do capture the essence of being a bunch of cringey, excitable tweens. Cause that’s what they are. And it’s great.

Also on the topic of the characters. Do you like girl characters who DO things? Who have good win rates? Who can and do beat the boys and not just the other girls? Well boy does Sevens have those for you. In spades. Like I know the bar for YGO ladies is literally on the ground but I think these are, probably some of the best handled female characters we’ve had? I love them, they’re great.

I actually like the concept of Rush Duels and introducing a whole new type of duelling instead of trying to come up with a new Extra Deck summoning method for the already massively bloated Extra Deck. Plus it’s FUN. It looks like a lot of fun with it’s new rule set and playstyle!

(Side note but, you also gotta remember, YGO is and will always be a glorified 25 minutes card game ad so it’s all about shilling the new format-which from what I hear is selling *really* well in Japan-and making money)

Plus, it’s really good for beginners/ppl who want to play Duel Monsters but find the TCG far to complicated to get into and play (which it is. it really is). Cause it’s not just a smaller field and deck like Speed Duels/Duel Links, it is a whole new format with it’s own cards and everything.

When it was first announced I was apprehensive, especially since I was still coming off the abrupt ending that was Vrains and the hurt from that. But I told myself I wasn’t going to judge based on the promo alone(since it was an early promo and the first ep was like 6 months out), and I would at least watch the first episode and judge for myself. And I did. And it was really fun. 

Yu-Gi-Oh! Sevens is a damn good show and I’m not afraid to say it.

[jangofctts]

Are You in Or Out?

Rated: Explicit 

Word count: 11.5K yall I am SORRY

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

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

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

Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes—

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

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

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

Reckless.

An invitation for disaster. 

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever.

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

Maybe. 

                                                       -=-=-=-

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

“Are you sure, kid? This could—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t need the extra baggage.”

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

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

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

“Right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                 -=-=-=-

Well—the cynical part of you was right.

It did end up in a fiery shit show. 

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

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

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

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

It doesn’t matter at this point…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eh.    

Could be worse. 

At least you aren’t dead. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You huff. “Wow. Thanks, Paz.” 

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

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

Damn it.  

                                                     -=-=-=-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Leave.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Boy—“

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

You wince. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown. “Poor guy…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not if they take you by surprise.” 

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

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

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

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

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

A triumphant smile splits across your face—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aha! Yes!

Your reign of victory is short lived, however—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You purse your lips. “Huh.”

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

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

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

“She isn’t made of glass.” 

“She is still recovering—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here you are—asphyxiating.   

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

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

“Din—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But, oh—

Isn’t it worth taking the risk? 

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

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

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

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

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

“Take me like you mean it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you croak, already debauched and falling apart at the seams. “Anything.”

You’re all too happy to fade away in the embrace of the larger man but the other participant is far from letting that slide. Din grabs your hand, guiding it towards the front of his trousers, the drawstrings already loose and easy to pull aside. He groans and twitches as your fingertips flirt along his navel, then curl over the waistband, tugging his pants the rest of the way down to pool around his knees. 

You reach for the already impressive outline of his cock pressing against his boxers, but Paz cupping your cunt through your underwear just before you touch Din is distracting. You gasp and arch as Paz digs the heel of his palm against your clit, electrifying ecstasy zipping down your spine with each touch. 

There’s a twinge of guilt after Din huffs and drags your limp wrist back to his cock, this time encouraging you to palm him by guiding your actions with his own hand until you lazily oblige. Din’s quiet grunts, gravely against the vocoder do nothing but throw more jet fuel to the fire inside your belly. The growing urge to actually touch him gnaws and corrodes the forefront of your brain. With a firm yank his boxers are quick to join his trousers and Maker—

Fuck—

Will he even fit?

Din is thick, rosy brown and flushed at the tip and beginning to curl towards his bellybutton. A bead of liquid shines at the tip, dribbling down the underside as he wraps his fist around the base of his length. He gives himself a languid stroke before he, once again, reminds your hand of what it’s supposed to be doing. Din is searing in your palm, molten and stiffening to hardened steel in your grip.   

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Din hisses as his head rolls back onto his shoulders. “S-so pretty holding my cock.”

Your desperation tears at your insides, insatiable and Maker— you wanna taste him. You want to hear every little stuttered moan and feel each twitch of his hips as he claims your mouth as his own.    

But before you’re able to ask Din if he’d be willing to fuck your throat, Paz grips your knee and slings your leg over his thigh, murmuring praise as he peels off your underwear. Paz’s hand snakes down to your pussy and runs two thick fingers through your already slick cunt, then delicately parts your folds. 

It’s like a fucking bomb going off as his thumb grazes over your swollen clit. His forearm locks tight around your waist, keeping you in place as you arch and tremble. Paz is feather light and teasing, as he strokes over the little bundle of nerves in a painstakingly slow rhythm. 

“Paz—“ 

He nudges your cheek with his helmet and chuckles. “You’re so sensitive, vaar’ika. Such lovely noises too.”  

Paz trades in his light touches for using his two fingers instead. They form a relaxed ‘v’ shape, trapping your clit in between the digits as he massages in a steady up and down motion. You cry out, every nerve shocked and flooded with saccharine pleasure, shoving you so treacherously close to that precarious edge of release.      

You have no fucking chance as a different set of fingers, leaner in length but just as bulky, carefully prod at your entrance. Din’s pointer finger slides into your cunt, quickly adding a second as your core clenches and stretches for him. The dual sensations over your clit and Din’s fingers steadily pumping and curling inside you send you hurling into that dazzling white-hot pleasure.     

Throwing your head back, you cry out—a jumbled mess of their names or just nonsense— pleasure crackling out from your core and all the way down your legs. Your cunt tightens like a vice around Din’s digits, your legs twitching as your high dips into prickly overstimulation. You whine, and swat at Paz’s hand, Din pulling out his own fingers a moment later and wiping your wetness on the inside of your thigh. 

Your head rests in the crook of Paz’s shoulder as your breath fans across the side of his helmet, fogging up the metal where the blue paint is chipped and scraped away. The shirt he wears smells a bit like sweat but the underlying scent of him is comforting—worn leather and something crisp, like fresh laundry. You don’t mean for the words to slip out—

You know better than that, but everything feels muddled and silly and, and, and—

“I wish I could kiss you.”  

It’s like dousing ice cold water on a pile of smoldering coals. A silence, petrifying and like the inhale before jumping off a cliff and into a rocky sea, ensues. Stupid, stupid, stupid—  

Paz shatters the fragile suspense with a rich laugh that burns away all the icy worry making itself a home in your ribcage. He moves his arm up, his fingers gripping your jaw to fix your gaze onto the other Mandalorian. “You want his mouth on you too?”  

You whimper and nod, but it isn’t enough. 

“Use your voice vaar’ika,” Paz hums, pressing the crown of his helmet against your cheek. “Tell us want you want.” 

“I-fuck—” Paz’s fingertips sneak up your torso, rough callous catching deliciously on your skin. “I wan’t your mouth on me. B-both of you.” 

Paz chuckles and releases his hold on your chin. “You’ll have to be blindfolded, sweet girl.”

Din scoffs, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. “Like she’d want to see your face anyway.”

“Please,” you mewl, turning your head to curl into Paz’s neck. It’s not ideal, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. “I don’t care. I need—“

“Patience, little one,” Paz purrs, rubbing up and down your bare sides in a soothing manner. All it does is stoke the flames. “You’ll get what you want.” 

Paz shifts, reaching for your abandoned shirt and stars—

You can feel his cock, firmer then tempered durasteel and poking into your lower back. Oh, hell—these men are going to ruin you. 

You’re nudged forward, your vision going dark once your shirt is securely tied around your head. The knot traps a few hairs that pull sharp against your scalp but the measly pain is worth it. Oh so worth it.  

“Is it too tight?” You hear Din ask, concern lacing his gravely vocals. 

You wave your hand in dismissal. “S’fine.”

“Cant see anything either, right?” 

You squirm, your patience spreading thin. “Din, please.”

“Fine.” There’s no bite to his tone and under different circumstances you’d have more composure. Acknowledge that they’re putting their religion, their whole being into your hands—a fragile trust that could so easily be shattered. 

Your ears pick up their subtle movements, their helmets landing onto the thin mat with soft thunks. With bated breath you wait for them to jump into action, seize every spare moment to taste your skin and breathe the same air. But—

“You need a haircut, vod.”

“And you need to shave.” Retorts Din with bitter indignation. 

“It’s hardly even stubble.” He chortles. You giggle and twist away as he scrapes his prickly cheek up and down your neck. “Besides—she likes it.” 

There’s another lull, and with the blindfold everything is amplified—the quick and quiet breathing of Din on your right and the slide of fabric against skin as Paz shifts. Your attention is captured by Din’s bare palm, warm and calloused like weathered leather left out in the afternoon sun. He caresses the outside of your thigh in smooth, longing strokes, enraptured by the softness of your skin. You whimper and let your leg fall open, exposing more of your thigh for his curious exploration. 

The sudden touch on your cheek is jarring. You know Paz is there—it’s not an easy thing to forget the solid chest you’re leaning against but it’s hard to focus. Difficult to settle on one thought before it slips away like grains of sand between a clenched fist. Paz’s touch is heavier than Din’s, ambitious and greedy but…mindful. Even as his fingers spread along your jaw and drag you into a deep, mouthwatering kiss. It’s…stars—   

There’s nothing that can describe this. No word that could ever hold a candle up to the way his lips, plush and soft, move against yours. His nose brushes against your cheek as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his warm tongue sliding against the seam of your bottom lip. 

You whine and bury your hand into his hair as Paz groans, a low rumble in his throat. You wonder what color it is, but carding your fingers through the curls atop his head suffices for now.

Your curiosity is abruptly ended as Din’s hand snakes around your forearm. You’re forcibly yanked away, only to be met with another pair of lips. Din murmurs an apology at the sting of his teeth bumping into your upper lip, but the pain is hardly the first thing on your mind. 

Din’s kiss is devouring—  

Scalding and bright—the galaxy, a thousand suns, all there ever will be and all that ever was. The way his lips move against yours is a devastatingly sharp contrast to the steady, syrupy sweet kiss Paz offers. Desperate and eager to surround you in his own arms—steal away any lingering thought and replace it with him. Din Djarin—  

You gasp as Din’s teeth nibble and pull on your bottom lip, only a moment before he surges closer, wrapping his hand around your jaw to hold it open as he licks deep into your mouth. Breaking for air, Din tangles his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck and yanks, baring the column of your throat. His travels down, the tender kisses morphing into teasing nips and lingering sucks that’ll turn into tender bruises in the morning. 

Din hovers over your breasts, his heated breath and cooling saliva the catalyst to the goosebumps that rush over your skin. He lightly tugs on your nipple using his teeth, then plants a sweet kiss over your sternum.   

“Can I taste you?” Din murmurs, his lips ghosting over your flesh. “Maker—wanna put my mouth on you.” 

“Din—“ A different set of lips latching onto the juncture of your neck and hijacks your train of thought. Wipes your mind clean until Paz is the sole thing you can consciously focus on. 

Paz laves his tongue over the shell of your ear and urges you to lean back against him once more. Your nose scrapes against his stubble as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his hips lazily rolling his hardened cock into your backside. 

“Or…” Paz rumbles, capturing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his. You marvel at the sheer size of his palm—astounded still when he leads his and your hands to palm his cock. “I could give you this. Fuck your pretty little cunt until you’re screaming for me.”

It’s a punch to the gut. Why the fuck do you have to choose? You squirm as Din points his tongue over your nipple then sucks it into his mouth. 

Working through the fog in your head, the answer is clearer than fucking crystal. Because who in their right mind would turn down a Mandalorian’s request to eat you out? Not you, that’s for sure. “Din—want your mouth.”

Din huffs in triumph and slips between your legs that part to accommodate his broad shoulders, leaving no patch of bare skin untouched and worshiped. You shiver as his tongue circles around your bellybutton then retreats. Din settles his head beside your knee and mouths a kiss there.  

You whine his name and buck your hips, heart beating wildly in your ears. The teasing is unbearable and, stars—if he doesn’t start now— 

He nibbles on the inside of your thigh, laving his warm tongue over each mark he leaves behind, buffering the sting of his teeth. Din snake his hands under your ass, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he heaves your cunt closer to his mouth. Din’s thumbs part your soaking pussy, his breath hot fanning over your cunt. His tongue his scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your slit all the way up to your clit. 

Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through you. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—fuck. Fuck, you need more.   

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are obliterated; nothing but the warmth of his tongue, and his lips, devouring you as if he were a man seconds from death and you’re his saving grace. That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade into smoke—but you’re not going anywhere. Not even a million credits could convince you to push Din’s head away. 

He sinks two fingers into your clenching hole and curls his fingers, stroking and curling his fingertips to make you sing. Zeros in on that little spot that causes the involuntary twitches of your leg and wrenches embarrassing, high pitched mewls that fill the room. You’re careening towards your high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure. 

“Shit—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must hurt. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth. 

Your release unfurls through your body like sticky molasses—smoldering embers that seep into each limb until they’re heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to think and at this rate your brain is as good as gone.   

You pay only a fraction of attention to Din as he kisses his way back up your body and lands a final one over your lips. His thumb grazes over your chin, his gravelly words of praise cutting through some of that foggy haze, how good you were, how fucking delicious you tasted when you came on his tongue. You taste your own arousal on his mouth as he noses your cheek and captures your lips in another kiss.           

“Are you done?” Paz asks dryly, much too barbed to be thrown your way. You groan when Paz jostles your limp body as he hoists you back into his lap.

“Just starting, actually,” Din quips. “Why don’t you hand her back over? I’ve got some more things I wanna try.” 

Paz scoffs and secures a heavy arm around your middle. “Greed will get you nowhere.” 

“Neither will your arrogance.” 

“Shut up—both of you,” you interrupt. Your voice is raw and choppy but it does the job. “Just fuck me already.”

