#like. they Were trying to make it sound dirty in both instances. right.

[dennisboobs]

[puck-luck]

hallmates | quinn hughes

warnings: voyeuristic themes (thin walls), masturbation (fem), dirty talk, wet dreams, drunkenness, quinn pining but barely, garland mentioned before i found out he followed trump and tucker carlson on instagram..., PROTECTED p in v (for once), the smut in this is not as strong as previous pieces of mine, use of Y/N. pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader summary: when fem!reader moves in next to qh, there are two instances where she forgets just how thin the walls are. the second time, quinn is sure to remind her. wc: 5746

Your first grown-up job out of college has been great. You like your coworkers, you’re not bored with your daily tasks, and they gave you a very generous relocation package for your move to Vancouver. You were lucky enough to find a nice apartment with the money, and you paid the first three months’ rent easily. It’s your first one-bedroom apartment, finally living on your own for the first time in your life, and almost everything is perfect.

Almost everything.

Your one gripe is that you can hear your neighbor through the wall when he gets home from his job at weird hours, or when he has friends over during weeknights when you’re trying to prepare for work the following day, or even when he hosts holiday parties for what sounds like fifty-plus people.

It happens often enough that you’re annoyed when his presence makes itself known, but you’re not the kind of person to go over and tell him to knock it off. Plus, you decided that you’d give him a pass because it’s not like he’s doing it on purpose.

Well, that, and he’s cute.

The first time you met was on move-in day. You were lugging your suitcases up the stairs leading to the apartment and he offered to help you carry them in. He took them both– one in each hand– and lifted them like they were nothing. He brought them all the way to the lobby, then smiled softly at you instead of saying “You’re welcome” when you thanked him. You had to talk to the security guard to get your key before ascending up to your floor in the elevator, and in that time, the cute boy had disappeared. You hadn’t caught his name, but you had texted your best friends and informed them that there was at least one hottie in your building.

You learned his name the second time he helped you carry something up the stairs. You had gone grocery shopping at the market down the street and had conveniently forgotten your reusable bags. Before you realized your mistake, you had gone a little crazy with the fruits and vegetables. You’d had to pack all of your goodies into two bursting paper bags that one of the vendors had on hand, and they were filled to the brim. You made it all the way to the bottom of the steps to your apartment when the handles of the bags tore off and all of your hard work was suddenly for naught.

The bags went crashing to the pavement, dirty and littered with the fallen leaves that hadn’t been corralled when they first made their way to the ground, and the prized red onion that you were going to chop up tonight as part of your dinner rolled about a foot away. 

All in all, you should’ve been glad it was the onion. You always peel the skin off of an onion before you cook it, and you always wash it thoroughly before cutting it up, but you reacted like it was the end of the world. Your prized onion was tarnished by the ground, which was silly, because they come from the ground in the first place. 

The onion rolled all the way to your neighbor’s feet. He was arriving home with a friend, a short brunet with floppy hair and a mustache. “You okay?” Your neighbor asked. He picked up the onion and cradled it in his palm.

“I’m fine,” you replied. “Just not sure how I’m going to carry all of this upstairs without the handles.”

“We’ll help out. You live next to Huggy, right?” The friend said, bending down to lift one of the bags. He cradles it in his arms and your neighbor does the same.

“Huggy?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows.

Your neighbor, in the meanwhile, had blushed beet-red and stooped down to pick up the other bag of groceries. “That’s me. It’s a nickname.”

“Huggy Bear,” his friend cooed, bumping his arm and knocking your neighbor off balance. 

“It’s Quinn. My name. You can call me Quinn,” your neighbor said, diverting your attention from the silly nickname.

“How do you know which apartment I live in, Quinn?” You questioned. You walked alongside the men as they took your groceries up the stairs, into the elevator, and into your apartment.

Quinn had cut his friend off by replying first. “Moving in makes a lot of noise. I live next door and we share a wall. You weren’t really quiet when you built your bed. I’m glad you have somewhere to sleep, but I could live without the expletives.” He reveals the information with a smile, the same slight curve of his lips that you’re starting to really admire.

That was that. They dropped the groceries off on your kitchen counter and you thanked them for the help, then sent them on their way.

The third time you saw Quinn– well, it started this whole mess. He’s been nice to you twice, so you thought you would repay him with the best thing you could think of: brownies. You’d just gotten the recipe from your aunt to make them from scratch and, hey, he’s a guy, right? Guys like baked goods. 

The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Not that you’re trying to get to Quinn’s heart. You wouldn’t mind it, but you’re not… trying.

Thirty minutes later, you’re knocking on Quinn’s door with a plate of brownies. Half of your goods are on the platter, ready for Quinn to dig into. The rest are on your counter, their yummy scent rising in waves from them like in a cartoon and waiting for you to return. 

You only know that he’s home because you can hear him through the wall. After he told you that the walls were thin, you’d been noticing the same thing. It wasn’t just when he gets home or when he has people over. You can hear him moving around and cooking throughout the day. You can hear his sports channels through the wall– yes, that’s right, channels. Multiple. You’re not sure, but he might have two or even three TVs. 

Long story short, Quinn’s home. It takes him a few minutes to come to the door when you knock. “Who is it?” He asks, voice muffled through the door.

“Your friendly next door neighbor,” you reply. “With a plate of fresh brownies.”

The lock slides open and Quinn appears from behind the door. You hold the plate out to Quinn and he takes it from you with one hand. The other rests above his head on the doorframe. He leans over you, smiling softly. 

Suddenly, you don’t know what to say. You don’t know where you were going with this. Your eyes are drawn to his neck, which looks muscular and, well, biteable.

“Enjoy the brownies,” you squeak out, then you turn on your heel and bolt away.

Like any normal woman who is shocked by her sudden visceral attraction to her admittedly-hot next door neighbor, you call your best friend. She talks you through it for a little while, then starts to stray into enemy territory: “Go out, Y/N. Get your mind off of it. Have a drink, get a little tipsy, then go over to his place and tell him how hot you think he is. You’ve never heard a girl’s voice, right? I feel like you would’ve, if he has a girlfriend. The worst he can say is that he’s not interested.”

When you try to weasel out of it, speaking in low tones so that Quinn doesn't hear you through the wall, she reminds you that your resolution for this “new stage of your life” was to stop being so anxious about what someone could say to you. You had declared that you wouldn’t let your own anxiety affect your ability to be vulnerable, especially not with the people that you find attractive. 

Damn your best friend. How dare she look out for you. She even promises to call you in four hours to check in on your drunkenness.

You make plans with the girl in your office that you’ve been taking lunch with. She’s also new– not compared to you, but within the past year. She remembers what it was like to be brand new to Vancouver, so she’s eager to go out with you and offer up her friendship. She takes you to two bars in the downtown area: when the first one gets too full with what she calls “the sport crowd,” you move to the next.

Your coworker’s favorite liquor is tequila. After three shots, which make you cringe despite filling your stomach with warmth, she pulls your troubles out of you. You tell her all about your “sexy” roommate– that’s right, Quinn has been upgraded from “hot” to “sexy” as a result of the alcohol– and she encourages you to try and bag him, just like your best friend did. She agrees that there’s no reason not to and that you should be fine because you’ve been bolstered by the tequila.

She tells you about the person she’s currently seeing and how confusing it is, rambling on and on. When the time comes, and you’re still out, your best friend does call. You talk to her for a second, then she meets your coworker through speakerphone, and they bond over the fact that they both think you should hook up with Quinn.

You party into the night, getting more and more loopy. Your confidence skyrockets by the end of the evening and your drinks are tasting like water. You’re probably too far gone to actually talk to Quinn tonight, but who cares? You feel good. You needed a night out like this.

By the time you’re getting in the Uber, there’s a goofy smile that hasn’t left your face since maybe your fifth drink. You’re able to stumble up the stairs to the lobby and gleefully greet the nighttime security guard at his desk, then you ride the elevator up to your floor. You look up and see yourself in the mirrors on the ceiling of the elevator, which is a treat for Drunk-You. It’s almost a shame when the elevator dings, having finally reached your floor, and you have to leave.

You walk down the hall and consider going up to Quinn’s door, but your phone vibrates in your pocket and you dig it out. It’s the newly minted group chat between you, your coworker, and your bestie. It distracts you, and the clock in the top left corner informs you that you’ve gotten home at a crisp 1:30am, so you decide to go to bed. 

You go to bed, alright. You get ready, you get comfy, and then you remember Quinn’s neck. 

The skin looked so soft. The hair from his beard had started to creep down towards his adam’s apple, but it was neatly maintained. You can imagine how scratchy it would be in your palms, or against your cheek when he graces you with a little kiss, or against your neck while he sucks hickeys onto your skin… or against the sensitive expanse of your own thighs.

You know just how sensitive and delicate the skin is on your thighs because it’s where your fingers are dancing. 

As you drift off, mind still foggy from your drinks, your touch starts to feel much more like you imagine Quinn’s would. His big fingers, on that manly hand, would touch you so carefully. He’d be so determined to play you like a fiddle.

As you imagine your very sexy next door neighbor touching you, you’re making a lot more noise than you realize. It starts with a whimper here and there, then crescendos into actual moans and desperate keens. You’ve shoved your face into the pillow below you, but it does very little to muffle your moans– considering you’re a big fan of breathing, your face is more turned to the side so that you don’t actually suffocate yourself while in the middle of getting off. Your middle two fingers are shoved into your cunt, your index finger erratically sliding against your clit. 

“I know, baby, you feel so good. You want it so bad, don’t you?” Quinn’s imaginary and gently deprecating words wash over your brain like an intrusive thought. 

You bite your lip and turn into the pillow, pleading with him belligerently into the cushion. You’re fighting for your life in this little fantasy, feeling so overwhelmed, and the man you’re imagining isn’t even here. But, in your mind, he’s the one with his fingers inside of you, making you gasp out his name once when his finger passes over your clit just right. In your mind, he doubles down and turns you into a mess. The drinks clogging your mind are able to make it feel more real.

You’re so caught up in your own pleasure that you forget just how thin the walls are. You miss the sound of your neighbor tossing and turning in his bed, even standing at one point and pacing around his bedroom.

It’s only after you come that you hear his bedframe creak with the weight of his body and the faint music that he seems to be playing– maybe just as white noise to fall asleep. You write it off and succumb to the clawing hands of your own slumber. 

You see Quinn again the next day. You’re heading to work with a heavy hangover weighing on you– why did you listen to your best friend when she told you to go out on a Sunday? Why did you listen to your coworker when she brought out the second and third round of shots?– and Quinn seems to be heading to his own job. You still don’t know what that is.