For now their little spat is sidelined—it’s not worth ripping off that bandage of a temporary truce. There’s a chaste moment of quiet, like they’re considering tearing into each other’s throats instead, but with a touch to Paz’s thigh the standoff fizzles out. 

“We need to work on your manners,” Paz suggests, curling his large, calloused hand around your neck in a loose hold. “I believe it’s please fuck me.” 

Maybe if you weren’t practically a pile of brainless goo, you’d argue. See how far you can push—though this time you fold. “Please fuck me. P-please—I need it.” 

Seemingly satisfied with your answer; Paz wedges a hand between your bodies to grip his cock and run the tip through your folds, soaked from you own wetness and Din’s saliva. The head of his member nudges at your entrance, and wether it’s his size or the fact you can’t see anything—you panic. 

Your hand shoots out, nails harpooning into the meat of his forearm. “W-wait—you’re too b-big.”  

Paz freezes and moves you up his lap and presses a kiss over you hairline. “We can stop. Just say—“

“N-no, I’m fine,” you assure, planting an apologetic peck on his stubbled jaw. Stopping is the last thing you want to do—it was just…overwhelming. A sensory overload testing the very fringes of your being. “Go slow?”

You feel his head bob in compliance as he moves you back to where you’re hovering over his cock. You relax this time, not as many alarm bells clanging through your head as your cunt flutters around the fat tip and then that glorious, first thick inch. Paz’s thumb bumps over your throbbing clit, coaxing your pussy to take him further. 

“Yeah, that’s it vaar’ika,” he grunts, his breath fanning over your neck in quick pants. “Taking my cock so fucking well. So nice and pretty.”

Your pussy flutters, fresh waves of arousal hot and burning.You nearly keel over when Paz starts shallowly rocking his hips, easing your body the rest of the way down his length until the back of your thighs touch his. Maker—how the hell is he all the way inside? You can feel him in your fucking guts—         

“See?” Paz purrs. He sucks a bruise into the meat of your shoulder and pushes his palm against your lower stomach, making the fit even tighter. “Fits fucking perfect.”

The noise your cunt makes pulling out and the debauched moan that filters through his vocal chords is obscene. If anyone where to walk by, well—it’s certainly not training that’s going on, for the better lack of words. 

Paz holds true to his word—keeps his pace limited to deep, languid thrusts that brush up against something that makes your whole body shake—like strumming a golden chord molded to a musician’s fingers. Fuck—he’s doing all the work too. Lifting you by the swell of your hips and pulling you down onto his cock with a rough buck of his hips. 

Abruptly, he slows to a gentle rocking—quick to lock you in place as you thrash and roll your hips. “Paz—n-no. Keep going. You n-need to—“

Paz silences your please with a wet, open mouthed kiss. “Our friend looks lonely. Why don’t you use that pretty mouth and suck his cock?” 

Din. 

You hear the man curse in Mando’a, probably some stab at Paz—

But with a pat to your outer thigh, you don’t need any more prompting—you’d give up your left hand to get a chance to suck him off. With the help of Paz, you’re eased onto your hands and knees, shocks of white-hot pleasure zipping through your core at the change of angle. Like this Paz is seated deeper inside, stabbing into each spot that makes you sing.    

Fuck—your arms are shaking—only able to hold yourself up for half a click and then you’re sinking face first into the floor, ass in the air as he fucks into you. Paz clicks his tongue and wraps his arm around your front, pulling you back up from your slumped position. 

“I told you to suck his cock, girl. Not take a nap.” Paz accentuates his words with heavy, well measured thrusts—the kind of force you know will leave your whole lower half throbbing and sore in the aftermath. 

You whine as Paz grabs a hold of your jaw, digging into the tender joints until your mouth falls open. “Good. Keep it like that.” 

Paz’s hand falls away, replaced by a softer touch. The pads of Din’s fingers hook under your chin, guiding and tempting you nearer to what rests between his legs, hot and heavy and large.       

You feel the tip of his cock, flushed and pulsing, rest on your bottom lip. You lap up the beads of sticky precum with kitten licks that morph into suckling the entire head. Din grunts out your name and tangles his hand into your hair as you tongue at the ridged frenulum. He never forces you to swallow down more of him—lets you cradle the first few inches in the wet warmth of your mouth and languidly roll the pad of your tongue around him. 

You want to take him deeper, let Din fuck your throat raw, but your jaw already aches. Your lips are pulled tight around his shaft, drool dribbling down your chin and landing on the mat below. You’re not sure if you could take more of him without the danger of your teeth catching or dislocating your jaw. So you manage like this—hollowing out your cheeks and and using the momentum of Paz’s thrusts to pleasure Din.          

It’s frustrating—it must be each time you let his cock slip out of your mouth to breathe or the fact Din isn’t able to fucking fit his cock into your mouth. Annoying that you aren’t able to think properly to help him out a bit ore when that said brain is being fucked straight outta you, put through the wringer and then body slammed onto duracrete. 

Din cups your cheek, strokes over your skin with his thumb and maneuvers himself out of your mouth. You whine and lean into his palm, his touch addictive like smoldering coals in the dead of winter.    

“You want me there instead of him?” Din purrs, using the tips of his index and middle fingers to tilt your chin and drag you into an open mouthed kiss. “Fuck you like you deserve.” 

The profane imagery of Din between your legs instead makes you clench tight. It only takes a couple seconds and a few more feverish kisses before you’re nodding to his request. Paz mutters a swear, hesitates, and reluctantly pulls out, leaving your cunt empty and aching with need. 

Din, however, is speedy—quick to hoard you to himself and yank your legs over his hips so that you’re draped on his lap. He jumps straight to the point, no fancy maneuver or drawn out teasing—just grabs the base of his cock, slides the flushed tip between your folds and sinks into your cunt. Even after your pussy had been stretched and molded around Paz’s length, you struggle to take Din’s entire cock into your aching center. It’s easier than Paz but, Maker—not by much. 

You whine, harpooning your fingernails into his shoulder once he bottoms out. Din snarls a curse and latches his teeth onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder, prickly pain shooting directly to your belly. “Fucking tight. H-how—fuck.”

There’s no time to adjust before Din sets a pace, harsh and desperate—his hands digging into the flesh of your ass for better leverage. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end before it could be yanked out from under him. Din’s staggered exhales below your ear are interlaced with subdued moans that start low in his ribcage then dip into a higher, airy pitch. A delicate sound you’ll guard closer to your chest than any secret you possess for the rest of your life—precious and yours. 

Din turns his head to steal a kiss. “You feel fuck—fucking good. Wanna feel you cum around me. S-squeezed so fucking hard around my fingers—“

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Heat sizzles down each vertebrae in your spine, burning up each and every cell with the brilliance of a wildfire. Stars, this is gonna destroy you.      

Din’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of blistering warmth that knocks you off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs. Your nails dig into Din’s back as you shake and grapple for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.  

“Good girl,” Din praises, pace faltering from just how tight your pussy squeezes and flutters around his cock. “S-such a fucking good girl for me.”     

Regaining some semblance of control, you realize he’s still fucking going—still rock solid and throbbing, fucking you through the aftershocks of your release. Your arousal turns sharp, like rough cotton over a fresh sunburn as it dips into overstimulation. It’s not unpleasant but Din has to slow his hips to a delicate roll for you to recover.            

In the time it takes to inhale, a different calloused hand kneads into your lower back then smoothes up your spine. A second later you feel the scrape of Paz’s stubble prick along your exposed shoulder as his tongue drags along your sweat dampened skin—all the way up the curve of your neck and ending at the shell of your ear. 

You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but as Paz crowds closer the tip of his cock pokes at your other hole. With a surprised mewl, you tense and shy away—but he follows, molds his chest against your back to sandwhich you in. The hand gripping your bicep jumps to your neck and pulls your head against his shoulder. 

Two of Paz’s fingers dip down the curve of your ass and brush along the puckered skin—far less jarring this time. “Do you want to be fucked here too?” 

Maker—

You’re gonna fucking explode.  

Stuffed to the brim already, it’s hard to imagine Paz cramming himself in along with Din. A little red light blares in some corner of your mind but it’s quickly soothed as Paz plants soft kisses over your cheek and jaw. You trust him—there’s no reason to think he’ll hurt you or push you to the point of pain.

You catch his mouth with a kiss and rock your hips back. “Y-yeah, ok. I trust you.” 

You feel his smile curl against your cheek. “Don’t worry vaar’ika—I’ll take care of you.”

Paz strokes your bottom lip with his thumb and kisses the crown of your hairline as you sink into him. With his ring and middle finger, he pushes past the seam of your lips. “Suck.”

You obey, sealing your lips around his two digits and coating them in your saliva. Paz pulls them out with a pop and moves them between your legs, and with the added wetness dripping from your cunt, the first finger is easy enough. The second and third have you gasping as he scissors them and stretches your tight hole wider. You claw your nails into Din’s shirt—and he’s no better—Din’s own hands are clamping around your hips, struggling to keep still and biting back moans each time your cunt constricts. 

Your hips begins to meet the thrusts of Paz’s fingers as your body familiarizes the feel of him there. It’s a deep thrill that rushes up through your spinal cord—much different from anything you’ve felt before. 

“You like this, don’t you?” Paz goads, chuckling when you whine as he extracts his fingers. “I think you’re ready to take my cock, yeah?”

You shudder and nod, your voice no more than a squeak as it pilfers out. Paz strokes the top of your head and tips you forward into Din’s eager arms as Paz slicks up his length in a mix of precum and your dripping arousal. He touches the swell of you ass in warning, lines himself up with your hole and wedges the tip of his cock inside of you.     

Involuntary tears dampen your makeshift blindfold as Paz buries himself deeper, his rumbling tone urging you to relax—relax even though your mind is drowning in an ocean of arousal and swirling emotions you have no hope to pin down and analyze. It’s for the best—thankful as Paz bottoms out that it wrenches you back to a feasible reality you’re able to manage.

“Shit—I-I’m gonna die—“ You sob, writhing at just how full you are. But there’s nowhere to fucking go—     

“Easy,” Din breathes, and you wonder if he’s said it to keep his own head on his shoulders. “Easy.”

Din’s gravelly rasp cuts through the fog in your head, and stars—you sound like you’re fucking dying. Your wheezy breaths and lightheadedness would certainly suggest that—but no…no, you’re fine. Better than fine.     

A rush so acute and devastating launches up your spine as Din’s patience cracks. He experimentally rolls his hips and that’s the end of it. You’re swallowed up in that riptide you fought so hard to avoid—fuck. You won’t be the same after this. How can you?  

You can feel them both, separated by a thin wall as they sprint towards their own highs. You’re never once left empty—Din reaches the end of you as Paz pulls out and while there’s not exactly any finesse involves it’s the best fucking thing you’ve felt in your entire life. There’s no bickering—no teasing and you’re struck with an idea that makes you clench tight around both of them. You wouldn’t mind if this was the way they decided to settle scores or finally see eye to eye.   

This time you can’t discern your high—just a constant overflow of ecstasy and dazzling arousal like an imploding supernova. You cry their names—sob and shake in their hold with such fervor that Paz traps you tighter between them to keep you still.  

“Fuck—you get so fucking tight,” Paz growls, blunt nails digging into your hips. “And so fucking wet.”

His fingers touch the inside of your thigh and stars—he’s right. “I get to fuck your cunt next time—see how much you’ll drip for me.” 

Even if the blindfold were off—there’d be nothing to see but a white wash of nothing. Blinded by pleasure and bursting at the seems. 

Jealous, Din steals your breath away with a kiss, licking and nipping at your swollen lips until you whine his name. His jagged pants fan across your chin—chapped lips and patchy facial hair tickling across your bottom lip as you breath the same air. 

Din whispers your name like a prayer, his fingers clutching tight around your thighs as his pace starts to flounder to choppy jerks. “Shit. I-I’m close—“

Your fingers twist into his hair. “Yeah—ok baby. Let go.”

Din’s teeth sink into the base of your throat and cums. His seed coats your insides—hot and copious and fucking shit—if there’s a next time you want him to cum in your mouth.      

You don’t get time to relish Din’s stuttered gasps of your name, laced with praise and a show of a tender and bleeding heart before Paz is gathering up your hair in a tight fist and jerking your head up. “You—you want me to cum too? Say it.” 

Without a breath of hesitation you beg for it, cry and arch into him. It does the trick—

Paz is loud—shouts a thunderous roar and buries his cock deep into your hole. Din is still recovering from the aftershocks of his release when Paz pulls out after what seems like ages pumping you full. His cock no longer there to plug you up, his cum begins to dribble out and mix with the mess between your legs. Your legs shake and you wobble--crying out as Din slips out, your body dreadfully empty and aching.     

You're lowered to the mat by Din and if you weren't still trying to formulate words, you'd thank them. Lips dart over your cheeks and hairline, and for once nothing needs to be said. It’s nice...the radiating warmth from their bodies and the simmering flush through you body is something you could get used to. But you’re no stranger to the shifting tides of the future. 

You shrug it off.    

Your eyes are heavy and with one of them stroking your hair and the other your thigh, you drift to sleep. Later—later all unspoken things and disastrous words can be dealt with tomorrow. You must be dreaming when it’s said--careless and bold, but the words nestle into your heart and sprouts with fear. 

“You love her, don't you?” 

translation:

vaar’ika--pipsqueak 

or’dinni--dumbass idiot 

vod--brother/comrade 

tag list: 

@bobafctts​ @djxrxn​ @teaofpeach​ @corrupt-fvcker​ @nelba​ @datmando​ @ben-is-a-hoe​ @dreams-like-clockwork​ @aerynwrites​ @auty-ren​ @huliabitch​ @anxiety-riddled-mando​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @trippedmetaldetector​ 

[whereisnardo]

Genma:

•He gets freckles when he spends time out in the sun. It’s cute.

•He’s a sympathy vomiter. He can handle a lot of bodily fluids, but vomit is NOT one of them.

•When he’s with his S/O he just… calms down. He sees them and all the anxiety from the day just melts away. His shoulders drop and he can finally just breathe. And he gets this lil peaceful smile and content look on his face. He wonders if that’s what it’s like to be truly happy with some one, because he could definitely get used to it.

•All of those things happen in an instant and then S/O is blind sided by hugs and forehead kisses. And regular kisses. Actually all the kisses.

•He loves it when his S/O hugs him from behind. Doesn’t know why, he just likes the feeling of them burying their face between his shoulder blades and holding on to him. If he’s ever upset or frantic it’s a good way to calm him down.

•He’s pretty financially responsible, he will occasionally buy something silly or treat himself but food, bills and rent are always managed.

•Must use terms of endearment for his darling S/O. Some nicknames he likes to use are: Babe (his go to), Sweetheart, Baby, Darlin’ (jokingly), the occasional loser, and Baby Girl; when he’s in his care giver mode.

•He strongly believes in too much of a good thing when it comes to receiving head. He has no qualms about giving it all the time and any time, but he has this weird novelty attached to receiving where he likes it to feel more special and intimate. So, he won’t usually ask for it. Lowkey thinks the wait makes it all the better.

•When he’s getting head he runs into a bit of a conundrum: he loves the feeling of deep throating but gagging kinda turns him off. He feels bad whenever his S/O gags bc that is not pleasant and he doesn’t like hurting or making them uncomfortable. He’s also good at keeping his hips controlled because of that. Also bc he’s a sympathy vomiter, gagging sets off this kinda panic reaction in his brain like oh no gag=puke.

•When receiving head he has this habit of cupping his S/O’s cheek as part of an intimacy thing. He cups his S/O’s face quite a bit outside the bedroom too; it’s one of his little ways of showing affection and reassurance.

•His handwriting sucks. It’s terrible. Old man Sarutobi god tired of trying to decipher his reports and forced him to present his mission report orally in front of him and someone to transcribe it.

•He doesn’t usually get drunk drunk. But when he does you better prepare for philosophical and political debates. He will also be extra clingy.

•Despite being good with money, if Gen decides he wants to marry his S/O he goes way overboard with the ring. It’s undoubtedly gorgeous but ‘babe this really wasn’t necessary I would marry you if you proposed with a 25¢ gum ball machine ring.’

•He’s gonna tell them no this is the ring they get bc they deserve something as beautiful as them. He’s cheesy okay?

•He is really involved in planning the wedding with his S/O. He wants pumpkin pie at the reception but will concede if he can eat it off of them later.

•Throws a fit and pouts on the couch if S/O tells him he can’t see their dress or go shopping with them.

•Even though he’s slept with them before he can’t help but get all sappy on his honeymoon. They’re his now. There’s body worship and soft kisses and love making. He’s just so happy that he gets to marry the person he loves.

[jasonsthots]

Almost hiding the darkness within

I have no clue how to post this properly but here we go-

Big thanks to @jaybirdsdarling like without her I definitely couldn't have made this or even posted it so thanks babes 😘

Warnings- smut- lots of it, yandere peoples, slight noncon to dubcon? Violence, slight gun play, voyeurism, cuckolding--- basically bring your holy water (there might be more but not sure 😚)

It all started with the landing. Ya' know the one. That superhero landing. The one that looks like it really hurts the knees. When that, a brown leather jacket, red helmet wearing man landed like that in front of her like a human shield. Those that had been trying to mug her, knew it was over before it had started. Before they had a chance to run, he was on them. Limps, noses, all broken when he was done.

When he was done, he just simply stood up and turned to her. She was smiling dumbly, she knew that. Her cheeks hurt, dried tears stained her cheeks, nose stuffed from running and she was sure her hair was a mess from the tugging the men had done. But she didn't care, her savor was right there-

"Miss, always put your money away inside when it's given, not when you're outside. Honestly. I thought this was common knowledge." His mechanical voice rang through the alley as he passed by, his back now to her as he looked over one last time. "And especially not in an alleyway with 100 different kinds of graffiti." And with that, he grappled away.

Y/n's pout was deep as she looked on. Giving a swift kick to one of the robbers that laid on the pavement. "Maybe next time..."

_______

It was like she had planned it. He had to start watching her. He had to. She was like a magnet for trouble. It was almost a nightly thing. Like she would purposely find the most dangerous part in Gotham to go and act like a ditz. She wasn't though. She knew better. He'd seen it. The simple smacks she gave to guys at the diner who got too handsy. She wasn't defenseless. Yeah those were small slaps to the hands, but they were a sign that she definitely could handle herself enough to know not to go into that damn alley. And there she went. In the damn alley. So like he had for the past few weeks, he swung down.

He should know better. He has bigger problems. Like that big fuckin' mafia guy who's selling drugs, weapons and people for gods sake. But there he was. Once again, kicking ass for the same girl, night after night. The simple finger point doing nothing as this time, she walked up- and grabbed it. Bringing his hand close to her face and resting it on her cheek. An unfamiliar touch that had his heart swelling and any bit of anger he held to her disappear in an instant.

She looked up to where his white covered eyes were and smiled, the grime on her face and wrecked hair not taking from the beauty she possessed. Her eyes twinkled under the dim Gotham lights, her smile twisted, breathtaking. "You always seem to be here just in time huh?"

A groan was heard from the men at their feet, earning a kick from her.

Jason's eyebrow tweaked at her action, a small smile creeping to his lips.

"Seems like it, you should be more careful, doll."

A nickname that came so easily. Her heart accepted it with open arms as she pushed her body closer to his, craning her neck back to look at him properly. "But then, how else would I see you Red?"

The man smirked under his helmet, a low chuckle coming out almost like static from the voice changer. Him too taking a step forward. "So, you admit you do this on purpose?"

A low groan erupted from the men again, this time Red kicking them to silence. Y/n hummed and rested her other hand on his waist, their chest pressed gently to each other. "Is that bad? I didn't really know how to work a signal in the sky, so I settled."

"On getting mugged?" The black haired man asked amused, the girl shrugging in response with a small giggle. Jason couldn't hold the smile that spread across his cheeks as he finally snapped the helmet off, the domino mask coming as a disappointment to the shorter girl. Still, she appreciated having something more than an off putting helmet to get off to from now on.

"It worked didn't it?" She spoke softly as she caressed his now exposed cheek.

"There were safer ways." He spoke back, barely above a whisper as their faces neared. Jason felt like his heart would pound out of his chest. Did she really do that for just a chance to see him? She... put her life on the line- for the possibility to see him? That-

That was the nicest thing anyone had done for him.

"Worth it."

Just like that, those last few inches were gone, their lips finally meeting in a soft, heart warming kiss.

Cough. Cough. "Fuckin'-- psychopaths- uggh-" Kick.

_________

Weekly visits became nightly, nightly became daily, and before they knew it, they lived together. Suddenly it became as easy as breathing, being together. Y/n's dumb plans didn't need to happen to get his attention, he was already there. She had his number. She had him in her bed. She had him. Jason knew this. And he was thrilled. He was worried at first. Was he moving too fast? Slow? No. She reassured him. It was just the right pace. She felt the same. They felt like all the pieces to each other's puzzles were finally falling into place.

Until the day happened.

Y/n, was, to put it lightly, odd. The girl had intentionally gotten robbed multiple times just to talk to the guy for god's sake. This, of course, led to her developing a certain set of.....skills.

See, to the common eye it would have looked like she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But she always knew when to go. She knew when he was watching her and when there was something....more important than her that needed help. So when she felt a new set of eyes on her. She knew something was up. It wasn't the other Batfamily members. They honestly....had a hard time wrapping their heads around her and deemed her tolerable at best. No. These were prying eyes.

These eyes didn't leave her. No, no. They stayed. For weeks. She felt them. They were learning. Listening to everything she said, everything she did, seeing everywhere she went. They picked it all up. They were picking up any information from when she got off work to how long she took showers.

And she liked it.

She felt guilty. She felt dirty. She didn't know why she didn't tell Jason. He was her everything after all, and boy would he be furious if he were to learn such things were taking place.....yes....furious.

Boy would she not want that.

So there she was, her wrist tied to a cold metal chair. Her struggles are no longer a problem, her shit talking too due to the gag they placed after the hundredth "when my boyfriend finds out" shtick. Her blindfold long removed as the man responsible sat in front of her, his elbows resting on his knees as he looked at every detail of her exposed skin. Her dress shredded into pieces from the whole ordeal. Y/n held back the smile that tried to spread as she saw him shuffling uncomfortably as his eyes raked over her lower half, her thighs that were spread wider from being tied to opposite legs. Her lower region on display.

The man cleared his throat as he scooted closer, his legs wedging in between her spread ones. The light shone perfectly to every curve of his dark covered face. The only seen color being his eyes and the tips of his cheeks. "So. Shackin' up with Red huh? It must be fun. I imagine you play his therapist a lot? Heard he has alotta daddy issues."

The tied girl let out a huff as she turned her head. How dare he speak like that. He has no idea what Jason has been through. To put it so lightly.

The man tilted to the side to meet her gaze that had turned cold. He laughed. "Oh what? Did I hurt your feelings? Suddenly you feelin' tough or somethin'?" He leaned forward. And that's when she finally gasped. The gag of course muffled it, adding to the already hard to breathe problem she was having. "Yeah. Don't be. Ain't in any position to be acting all high and mighty."

When his hand raised on to her shoulder, his thumb brushing against her pluses before wrapping his hand around her neck to face him, her mind couldn't care less about the man getting physical. The only thing she could think of was what she was looking at. How....she knew how. There was a man who looked like a human but was actually an alien flying around, anything was possible.

So this was the man. She had of course heard of him. Not only from her significant other, but she did use to live in a not so friendly neighborhood. Even then, if you didn't know who this was, well, welcome to Gotham, where there's a Bat running around and a man whose face is literally a black skull. Yes. Black mask.

She mumbled.

The man sighed heavily and took the gag out. "If you say one more thing about the fuckin' Redhood- I will say fuck this whole plan and just send your head instead."

"Just wanted to say I didn't know death took vacations."

The nicely suited man barked a laugh as he stood and straightened his jacket. Y/n's smirk fell as he lowered his face to level with her, his hand resting next to her head dangerously close. "It's going to be fun breaking you."

____________

Jason was losing it. He had pretty much torn the house brick by brick searching for her. His love. His doll. His darling. She wasn't here. She hadn't been for days. Weeks? God what was he kidding. He knew exactly how long. He felt it. When she was taken. Like a sixth sense. He knew something was up. And sure enough, when he got home- she was gone.

He should have put the tracker in. He had talked to her about it, and she agreed to do it. It was safer. But he just...never got around to actually doing it. He had thought about performing some light surgery on her arm, nothing major, just putting it in her arm. That was a bit much. He had thought about putting it into a needle and doing it that way. Decided he didn't want to hurt her. Wanted to put it in her food. Didn't want her to choke. Thought about in a small box! Didn't want her to freak out and think he was proposing. So- here he was. Panicking because he had no idea where she was, if she was alive, and why she was even gone in the first place.

Jason tried to keep his mind from going to a dark place. The place that wondered if it was on purpose. She'd done it before. Stressed him out by putting her life on the line. He thought it was cute almost. "It's not cute anymore." He spoke to no one. The house was in ruins. His fists were bloodied and bruised from all the ass he'd been beating. There were no leads for weeks. Every stone was turned but nothing made sense. Friends couldn't get a word in, Jason created this whole new world where it was just him. "It's not fuckin'- cute- any- more-!" Each scream coming with a new hit, objects and people blending together. He was getting to that place.

What if she actually left? Not a game she played. Not some weird attention seeking act. She.....left.

It wasn't looking good, and it just kept getting worse.

__________

Her h/c sweat covered hair was swooped to the side, her fight dying down. There was no use, it was going to happen either way. "C'mon, don't pretend you don't like it, doll."

She winched. "What? Isn't that what he called you? Doll? Nothing special about it, you are a fucktoy after all." A laugh ripped from Roman's bare chest at his own twisted joke.

Yeah. There he was. Proud of the almost broken woman in front of him, naked and in charge of the situation. The blinking light at the end of the bed was a reminder of how fucked she really was. Both figuratively and literally. His fingers were gilding through her folds with an ease she was ashamed of. The sounds made making her stomach turn. She didn't like this. She wasn't turned on. She didn't want him......

These were the things she used to tell herself.

She was ashamed at how quickly she had felt herself give in. Was that what she always wanted? To be used as some fucktoy for some scumbag that hurt and used her and others however he wanted?

God no. She couldn't have.

She wanted Jason.

Then why....

Why did she spread her legs wider?

They spread as far as she could get them, her soaked core on full display for the camera to see, the man behind it zooming in as they themselves got closer. Getting a quiet growl like warning from Roman not to get too close.

The moans that followed were nothing short of pornographic. Her back was arched off the bed as her legs shook, those wrist restraints keeping her from getting a hold on the man who was putting her through euphoric torture. "Roman..." Her whimper sent a shock straight to the man's cock.

On full attention it stood, bobbing up and down as he moved to unhook her, repositioning her to face the camera on all fours. Her face was.....sinful. Her cheeks were flushed, her mouth gaping opening, her hair tousled. Her body was even still shaking from her previous orgasms leading to her almost falling as Roman began his painfully fast and hard thrust. Her moans rippled straight from her chest out of her throat. His hand wrapped around her hair and yanked it back, her chest heaving and back painfully arched. Sweat dripped off their bodies from what seemed like hours long of pure fucking. His other hand came to her front to rub at her clit in fast motions that had her hips bucky in an unruly way as they couldn't find out to get away or push back. Opting for the latter.

She met his thrust hungrily every time as best she could, the room filled with moans and the sound of skin slapping together at harsh speeds. Roman's pace was unforgiving, it didn't let up after the next orgasms hit her.