You meet him in front of the elevator, waiting for its doors to open and let you in. You’re honestly not sure if the movement will make you feel more sick, or even push you over the edge and make you dizzy and on the verge of throwing up, like getting out of bed did when you woke up later than you meant to and you had to rush to get ready. Everything is too bright.

Quinn yawns three times in two minutes. You’re the only two in the elevator and the silence is growing more uncomfortable than the ache in your head, since you consider Quinn to be your… friend now? General acquaintance, distant crush, or next-door neighbor might be a better categorization. 

“Long night?” You ask. 

His cheeks turn pink, bizarrely, and Quinn seems determined to face straight forward. His eyes look a little more deer-in-headlights today, rather than the calm and serene blankness that you’re used to. Not that you’re used to looking into Quinn’s eyes. “Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbles.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you apologize, feeling for him. You’ve been the victim of a restless night many times over, so you know how dreadful it is the following day. “Do you know why?”

Quinn swallows harshly. “Um, I have an idea.”

It’s a weird answer, only because he doesn’t elaborate any further. You keep waiting for him to say something else, but he doesn’t. That is, until the elevator arrives in the parking garage under the complex, when Quinn starts to head one way towards his car and you start to go the other way to your own. To make things even more confusing, Quinn says in a very stilted voice, “Thanks for the brownies.”

Then, like you did when you dropped the brownies off the previous day, he bolts. 

At first, you’re confused, but you let it go. Maybe he was late for work. At least he took the time out of his day to thank you for the brownies, right?

You consider gifting him some of your sleepy-time tea, since he was having trouble sleeping and it’s clearly affecting him. Then you think to yourself that if you kept bringing Quinn treats, you would seem like a cat dropping a mouse at their owners’ feet… so you decide not to.

You feel vindicated with your choice in the coming days. Each time Quinn sees you, his eyes go wide and he scampers away as quickly as he can. It proves itself to be very confusing because he was so nice before. 

After a tough week at work, and another near-miss with Quinn, you’re just… tired. It’s been a weird few days. What you really want is to snuggle up in your bed, throw on some ambient music, drink a glass of wine, light a candle, and fall asleep early– after blowing out your candle, of course. You’d be damned if you were the reason the entire apartment burned down in the middle of the night.

You’re lucky enough that your plans for the night work out. You get to settle in with a book– a spicy romance novel that your coworker recommended to “take the edge off if you won’t knock on Quinn’s damn door.” She seems to think that the reason you’re having a bad week is because you haven’t hooked up with Quinn yet. You don’t think there’s any correlation.

There does seem to be a correlation between the spicy book, the mention of Quinn, and what happens later. You fell asleep with your book open against your chest, having been lulled to sleep by the comfort of your own home. 

It starts simple. Quinn’s lips are sliding against yours, his hand resting securely on your waist. You’re laying in bed and you’ve got a thigh over his hip, grinding into his generous length. Before you know it, and in dream-land it seems like a flash, Quinn’s length is inside of you. He’s got a thumb on your clit while the other plays with your hair, sweet kisses gracing your lips. Quinn’s content teasing you, thrusting as shallowly as he wants and leaving you whining for more. 

“Quinn,” dream-you insists between kisses. 

“Not enough for you, sweetheart?” dream-Quinn chides playfully, his voice riddled with fondness. “You weren’t even supposed to take my cock tonight. But no, you just had to be full. You couldn’t be content with warming me either, huh? You need me to fuck you whenever you want. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Quinn, I need you,” you confirm, whining a little bit and pursing your lips so he finds them again.

“Music to my ears,” Quinn tells you with a smile. “Let me make you come, yeah?”

“Quinn,” you moan again, his touch reducing you to a mess that can only say one word: his name.

You wake to a loud knock on your apartment door. “Y/N!” The person calls, and it sounds like a man, which alarms you in your freshly awoken state.

You roll out of bed and tug on your bathrobe, which you had thrown in the dryer during your first stint in bed, the one that had sent you into sleep. And– and– had sparked that weird dream that has you wet in your panties and wishing Quinn had been there when you woke up.

You tie the belt of the robe around your waist and look through the peephole– it is Quinn. Your wish came true, in a bizarre way. He’s here and he looks concerned. He’s lifting his hand to knock again, but you open the door.

“Quinn, what’s–”

“Are you okay?” He asks. He’s wearing sweatpants and an undershirt, as well as his tennis shoes. He probably just slipped those on to come over here. “You were saying my name. I heard you through the wall. You said you needed me. Are you hurt? Is something wrong?”

The barrage of questions leaves you rattled. You blink in surprise, trying to process all of his inquiries. “What?” You ask, squeezing your eyes shut hard to try and wipe the sleep away. 

“You were saying my name,” Quinn repeats. 

You squint, crossing your arms over your chest. “I was asleep,” you say, aware of how confused you sound.

“You were asleep,” Quinn repeats. He blinks twice, then repeats himself, sounding more sure. “You were asleep.”

“I was asleep,” you agree.

Quinn goes to leave, then faces you again and tilts his head to the side. “What were you dreaming about?” He asks. 

You feel your face flood with embarrassment. You’ve never been good at controlling your expression. “It was nothing.”

“Was I there?” Quinn checks. “Is that why you were saying my name?”

“You were there,” you confirm, hoping it’s enough to satisfy him and he leaves. 

Quinn smiles. He looks extra handsome when he smiles. He was smiling at you in your dream. He was doing a lot of good things in your dream. If only you could fall asleep and jump right back in– you were so close and his cock was filling you so well. 

“What was I doing in this dream?” Quinn crosses his arms and takes a step closer to you. 

You move closer to the door, keeping your hand on the doorknob, ready to slam it behind him as soon as he heads back to his apartment. “I don’t remember,” you lie. “You know, most people forget their dream within ten minutes of waking up.”

Quinn nods, still smirking. “You didn’t forget this one, though, did you?” He teases knowingly. 

“Bits and pieces.”

The next thing Quinn says is Earth-shattering. 

“Were you dreaming last time, too?”

You wish you could melt into the floor or camouflage yourself against the wall. You had a theory that Quinn had heard you getting off through the wall the night that you were drunk, although you don’t imagine that he understood your wanton noises. That was why he was running away so much. 

But… he’s not running away this time. He’s here and he’s pressing you for more and more details.

“What do you mean?” You ask, swallowing hard.

“The last time you were saying my name,” Quinn prompts. “Were you asleep then, too?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do.”

“No, I don’t think so,” You reply, scrubbing over your arms. It’s a sign of being uncomfortable. Hopefully Quinn picks up on that and goes, sparing you any further humiliation. You’ll never talk to him again. He’s heard you make sex noises twice, and now you know that he knows. It’s embarrassing.

Quinn takes another step forward. He’s right in the doorway now, inches away from stepping across the threshold and entering your apartment. “If you have another dream,” he says, pushing his long sleeves up to his elbows and revealing his arms. He dips his head, lowering his voice to a timbre that has you growing damp again. “You know where to find me.”

Like a final stamp of approval on an official document, Quinn touches the knot at the front of your robe. It’s a brief, fleeting touch and it’s so close to where his hands were originally planted in your dream.

He turns to leave and gets all of three steps away before you call him back. “Quinn.”

“Mhm?” He asks, knowing smile on his face. 

“How, um… how much did you hear?” You scratch the back of your head awkwardly. 

“The first time?” Quinn asks. “Or this time?”

You don’t really want to know the answer, but you nod anyway. “Uh...both?”

“Well,” Quinn says. “Today, you didn’t seem to get very far.”

No thanks to you, you think bitterly. I would’ve liked to see how that dream ended.

“But the first time, I heard everything,” Quinn informs you with a little shrug. “You… you sound really pretty when you come.”

It’s a sheepish admission and it has your jaw dropping. You fishmouth at him for a second, unable to think of something to say. He can just say shit like that? What? How?

“I guess I was hoping…” Quinn licks his lower lip, then looks you up and down. “That if I interrupted you this time, I’d get to… experience the real thing. Not just listen in through the wall.”

“You want…” you trail off, overwhelmed by the information he’s giving you. Quinn wants to have sex with you? But he’s your neighbor crush– this is a new development in the dynamic that you were not expecting. You’re not usually the kind of girl whose little crushes are reciprocated, at least, not like this.

Quinn raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to complete the sentence. When you don’t, he asks another question. “What was I doing in your dream, Y/N?”

“We, um, we were in bed,” you stammer out, feeling unsure. He wants to know– he’s made that very clear. Still, you’re somewhat reluctant. It might be coming off as coyness by accident.

“Can I come in?” Quinn asks. “I need to get the full picture. I don’t know what your bed looks like.”

You stand aside and allow him in. You close, and, out of habit, lock the door behind him. He follows you to your bedroom. You try to see it through his eyes for the first time, although you’ve been living here for a while, so it’s hard. It’s just your bedroom.

“So this is where we were,” Quinn says. “Then what?”

“We were laying down,” you explain.

Quinn starts to take off his shoes, then his socks, then he climbs into your bed. “Like this?”

You feel lightheaded. What is he doing? This is so bizarre.

“Kind of?” You reply. You join him. “It was more like– this?” You pull at his arm until he lays on his side, facing you. You face him, bringing his elbow up so it rests on the pillow. 

He asked, you remind yourself. He wants to know. He asked. It’s weird, but you’re just showing him. 

You resolutely avoid his eyes, which have been trained on your face this whole time. Your cheeks are probably going to remain stained pink from the constant blush on your skin. You lay your head on the curve of his arm, then touch his cheek. Just his cheek. You’re still avoiding his eyes. It’s getting harder. “And then, um, my leg was over your hip, too.”

“Like this?” Quinn asks, bringing his warm palm to the curve of your knee and guiding your leg into place. He leaves his hand there.

“Like that,” you confirm faintly. 

All of your neurons are firing like crazy, making you question if this, too, is a dream. Has your subconscious gotten so meta that you can’t decipher what’s real and what’s fake?

“What else did we do?” Quinn’s voice has dropped to a whisper. His hand is still on your thigh.

“Well, your hand was here,” You say, correcting him and bringing his hand to your waist. “And you…”

Quinn gives your waist a little squeeze. “I… what?”

“You were kissing me,” you say, your voice barely a breath. This can’t be real. 

Quinn surprises you. “Good,” he murmurs. “I’ve been waiting to do that.” He leans in, letting his lips ghost over yours before he meets you completely. He’s hesitant, waiting for you to relax with him. 

You don’t fully, still confused from waking up and the fact that this happened so quickly and in such a bizarre way. When he pulls away, you voice your confusion. “Are you real?” You question under your breath.

Quinn chuckles, leaning in to kiss you again. “I’m real.”

He continues to kiss you. Over and over, until you finally melt into his touch and start to do exactly what you were doing in your dream– grinding against him. 

“Were you doing this in your dream?” Quinn asks. He’s helping guide your movements and you can feel him swelling beneath you. He’s not wearing underwear– you can tell. You want it, bad, and now that you’ve been kissing him, you’re more willing to explain the rest of your dream to him.

“More,” you breathe out. “I needed your cock inside me.”

Quinn makes a noise of surprise, but the way he kisses you after you say that reveals his enthusiasm.

“And you were talking to me,” you reveal as Quinn starts to meet your rolling hips. “You were– you were teasing me for being so needy.”

“What was I saying?” Quinn’s hand twitches against your waist, pulling you closer. He licks into your mouth briefly, then pulls back. “What had you begging for me, sweetheart?”

“Making fun of me,” you exhale. “Saying– I couldn’t get enough of you. That I was greedy and that I couldn’t be satisfied with just warming you–”

“Warming me,” Quinn repeats quietly, interrupting you.

You talk over him. “So you had to fuck me, but you weren’t really fucking me– you were just, inside, barely moving and your thumb was on my clit.”

“As if I could hold myself back like that,” Quinn scoffs. You grab the sides of his shirt and tug petulantly, bringing him in for another kiss. You’re addicted. 

“Show me,” you invite. “Show me how you’d fuck me. Show me what you’d do differently. Please. You came all the way over here– I want to make it worth your time.”

Quinn groans into your mouth, bringing his hand from your waist to the tie of your robe. “Really?”

“Don’t make me ask again,” you say. “I was so close in my dream.”

Quinn reacts to that in the same way. “Fuck, let me get my fingers in you first–”

“No.”

“No?” Quinn repeats, pulling away from you. 

“Not no,” you correct, bringing your hands to his waistband and snapping the band impatiently. “Just– I want your cock. Just your cock. Please fuck me, Quinn.” You kiss him sweetly one more time. “Please?”

“Undress yourself,” Quinn says. “I want to see all of you.”

“You too,” you reply. “Take your clothes off.”

As you undress, untying the knot of your belt and tossing the robe to the floor of your bedroom, you talk. You take your big t-shirt off, asking, “Condom?”

Quinn digs into the pocket of his sweats, having shed his shirt. He pulls out a foil– just one, sadly– and tosses it to you. 

You catch it, tearing the edge of the packet and taking out the ring of plastic inside of it. You push your panties down with one hand, while Quinn loses his sweats. As soon as his cock is revealed to you, hard and pink at the tip, you jump into action. You’re rolling the condom on quickly, unable to help yourself from pumping his shaft a few times.

“Quit,” Quinn remarks, batting your hand away and laying back down. He’s on his side, pulling your thigh back over his hip and resuming the position from before. He puts his hand under your jaw, then guides his cock to your opening. He pushes in, rolling his hips until every single inch is sheathed inside of you. “Fuck, baby. You feel so good.”

“You’re big,” you reply, holding his shoulders and tilting your pelvis forward to encourage him to move. “Filling me so nice, Q.”

“Q,” Quinn echoes, his voice sounding a little strangled. “That’s– that’s nice.”

You wonder if he’s holding back. He always seems to when it comes to talking to you. After a while, maybe he’ll give you something more than his shy words and his hesitant admissions. He’s in your bed now, but he’s still holding back.

He starts to rut against you, finding a rhythm in which his cock slides in and out of your heat. The movement is smooth because you’re so wet from dreaming about him, then kissing him, and now having him inside. Even though there’s the barrier of protection between you, he’s warm and you can feel the way his skin stretches over his veins and his tip. That, combined with the scrape of his member against your fleshy walls, creates something so warm inside of you that you can’t help but ask for more.

Quinn gives you everything you ask for like he can’t imagine doing anything else. Soon enough, he’s holding himself up slightly by his elbow so he has some leverage to fuck into you harder and faster. 

You’re moaning, pulling him closer and threading your fingers through his hair. “Quinn,” you’re saying, repeating the word that inspired him to come over in the first place. 

He’s saying your name, too. He’s whispering it into your ear and into your mouth as he presses kisses wherever he can reach. He thrusts, he says your name, he kisses. He thrusts again, he says your name again, and he kisses you again. It’s an endless cycle, a perpetual loop. It’s soft and sweet, even though the way he’s fucking you is anything but. His thrusts are sharp and pointed, hitting the right spot inside of you as often as he can. 

The kiss to your neck is your undoing. He’s sucking a bit, biting down just barely, and his tongue works against your pulse point. It’s too much, too full of something deeper. You let go, making the noise he likes so much– the noise that he said was pretty, and he meant it, even as bashful as he looked when he said it. Your moan mixes with his name again.

Quinn spills into the condom shortly after, touching you reverently and letting his hips jerk and twitch through his release. 

You feel innately close to him, like you’re part of him. It’s bizarre how one hookup with your cute neighbor leaves you feeling satisfied and unsettled– ‘unsettled’ because, well, why would you feel so close to a man you’ve slept with once and only had a few genuine conversations with?

Quinn eases your thoughts by letting you know that he feels, at least, a little bit similar to you. 

“Can I take you to dinner?” He asks. “I’m busy most of the time, but I want to take you out. Let’s make time to have a real date.” Quinn pauses. “Unless you don’t want to– if you just want this, that’s okay. I just– I’d feel stupid if I didn’t ask.”

You touch his mouth, effectively silencing him, even though you hadn’t meant to. You just wanted to feel his lips move while he spoke. “I’ll go to dinner with you,” you agree. “If you sleep here tonight.”

Quinn smiles. “Done.”

[fairlyang]

Dirty ⚔️🐺

w/c: 1.9K

pairing: bfs!loganhowlett&wadewilson x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut. filthy af, logan gets morning wood, wade strokes him, teasing, dirty talk x100, they’re pervs, wade gets a bright idea, somnophilia (dub-con!!!!), they play w you in your sleep, fingering, one finger from each men, waking up, pikachu shocked face, everyone cums

a/n: this idea came to me and i had to finish it. my phone is on 3 i nearly fell asleep writing it, it’s past 3 and i’m not wearing my glasses so not proofread have fun!

kinktober masterlist | main masterlist

being in a relationship with both wade and logan entailed lots of things. for starters they were both the horniest fucks ever and the tiniest thing could get them in the mood.

for instance, if one of them were to wake up with morning wood, the other two had to help because it’s your job to take care of each other, according to wade.

usually it was wade that woke up with a raging boner and would need assistance. he’d usually tap either one of you or just grind himself against you guys when he was really relentless.

but for this occasion, it happened to be logan that woke up with a hard on and he wanted to get rid of it himself because he actually felt bad about disrupting someone else’s sleep.

luckily for him wade was a light sleeper and could hear him trying to be quiet. he rubbed his eyes and turns to his right only to find him stroking himself through his boxers. “up so early, peanut?” he whispered, making logan stop his movements.

“shh you don’t gotta stop, here let me give you a hand..” he whispers and turns his body to him.

he brings his left hand to his chest, running it up and down then goes down to his abs because he uses any opportunity to do so. logan’s breathing was for the most part normal until wade went even lower but making sure he’s not touching him yet.

“don’t be a tease this early, bub.” logan groaned, making wade shush him.

“she’s still sleeping…” he whispers and points behind him.

he decided he’d listen to him for once and stuck his hand under logan’s boxers — reaching for his cock and slowly starting to stroke it. logan sighs and wade gets closer to him so his head was on the other man’s shoulder, “you know you can at least wake me up baby, we can’t always be so sure about princess aurora over there…”

logan chuckles and just nods, “next time..”

“geez did you snatch one of my wet dreams or something?” wade asks, turning to look at him while he went a tiny bit faster now.

“i might’ve, sure felt like something you’d like.” he answers, making wade hum, “what was it?”

“something like this.. and then stuff with our sleeping beauty over there while she slept.” he admits instantly making wade hard.

“didn’t think you’d have it in you.” wade teases and turns inwards to kiss his shoulder.

“what if we make it a reality?” he suggests and logan stays quiet.

“she’s been saying she’s down and has been wanting us to wake her up like that…” he whispers, making logan gulp.

his face burned red and he twitched in his hands too, an easy indicator to show that he loved the idea. “you like that huh?”

he still stayed silent. he felt like it was something he shouldn’t do or like but because of his confession, wade wasn’t going to let it go.

“so dirty…” he whispers and moves his head a bit up so his mouth is by his ear.

“don’t think of her stirring in her sleep while we touch her or grope those perfect fucking tits while she’s snoring..” he murmurs into his ear earning himself a muffled moan.

“let it out baby she won’t hear us.” he mutters before reaching over with his right hand to slide his boxers down.

“she’d sound so good wouldn’t she? she’d have no clue but her body will definitely react to our touch. bet she’d get soaked in an instant.” he purrs and logan finally lets out a moan.

wade started to stroke him faster and took a small break from his dirty talk to nibble on his earlobe. logan groaned and his eyes rolled to the back of his head in pleasure, it was amazing how well wade knew him. especially when it came to little things like that.

he started to kiss down his neck before stopping on the spot by his neck and shoulder and sucked on the skin. he pulled away, only able to admire it for a second before it healed itself.

a damn shame.

“so what do you think? have i convinced you?” he whispers making logan quickly nod.

wade quickly let his cock go and rolled to the opposite direction this time to face you. you were sleeping on your stomach with one leg lifted up and the other flat on the bed. he motioned to logan to get closer and he did.

wade adjusted himself by doing a whole 360 so his head was now by your ass. logan climbed over him and laid down with the space between you both. “now the real fun begins.” wade exclaims and brings a hand to your ass, first just squeezing it.

logan matched him and squeezed the other side before his hands started to rub down then coming back up. they both look up at you and you were out cold, as expected.

“we’ll be lucky if she even wakes up.” wade jokes making logan chuckle.

“she could probably sleep through a zombie apocalypse accidentally.” logan whispers back making wade gasp.

“i am so proud of you.” he says and pretends to wipe a tear.

“here what if we just…” logan mumbles and brings his right hand closer to your barely covered pussy.

you always wore a cute little pair of undies but you decided for a thong last night. a great choice for their perving eyes that couldn’t stop staring even if they wanted to.

logan’s hand hovered over your pussy, he stuck just his thumb out and started to rub your clit softly. you let out a small groan which was going to be enough for him to pull away if it weren’t for wades hand stopping him, “keep going.” he urged him and he listened.

he rubbed circles against your clit while wades hand went back up to squeeze the soft flesh of your ass. your breathing was still steady and neither of them were fretting about you waking up.

logan’s thumb went faster and you stirred then went back to letting out little snores. he moved his thumb up and he rubbed gently once again but this time feeling your arousal seep through the fabric. “already huh? she’s loving it.” wade whispers as he watched in awe.