"Where should I do it now, huh? You want me to cum in your tight hole again? You can't waste it like you did last time though. If you do, you won't be getting my cock for a long time. And a whore needs their masters cock now don't they?"

Y/n's mouth formed wide Os as she tried to form some words to satisfy him. "Fuck- yes Roman- fuck I promise-" Her moans ripped through. "T-to no-not waste any-of- ohh~"

This seemed to be enough because the next thing she knew, she felt it. His cock twitched violently as his hips lost rhythm, his cum spilling inside of her, filling her once more. His grip on her scalp burned, but she didn't stop from that twisted and sinister smile to spread on her face as she grinded her hips back. A sharp slap being delivered to her ass cheeks as Roman barked out at her, "Stop being such a cock whore." This threatening tone dropped almost immediately as he soon laughed, grappling her chin and tilting her back to kissing her, a sloppy wet heat filled kiss. "Now that video's a keeper."

_____________

Jason finally lost it. Be felt dumb. He felt hurt. He felt utterly betrayed. His sweet, poor darling- the actual fucking cumslut. For Roman. Sionis. He had been hunting her down for months. And there she was. Accepting- no asking- no- begging for Black masks cock. For his cum. The things she did for Jason, she was now doing for that scum. He was pissed. How fucking dare she? After all he's done for her? No- he couldn't think that way. There was no way. It was his darling. His doll. She loved him too much for that. No. It was all an act. It had to be. She would never do that to him.

This is what he wanted to believe as he watched the hour long videos that kept making their way to him. Her lips wrapped hungerly around another man's cock. Being pulled away just for her to stick her tongue out to get another taste, receiving a slap to her cheek. "Don't be such a greedy slut." Was Romans words.

Videos on videos of Roman fucking Jason's girl. Cum filling up every hole the scum could want, all eagerly accepted from the girl he swore would be crying to be saved, instead relishing in the fuck fest she was dealt.

His fist clenched around his cock, furiously stroking away. God he missed her.

Her face was covered in the white ropes, her mouth taking in as much as it could as Roman pumped himself in her face. Jason fucking hated it. But god did she look fucking hot. He hated it. He hated him. He hated her. But that didn't stop him from unloading on his computer screen. His brow furrowed as pure rage coursed through his blood. He was getting her back. And she would see who she fuckin' really belonged too.

______________

Y/n knew it wouldn't be long. She played with herself, her fingers dancing across her wet slit showing just how wet she was. Her moans gentle as she spread her legs wider for the camera. "C'mon closer, get nice and in there." Her voice coaxed, of course Roman shouting orders for the camera man not to move. Her pout aimed towards the angered man. "Well if you won't let him touch me will you at least? You know I can't do it myself, you ruined me Roman~" She cooed.

The man in question groaned out and walked over, his cock next to her face as he claimed to a kneeling position on the bed. "Well, warm me up first, doll."

"Yes sir~" Her free hand came up to stroke the semi next to her. Her smile was anything but sweet and innocent like she feigned. Her tongue poking out to taste the precum that had been building up from the show. "But it looks like you're already good to go." The wink that came after did something different to Roman. God. When had he become so fuckin' turned on by watching her? When did he get so hard by her just existing? When did he want to see her asking- begging for him and it not being about fuckin' with the hood?

He wasn't sure. But he didn't hate the feeling. Especially when he buried his cock deep inside her. Her legs were spread and the angle was perfect, her back to him and front to the camera. Was this guy a director or what? Surely this would make the hood pissed off. Even if not- damn was she a good fucktoy.

_________

It wasn't the middle of the night. No. It was broad daylight when he broke in. It had taken him way too long for his liking. He had gotten a dozen more videos before he had finally found Black masks place. It's not like he could have asked for backup, they wouldn't understand. Not like they cared for her anyway. No, he had to do it on his own. And damn was that a good idea.

'Cause there he was. Bullets flying everywhere. It didn't matter who, how many. Each one had a special bullet for them in his head. Each one of these fuckers responsible for her kidnapping. Her torture. Torture. That's what it was. She didn't like it. She hated- she hated it. Yeah. She hated it. Was ridiculous how many times he had to remind himself of that. Yeah the videos were convincing. But he knew her better than those videos. He knew she wouldn't actually be begging for scum like that.

"You ruined me, Roman~"

Kept replaying in his head. That same line.

"I'll fucking show you ruined."

_______________

There they were. Two guns. One trained on a man in a designer italian suit. The other trained to an all to calm on the inside girl. "Now now. You wouldn't want to waste your time just by having me kill her would you?" Roman threatened, the gun he held pushing further into the girls head, the same gun Jason had seen her sucking on in multiple videos.

The Y/n's head was throbbing. Not just from the gun in her head but because she was- so excited.

She really played the long game, huh?

Jason clenched the gun tighter. His mask was doing a great job of keeping it together, because he certainly wasn't. "How 'bout you just make this easier for both of us and. Let. Her. Go. Like you said- I don't want to waste my time." Whether you were on the receiving end or not- it sent chills down their spines and a certain tingle down below for the h/c haired girl.

Roman clenched his jaw tight. His arm that's as wrapped around her tighter as he backed up. And backed up. And backed up. "Now now Sionis. I've never taken you for someone who'd rather kill themselves then hand someone over. Must have really gotten desperate." His last words a growl as his eyes flicked to the girl in his arms.

Roman looked down, his arms more....slack as they fell more into a hug from behind. His eyes softened. "You have no idea..." The girl met his eyes with the same fondness.

Red. No not Jason's helmet. The color he saw. Pure rage rippled through him as he pulled the trigger. Not once. Not twice. Over and over and over again, unloading a clip that not only undoubtedly killed Roman ten times over, but regrettably, knocking both out of the large window that laid behind them. As fast as the rage was there it disappeared, leaving only panic as Jason launched out of the window without a thought other than, "God- no!"

Was it?

Worth it? That's what she was thinking. Y/n. As the smirk crept to her face, placing one last kiss on her now corpse kidnapper and lover, she pushed him further, a subtle pay back for his words and treatment to her for the last months she had spent with him. Her arms wide open as he hit the ground first. Her eyes slowly closing, the wind whipping by.

"Worth it."

___________

She was an odd one. The Batfamily deemed her actually crazy. Jason never listened. Why would he? She had such a good heart. She supported him in his vigilante ways. She had even said she might join him. She understood what it took to get what you want. Maybe that's why he wasn't so pissed at her. Because he finally understood as he watched her naked sleeping form on their bed. Right where it belonged. She wanted all of this. He should have seen it. The very first smile that almost hid the darkness within. Twisted, yet so sweet. Like cyanide in candy. He knew from the beginning she wasn't a normal girl.

But then again, he wasn't a normal guy.

But there was still punishment to be dealt.

Y/n awoke with a harsh yank to her ankle, her ass suddenly on the edge of the bed. Forcibly sat up, her eyes level with the stomach of the man she had been missing. Her eyes met the storm that raged through Jason's eyes and he grabbed her chin to look at him. Even out of her peripheral vision she could see he was fully nude, her bottom lip finding a place in between her teeth as a smile took over. "Hey Jay." She cooed.

He was ashamed at how eager his cock was the moment his name left her mouth. His eyes glared daggers at her as his grip tightened. "Don't act like that." She opened her mouth, spewing bullshit like always. But he wouldn't let her. Not this time. "Like you're this innocent sweet heart. No. You're not that are you? You haven't been for a long time, if ever."

She let out a mock offended gasp. "Jay....he did bad things, that has to count for something. He made me do so many bad things to him." She pouted, her puppy dog eyes that would normally get him having no effect- at least not the kind she was hoping for.

His palm slipped from her chin to her neck, lifting her slightly with the force as he bent at the waist. "Baby, I got all the videos. The only forcing I saw was him trying to fit his cock into your tight pussy. But you still begged him for it. Because you wanted it."

He was shocked to see her eyes hood at the memory, her lust filled look deepening. His stomach turning from it. "It did feel pretty good to be stretched out again. It had been so long." Fire burned through him as he practically threw her on the ground to her knees. He didn't let her settle before he had her by the hair, forcing her mouth to open as he shoved his fully ready to go dick down her throat. The action making her gag and fling her hands to his thighs. He caught her hands and held them with one hand while the other dragged her head back and further on his length.

"How fucking dare you?" He spat with venom. "Do you know how fucking worried I was? Huh? Just to find out you're just being a whore----- to that fucking low life!?" Y/n couldn't answer, her throat being abused by his unpleasantly harsh thrust that was gonna make it hard to talk later. Her breathing was already none existent.

"So many fucking weeks." He groaned out, his eyes finally looking down. Her eyes already meeting his stormy blue ones, tears spilling down her cheeks. Her mouth stretched painfully full. But she never made a move to leave. No. She was taking this punishment like a champ. "So many months of me searching for you. Then I see uggh--" Her tongue ran along the under part of his shaft, clearly he wasn't deep enough. So he pushed further. Her breathing became hard with each thrust. "Then he sends those fucking videos. You begged for his cum princess. You fuckin' cried for it. You wanted it all. Inside you. On you. You wanted to taste it mixed with yours. Well don't worry doll." Her lips moved, unable to smile properly around him, her heart swelling. She missed him.

His grip tightened as he leaned down slightly, his cock going impossibly further down, her lips touching the base, breathing no longer an option as he smirked down. "You'll finally get daddy's cum, the cum you really needed. And maybe if you're good, I'll let you cum too, so you can suck it off me again." And with that, he stood up straight, let her catch some of her breath, then fucked her mouth until he felt that much needed relief spill down her throat. Coating the back in white liquid with a loud throaty groan.

He released her head which she immediately swung back, hand to her chest as she greedily gulped down air. But not for a moment longer than needed. She was back in front of him stroking him, her eyes leaking tears as her legs became soaked with the flood that was her arousal. "Thank you sir." She smiled.

Why was he so pissed off at her smile? Because. It was the same smile- the same mouth Roman had used. He needed to make her his all over again. She was his. He picked her up by her arm and tossed her to the bed. "You're not done yet." He gruffed out as he pushed her chest to the bed and pulled her ass up. "How many times?" He asked running his two fingers along her slit collecting all the juices that poured out.

She poked her head around. "I'm....not sure?"

He scoffed. "You let him cum so much in you, you don't even remember?" Her head nodded slowly. He whistled lowly. "Well. I cause that just means we have a long night don't we?"

The excitement- genuine excitement that she radiated was almost enough to make him no longer pissed off. Almost. "But remember." He leaned forward, his hands going to her hips as he massaged them. Placing gentle kisses down her spine and along her shoulder. The more than welcomed touch considering the past few months spent with pure hate fucking and all around rough sex. "You still get punishment for being such a cock whore." Too soon.

His soft touches left almost immediately followed by harsh smacks to the ass. Before she knew it her ass was almost the same red as his helmet, only occasionally palming it to slightly sooth the pain. But this wasn't a pleasant punishment ment to make you more turned on. No. It was harsh and real. She knew she did wrong. She knew she needed to be punished. But boy did it fucking hurt. By the time he was done, she was a sobbing mess. Her ass would be sore for sure. But it was all worth it as the tip of his cock pushed past her puffy folds into her tight heat. A long vulgar moan was realized from both parties as he sat for a moment, relishing in the feeling he missed so much.

His hands gripped her tightly as he pumped every last inch of himself he could. The movement so painfully slow but so necessary. They needed each other. She didn't realize how hard it was being without him. But she was so fuckin' happy when he came to her. She held out and here they were. One again. She loved him, and he loved her. It was fucked up. But- they did.

His veins dragged deliciously inside her tight walls, the tip of his dick hitting that one spot just right. "I- ohhh- missed you Jay-" She moaned out softly.

Jason's pace was slow and gentle, just enjoying the feeling of being inside her. Fuck did he miss her too. "You better have." But it wasn't anymore. The speed picked up along with the force and before she knew it, she was a sobbing blubbering mess. Her only thought- Jason's cock ruining her. "Now. I'm going to ask a question." He reached down and wrapped a hand around her throat, bringing her back up to his chest. The angle made her cry out. "And you better answer the right way." His speed picked up as he guided her back into his thrusts. Each word emphasized with a harsh thrust. "Who do you belong to?"

It was a simple question. One they both knew. One she should have never made him question. One that from day one, they both knew the answer. There was never an option. There would never be an option.

"You." She breathed out, her stomach making a familiar feeling. Her walls clenching and unclenching with every harsh thrust of Jason's ruthless hips.

His grip tightened before flipping her over to her back, her legs immediately being upped to his shoulders, the new position making her scream out in pure pleasure. "Not good enough, doll." He growled, his lips latching onto her neck and shoulder. Marking the answer down...

She gripped the bedsheets as her back arched into him. "I'm yours Jason! Only yours I fuckin' swear it!" And with that, Jason smiled. His hand reached between to rub her clit and a matching pace.

"Good girl. You're mine." He leans down to her ear, pecking behind it. "and I'm yours." One final kiss to her lips and she melted. Her walls squeezed and her eyes rolled back. Her orgasm washed over her like no other as her legs threatened to capture and never let go of Jason. His high soon followed and he let himself go freely in her. Every last drop would stay there. Because she was his. And he was hers.

________

"We're not done yet princess."

[dontworrysunflower]

Merry Fucking Christmas | h.s.

a/n: i’m baaaaccckk!! lol idk it took me a while to finish this and i was gonna have it finished before christmas but then i was exposed to covid so i was little paranoid but anyway (i’m good tho). merry christmas and happy holidays!! i know this years been hard but hopefully we can make it a little better :)

warnings: drinking, angst?? idk not proof read word vomit, some language too

word count: 3.1k

also thank you @watchmegetobsessed !!

feedback/reblogs appreciated

You knew the holidays this year were going to be difficult. You procrastinated on getting gifts for your friends. Your work seemed to pile up on your desk since you got your promotion. You weren’t able to fly back home, and you still had some thanksgiving weight you weren’t able to put off.

Oh yeah, another thing. Harry was still with his girlfriend.