“think she’ll come fast too?” logan whispers back and wade shrugs, “i hope so.”

wades hands went up to grab the thin fabric of the thong and pulled it over your ass slowly then trying to pull it even lower without waking you. once the fabric was off, your pussy glistened right in front of them.

“look at our dirty girl. who would’ve thought…” wade coos and leaves your thong hanging by the back of your legs.

“well we both technically could’ve..” logan mutters and wade just scoffs.

“but this fucking fast? it’s like niagara falls and we’ve barely even touched her.” he says and logan just shrugs, “that’s her superpower.”

“jesus you’re on a roll tonight baby.” he says with a wide grin while logan’s thumb went to its previous position.

he starts to rub your clit in circles and this time around, wade decides to help by teasing your entrance with one finger.

“if i somehow come before her, we stop.” he says and looks up at you.

you were were now slightly squirming subconsciously and moving your hips. “yeah i might bust soon.”

logan ignored him and continued rubbing your clit while wade matched his pace. he wanted to see how fast they could make you come.

they took turns fingering you and rubbing your clit, alternating every few minutes or when one would make you moan louder. they just wanted to make you feel good, even if it’d take you hours to wake up.

it was logan’s turn to finger you but wade just got ahead of himself and added his index finger with his and followed his pace. logan just watched as your pussy clenched against both their fingers and how you were dripping juices already, “wish we could be here for hours.” wade whispers and palms himself through his boxers with his free hand.

“it’s be so fun.” logan whispers back making wade smirk, “she’d enjoy it too..”

“c’mon baby, come for us.” logan murmured and slowed down, now curling his finger up while wade did the same.

your body was moving a bit more, squirming as if you wanted more than you were getting. meanwhile you were having such a vivid dream, it was slowly starting to feel a bit real.

your subconscious was slowly waking up but you had such a strong urge to pee, it felt weird. you felt an all too familiar sensation in your stomach and that’s when you fully woke up.

you moaned and rubbed your eyes before looking down and there were both your boyfriends fingering you. “morning sweet pea.” wade murmured and shot you a wink.

“morning princess.” logan cooed and you gave them a tired smile.

you couldn’t even speak, you were speechless.

both men were pumping their finger deeper inside you while maintaining a fast pace, making sure to drive you closer and closer to an orgasm.

“oh fuck-“ you moaned and tried to push your ass out so it can feel even better.

both men were now facing your ass, and were barely grinding themselves against the mattress because they had been too turned on and needed to feel something.

“c’mon baby, come for us. we’ve got you.” logan murmured, making your eyes flutter.

the pleasure felt so good and the fact they were doing it together did something to your brain. you were so close, you could just feel it in your lower belly and in the way your legs began to shake. “there ya go cupcake, just like that, let go for us.” wade coos earning himself a whimper.

all their words combined was enough for it to push you over the edge and you quickly held onto the sheets as they let you ride out your high with slower strokes with their fingers. your legs shook and your heartbeat rang in your ears as they stopped.

they pulled their fingers out of you slowly and they came out with a loud plop. wade quickly put his finger into his mouth and sucked it clean while logan just watched him in awe.

he pulls his finger out and sits up, scooting back so you could lay on him. he extends his arms and you turn and contort your body to lay on his chest. meanwhile logan kind of crawled up and into wades other arm, also laying on his chest while he caressed your face softly.

“let’s just go back to sleep and we’ll wake up then shower then go do the laundry because lord did we also make a mess.” wade says with a laugh but you tuned him out as sleep took over your body once again.

logan closed his eyes and also felt himself drift off hearing the steady hum of wade’s heartbeat for the two people he cared most about.

[kitten4sannie]

ᴅᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ

ᴇᴅɢɪɴɢ/ᴇxʜɪʙɪᴛɪᴏɴɪꜱᴍ ➠ ᴊᴏɴɢʜᴏ/ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ

pairing: cat hybrid! wooyoung x bunny hybrid! reader (fem) x bear hybrid! jongho

genre: abo, hybrid au, smut

summary: your loyal boyfriends are there to help when your first heat comes around.

w.c: 2.7k

warnings: cute little established poly relationship, dom! woojong, bunny in heat! reader, voyuerism/exhibitionism, subspace, edging, dirty talk, lots of praise, one instance of degradation, pet names, oral (receiving/giving), one singular pussy slap, cockwarming, kissing, cum swapping, nasty car sex, sloppy seconds aka a nice cock swap, squirting, knotting, creampies, slipped a little breeding in there for one sec

a/n: abo and hybrid aus make me clinically insane….. something happened to me during the writing process of this you guys like i might need an exorcism ???? yeahh idkw to say except enjoy this horny mess ^^ <3

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ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

Sitting in the middle seat of your boyfriends’ pick up truck was always fun. You could cuddle and kiss the both of them all you wanted, change the radio to whatever station you wanted, and best of all, you had the best view of the beautiful countryside right in front of you. Usually you were bouncing in your seat a bit, your bunny tail twitching from the excitement of sharing your simple, though joyous day with the loves of your life, but this time around, you were sitting with your arms wrapped around your waist, your bunny ears hanging at the sides of your head, and biting on your bottom lip, while something that only could be described as a searing hot coil continuously wrapped around your core, causing you to let out a series of disconcerted squeaks. 

“Hey, what’s wrong, lovebun?” Wooyoung asked concernedly, his black, fluffy ears perking up at the sound of your squeaks, looking at you through his peripheral, still trying to keep his eyes on the road ahead. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Jongho spoke up from the other side, placing a hand securely on your thigh, only causing you to make even more small noises, the searing heat inside your body growing stronger by the second. 

“I feel weird, like I’m gonna melt,” you whined out to the both of them, sliding a bit further down in your seat, causing your skirt to hike up further and further, the overwhelming sweet, flowery scent of your arousal encompassing your boyfriends’ noses, causing Wooyoung to jerk the car to the left a bit, and Jongho’s hand to involuntarily squeeze around your soft thigh. “What’s wrong with me?” 

Wooyoung and Jongho shared a look in the rearview mirror, neither of them having to say anything to know just exactly what was going on with their dear bunny girlfriend. It was bunny breeding season, and this particular cat and bear hybrid were more than willing to take part in it. 

“You’re in heat, sweetheart,” Jongho replied softly, pressing his lips onto one of your bunny ears, giving it a few gentle kisses, his hand moving further up your thigh. “You’ll be okay. We just have to take care of you. Do you want that?” 

“Yes, please, baby bear. I’ll do whatever I need to…to make this stop…” You unconsciously spread your thighs open, watching with hazy eyes as Jongho lifted up your skirt to expose your bare, glistening cunt underneath, the scent of your arousal triggering the both of your boyfriends to begin drooling like a couple of mindless predators about to swallow up their prey. 

Without much control over his actions, Jongho pulled his seat belt off to fit himself in the vast, empty space below your seat so that he was right in between your thighs, pressing his nose against your cunt, rubbing it against your clit, enveloping himself in the sweet scent of your heat. “Mm, my baby bun smells so sweet…Can I have a taste?” 

“Please, Jjongie.” You nodded eagerly, letting your legs hang over his shoulders, your hands sifting through his soft brown hair, playing with his cute little bear ears for your own comfort.

Just as Jongho buried his face in your pussy, Wooyoung reached his free hand down to rub two fingers against your clit, occasionally looking away from the road to see just how wet you were getting for them, watching Jongho eagerly lap up your slick like he was a bear with an unlimited supply of honey, none of you caring if a nearby driver happened to see what you were up to. 

“Feels so good, I’m really gonna melt,” you cried out, your thighs starting to squeeze around Jongho’s head, causing him to hold securely onto them, keeping his big brown eyes focused on yours as he dragged his agile tongue from your hole up to your clit, Wooyoung’s fingers keeping you spread open for easier access. 

“Are you going to cum all over baby bear’s tongue, lovebun?” Wooyoung asked near one of your bunny ears, playfully nipping at it with his kitty fangs, squeezing your clit in between two fingers when Jongho slipped his tongue fully inside your pulsing hole. 

“Yes, yes, yes…!” you gasped, beginning to forcefully drive your cunt into Jongho’s face, accidentally bumping into his nose, making him wince. 

“Hey, good bunnies aren’t greedy, are they?” Wooyoung kept his fingers squeezed around your clit, giving Jongho a look that made him stop in his tracks, simply breathing in the warm scent of your arousal, watching your cunt clench around nothing. “Good bunnies are grateful for what they get, right?” 

“Yes, I’m sorry, Youngie,” you whimpered, tears forming inside your eyes, just on the cusp of orgasm, but not able to get there with the way your boyfriends kept you in limbo for their shared pleasure. “I’ll be good.” You reached down to gently rub Jongho’s nose, pouting at him. “I’m sorry, Jjongie…” 

“It’s okay, baby,” Jongho reassured, pressing a few kisses and licks to your inner thigh, before going back to lap at your cunt, his hot tongue practically melting against your wet folds. “I forgive you…” 

You looked at Wooyoung who grabbed your chin as soon as he stopped at a red light and pressed a deep, though quick kiss to your lips, making sure to nip at your bottom lip before he pulled away. “Be good and cum, pretty girl,” he sighed, giving your cunt a sudden harsh smack just as Jongho plugged you back up with his tongue. 

All of a sudden, a couple hybrids in a car nearby began to wolf whistle, honk their car horn, and drool over the sight of you getting filled up by your boyfriend’s tongue, while your other boyfriend stroked one of your soft bunny ears. 

“They’re watching meee, oh my god,” you cried out, barely able to look at the drooling alphas for a few seconds before shame and arousal overtook your body, Jongho’s tongue rubbing profusely against your tight inner walls, Wooyoung’s fingers still playing with your throbbing clit.

“It’s not everyday you see a pretty little bunny in heat getting devoured by her baby bear boyfriend, you know?” Wooyoung chuckled softly, nipping at your ear, making direct eye contact with the alphas to establish dominance. “Cum, baby bun…Show them who you belong to…” 

A sensitive little bunny like yourself could simply not take this much pleasure at once without squirting all over yourself, especially while being spectated by a few naughty alphas nearby, so that’s exactly what you did, crying out and grabbing desperately onto the truck’s seats all the while, tears escaping your eyes. 

“What a good bunny,” Wooyoung praised you, nodding his head in approval, hitting his foot on the gas as soon as the light turned green, his stiff cock pressing painfully up into his pants, trying as hard as he could to keep his eyes on the road instead of your pretty, shuddering body. 

“The best bunny,” Jongho agreed, slurping as much squirt into his mouth as he could, before sitting further up onto his knees, reaching up to bring your flushed face towards his, pressing his glistening lips against yours, sharing his spit and your arousal with you. 

Once Jongho pulled away, he smiled sweetly at you, watching you blink hazily at him and your other alpha boyfriend, idly licking your slick from his lips. “How are you feeling now, baby?” 