You met Katy, Harry’s girlfriend, at his birthday party in February. She was the epitome of ‘his type’. She had bleach blonde extensions and the bluest eyes you've ever seen. She was tall and really, really loud.

Since then, she’s all he ever talked about when they weren’t together, but when they were in the same room, boy did you want to gag.

You thought they would last maybe three to four months, you were so sure, you bet with some of your other friends.

Needless to say, you lost quite a lot of money.

You tried not to let it bother you, really. But it was so hard when Harry is the literal sweetest person you’ve met, had the voice of an angel and wasn’t bad to look at.

You felt you were the closest with Harry when you moved to London. He made you feel welcome in your little friends group. There was a little flirting game between the two of you that you didn’t even notice until one of your friends brought it up.

“Oh c’mon, it’s so obvious you like each other.” Margot slurred, her second glass clinking against the table as she finished every drop.

“What?” You asked, baffled. Your eyes were wide and your face started to heat up. “He doesn’t like me.”

“But you like him?” Ava, a friend from work, smirked at you.

You stumbled on your words, wiping at the condensation on your glass.

But since he was in a relationship now, you felt almost icky around him. You felt so uncomfortable around him that you did whatever you could to not be in the same room as him.

You were ready for the holidays, you thought. It would give you a break from constantly thinking about him being so busy with your family back in your hometown.

You should’ve known London weather wouldn’t be in your favor. It rained constantly everyday and the fog seemed to get closer to the ground every other day. The weather was getting so bad that you started working from home, the roads too wet and icy to drive on. So honestly, you weren’t that surprised when airports closed due to the weather, meaning you had to spend Christmas in London.

With Harry.

The day after flights were cancelled Harry texted on your group chat saying he could host a dinner and party on Christmas eve and everyone was invited. You watched texts from your other friends flood in, some excited vulgar words were thrown in there as well.

You never responded. Not only because you still felt weird around him for having this massive crush on him, but because things haven’t really been the same between you two.

You can’t remember the last time you had a full on conversation with him before you had to excuse yourself because you couldn’t take the ache in your chest when you were around him, and he wasn’t yours. You can’t remember the last joke he ever told you or when you went out for lunch or drinks when it was only the two of you. You were sure he noticed how weird you were around him, but never said anything, so you let it be.

As the day neared, your mind would change on whether you were going or not. You didn’t want to seem bitchy and cold on what was supposed to be the happiest and cheerful day of the year, so you thought you would go. You thought of every reason you shouldn’t go that had nothing to do with Harry, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle seeing him cozy up with his very serious girlfriend.

But there would be alcohol, so you decided to go.

•••

Hey (y/n)! Think you come over early and help me set up for tomorrow? H xx

You stared at the text for what seemed like hours, but it was only a couple seconds. Before you could even register what your fingers were doing, you tied up a quick message and hit send before you could stop yourself.

Of course!! See you tomorrow!

You hated yourself for the rest of the day. Why would you do this to yourself? You could barely be in the same room as him and some other friends. How would you survive being alone before the party started?

•••

The butterflies in your stomach have not been able to settle since you woke up Christmas Eve morning. Just the thought of seeing him made you nervous. You almost didn’t get out of bed that morning. But you pat yourself on the back when your feet finally hit your wooden flooring and moved on with your day.

Your shoulders hung low beside you as the time to meet up grew closer, the sun lowering behind you, Christmas lights and inflatable decorations coming to life as stars dotted the sky.

You sighed heavily as you styled your hair and naturally did your makeup.

You slid on your silky, tight dress and grabbed your coat and quickly made your way to your car to get away from the bitter cold.

You rubbed your hands together, blowing into them to regain some feeling before turning the key into the ignition, quickly turning the heater on, Mariah Carey blasting through your speakers.

You were about to pull out of your driveway, mumbling along to Mariah’s notes when you realized you forgot the gifts.

•••

Your shoulders were hunched up as you knocked on the white door, your foot tapping against the brick stairs of Harry’s house as you waited for him to open it in the freezing cold.

You could hear shuffling from the other side and watched the doorknob wiggle, Harry having trouble with his lock since June and still hasn’t had anyone fix it.

The door swings open to reveal Harry in his glory, brown corduroy pants and an ugly Christmas sweater under an apron that’s tied around his slender waist that you’ve always been jealous of.

“Hey, sorry, come on in.” Harry said to you before moving out of the way, a bowl nestled between his side and his arm.

You mumbled a quiet thank you before stepping in, your cheeks reddening at the warmth enveloping you as you walked through the foyer of his home.

“Mm,” he hummed as he remembered something. He puts down the bowl he had on his white kitchen counter and waddles over to you, a small curve on his lips as he wrapped his arms around you. “Merry Christmas, love.”

You hate that nickname. But you don’t. You hate the butterflies that flutter in your stomach when he says that word. You hate the goosebumps it causes you and the hairs sticking up on your neck when he says the one thing you feel too harshly for him. And you hate how much he doesn’t feel it back.

“Merry Christmas, Harry.” You mumbled into his neck, his cologne flooding your senses bringing you comfort.

He doesn’t let go of you yet, but he backs up just a little to see you. “You look gorgeous, (y/n).”

The air gets stuck in your lungs and you almost forgot how to formulate words. You hoped Harry thought the pigment on your cheeks would be from the cold because it totally was. Before it was obvious how his words affected you, you stuttered out a few words. “Thank you, you look nice too.”

He chuckled at you, the breath passing his lips hitting your neck, a tingle passing through your spine. “You don’t have to lie, darling.” He squeezed you one last time before letting you go, your body instantly becoming colder as he backed away.

There's a low hum of Christmas music playing in his surround sound system, a tall tree tucked in a corner between his burning fireplace and window looking out onto the street.

You turn your attention back to Harry as he speaks up again, his famous dimples puncturing his cheeks. “Thanks fo’ comin’ early to help me out.”

You rolled your coat off your shoulders and hung by the door, walking up to him as he moved around the kitchen. “Oh yeah, it’s no problem. Not like I had anything else to do.”

He gave you a small sympathetic smile before throwing a tray full of greens into the oven. “I’m sorry you couldn’t go see your family.”

You shrug as you run your finger on the edge of his marble counter. “It’s alright, nothing I can do much anyway.” You perk up when you remember what you’re doing here so early in the first place. “Guess that’s why I’m here, no? What can I help you with?” Your heels click as you move around the counter closer to him.

“Nope.” His lips puckered as he pushed you back to where you were standing. “Just stand there and talk to me. Wine?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you blindly nod, watching him uncork a bottle of Moscato. Your favorite.

He hands you a glass of the sparkling wine before turning back around to the dishes, prepping food of all kinds for everyone and most importantly; eggnog.

“But, you said you needed my help.”

He chuckled nervously, his cheeks reddening. From your comment or from the wine? You weren’t going to get your hopes up. “I just need some company before the party. Just stand there and look pretty.”

You try your hardest ignore the blush on your cheeks. You twirl the wine glass from the neck, watching the liquid swirl around in the depths of the glass. “What about Katy?”

He sighs deeply, opening the oven to check on the food. “We’ve been kind of fighting lately.”

You did your best to stop the grin from forming on your lips, hoping he did notice your sudden burst at the new information. They are still together, so you can’t act on anything. “I’m sorry. Can I ask what’s going on?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know really. Anything and everything. Every little thing I do annoys her and anything she does annoys me. It just wasn’t the same.”

“Is she coming?” You ask before you can think about it.

He shrugs again, shoulders hanging more than usual. “I don’t think so. She said she was staying home since she can‘t fly back to her family either.”

A silence hangs between the two of you when neither of you said anything, not really sure of what needs to be said next.

“I don’t think I feel the same way for her as I did in the beginning.” Harry mumbled, arms crossed over his chest as his hip leaning against the counter, his usually bright eyes a little darker, a little sadder.

You walk up to him and lay your hand on his shoulder, giving him a small smile. “It’s not my business but, if you really feel that way, you shouldn’t lead her on, it’ll only hurt both of you.”

Harry looks down at the floor as he nods. “Thanks, love.”

There’s a wave of silence between you again as he raises his head to look at you. You almost felt small under his gaze. Something about his crystal green eyes always made you nervous. You were scared he could see what you were really thinking.

And you also swear his eyes fell to your lips.

•••

The dinner party was in full swing now, people’s laughter bleeding in with the loud Christmas music playing around the house. Some people were dancing in front of the fireplace, drinks being refilled every once in a while.

You were standing by the counter with your friends, Margot and Ava, chatting and drinking your eggnog instead of the wine you had before the party started. You had completely forgotten about the wonderful man hosting this party, the conversation you had earlier with him slipping your mind as the drink in your hand lowered to the bottom of the glass, intoxicating your thoughts.

Even though you offered to help, Harry didn’t let you help with the rest of dinner before everyone came over, so now the food still wasn’t ready as people flooded in. You heard him say something about potatoes and that was as much as you knew of the food preparation and when you would be able to eat.

The music is lowered a bit and then a clicking sound was heard, everyone turning their heads towards Harry, who clinked a fork against his glass. “Dinner is ready!”

Everyone cheered and started making their way towards the dining room. Most people had already filtered towards the next room when a knock on the front door was heard.

You turned your head as Harry twisted the knob. You were sure Harry's face mimicked yours when you saw who was standing at the doorway.

There stood Katy, hair newly bleached and a little overdressed.

She wasted no time in wrapping her arms around him, her plump lips repeatedly marking his face with the bright lipstick.

“Oh god,” you waltzed over towards Ava, who was pouring herself a new glass of eggnog. “pass me the eggnog, I can’t stand this sober.” You pushed her over slightly and grabbed the handle of the ladle she was using, filling up your cup almost to the brim.

Ava looked at you in curiosity at your sudden change, carefully looking over at the lovely couple still by the door. “Wait, I thought you told me they were fighting.” She whispered beside you, eyes widening as she watched you gulp down some of the eggnog you just served yourself to give yourself some more.

“Guess fucking not.” You were much less sober now, on the brink of tipsy and drunk. Your words slurred, eyelids heavy, vision blurry. “Let’s go fucking eat.” You dragged Ava by the wrist towards the commotion in the dining room, almost, but not quite forgetting about the couple behind you.

•••

You’ve had four glasses of eggnog. Or was it five? But now, you stand in front of the bowl, pouring some into your glass again, making it six.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” You hear his sultry voice behind you, his tone a little sassy and annoyed, but you didn’t care.

“What are you gonna do about it?” You slurred, turning around to face him. His pink lips were turned down in a frown, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration, his buff arms that were constricted in his sweater cross in front of his chest. “Gonna go kiss your girlfriend some more?” You stumbled on your feet, your drink almost spilling over the rim.

“What does that have to do with anything?” His face changed from annoyance to confusion. His thumb twisting the ring on his other finger nervously.

You open your mouth to retaliate, but even in this drunk state you knew not to say anything. You chug the creamy drink, keeping eye contact with him, watching his face change again. You didn’t care.

He obviously didn’t care either.

You sighed dramatically as you finished the drink. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

•••

You had sobered up quite a bit after your little encounter with Harry, mainly because there was no eggnog left.

You realized it was for the better though, so you made your way back into the kitchen, doing your best to not stumble or bump against anything as you grabbed an empty cup to fill with water.

“I am really sorry.” You knew his voice anywhere. But it wasn’t his usual chirpy, charming voice he had that always soothed you, it sounded more sad and somber.

“On Christmas? Out of any day you chose today?” Katy sniffled, voice wobbly and hurt.

“I know but, you know we can’t go on any longer, we’ll just hurt each other more.”

“I think I'm going to head out.”

You don’t hear Harry say anything back, but the sound of the door clicking open catches your attention and you almost turn around to watch.

“I just have one question.” Katy said weakly.

You walked away before you could hear anything else.

•••

Even though you were still a little upset at Harry (For what? You weren’t sure anymore), you stayed behind as everyone left to help him clean up before you head home.

You were putting things back in his refrigerator when you heard the front door close, the light chatter and drunken goodbyes silenced by the wooden door.

You kept your back towards the door, suddenly nervous of the words that would be spoken between the two of you.

“(y/n), can we talk?” Harry’s voice was low and sultry, your knees almost gave out.

“I should um-I should get going. It’s late.” You hurry around him to grab your things and for the door, but he holds your wrist.

“Please?” He sounded desperate, and for the first time in what felt like days you looked up into his emerald eyes. There was that desperate look in his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and lips turned down into a frown.

You sigh and nod slowly.

He lets go of your wrist and stuffed his hands in his back pockets, his pink cheeks either from the cold or from nervousness.

“I’m sorry.” He said suddenly. “I didn’t mean to get mad and I know I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Is that it?

You weren’t going to lie, you thought he would profess his love to you or something.

“I um- I also,” he swallows and takes your hand, his rings cold to the touch. “I broke up with Katy.”

Your mouth opened for words to come out but nothing ever left your lips.

“Do you want to know the real reason why Katy and I were fighting?”

You’re still speechless, scared of the answer, even though you have an idea of what he'll say.

“I’ve always liked you, (y/n).” His shoulders rise in a deep breath. “I guess, I don’t know, I thought if I started seeing someone else it would it easier but, not being with you this past year has been hell and I know I haven’t made it any easier with being with Katy but—”

Your lips crash on his, your arms wrapping his neck, your fingers immediately tangling in his brown locks.

He stumbles back in shock but grabs at your hips, bringing you closer to his chest.

His pink lips press against yours, the corners slowly turning up into a smile, breaking your kiss.

“Merry fucking Christmas to me.”

•••

Taglist:

@samaratheweirdo @sarcasticallywitty15

(Let me know if you would like to be added or taken off taglist.)

[laddieseddiemunster]

A poly lost boys x reader who gets bullied in school. But hear me out! So she gets bullied but one day they(the bullies) pour this sort of 'bleach' over her and it gets into her eyes and her hair color changed. And so she avoids the boys as much as possible so they show up to her house and see her how would they react and deal with the bullies?

Thank you for the request! Also the part where she gets bleach in her eyes I cut out because she would have permanent damage in her eyes if that were to happen. So only her hair gets bleached. I hope you don’t mind.

Another long fanfic :) hope you enjoy!

Bullied (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Reader)

warning(s): angst & violence

Being picked on every now and then is one thing, but being brutally bullied by the most popular girls in school is another. The worst part was, everyone seemed to love and worship them. You hated going to school. Everyone believed their nasty comments about you, and soon you didn’t have anyone on your side.

The boys were your only escape from it all. They treated you like a princess. You were gorgeous to them, and that’s all that really mattered. Their complements made you feel special and confident. As long as you were beautiful in their eyes, the nasty girls that were bullying you opinions didn’t phase you. Of course it still hurt, but you had the boys, and you loved them.

You got used to the bullying after a while. The boys were unaware of it because you didn’t know exactly how they’d react. They were a bit protective of you. Before you met the boys the bullying wasn’t as bad, but when you started dating them it got worse. Those horrible girls found out and started called you a whore and slut for dating four boys at once. They were jealous. You knew that, but the harsh name calling got to you sometimes. You never let them see you cry though. All they wanted was to get a reaction out of you, and you knew that.

This day didnt start off any different from the rest. You went to school, got some dirty looks from your schoolmates, and went to your classes. The only difference was, you hadn’t seen the mean girls who’d bully you. Perhaps today would be better than you’d thought.

Lunch came around and you were forced to eat some of the disgusting cafeteria food. The smell made you want to gag. As you were walking towards the lunch tables [insert bully girl name] called you over to her. You didn’t trust her one bit. She had been bullying you for a while, so why should you trust her?

“Come here! I just wanna talk to you,” she said waving you over to her. You rolled you eyes thinking that she was just going to pick on you. You decided to walk over anyway, but standing a couple feet away from her to keep your distance.

She looked over at you, giving you the up and down stare. “So, hows your day been?”

“Okay, I guess,” You said feeling very confused. There was no way this girl would want to start a friendship with you.

“Well, I called you over here because I wanted to ask you a few questions,” She said which made you feel a bit worried.

“What kind of questions?” You asked giving her a questioning look.

“Well i wanted to know if you were really dating those four guys?” She asked with a slight smirk on her face. “Or if it’s just a rumor.”

You rolled your eyes again thinking she was just going to call you a whore. “Yes I am.”

Instead of doing that, she sighed and looked to the ground. “You must be lucky.”

“Yeah umm, yeah I guess I am,” You said with a small smile creeping on your face as you thought of how lucky you were.

“Actually, umm,” she said with a pause. “I didn’t call you over here to ask you questions.”

You sighed. “Then why’d you call me over here?” You asked with slight attitude knowing that this girl was not trustworthy.

“I wanted to apologize,” she said fidgeting a bit.

“For what?” You said giving her a strange look. If she was going to give you an apology for all those years of bullying, then you wanted to hear her say it.

“I’m sorry for...” she paused again. Her eyes looked to the ground as she was speaking. Then all of a sudden her expression changed. Her apologetic frown changed into a slight smirk, but at the same time she was giving you a look of disgust in her eyes. “I’m sorry for your boyfriends, because they have to deal with an ugly slut like you!” She smiled as if she was proud of what she was saying. You sighed again while mentally cursing yourself for even believing that she’d give you an apology.

“Now!” She yelled but you could tell that she wasn’t talking to you. She backed away from you quickly as if she was running for something. Then all of a sudden you felt some drops of liquid start to fall on you. At first you thought it was rain, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. You weren’t too fazed by it until you recognized the smell. It was a strong smell that was hard to forget. Before you could try to run away, a whole waterfall of the substance was dumped on top of you. As if someone was standing above you with a bucket and on purposely dropped it all over you.

The smell was now stronger than ever. Your hair and clothes were now all wet, but not with water. You noticed your top had completely lost its color, and a nightmare you’d never thought would happen to you was happening. This was bleach. You were practically inhaling it, so you started to cough. A sound that happened to be louder than your coughing made you pause. Laughter. From the girls you hated the most. You looked above you and saw that a couple of them were standing on the building you were in front of, so you were right below them.

Reality sunk in quick. This was no nightmare. Your worst enemies had just poured bleach all over you. Your hands started to shake. Not out of pain, but out of fear and shock.

“Hey y/n!” One of the girls said while still laughing. “It’s not so bad. Maybe your boyfriends will like you now, since your hair is bleached.” She cackled.

Your heart sunk to your stomach. Bleach can ruin anyone’s hair, and it was all over you. The sound of those terrible girls laughing filled your ears as you ran to the nearest bathroom. You looked in the mirror and realized your hair was already loosing its natural color. You let out a loud gasp, but to you it sounded silent. You didn’t look like yourself.

Quickly, you turned the handle for the sink letting the water run on your now bleached hair. You tried desperately to remove the beach and get your original color back, but nothing worked. The roots of your hair were now all the same yellow/blonde color.

“Oh, don’t be upset!” Said one of the bully’s. “You don’t look like your ugly self anymore!”

“Go away!” You yelled at them with your bottom lip trembling as you were trying to hide the fact that you were on the brink of sobbing. “Leave me alone!”

“Aww, you gonna cry?” They taunted you. “The little baby’s gonna cry!” You pushed past them and ran out of the bathroom letting tears escape your eyes. You could still hear their laughter and insults from behind you, but you didn’t look back. You ran all the way home not caring that you still had a couple classes to take. Their bullying was never this bad. You were able to handle it for a while, but they crossed the line.

The reflection in your bedroom mirror wasn’t the person you recognized. You felt ugly. Your hair was now all bleached, and you didn’t have the money to go and get it done. All you could do was try to get used to it. Your confidence level was now at zero. You had grown to love your natural hair, and now it was gone. All because of those horrible jealous girls.

The thought of the boys seeing your new hair that you thought was hideous made you want to crawl up in a hole and never come out. You hated seeing the way you now looked, so how would the boys react? You cried yourself to sleep at the thought of them leaving you because of how ugly you now looked. You decided not to go to school for the next few days. Facing the girls wasn’t something you were ready for yet. You didn’t even want to see the boys. From fear of their reactions, you didn’t visit them or call them.

The boys were a little confused on the first night of not showing up on the boardwalk, but they decided not to worry too much about it. They just assumed that maybe you needed some space. After a week of you not speaking to them, the boys started to get worried. You would never just stop talking to them out of the blue. They were all confused, and even a little sad. David knew you well enough to know that you wouldn’t stop talking to them unless you were upset about something. The only problem was, he couldn’t understand what it was. None of them could. They assumed you were mad at them because you weren’t speaking to them, but they had no idea what they had done.

David got pretty impatient after the first week, and he let the boys know that they were going to go to your house if you weren’t going to speak with them. If you wanted to break up, they wanted a reason why.

You had been trying to get some sleep from the nights of crying, but you were taken off guard by hearing the sounds of motorcycles outside your house. You recognized that sound. It was a sound you knew only too well. The boys were here, and they were here for an explanation that you weren’t prepared to give.

Kicking your blankets out of the way as you got out of bed as quick as you could while looking for something that could possibly cover your hair. You found a hoodie and immediately put on. There was no point in trying to escape, you knew the boys would find you. Right as you were putting the hood over your head, you heard your window open.

“Baby?” You could tell by the tone of voice that it was Paul. “Why have you been ignoring us?” You didn’t dare face him. You could already tell that he had his usual pouting sad face on that was just too adorable to be mean to.

“Y/n,” Marko said. “Please, look at us.” His voice was slightly shaky, as if he was worried you wanted to end the relationship.

Your back was still towards them. You knew there was no way out of this, but that didn’t stop you from trying.

“Please go away,” you said feeling tears start to form in your eyes. Marko decided to not listen. He walked up to you and grabbed you lightly by the shoulders forcing you to turn to him. He had a confused yet soft expression on his face.

“What’s the matter?” He asked you while putting his hands on both sides of your face. That question just made you feel worse, and the tears that were threatening to fall were now falling. Marko’s expression was now turned to worry and sadness. He hated seeing you cry. He wiped your tears away with his thumbs before doing what you were trying to avoid. Marko grabbed the sides of the hoodie, and pulled it off of your head.

Your eyes started to tear up again waiting for him to tell you that you looked terrible. Instead, he reached over to touch your bleached hair, and the frown on his face turned into a smile. “Wow.” he said. “You look gorgeous.”

Then they all came up to do with a look of awe in their eyes. You were definitely taken aback by their reactions. You expected them to hate your new hair, but it was the exact opposite.

“Daaammnn sugar, look at you,” Paul said while brushing his fingers through your hair. You giggled at his choice of words.

“It doesn’t look bad?” You asked.

“Bad?!” Marko exclaimed. “Far from it!”

“You look beautiful,” Dwayne said with a smile on his face. “Just as beautiful as you were before.”

“Y/n,” David said catching your attention away from the other boys. “Why have you been ignoring us?” You cringed after hearing that question. You were able to avoid it the first time, but something tells you that you won’t be able to this time. “Did you stop talking to us because you dyed your hair?” David said with slight sarcasm, but also slight attitude.

“N-no. No, it wasn’t that,” you said looking away from the boys.

“Then what was it?” David asked. You could tell he wanted an answer right away, and there wasn’t much you could do.

You sighed. “I didn’t do this to my hair,” The boys looked at each other with a look of confusion on all their faces. “It was forced.”

“What do you mean?” David asked while stroking your face with his knuckles.

“These girls pulled a prank on me last week,” you said half lying. “They dumped bleach all over me, and it changed my hair.”

“A prank?!” Marko asked raising his voice. “That’s no damn prank!” You knew Marko got angry a lot quicker than the other boys did. This wasn’t something he was going to sweep under the rug, Marko was going to want revenge.

“Yeah!” Paul agreed. “Why would they do that to you?” He asked still touching your new hair.

You shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know. I guess they just don’t like me.” You refused to tell them that the bullying was caused because the girls were jealous of you for dating them.

“Well who are these girls? I wanna give them a piece of my mind?!” Marko exclaimed.

“No!” You knew that the boys were vampires. You found out accidentally by walking into the cave when Marko was feeding. It didn’t go to well, but the boys managed to convince you that they would never hurt you. But, you already knew that Marko wanted to kill your bullies. “You’ll just make things worse!”

“They deserve this!” Paul said only making matters worse for you. “No one does this to our babe!”

You groaned knowing that the boys wouldn’t stop arguing until they found out who the girls were. You wanted the bullying to stop, but at the same time you didn’t want the girls to die.

David put his hand under your jawline making you into his eyes. “Y/n, tell us who the girls are.” You could tell by the way David was speaking that this wasn’t a request, this was a demand. He wanted to know, and he wanted to know now. You walked to your bookshelf and grabbed a yearbook from the previous school year. Flipping through the pages, you found your grade category, and pointed out each of the girls to them.

“That’s them?” Dwayne asked sounding surprised.

“Yeah, you know them?” You asked him.

“Babe, those girls have been trying to get with us for ages. We always rejected them,” Paul said which made you smile.

“Well, what are we waiting for?! Let’s go get those girls!” Marko said clearly ready for a killing spree.

“No! Please don’t kill them,” you said grabbing onto Marko’s jacket. “They’re jerks, but they don’t deserve to die.”

“I think they do,” David said smirking at the idea of slaughtering your bullies.

“How about this,” you paused grabbing all of their attention onto you. “You guys can scare them by showing your vampire faces, and they should stay away from me after that right? They’ll probably be too scared to get near me, and no one at school will believe them!”

“I like the killing idea better,” Marko said while pouting in a playful way.

“Please.” Now you were the one pouting.

The boys looked at each other. You knew that they would rather kill all the girls, so you got lucky when they agreed to your plan.

You knew that the mean girls would go to the bonfire late at night for party’s or just to hang out, so that made your plan a bit easier. The boys loved to scare people almost as much as they loved killing, so they were excited for it all to unravel. You rode on the back of David’s bike as he drove to the bonfire with the other boys riding behind him. He drove with a smirk on his face, which meant he was ready to scare the shit out of those girls. You’re his baby, and no one better hurt you.

Luckily, when you all got there, the girls were by themselves. You decided to stay with the bikes, so the girls wouldn’t see you. The thought of being around those girls made you feel uncomfortable. They were terrible people, and you weren’t ready to face them. The boys sure were though. They were ready to make them scream out of fear.

When the girls saw the boys walk towards them they immediately started to get flirty. “What are you guys doing here? Did you come to see us?” One of them said.

“Actually we did,” David said. “We heard what you did to y/n.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry, it was an accident. I swear! The bucket of bleach just happened to drop all over her.” She said sarcastically.

“That was a really bitchy thing to do.” Marko said not buying any of her bullshit.

“Come on, you guys. She wasn’t pretty anyways! We did her a favor. I think you all deserve someone much prettier than her.” Another one of them said walking up to David.

The girls tried to touch David’s chest, but before she could he grabbed her by the wrist. “I think you all need a taste of your own medicine.” He said before completely transforming into his vampire face. The girl gasped and started to scream. David’s grip was too strong, so she couldn’t run away. Dwayne and Paul grabbed the two girls that tried to run away, and Marko grabbed the last girl and pushed her to the ground. He pinned her to the floor with his foot on her back, and he grabbed her by the hair so she’d face up. Marko called you over to him still holding the girl down. By this point all the boys were transformed, making all the girls whimper and cry.

Marko pulled the girls hair hard making her cry out of pain. “I want you to apologize to y/n, and don’t give some sorry ass apology.”

“I-I’m sorry!” She yelled with tears of fear and pain running down her face. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry y/n!”

“You’re sorry for what?!” Marko said pulling her hair again.

“I’m sorry for dumping bleach on you y/n!” She whimpered. “I’m so sorry!”