“Need cock,” you requested simply, the burning desire you felt from within somehow even stronger than before, a wildfire blazing away from within your core. 

Jongho looked to Wooyoung, who looked back to him, the both of them knowing what needed to be done in order to satiate their needy bunny girlfriend. 

“Why don’t you keep your mouth busy for now, bun? Hm? Does a mouthful of Youngie’s cock sound good for now?” Wooyoung suggested sweetly, unzipping his pants with one hand, freeing his pulsing length and allowing it to smack up into his lower abdomen. 

You began drooling as if on command, your pupils growing larger at the sight of Wooyoung’s pretty pink cock just waiting for you to slobber all over it. 

Jongho chuckled to himself, reaching up behind your head and gently guiding your head down onto Wooyoung’s cock, watching it slowly disappear inside your mouth and throat. 

Your ears perked up at the pleased moans your kitty boyfriend let out, wanting to giggle from the feeling of his fluffy tail wrapping around your nearest arm, feeling his heavy cock settle comfortably inside your throat. You just let it sit there, the occasional pulses of Wooyoung’s length causing a new wave of slick to drip out of your needy hole, which Jongho had no problem plugging up with two thick fingers, making you let out a few muffled moans, sending delightful vibrations down to the base of Wooyoung’s cock. 

Wooyoung turned down onto a dirt road that was surrounded by tall oak trees, humming to himself, running his fingers through your soft hair, giving Jongho a smile inside the rearview mirror, who moved your ears out of the way to get a better view of you warming Wooyoung’s cock with your willing mouth. “You’re being such a good girl for us, baby. I think you deserve to be fucked dumb by the both of us, don’t you think?” 

“Mm-hmmm,” you agreed with your mouth full, unable to keep yourself from rigorously bobbing your head up and down, feeling Wooyoung’s cock slide in and out of your tight throat, his sudden whimpers filling you up with pride. 

“Oh, you naughty girl, you’re gonna make me cum before I get to stuff you full, f-uuck,” Wooyoung exhaled, his thighs tightening up, his fingers clenching up around the steering wheel, swerving onto the side of the road just in time for his knot to form, locking you in place on his cock. “Gonna take this knot, yeah?” 

“She’s a good bunny, of course she’s going to take it…” Licking his lips, Jongho held your bunny ears back with one hand, giving both him and Wooyoung a good view of your spit-stained face just as his knot broke, hot cum pouring into your mouth and down your throat. 

You slowly pulled off of him, breathing hard, a bit of his cum dripping down your chin, your face flushed beyond measure. “Yummy…” you whispered, just as Wooyoung grabbed your chin, his kitty claws pressing into your cheeks, his tongue slipping into your mouth. 

Just as Wooyoung got a taste of his bitter cum, Jongho pulled him away from you and got a taste of it for himself, allowing you to watch your alpha boyfriends groan and growl into each other’s open mouths. You could only watch them swap spit and cum for so long, before you became ravenous once again, unbuckling Jongho’s pants and climbing onto his lap, your cunt fully swallowing up his cock just in time for you to begin rigorously bouncing on it. 

Jongho began to moan profusely into Wooyoung’s mouth, opening his teary eyes to watch your kitty boyfriend still sucking on his tongue, able to whine, “Feels so good, bunny, keep going,” once the other alpha let him go, but only once he playfully nipped at his bottom lip. 

Dizzy with arousal, Wooyoung reached around you to grab at your hips, forcefully driving you down onto Jongho’s thick, curved cock, letting out a growl of pleasure from watching your face contort with overwhelming pleasure. “That’s it, baby, that’s fucking it.” 

“So good, it’s so good…!” You wrapped your arms securely around Jongho’s neck, feeling his arms close securely around your waist, his hips pistoning rapidly into your clenching cunt, the heaviness inside your core dropping suddenly, your arousal squirting all over your bear boyfriend and the seat below.   

“Such a slutty bunny, cumming so quick from getting stuffed with alpha cock,” Wooyoung groaned to himself, using his abundant pre-cum to slick up his stiff length, dragging his hand along it just enough to satiate the deep ache inside him, your sweet, sticky pheromones driving him insane. 

“Are you our slutty bunny, baby?” Jongho asked you in between pants, giving you a gummy smile when all you could do was whimper and nod. A few beads of sweat dripped past his temples, leaning his head back against the steamy window of the truck, placing one hand on the small of your back and the other on your lower abdomen just as his knot began to swell up inside you, feeling the outline of his thick cock as he prepared to unload inside you. “Gonna take alpha’s knot inside your bunny cunt?” 

“Y-esssss,” you cried out, tears rolling down your hot cheeks, your fingers squeezing into Jongho’s strong shoulders, your thighs trembling profusely once the thick stream of your alpha’s knot poured into your pulsing cunt. “Oh my god, it’s so good, so hot…” 

Before you could even begin to recover, Jongho sent Wooyoung a satisfied, toothy grin, passing you over to him with ease, so that he could immediately plug you back up with his cock this time around, fucking the other alpha’s hot cum back into your used bunny cunt.

“Is it still good, lovebun? Huh? Gonna take my knot too?” Wooyoung asked you in between huffs, grabbing two handfuls of your ass on each side, taking the time to smack his hands roughly against them before grabbing them again, drilling his cock so deep into you, he was practically slamming into your cervix. 

All you could do was let out whiny moans and garbled nonsensical sentences, your tongue eventually just lolling out of your panting mouth, holding onto Wooyoung with one hand, your other one being held tight by Jongho’s clasped hands, the only thing keeping you grounded in that moment was the way he gently rubbed your knuckles. 

The truck shook vigorously, the windows inside grew more and more foggy, and the air became harder and harder to breathe in, the longer Wooyoung unapologetically rearranged your guts, not stopping for a second, not even when you came all over him, only when he started to feel a familiar heaviness seep into his core, causing him to slow down, rolling his hips up into you, deliberately pulling you down onto his cock, feeling his knot swell up little by little. 

“Want…Youngie’s…knot…” you whimpered softly, gazing at Wooyoung with teary eyes, your bunny ears flopping at the sides of your head, encouraging him and Jongho to begin stroking them along with your hair. 

“That’s a good bunny, such a good girl for me and Jjongie, huh? You want to be filled up nice and deep, don’t you? Want to get full for us soon? Yeah? That sounds good, doesn’t it? You’ll be our pretty bunny wife, all nice and round with our pretty bunny kids, won’t you?” Wooyoung whispered gently into your ear, easing you up and down his slick cock, chuckling softly at your small whines and whimpers, only ceasing his movement when his knot fully formed inside you, stretching your used cunt wide open. 

“I want it all, Youngie, Jjongie, I want it so bad…” You looked to your boyfriends with love in your eyes, tears still rolling down your cheeks, some of them getting wiped up by Jongho’s thumb, a few more getting swiped away by Wooyoung’s sleeve. 

“You’ll have it, baby bun,” Jongho promised softly, pressing a kiss onto the side of your head, rubbing your back in gentle circles, as you slowly took Wooyoung’s load inside your womb. 

“You’ll have whatever you wish, lovebun,” Wooyoung added, kissing your forehead, stroking one of your ears in a loving manner, reaching over to stroke Jongho’s hair, the both of them sharing an equally loving gaze. 

Filled to the brim with cum and pleasure, the strong effects of your heat finally subsided, encouraging you to collapse back into the middle seat between your tired boyfriends. 

All three of you sat there, holding each other’s hands, quietly breathing in one another’s air, looking up past the still slightly foggy windshield to watch as the sun set inside the pretty cotton candy sky, whispering odes of love to each other until your eyes grew heavy. 

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[ddarker-dreams]

Nexus II.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Descriptions of Blade's body regeneration ability, Blade is just kinda weird idk, some spoilers for his backstory. Word count: 6k.

Nexus index.

The LOTUS-EATER’s maximum capacity tops out at 124. This number takes current fire codes and oxygen generator parameters into account. There are eight Arbiters — including yourself — and fifteen other employees who work The Club floor on rotation. Additionally, some automatons assist with carrying refreshments to clients. Lucky for you, those fellas aren’t on the payroll. 

The other twenty-two are, though. 

Nona swings her legs back and forth while sitting on the main bar’s countertop, humming a song from an underground band she likes. She’s sent you a link to their discography enough times that you recognize the URL immediately and know not to tap on it. 

“Hey, mom, dad, we’re on the news. ‘IPC Places Eris Under Temporary Travel Ban While Investigating Claims of Fraud’. Why didn’t anyone tell me we were doing fraud? Was I not invited to the group chat?” Nona hums. 

You glance up from your account book, sigh, then glance back down.

Meanwhile, Lear carries a hefty wooden crate from the back and places it on the floor. The sound of muffled glass clinking together can be heard, along with liquid sloshing.

“You shouldn’t make jokes like that,” he frowns. He shoos her off the counter with a wet rag, to which she takes refuge behind you. He rolls his eyes at her shenanigans, ties up his sandy hair, then gets to cleaning. “People could get the wrong idea. It’d tarnish [First]’s reputation.” 

Snickering, she replies, “And casually referring to Our-Lord-And-Savior-The-Exalted-One by her first name wouldn’t?” 

He bristles. “You…!” 

On instinct, he winds up his arm, wielding the now dirty rag as his ammunition. He pauses when Nona points at you. Seeing that there’s no way to hit his target without you joining the casualties, he huffs, and returns to shining glasses, using excessive force this time. 

Nona sticks her tongue out at him. After celebrating her victory, she situates herself on a nearby barstool, stretching her arms out beside your workspace like a content cat preparing to nap. 

“You’ve been staring at that silly book forever,” she notes, exasperation coloring her tone. “I know you aren’t reading it, either. Your eyes give you away. So, what’s up?” 

You shuffle in your seat. This line of questioning was inevitable as the four moons that hang everlasting in the sky, taking in everything as impartial observers. During instances like this, you envy the marvelous masses, how they can exist peacefully without living. No one asks the moon troubling questions. Or, if they do, they have more pressing issues at hand than their spoken query. 

“It’s nothing,” you dismiss. 

She blows a tuft of hair from her face. “Hey, Lear.”

“Mm?”

“Did you hear that?”

“Well, yes, I’m only standing a few feet away.” 

“Right, right. Let me ask a trickier question then, since that one was obviously way too easy for someone of your intellect. Do you believe her?”

“I…” he swallows thickly. “... Yes?”

Nona throws her arms up. “Gah! I’m surrounded by liars who can’t lie. That’s almost worse than liars who can lie— blegh, hey, did you actually throw a rag at me?” 

The rag in question slides down the side of her head and hits the ground with a sad squelch. 

“I’ll do it again too. You shouldn’t bother [First]—” Lear abruptly cuts himself off at the last syllable of your name, “The exalted one when she’s trying to concentrate.” 