You didn’t respond to her. You wanted to feel bad for her, but you couldn’t. Actually, you felt the exact opposite. You enjoyed seeing the tears run down her face. It reminded you of all the times she made you cry. In a way, it was satisfying. In a sick twisted way, it gave you pleasure. You wanted them to suffer more. They had been making you suffer for too long, and now it was time for it to end. They were messing with the wrong girl.

“Kill them.” You said out of nowhere. The boys all turned to you. They definitely didn’t expect that to come out of your mouth.

“What?” Paul asked a bit shocked.

“Kill them.” You repeated. That was enough clarification for the boys. They started to dig in. Biting and ripping through the girls skin making them scream and sob. Instead of turning away, you decided to watch. You watched as the boys tore off the girls limbs and fingers. You listened to their screams. It didn’t scare you like it would terrify a regular person. You watched as if you were watching a cartoon on tv. The screaming didnt stop. Their faces off terror didn’t go away. It all made you happy. Those girls were getting what they deserved. Their yelps and screams were like music to your ears. Their begging and pleading made you wanna laugh. They shoudve watched what they said about you, because it came back and bit them in the ass. Literally.

The screaming soon came to a stop, and all you could hear was the wind blowing. They were dead. Their blood was all over the floor and some on the boys. You watched as the boys threw the remains of the girls into the fire. You never thought you’d be watching your worst enemies get slaughtered in front of you, and it was worth the watch. They had it coming, and now they are gone. You didn’t feel bad. You didn’t feel guilty at all. For the first time in years, you could go to school without worrying about these horrible girls picking on you. Now they were nothing. You were free from those girls. Their deaths brought a smile to your face. You never had to hear their nasty words again. Now, they’re just faces on missing posters.

[vaxyl]

I'm never gonna properly write for it, but I keep imagining this AU where Percy is an ex-gang member of Vecna's gang.

Maybe Percy killed someone important to Vecna or he stole money, idk, but he's on the run and shit comes back to bite him in the ass.

(This has been inspired by the song "You Can Run" by Adam Jones, btw, as I've had it on repeat for 2 days now)

So uh, here, I guess. Feel free to take this and make into something more solid -

Percy comes from a wealthy family that went into debt. To try and help his parents, Percy looks for work and finds himself being recruited into a gang ran by an intimidating man known only as Vecna.

Vecna's right hand woman, Delilah Briarwood, and her husband, Sylas Briarwood, take a quick likening to Percy and introduce him to their adoptive daughter, Anna.

Anna and Percy make fast friends, until one day Percy catches Anna betraying the gang's plans to another gang.

Percy confronts her alone, thinking he can handle it, but a fight breaks out and Anna gets shot in the abdomen.

Percy panics, trying to stop the bleeding, but Delilah walks in and all hell breaks out.

Percy has to run and he does, running faster than he ever has before in all his life.

He moves to a different city, laying low and doing odd jobs to keep himself afloat.

One day he runs into Keyleth, a young florist struggling to make ends meet, being harassed by some idiot. He defends her, quite publicly too, and is spotted by one of Vecna's many members.

And thus, Percy accidentally gets Keyleth targeted by Vecna's gang.

Cue Vax'ildan, Keyleth's boyfriend and also a former gang member (who also left on bad terms with his old boss) turned tattoo artist, chasing Percy down thinking he's put a hit out on Keyleth.

When he realises Percy's situation, tho, he feels like helping the poor bastard out. He knows what this is like.

Through this, Percy meets Vax's sister and an esteemed defence attorney, Vex'ahlia.

Soon, the men after Keyleth disappear mysteriously and things calm down for Percy.

Percy falls hard for Vex, fast, while she and Vax help him change his identity and disappear from Vecna's gaze.

Percy becomes a mechanic, becomes friends with the twins and Keyleth as well as his fellow mechanics, Grog, Tary and Pike, even with Pike's husband Scanlan.

Life gets really good;

Percy & Vex start dating, Vax & Keyleth get engaged and Taryon gets a boyfriend.

But then Percy slips up somehow, takes the wrong driver's license while out one day running errands and one of Vecna's spies see it, call it in.

Percy is followed home.

Then, during the night, Percy and Vex wake up to several armed intruders who don't seem to like Percy very much.

"Percy... Friends of yours?"

"Friends isn't the word I'd use."

Then Vecna swaggers in, grinning, baseball bat in hand.

Percy feels his world crashing down around him as he and Vex are manhandled out of bed to be tied up by Vecna's men.

"Percival, long time no see, it's been a while."

"I was hoping it'd stay that way, personally."

"Ahah, oh, dear Percival, quite the funnyman as always."

Then the baseball bat just narrowly misses Percy's face, crashing into the bed behind him instead, Vex screams.

"Don't mistake this as a social call, my friend, this is but business. No, you know exactly what I'm here for."

Vecna steps near Vex.

"Leave Vex out of this! It's me you want, not her!"

"Ah, but such a pretty thing, just like her brother... Would be a shame if anything happened to either of them, no? The boy just got engaged, didn't he?"

"Leave my brother out of this, you bastard!"

Vex's demand met only by laughter, her anger outweighing her fear.

Percy, shaking, terrified for his girlfriend and her twin, for all of their friends-

"What do you want?! I'll do whatever it is, just leave my family out of it!"

"Ah, ever the smart man, Perce! You took something of mine, however, so I must take something of yours... Insurance, to make sure you cooperate, you could say..."

"We don't have much in the way of money or valuables-"

"Ah, but I'm not after things of material value, Percy. No. I want you to have some... Motivation! You know... To do as I say, when I say?"

"Please, leave Vex out of this, I'm begging you!"

Percy, scared for his love, scared of what Vax would do if she got hurt because of him-

"Ah, but she's not it either, as I already have my insurance, Percival - Though, a matching set would fetch a far prettier price should you fail to live up to expectations, my boy."

"No! Leave Vax alone!"

"He killed my men, it's only fair I take him as punishment."

Percy hadn't know what Vax had done back then to save his sorry ass, but he feels sick knowing Vax did what he did because of him.

And hearing the devastation in Vex's voice is the final nail in Percy's coffin here, knowing Vax's life is in danger now.

"Alright! Alright! Whatever it is, I'll do it! Just please, don't hurt Vax! Or anyone else!"

Vecna laughs.

"A little late for that, your good friend put up quite the fight and my men may of had a little fun beating him down."

"You bastard! I'll kill you!"

"Oh, Vex'ahlia darling, I'd like to see you try, my girl."

"You fucking asshole!"

Percy, staring in horror at Vex as she hollers and shouts at Vecna, threatening the man.

Vex, furious and shaking, thrashing around to escape.

Vecna just keeps laughing.

"Maybe I'll keep the boy as my personal punching bag, or I could sell him to the highest bidder? What do you think?"

"I think you're making the biggest mistake of your life!"

"Or perhaps I can hand him to the Briarwoods, what do you think, Percy? Maybe that would take their minds off of you murdering their sweet Anna. Sylas has been wanting a pet to play with and Delilah could use another lab rat"

And Percy goes pale.

"She didn't make it?"

"What else is it did you think I meant by you taking something from me? The girl was smart and promising, Perce, the loss is felt."

"I didn't want to kill her, I swear! But she was up to something! I needed to know what it was!"

"Are you suggesting that a long standing and much trusted family member was planning on betraying her family and her gang? Oh, Percival..."

And Vecna shakes his head, tutting and sighing.

"I thought you were smarter than that."

"I'm telling the truth!"

Percy can't look at Vex right now, can't think of what she must be feeling right now.

Everything he's worked for, ruined in minutes.

"Well, in any case, you still owe me a favour... Unless you'd rather we just get this over with and I have Sylas execute the brother instead?"

"No!!"

And Percy balks.

"No! No! Leave him alone! I'll do whatever it is you want!"

"Good, because I really do like that boy, he has fire in him."

"Just... What is it? What must I do to make this go away?"

"I have a friend, a fellow by the name of Orthax, and he's been crossed by some folks... He needs them taken care of."

"You want me to become an assassin for you?"

Percy feels sick.

Vex is gaping in horror.

"It's just 8 people, Percy, and then this is all over."

"You can promise that?"

"I can guarantee it, my friend, and I never break promises."

"Who are they?"

"In due time, in due time... Now, we're going to untie you before we go, please don't do anything... Rash. I'd hate to have to kill you or your beloved, or her brother at that."

Percy and Vex tense, but stay quiet and let themselves be untied, staying still.

"Good, excellent. I'll leave the list on your dresser along with your new gun... Orthax made it just for you, be appreciative."

"Do I have a time limit?"

"Let's say... You have two weeks, then I'll give away the brother to either my best people or to the highest bidder - Depends on how I'm feeling on the day, you understand?"

"It'll be done before then, I can assure you that."

"So they all say, Percival."

And with that, Vecna and his men start to leave, but then Vecna pauses at the doorway.

"Oh, and, Percy? Don't trying running away again - I mean, I don't mind it, run all you like... But just remember, you can't hide. I'll always find you."

"Trust me, I'm aware."

"Good... Have a good night."

And with that, the couple are left kneeling on their bedroom floor, crying and shaking.

Percy stands first, heading for the list and weapon.

Vex stands next, sitting on their bed, fuming silently.

Then Percy gags and drops the list before running out.

"Perce?"

She gets up, swallowing.

Who did Percy have to murder just so Vax wouldn't be killed or whatever? How bad was it?

Who was to be killed in change for Vax's very life?

She bends down and picks the sheet of paper up, turning it over and reading the names;

Frederickstein de Rolo

Johanna de Klossowski

Julius de Rolo

Vesper de Rolo

Oliver de Rolo

Whitney de Rolo

Ludwig de Rolo

Cassandra de Rolo

[pa-panda-heroes]

Is it alright to request Bakugo, Todoroki, & Kirishima finding out that their usually well put together s/o secretly smokes (only to cope with stressful stuff like a rough home life) but now that she’s with them she tries to quit but then a bad mission happens & they walk in as she’s shakily holding a cig? Happy ending pls. Sorry if it’s complicated recovery isn’t linear & ive been feeling bad just thinking abt going back to it.

Sweetheart, please don’t apologize! I understand, okay? No judgements whatsoever. I’m really sorry you’ve not been feeling well, but keep fighting, love. You can do it!! You got this!! I’m so proud of you for taking this giant step for your health <3 and so are the boys :> I put it under a cut because it’s long ^^

Katsuki, Shouto, and Eijirou with a s/o who’s trying to quit smoking (Scenarios)

Warning: slight mentions of relapse, smoking

Katsuki:

He knew. He knew you’d had a particularly bad day handling an awful situation - the kind of job any hero (maybe even Katsuki himself) would pass off onto a rookie so as to avoid having to deal with it. He knew you’d been trying your hardest to quit smoking. He knew you only picked it up as a way to cope. He knew it was hard. He knew it all. He was right there with you.

Yet it didn’t break his heart any less when he got home from his own hero shift to see you trembling and holding your head with both hands, an unlit cigarette nestled between your shaky fingers. A lighter lay on the coffee table in front of you, seemingly forgotten but not really. Your sniffling was loud, and it pained Katsuki to hear it, as if with each sniffle the hand around his heart squeezed tighter and tighter.

“Y/n.” He doesn’t say or do much else, and neither do you. It’s quiet, save for your sniffling and occasional hiccups. Katsuki sighs, not out of frustration, not out of pity, and certainly not out of anger. Well, maybe there was a hint of anger, but it was not aimed at you. It was aimed at whosoever pushed the put-together, organized you to this habit which was giving you a run for its money. Quietly, he moves to sit next your trembling form, wrapped in the plush blanket you got him for his birthday last year. It smelled like him. No smoke, no ashes. Him.

“Just take deep breaths,” he says quietly, afraid to spook you, as he slowly brings up his arm to wrap around your shoulders and bring you close. You’re rigid. Stiff. And so unlike yourself. “Don’t feel bad, y/n. Stuff like this... it’s hard. There’s no such thing as perfection when it comes to recovery. No one gets it right on the first try.” It’s hard, rewiring your brain not to crave a certain substance, or anything else, really. Katsuki hasn’t dealt with this firsthand, but as a hero he’s seen enough to know no one gets it right on the first try; sometimes people slip up.

“People slip up. And that’s fine,” he continued softly. “They just need to push themselves back up and fight back even harder. I’m so fucking proud of you, alright? And you - you’re tough as hell, you know that?” He stops, as if to gauge your reaction. And react you do. You bury your head in his chest, dropping your hands to your lap without a word. Saying something is too much right now. The cigarette is still between your fingers, but Katsuki gently takes it from you and tosses it onto the table.

“Maybe you don’t realize it, but you are.” Katsuki pats your shoulder furthest from him, leaning down to whisper at you. “You’d have to be, to put up with me and my bullshit,” he jokes with a pinch to your cheek, and finally you chuckle with a wee grin. “No, seriously! I always leave the toilet seat up, I scream at the TV, I never put my laundry right into the hamper, and I always forget to wash dishes... I’m kinda hard to live with.”

“You also kick in your sleep,” you quip with a giggle, voice tiny and meek yet full of love and spunk.

“Ah hell, do I? See, the list goes on and on.”

You shake your head wistfully, your grin growing by the second, but then it leaves you for something sweeter, something quieter. “Thank you for helping me quit, Katsuki.” The gentle lilt in your voice is music to his ears, though he wouldn’t outright admit it.

He huffs at you playfully. “Aw, shaddup. With everything you put up with from me, I’d say we’re even.” He almost seems bashful at your thanking him. Maybe he is.

“No, not quite. You also walk around naked at the worst possible times.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”

You turn to look up at him, eyes gleaming - and not from tears. “My friend really didn’t need to see you walking around in your All Might boxers.”

He shrugs it off. “She should’ve knocked. And you shouldn’t have bought them as a gag gift, babe.” Katsuki flicks your nose gently, leaving you to you wrinkle it and recoil from him.

“Jerk!”

Shouto:

Damn paperwork.

His back hurt, his eyes burned, and his wrist was currently cramping.