You raise your head and frown. “Lear, I told you. Call me by my name when it’s just us. It feels wrong if you don’t.” 

“Seriously? That’s what gets your attention?” Nona laments. 

You both elect to ignore her. 

“I know, I know. It’s just… what if he comes back?” 

Silence descends and clings to the three of you like the suffocating scent of smoke. It’s there again, the uncomfortable, skin-prickling sensation of eyes sticking to you. Amber and sapphire coalesce into one, unspoken plea, forming a disconcerting shade. Nona’s visage betrays nothing, whereas Lear’s concern would be obvious from galaxies away. 

You square your shoulders and try to make yourself appear as decisive as you need to sound. “I’ll know when he’s back. He’ll text so I can let him in.” 

The two exchange knowing looks. It’s Nona who tries her luck. 

“That’s reassuring and all, but, I think the question Lear wanted to ask is why that man’s here in the first place.” 

Magenta eyes, rosy iris’, words that drip like venom-coated honey. 

When you asked how you should explain Blade’s presence to your staff, she told you she’d hate to abuse her authority, and that you’re free to decide those specifics yourself. You would’ve preferred some guidance or hint at her expectations in such a pivotal situation. It’s easier to avoid a landmine if you know how to best watch your step. The uncharacteristic lack of instructions goes on to birth unease. 

“My answer hasn’t changed. He’s here to act as my bodyguard until some concerns are settled.” 

Nona’s lips twist to the side. “You never wanted a bodyguard before.” 

“I never needed one before.” 

A glass shatters violently. 

You and Nona snap your head toward the noise’s origin, finding Lear’s face wound tight in pain. You both jump the counter. The remains of crystal shards are strewn across the floor, catching and refracting light. Watching your step, you make your way over to Lear, who is muttering expletives under his breath. 

No, that isn’t right, you realize. His lips aren’t moving. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he tries waving off Nona, who is inspecting the hand that held the glass, “Just an accident, s’all.” 

The private tumult boiling in his head threatens to overflow, stating loud and clear thoughts no one other than himself should be privy to. You grimace and focus on blocking the intrusive voice out. It’s so resounding, so sharp, that snippets penetrate through and spill their scathing secrets.  

‘My fault — should’ve killed — now she’s — because of me…!’ 

Block it out, block it out, block it out, you chant the mantra incessantly. 

Lear’s psyche wishes to illuminate itself to you in its entirety. The spotlights turn on one by one, focusing intently on the visible portion of the stage that any audience member can see. The overlapping beams penetrate the stage’s back curtain, revealing the silhouettes of the backstage crew. 

You don’t want to witness these delicate inner workings. It isn’t for your eyes, his thoughts aren’t for your ears. Sins committed in days past grant you a front-row seat and sew your eyes wide open. You haven’t attended this theater in some time, so it brought the show to you. 

It requires great effort to struggle against the needle and thread that wants to practice its stitches on you. This pain that feels like your skull is being crushed beneath an anchor could ease away if you were a good audience member who sat still and mute. You resist subservience at the cost of yourself. Eventually, the lights dim. The stage’s back curtain turns opaque. The actors shift their shouts into a normal speaking volume, a whisper, then finally, stop orating altogether. 

Your mind’s dictation is decided by you — the ink of Lear’s thoughts expunged. 

You’re aware of your physical surroundings again. 

Presently, you’re crouching down on the floor. You move your foot back to maintain balance, and there’s a crunch, warning you to tread carefully. You inhale and exhale shakily. At this sign of lucidity, Nona and Lear crowd over you, repeating your name on a loop. You check twice to ensure their mouths are indeed moving and you aren’t hearing what you shouldn’t. Once you dispel your fears, relief embraces you. 

This paroxysm has run its course.

Nona’s shoulders slump. “It’s okay, it’s over. She fixed it.” 

They both hold their breath until you nod in agreement. 

Lear extends his hand to help stand you up, to which Nona swats at it. 

“No touching,” she reminds. Sternness doesn’t sound right in her cadence. He considers arguing, only to decide against it. His fingers twitch, go still, then recede. 

You have to stand on your own strength. 

Neither of them knows what to say in the immediate aftermath — it’s been so long that they’re out of practice. While they think over the best-sounding platitudes, you spare your phone a glance. Several messages mar the screen from an unknown sender. The most recent is time-stamped at five minutes ago. 

You grumble a few choice words. 

“Mr. Personality is back?” Nona asks. 

“Yeah, I’ll handle it,” you close your account book and fold it under your arm. “You both should head home, it’s late. Just let Loopy take care of the glass shards.” 

Nona gives a mock salute. After a moment’s consideration, Lear nods. 

And so the three of you part ways. 

Your fingers blindly grope at the expanse beneath your desk. Finally, you come in contact with a protrusion, then press it. Electricity thrums then turns hushes. For peace of mind, you glide your hand through the air. A holographic keyboard flickers into existence and responds to your vigorous keystrokes. The monitor reads that your noise-canceling software is up to date. It prevents sound waves from escaping a perimeter you’ve set. It’s installed in every room on the second floor, which includes the private rooms in The Lounge, your office, and the bedroom attached to said office. 

Ever since Kafka started slinking around, the software’s uptime has increased exponentially. 

Unlike Kafka, Blade doesn’t sit across from you or relax on the couch against the silver-colored wall. He stands by the door that leads to the hallway like a statue. He hasn’t so much as uttered a word to you since you let him in, not that you put in much effort to rouse conversation. It isn’t as childish as him ignoring you, either, you swear his eyes haven’t left you for a millisecond. 

The keyboard and monitor dissipate at the flick of your wrist. 

“I know I said I didn’t have anything major scheduled this week, but the IPC’s new policy changes things,” you start. Still no reaction. Frowning, you continue, “I’ll have to break the house arrest you’ve imposed.” 

He doesn’t so much as blink. You thought a little provocation might earn you some material to work with, but you thought wrong. 

“Who will be there?” Blade asks. 

Instead of experiencing relief that he’s broken his vow of silence, tension coils its barbed limbs around you. It refuses to squeeze or apply any pressure. No, it intentionally denies you that, for it knows pain precedes understanding. A motive, an intention. Any degree of emotion is better than an unknowable void. Frustration, you can soothe, doubt, you can dispel, but total apathy? That’s a nightmare crossed into reality. 

“The other two leaders of the quadrants and myself.” 

At long last, there's a sign he is indeed a sentient lifeform and not the latest android model. A flash passes over his eyes. Suspicion or disbelief, perhaps. 

“Shouldn’t there be four leaders, if the city’s divided into quadrants?” 

“That’s a fair assumption. As far back as our records date, the southwestmost quadrant, Arc, has rejected the idea of having any fixed governance. They act however they see fit. It’s where that man who attacked me a few cycles back was sent to, since we look down on involuntary confinement.” 

“The prison planet without prisons,” Blade’s wry wording belies his flat tone. 

It’s always been a divisive topic, earning scorn and acclaim alike. You’ve had the misfortune of listening to clients regurgitate talking points that were made digestible by popular media, who started the cycle by devouring journal articles they read one paragraph of. They repeat what’s been said thousands of times with the bravado of the original theorist. Normally, you’d consider it more agreeable to bash your head against a wall than speak on the exhausted topic. 

So why is it a kindling of intrigue burns by a Stellaron Hunter’s offhand comment? 

“What’s this? The wanted criminal isn’t a proponent of prison abolition?” 

“Every decision comes at a price,” he says. “Sins should be punished.” 

You blink. Sins? Punishment? Is this a textbook case of cognitive dissonance, or another beast entirely? 

“What do you consider a sin?” 

“Anything that defies the natural order.” 

“Such as…?” 

The maelstrom that envelops him is potent enough for you to feel it breathing down your neck. Your body prickles all over. 

“Defying death.” 

“Not inflicting it?” 

“No,” Blade’s response is immediate, straight from the heart. “Taking life is permissible. It’s accelerating the inevitable.” 

This callous sentiment should chill you — maybe it would, if you heeded the alarm bells ringing in your mind — but fascination triumphs over any deterrent. This isn’t a creed one stumbles into by happenstance, it’s a burden made to order. His preoccupation with death is personal. A necessity. 

“Show me what it’s like to die.”

Is this request self-flagellation or redemption? 

If you’re ever to fulfill the Synalink you promised, you’ll need to dig deeper. 

“There are ‘sins’ committed with altruistic intentions, though.” 

“Hah,” he barks out a bitter laugh. “Those… those are the worst kind.” 

This is a personal slight he’s grappling with. The shards scattered around him like stardust condense, though the sight they create remains out of focus. It doesn’t have to be a sharp picture for you to discern its immense stature. 

Each person’s psyche is distinct in its manifestation. This image is a culmination of everything that defines them. Their core values, history, relationships, culture, ambitions both met and not fully realized; these colors leave an indelible imprint. In truth, this detailed representation is but a single dot amidst an ocean of stars. The mind of a sentient being must be vast if it is capable of ascending to an Aeon’s status. Still, you need something to work with, even if it doesn’t encompass the full scope. A pianist cannot play their instrument if there are no keys. 

This scale, this sheer magnitude that towers higher the more you crane your neck up, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever encountered. 

“... You’re going to give me a run for my money, Mr. 8.13 billion,” you murmur. “Your head looks like a warzone.” 

He leans against the wall with a hmph.

“With all your impending problems, that’s what you choose to focus on?” 

“I can multitask.” 

“Can you?” He challenges. Sensing your confusion, he elaborates. “You look awful.” 

Blade must be irresistible across all genders with that nuanced level of word crafting. 

“I appreciate your candidness,” you deadpan. 

He shakes his head at your sarcasm. “Don’t act obtuse. Your complexion’s off, your eyes are bloodshot… everything was fine when I left. Must have something to do with your earlier delay, I take it?” 

You underestimated his acumen. This would explain why he’s been sizing you up since you opened the door. His sword proficiency isn’t the only threat you should be wary of. You know to be mindful of your presentation when Kafka’s skulking about, you didn’t think he’d need to be treated with a similar caution.

“It’s nothing serious, just your typical mental overexertion. There’s a lot on my plate, you said so yourself.” 

“Hm.” 

Whether he believes you or not, the conversation is left at that. 

Transportation on Eris functions differently than what’s commonly found in other worlds. 

Traditional gas-based motors aren’t favored due to the frigid climate. Instead, a gemstone mined in the Nectary by vetted groups is the preferred resource. It contains special thermodynamic properties that can emit immense power under the correct conditions. The gemstones have been altered and assembled in such a way that they function as a railroad for insulated cabins to travel from one station to another. These paths were nicknamed 'nectar guides’ or ’guides’ by the first engineers to embed them in the ground. This is in reference to how the eight main paths lead to Perianth II’s center, built above the Nectary. 

The design serves a dual purpose — it optimizes travel and the heat radiating from the ground produces light. The accommodations have outworlders in mind. Your species, the Nymphalians, have long undergone enough natural selection to survive the hostile conditions fine enough. Your species’ eyesight excels in the dark and your physiology resists the cold. Aside from that, your body functions identical to any other humanoid species. The lone visible difference is a thin white ring around most Nymphalians’ iris’. You and Lear display this quality, Nona does not. 

The cabin you sit in has a quaint design. There are plush, brown loveseats lining the wall, glowing orange lights in the arched ceiling, and light refreshments atop wooden table stands. It’s split into a common area and a bedroom suite. More enchanting than any ornate embellishment are the expansive windows. You only get to see your quadrant in person during these trips to Perianth II’s center and back. 

“You warm enough?” You call over to Blade, who is bundled in extra layers of clothes and wearing an especially dour expression. 

He doesn’t dignify your quip with a verbal reply. 

This brief jaunt has earned his ire. For someone who’d likely prefer to be anywhere else, he’s taking this guard assignment quite seriously. He explained that taking this straightforward travel route begs for people with nefarious intent to come slithering out. You could see his point, but the matter isn’t up for dispute. Recent cyberattacks have called electronic communication into question. What you’ll be discussing with the others — Chrysus of Ade and Caicias of Mele — is highly sensitive information. The IPC catching any sliver of it could prove disastrous. 

“You shouldn’t be by the windows,” Blade eventually says.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a major buzzkill?” 

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t respond. 

With some reluctance, you pry yourself away from the glass granting access to the outside world. 

“... Just a bit longer?” You try plucking a sympathetic cord he distinctly lacks. 

“If you like it so much, why not experience it in the safety of your room where your head is a less visible target?”  

“It isn’t possible to perform a Synalink on yourself.” 

“Have an underling do it.” 

The presumptions air to this suggestion eliminates any grace you may have extended.

“The only other Arbiter capable of performing Synalinks on me was my mother,” you say. “Note the past tense.” 

You experience a phantasmal ripple with him as the epicenter. It’s the weakest emotion you’ve inadvertently picked up from him, so you assume it’s nothing of consequence. 

“Passing blurs aren’t worth risking your life over.” 

You rise to your feet. 

“How do you know that?” You challenge, heat rushing to your cheeks. “These homes, these buildings, these streets… they’re either data on my screen or conveyed to me through someone who acts like they’re listing parts in a machine. I have to see it. I have to commit each ‘passing blur’ to memory. Otherwise…” 

What have I sacrificed my freedom for? 

Blade’s eyebrows furrow. 

“Otherwise…” you shake your head. “Forget it.” 

During the ensuing silence, your phone buzzes. 

You had set it on do not disturb for the upcoming meeting. A few contacts were granted an exception, meaning that this message must be urgent if it went through. You swallow the lump growing in your throat. An exhausted part of yourself reasons that it can wait until the meeting’s conclusion. It wouldn’t do you any good to get worked up beforehand, would it? The message will still be there when it’s finished. Then you’ll be able to commit all your bandwidth to its contents. This reasoning is a tempting mistress cooing at you to come join her in bed. The momentary relief will be as sweet as the aftertaste is bitter. 

Responsibility triumphs in the end. After inputting the necessary passcodes, a message four words long scrawls across your screen.

The product is ready. 

A simple code had been devised between you and the alchemist entrusted with testing Kafka’s synthetic tonic. The product isn’t ready yet would mean the sly woman bluffed, or at the very least, exaggerated her 70% comparison claim. You’d gladly take either. She’s sewn deceit before, she’d have no trouble doing it again. In case the alternative was true, you prepared another code; the code you just received. 

You reread it once. Twice, then thrice. You check if the message came from the right number. It did. You check again. 

This frantic fixation consumes you to such a degree, you don’t register the cabin jerking aside. The delay from your reflexes throws your equilibrium off. Squeezing your eyes shut, you brace yourself for an unceremonious rendezvous with the floor. Your right side does come into contact with a hard surface, except it’s sooner than you anticipated. Warmer, too. 

This heat is different from what’s produced inside the Nectary’s gemstones. It’s personal, containing the distinct thrum of life. There’s also an aroma. Slightly floral, mostly spices you don’t recognize. Then there’s this steady sound — consistent enough to put a metronome to shame. A slow thump, thump, thump. 

“How have you survived this long, clumsy as you are?” 

Blade isn’t speaking any louder than he normally would, but you can hear him better. 

“Hey, I’m… not… clumsy…?” 

It’s only when you open your eyes that you’re able to piece together your current predicament. 

Blade’s steadying you by your shoulders and your cheek is pressing against his chest. You always knew he was tall, but having him tower over you this close gives you a new perspective. As does the fact he doesn’t immediately shove you off after breaking your fall. Your body goes stiff enough to rival rigor mortis.

“Accident prone, then.”  

This swipe has you desperate to reaffirm your authority. “You should’ve just… let me fall then! Maybe I wanted to, what do you know!” 

(It sounded better in your head). 

“Are you positive you’re over a century old?” 

An equally snarky rebuttal blooms on your tongue, only to immediately wither, turning to ash that coats the ground. 

There’s the sound of a dying star, a dirge announcing the end. 

What one hears before their name is reduced to an epitaph or an alphabetized list neatly organizing the recently deceased. It’s loud, then it isn’t. Hideous, then hypnotizing. Yellows and oranges and reds swirling in a serpentine motion that mocks you for thinking you ever conquered it. Civilizations can temporarily subdue it, bend it to their will, but it’s not ever truly theirs. The sovereignty of flame is a dynasty everlasting. It may rise, it may fall, but it can’t ever be truly extinguished. 

You’re sent flying back with enough power that the air is forced from your lungs. It’s as if an Aeon’s hand had pushed your body aside, dragging you to the edge of the universe. You’re released from the scorching maw and into an icy nothingness. 

The planet itself is frozen for a time. 

There’s no strength in your body. Your system has been injected with pure, raw adrenaline, causing your limbs to shake and ignore your commands. Your ears are ringing and your eyesight is blurry. Tears cleanse the pollutants from your eyes. A dark swath covers your body, its weight hindering your feeble attempts to move. Determination alone wills you to emerge from this shadowy cocoon. 

The ringing fades and all is quiet, save for the crackling of fire. 

Then the screaming begins. 

You try identifying the source. You think you may have found it, then it starts elsewhere, a different pitch, a different soul lot in lament. Bloodcurdling shrieks rise alongside the thick smoke. You’re being a stretch of buildings that loom imposingly, obsidian spires reaching up to the night sky. The masonry required to maintain their reign basks in the flames. The unusual surplus of light unveils its secrets, from the cracks in the stone to the faded graffiti bored kids left behind. 

The ground is uneven, unlike the glossy pavement found in the entertainment district. This dull, grayish-blue soil with the consistency of fine powder exhibits the true nature of Eris’ untreated exterior. It’s cool to the touch and takes pleasure at the chance to stain your fine clothes. 

Your wandering mind is brought back upon hearing a sputter nearby. You’re not sure where you are, what you’re doing, or why you’re doing it; but you remember you weren’t alone. 

“Blade…” The name comes out as a croak. “Where…?” 

You can’t call out to him, it’s like cotton has been stuffed down your esophagus. 

There’s movement in the corner of your eye. 

You make the mistake of trying to stand. Your arms might’ve begun to heed your commands, but your legs do not. The worst insurrectionists are your ankles. The instant you try putting any weight on them, they collapse as if you were a newborn doe. Recognizing this strategy’s incompetence, you drag yourself over to where you saw movement instead. The coarse ground rubs at and scratches your skin. 

Upon closer inspection, your heart stops. 

The dark swath — that’s Blade. 

He’s in a far worse state than you. His entire backside has been scorched, displaying angry red blisters and split skin just barely hanging on. His right arm is bent in an awkward position, most certainly broken. Then there’s his left arm, or lack of it. Clumps of limp sinew hang where his arm should be joined to his shoulder joint. The force of the impact must’ve blown it off or eviscerated it entirely. 

He’s lying on his side, facing away from you. A pool of blood forms beneath him, mixing with the soil. The coupling results in a sickly mauve that creeps and seeps inch by inch. 

The fire… it’s coming from the guides, you realize. The cabin has been torn to pieces!

This begs the question: how are you alive? 

You should be covered in burns at the very least. Some of your clothes got charred, you think a rib or two might be broken, but you’re living and breathing. There’s a gap in your memory where the previous events should be. You try recalling whatever you can, no matter how seemingly insignificant. You were moved aside as the roaring got louder, and then there was the sound of glass shattering, heat to cold… 

Blade must have intervened. Did he use the few seconds before the fire caught up to break the window and toss you out? That can’t be right; you’d have glass entrenched in your skin and burns on whichever side faced the explosion. Surely, with his inhuman reflexes, he could’ve come out relatively unscathed. 

Unless he chose to shield you. 

You don’t think, you just act. First, by tearing the hem of your long skirt, then second, pressing it against the gaping wound where his shoulder abruptly ends. Gushes of crimson spill through your first makeshift bandage. You throw it aside, rip at your garments again, repeating the process in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. A Stellaron Hunter must have a robust constitution, right? He was able to act faster than you could think. He can survive this — you just need to stop the bleeding until you can get help. Kafka has to have connections with advanced medical factions. 

Tears stream down your face and you sniffle relentlessly. Your hands are caked in soot and blood, the scent of burnt skin and metal clings to your nostrils. Is he going to die? Is he already dead? You can’t bring yourself to check his pulse. How could he be willing to die for you in the short period of time you’ve known one another? He could’ve concocted any excuse for why he failed Kafka’s assignment, you’re certain he’s more indispensable to their cause than you are. 

Blade stirs. 

You think that it’s your imagination playing tricks on you. A cruel joke to remind you that you make your living off shaping reality for others, temporarily giving them what they want at the price of never truly having it. 

Or so is your conviction until he moves again. 

You’ve heard of muscles twitching after death to give the false impression of life. However, you’ve never witnessed the phenomenon yourself. Is this how it works? It isn’t sporadic, his right arm is sweeping over the ground, fingers flexing. Much to your astonishment, he pushes himself up with the arm that was contorted into a horrible shape a minute ago. The pain he’s experiencing must be excruciating and yet he merely grunts as he shifts into a sitting position. 

“Stop moving,” you rasp out. With your most recent bandage in hand, you go to apply pressure to the left arm socket. 

He responds to your fervent desperation in a low, gravelly voice. 

“Don’t bother.” 