Yet it was better than everything you dealt with on patrol earlier. He wasn’t sure how you made it back in one piece like you did.

With a yawn he decided that’s it, a break is most certainly due. So he’d go looking for you, maybe even just five minutes together would make him a new man. But he couldn’t find you. Oh. Shouto wasn’t panicked by any means, but he was in a hurry to find you. He knew if even after one relapse, no matter how short-lived, you would beat yourself up about it better than you do villains. Even if there was no need to. Relapse happens sometimes.

Finally, he found you in the alleyway behind the agency. And he found the cigarette. It was lit, snug between your lips and slowly developing ash. Your hand was so shaky, Shouto was worried something was medically wrong for a second before he realized himself. He called out to you, a hand reached out as he approached. You jumped in your skin, head jerking his way, one lone tear trail on your cheek. “Y/n, please put that out.”

You wipe your nose with the back of your hand unceremoniously, but it didn’t bother him. “I’m sorry,” you breathe. “It’s just- it’s hard. I feel like I’m trying to put myself back together, but I’m missing a piece. Does that make sense?”

Shouto looks at you gently. “It doesn’t matter if it makes sense to me,” he says clearly. “As long as you understand it and talk about what you’re feeling, I’m happy. Why don’t you tell me more about what you’re feeling right now? It helped last time.”

“Overwhelmed. I’m overwhelmed as fuck.” You suck in a breath and bring your fingers to your lips to pick at them rather than take a drag.

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Being a hero is hard work.” He’s being supportive. He understands; he’s a hero, too.

“With everything at home when I started... and being a hero...” your voice breaks, “pushing one down for the sake of the other and trying to hold myself together and quit... it sucks, Shouto.”

Your love’s eyebrows pull upward with worry. “I’m sorry, love. You always do your best, you do so well.”

You glance at him with tears in your eyes before dropping the cigarette to the ground and stomping it out with a drawn out sigh. That... actually felt nice. It hurt, too, but it was nice.

“I know I’ve said this before, but I want you to talk to me when you’re craving, okay?” Shouto’s hands grab yours, thumbs rubbing the back of your hand soothingly and slowly. “It doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing. I want you to talk to me. I want to help.”

You nod quickly, unable to form words as tears well up and your lips fight against you to grimace. You wipe at your eyes with your free hand, sniffling all the while. You choke out a quiet “thank you,” and swallow thickly, only for Shouto to lean toward you and plant a kiss to your forehead before pulling you in for a warm hug in the cool alley.

“Dont thank me,” he whispers, squeezing you tight for emphasis. “It’s only natural I want to help you. I love you. All of you. No matter what.”

You nestle your cheek to his shoulder. “Even if I fuck up?”

“Are you kidding? Of course, y/n. I’ll always be so proud of you for fighting on.”

Eijirou:

“Hey, y/n-“

You blink at him, cigarette between your lips and lighter in your shaky hand. Your eyes are puffy and your cheeks are red. The flame of the lighter licked the cigarette but did not light it, and then suddenly died out as you pulled your thumb off the plate below the wheel. You reached up and closed the window of the bathroom before sitting back down on the side of the tub with your hands in your lap. “Please don’t be mad...”

The grin he wore just before he saw the cigarette faded. “Hey, I’m not mad.”

“I had a really bad day and... I dunno.” You looked down at your hands and the lighter and cigarette within them. “I just needed one. Just one. To deal with it.”

“But...” He hesitated, worried he’d come off too chiding. “Remember? ‘Just one’ turns into two, then three...”

You nod. “I know, I know, but...” Your sniffle hits his ears and it’s hard to hear.

“I’m not mad, or trying to be mean... I’m just worried.” Eijirou scratches the back of his head almost awkwardly. “Why don’t we go for a walk, yeah? Get some fresh air, too?”

You didn’t feel like it, but agree anyway. Eijirou doesn’t take you anywhere in particular, just walking and turning here and there when he felt like it, your hand in his all the while. You’re quiet the entire time, but he speaks enough for the both of you, talking about everything he sees or whatever a certain sight seems to remind him of. His hand squeezes yours every so often, as if to remind you that you don’t need to say anything, as long as you let him do this, let him distract you, let him help you - how ever you want to word it.

But suddenly he stops and turns to you, red eyes bright and gleaming. “Can I ask something selfish of you?” It’s sudden and unlike him to ask something like this.

You’re taken aback, but nod anyway.

“Any time you get the urge, any time you catch yourself reaching for a cigarette, will you promise me you’ll get out and take a walk?” Eijirou’s voice is quiet and soothing, yet you pick up concern. “Or just get up and walk around if you’d rather not go out. Please? Even if I’m not around...?”

You smile at him, his expression immediately relaxing upon seeing it. “Promise.”

“Good! I don’t know how well distraction would work, but maybe it’ll help.” He shrugs and continues walking again, pulling you with him. He had a point. Some fresh air did feel nice, and hearing the birds chirping as you walked by a small park was relaxing. That, mixed with the warm and kind hand of your lover, seemed to wash away the awful day you’d experienced. It was so soothing, you wondered why you hadn’t thought of this sooner.

With a sweet sigh, the tension in your shoulders dies downs an you relax, finally, for the first time in a while. This was Eijirou’s doing, certainly. This walk would only be half as pleasant without him, but you promised. Push comes to shove, you could go out for a coffee or snack break on your walk to keep yourself occupied.

“Hey, Eijirou.”

His hand squeezes yours before he turns to look at you. “Hm?”

“Thank you.”

He gives you a toothy, closed-eye grin. “O’ course, sweetheart!”

[pascal-istheway]

Kinktober Day 2

Kink: Sex work [18+]

Warning: NSFW

Pairing: Javier Pena X Fem!Reader

Zoe’s notes: n/a

Word count: 1.9k

KINKTOBER 2021 MASTERLIST

He was a regular, would call twice a week on a slow week, sometimes even more if it had been a bad week. The hunt for Escobar was ruthless and tiring, and what better way for him to get a little steam out by some good old-fashioned cardio. 

There was something about today though, something in his voice that seemed off. When you’d answered the phone, it was immediately noticeable. There was a grit to his words, an underlying hurt and anger. Not that was much different than some of the times he called you, but today it was just - different.

He called you late that night, saying he needed to see you and to come to his apartment. Your job often required you to go to the client, and where Javi was one of your favorites, you felt the need to get a little extra dressed up for him, opting for a short black dress that cut off mid-thigh and showed plenty of skin. 

The beauty of your job in sex work was that you got to dress up and feel absolutely beautiful every night, you got to bring every man’s fantasy to life and make their dreams come true, even if it was just for a night. The freedom to pleasure clients like Javi, to give them a night of unimaginable pleasure. 

When you arrived at his door, he stood there in the doorway disheveled, hair a mess and shirtless with a drink in his hand. He barely made time for introductions, opening the door wide and allowing you to make your way into his small government issued apartment. It looked the same as usual, maybe slightly messier but so was his state so could you really blame him. 

You’d heard about Carrillo through some of your coworkers. Maria and Vanessa heard it from some of their regulars, who had heard it from an officer that worked closely with him, and so on and so forth. When you’d heard about it, of course, your first thoughts were of your weekly regular and how he would be handling the news. Javier was close enough with Carrillo, at least as close as he could potentially get to someone without actually using the words”friends”.

The drink emptied as he tipped his head back to down the rest of the glass and placing the now empty glass on the table. He didn’t waste any time letting you get settled before he grabbed your arm and led you over to the couch, stripping you out of the dress you’d selected especially for him. You stood there, completely nude as his eyes rake over your skin, the drunken glare stumbling over your features.

“Javi what ar-” 

“Shh… just let me - just let me look at you,” his words are slightly slurred. 

You nod, letting him work through whatever he had to in that moment. His hand reached out and slowly touched your skin, drawing circles over your flesh under the pad of his fingertips, his thumb pressing slightly over your bare nipple making you shiver. Your lips parted at the warmth radiating from him as he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss was hungry and eager, desperation pulsing from Javi through to you. You open your lips, letting his tongue dive in to explore your mouth as his hands roamed over your breasts, pushing and grabbing at your softness. Your hands start to wander, the feeling of his bare skin beneath yours intoxicating you. 

He moans on his breath, pulling you in tighter to him as he snakes a trail of kisses down your neck, teeth biting and lips sucking as he goes. You moan loudly, running your fingers through his hair and down his chest as you head towards the edge of his jeans and slip one hand inside to palm him, eliciting a moan from deep in his chest. 

His anger and determination came through in each kiss as they turned rougher - more aggressive. Your fingers glide over the buttons on his jeans, unclasping them before sliding them down and letting his cock spring free from the fabric. You were always impressed with the sheer size of the man, knowing he would fill and stretch you better than any of your other clients. You looked forward to these meetings, desperately wanting to feel him inside you. 

You drop to your knees, hands grabbing around his thick cock and stroking him slowly, eyes looking up into his as the drunk glare looks down at you, hand reaching out to stroke your hair. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips before you take him in your mouth. And you’re not shy about it, knowing Javi needs this roughness today. 

You can feel him pulsating in your mouth as you push him deep into your throat, taking him as far as you possibly can. When your nose is being tickled by the small hairs, you let out a deep moan from your throat, pleasuring him as your tongue moves over the underside of him. His hands are deep in your hair, wrapped around your tendrils as he pulls your head back, your tongue lapping along the underside of his cock in one long stroke as he pulls out. 

His thighs stiffen under your palms as he pushes into you again, the feeling of the soft tip hitting the back of your throat. 

“Fu-fuck… yes, just like that,” Javi grunts out as he pulls out again and looks down at you. 

“Yeah, baby? You like it when I do that?” a smile breaks over your face, knowing you’re giving him pleasure. 

“Fuck, just a little deeper baby,” he whispers as he sticks himself into your mouth again, hips moving to push himself deeper into your throat. You gag slightly, but you know he loves it dirty like that. 

Eventually, he lifts you from under the arms, pulling you up into him and he kisses you, hard. Your mouth feeling swollen from the kiss already. He lifts you up off the floor, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist as he carries you to the couch. 

You flop down when he tosses you, flipping you over and yanking your legs so you’re hanging over the side of the couch arm. He roughly grabs your waist with one hand, his other sliding between your thighs into your core. His fingers play between your slick folds, a moan escaping as they brush over your sensitive nub. He takes the head of his throbbing cock and wipes it between your legs, smearing the evidence of your arousal all over him before pushing himself into your center. 

The burn that came from him filling you to the brim was familiar and fucking incredible. There was nothing else like it in the world, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips as he completely fills you to the brim. It stretches you in ways no one else can, his hips plunging hard as he sets off with a rapid pace.

Your entire body is jerking forward at his assault, his cock is doing not so much fucking but rather, destroying, as he takes complete control of your senses. A cry escapes you as you reach back to touch him, only to have Javi grab your arms and pin them behind you, his body holding you in place as he smashes into you. 

Skin on skin, your cunt is gushing, a suction sound forming as his assault continues. You can feel the orgasm building deep in your stomach. Your thighs begin to shake as you cry Javi’s name out. 

“Don’t talk, do-don’t fuck… god damn it,” Javi lifts your chest up grabbing your breasts from behind, and growls in your ear sending you over the edge. 

“Javi!! Fuck… fucking christ!” you scream as your orgasm rips through you, your walls squeezing the shit out of Javi’s cock. 

“That’s right baby, just like that,” his sips slowed, letting you ride out the orgasm. He releases your hands and snakes his hand up around your neck, the feeling absolutely killing you. 

Your cunt pulsates again around him as he slips in and out, watching himself slide through your juices. The speed picks up and having hardly recovered from your earth-shattering orgasm, you feel yourself start to vibrate below. 

“Ja-Javi… wait, baby,” you beg, knowing he wasn’t one to overuse you in that way. But tonight, you could tell he needs it, he needs to just use you. To get out his frustrations, the disappointment, the anger, the sadness, everything… he needed this. 

He pulls out and spins you around, slamming himself back into you while reclaiming your mouth again. The groans pick up, Javi starting to grunt like an animal into the crook of your neck as his teeth sink down into that band between your neck and shoulder. His hand wraps around your back and the other into your hair as your legs wrap around him, balancing on the arm of the couch. 

You scrape your nails down his back, causing him to hiss and pull back, eyes bearing into yours. His hand around your back pulls back as he lets out a swat to your ass, making you moan his name even louder. The sounds between you are like music to your ears, a symphony of flesh and sweat between you. The moaning is the choir, your skin together is the orchestra, and the world around you is the audience. 

You can feel him stretch you, massaging your walls from within as he pounds away, a breathy fuckfuckfuckfuck coming with each stroke. He’s getting closer and closer, you can feel it in his breath as he takes your mouth again. 

“Cum for me baby,” you coax in his ear, whispering how much you love the way he fucks you and how perfect he is for you. 

“Fuck, yes, take it,” he groans, his orgasm filling you to perfection. You let out a moan as his hand takes your breast, filling his palm perfectly. 

“God, Javi, your cock is perfect,” you moan, taking his ear between your teeth. 

He moves, standing to put his clothes back on and motions to you to put your own back on as well. As he lights a cigarette between his lips, tossing the lighter on the table next to him, he lets out a large sigh, the weight and tiredness from the day washing over him. 

“There’s money on the table… for you I mean,” he whispers. 

“Not today, Javi… today was,” you pause, unsure how to finish the sentence, “I’ll catch you next time,” you sigh.

“Just take it,” Javi picked up the folded bills and handed them to you, “you’re a… this is your job.”

He needed this, you knew that. And you weren’t going to charge a man in need like that. Any other day, sure you might have taken the money, but today wasn’t one of those days. 

“Today, we can just be two people in need of a little pleasure, can’t we?” you smile, running your hand over his naked shoulder before taking his cigarette from his lips and taking a puff of it. 

He sigs, flopping down on the couch and you press a kiss to his lips before turning for the door, calling over your shoulder, “until next week, mi amor.”