Don’t bother? Is he in a coherent state of mind? If you don’t attend to his gushing wound, he’s at risk of bleeding out. You prepare to ignore his utterance when a strange sight freezes you in place. 

A white structure emerges from his raw, mangled arm socket, descending like water pouring from a pitcher. It solidifies and takes the shape of a humerus. Once finished, it goes on to create the radius and ulna. Next are the carpals, metacarpals, then phalanges. Tendons join them together, fibrous muscles envelop the bones. Finally, in the blink of an eye, fresh layers of skin build atop one another in sheets. He clenches and unclenches his newly formed hand. 

If defying death is a sin, he is laden in iniquity.

“What hurts?” Blade asks. 

You’re too aghast to respond. His body just stitched itself back together without any medical treatment or esoteric healing techniques. Is it possible you’re hallucinating? Can a visual hallucination be this vivid? 

He reaches out. Seconds prior to his hand coming into contact with your bare skin, you furiously shake your head, flailing backward and narrowingly avoiding him. His eyes bore down on you like molten magma. He retracts his hand after a drawn-out pause. 

“If you can’t speak, point instead.” 

Dazedly, you follow his instructions, focusing primarily on your ankles. They’ve swollen since you last checked. The flesh is tender and puffy. 

“I’ll carry you,” he says. “Stay still.”

“Wait,” you manage to wheeze out. “This area… residential… have to help…!”

A coughing spell cuts your hoarse plea short. 

“That explosion was meant for you. Whoever set it off will want to ensure their job’s success.”

Blade reaches out for you again. You duck to avoid his grasp, despite the pain throbbing in your chest cavity from the hasty movement. The adrenaline must be fading if your brain is doing inventory on the damage you’ve sustained, rather than focusing on survival. Hot waves test your resolution. You grit your teeth. If you make a show of your pain, he’s not going to change his decision. 

He speaks your name in a low, warning tone. 

Adamant in your refusal, you point to where the cries for help are the loudest. 

“It’s not my priority,” he says. 

He easily grabs you on his third try and you yelp. The sluggishness of his previous attempts must've been out of consideration for you. His right arm interlocks behind your knees while the left supports your back. You thrash to no avail, his grip remains ironclad. Your struggles amount to nothing but perspiration clinging to your skin and more aches. 

The nearest medical unit to this street is at least thirty minutes away, now that the guides are out of order, you think. That isn’t fast enough…! Every second counts!

In your panic, a sacred vow made decades ago is desecrated. 

You cup Blade’s face in your shaky hands and stare him straight in the eye. 

The previously formed shards come into focus.

It’s monumental, this psyche you’ve barged into without permission. A violation of another’s autonomy. You know this, you condemn yourself for it, yet you press on nevertheless. The previously unknowable architecture that hulks over you is of Xianzhou design. It’s pieced together by bricks as infinite as the stars in the universe, though there is no magnificent shine, only matte stonework. 

This structure… is it a garrison? You wonder. Was Blade a member of the… what’s the name of their military again… Cloud Knights? 

You’ve had Cloud Knight clients before. Their psyches take the likeness of their favorite, scenic expanse on the Hexafleet, the area that they cared for enough to risk their life. The skies would be blue, clouds fluffy and prolific. A sense of duty and patriotism felt palpable. Occasionally, you’d be made privy to grief’s scent carried on a breeze, perhaps from a loved one’s passing or comrade’s untimely death in battle. 

This is a riddle you need to solve swiftly. With a little tampering, you can form a link. It’s immoral, a blight to your personal code, but you’ll leverage enough influence for Blade to stay and help any survivors until help arrives. Whatever consequences arise can be dealt with later. 

Even with the heightened mental sensitivity from making direct physical contact, this is proving a challenge. You can see his psyche but you can’t interact with it. It’s like running your hands through vapor. For you to successfully exert enough influence to change a decision he’s dead set on, you’ll need to go deeper. Inside this fortress sits the recesses of his mind, the bottom of an ocean you’re merely skimming the surface of. The intrusion’s necessity twists your gut as if your intenses were being kneaded. 

Your incorporeal form flutters to the gates, standing solitary against a leaden backdrop. 

The closer you get, you become increasingly aware of a malicious entity permeating behind the doors which strain to contain it. This is the same harrowing presence you felt when he protected you from Alister. Now that you’ve spent more time with Blade, you can discern its essence is different from his, although they’re forcibly intertwined like a rope. Blade emanates this unremittingly morose energy. It’s bleak, unconcentrated. 

This substance oozes a need to satiate bottomless bloodlust. It wants to sink its teeth into flesh, lacerate muscles, and slice through bone. Mayhem and viscera are its highest raison d'être. There’s no sensibility, no reasoning with it, it acts in one way then shifts on a whim; chaos inside a splintering bottle. 

How is Blade capable of functioning with this slumbering beast ready to wreak havoc at any second? 

Steeling your resolve, you prepare to enter.

A seal halts your progress. 

Impatience urges you to dispel it. Blade’s psyche is rejecting you, any further delays will give it ample opportunity to flush you out. 

The kaleidoscopic seal thrums and wards off your efforts. 

Someone put this here, you discern. It’s deliberate. 

What perplexes you is that the seal prohibits entry yet does nothing to contain the miasma writhing behind it. Wouldn’t whoever created it intend to keep that salivating beast at bay? It’s well-crafted too, denying your every attempt to eliminate it. Kafka dabbles in mind-altering. Could she have left this here? You know what her aura feels like — calm, confident, cunning — this seal radiates none of her trademarks. 

An invisible force hauls you back. 

You took too long — Blade’s psyche is expelling the foreign invader. 

You blink and you’re back in reality. 

Blade is grimacing, the lines on his face highlighted by flickering flame. There’s a pallor to his complexion brought on by the aggressive expulsion his mind pulled off. An act such as that leeches off of one’s vitality. He takes a moment to recompose himself, as do you. Any subsequent attempts to form a link are going to be wrung from a desiccated source. You don’t know how many attempts you have left in you, 

“A first offense, I could pardon,” Blade pants out, blood-red hues shining, “A recidivist like yourself, though… can’t go undisciplined.” 

Your eyes widen. How did he know your intentions so quickly? You hadn’t so much as moved yet! 

There’s a dull discomfort blooming from your nape. 

Your eyelids feel heavy and your breathing slows. Black spots float around in your vision. They start small, appearing as if they were polka dots, then grow to be the size of black holes. Your muscles won’t move. The unconscious realm beckons. Its gravitational pull is irresistible, a tide you can’t swim against. 

What is this? Your neck… did he strike a nerve…? 

“You’ll be fine,” a distant, sonorous voice promises. “Just sleep.” 

The sentence has been delivered. 

You’re made prisoner to a dreamless slumber. 

[an3mos-mp]

“Just friends”

Summary: After meeting with Scaramouche and Aether for a group project, Scaramouche decides to be more bold about his advances

Starring: Scaramouche, Aether (This is a Scara x reader, Aether is just a side character)

Genre: Romance, soft smut (does that exist? If not it does now)

Warnings: Suggestive themes, cussing, dirty thoughts

Author’s note: This is literally the second thing i consider “smut” that i have EVER written to bare with me. I couldn’t think of a better title-

Word count: 1534 words

~~~

Your relationship with Scaramouche was… complicated. You always found yourself walking on eggshells around him. You feared the possibility of him finding out about the feelings you harboured because well- have you met the guy? As one of his closest friends, you had first row tickets to watching him break every heart thrown his way and trample on the feelings of every person who dared to open their hearts to him. While it was hilarious, it was also terrifying. So terrifying that it was second nature to hide your feelings while you were with him. Whether you were sitting together in class and he’d make an effort to speak with you alone. Or whenever he would drag you off to some place (often times he had no destination in mind). Or when his eyes would linger a little longer than you’d consider socially acceptable during your group meets with Aether.

Instances like those made it very easy to fall for him. Despite his cold disposition, it was no secret that he cared about you. Some of your friends argued he cared for you a bit too much but at times you couldn’t disagree with them. Times like right now when Scaramouche was too occupied with tracing random shapes into the palm of your hand to listen to Aether explain about his side of the group project you were working on. You kept your eyes on your laptop screen to distract yourself from your racing heart.

“Maybe we should focus on white collar crime?” Aether questioned as he scanned his notes. When he got no response, he rolled his eyes at the both of you before continuing with his little rant on why you should narrow down your research topic. From beside you, Scaramouche had moved closer to you, his head now resting on your shoulder as he traced the letters of his name into your palm.

“Ugh guys, are you even listening?”

Scaramouche spoke without hesitation. “No.”

And that was the beginning of another one of their petty arguments.

You sighed before you zoned out. Scaramouche and Aether quarrelling in the background. You often zoned out and you weren’t very proud of the direction your thoughts about Scaramouche had been going. The hopeless romantic in you always added the most effort to your scenarios to make them romantic. For example, love confessions under a starlit sky. Or swapping anonymous love letters as you both entertained the possibility of a romantic endeavour together. This time around, however, it was Scaramouche interrupting one of your study sessions with a gentle caress to your cheek. His gaze was soft as he leaned in toward you, his other hand lingered near your thigh. Then he would whisper something openly perverted in your ear.

The sound of snapping fingers shattered your fantasy and brought you back to reality.

“I asked you a question.” Scaramouche said, his unwavering gaze upon you.

Your embarrassment was hard to hide because you had a fantasy like that in his presence. “Sorry, I had something on my mind.”

He raised an eyebrow. “This is the fourth time today. What’s so interesting that it’s occupied your mind so religiously?” He teased in a way that made you almost believe he knew exactly what was on your mind. You averted your eyes.

A big mistake. Scaramouch smiled. You covered your mistake by changing the direction of the conversation to Aether. “Let’s wrap this up so we can all go home.”

Scaramouche hummed in amusement. “Now you’re changing the subject. Are you trying to hide something?” He challenged as he tilted his head to the side. As an expert at hiding your feelings from your friend, you absolutely sucked right now because he was putting you on the spot.

“So you are hiding something.” His smile turned cunning. “What is it?”

Aether interrupted your conversation. “Can we deal with our project first?” He said, unamused. You both heeded his words before actually working on the project. Two hours down the line, Aether left Scaramouche’s apartment leaving you two alone.

Scaramouche was insatiable but of course you didn’t know this. If you were to keep your secrets, he would keep his too. It was hard for him to ignore you daydreaming more often as of late. Was he boring? That thought itself made him reel with jealousy. What could be more important than him that you use your time together to think about it? Was it a person? He was surprised you couldn’t feel his eyes on you every time you studied in his room together. It annoyed him how his presence didn’t seem to affect you much and while he liked the idea of you being very comfortable around him, it drove him mad that he was the only one who would ever feel the tension between the both of you.

You broke him out of his inner turmoil with a basic question about the project. How could you not know the answer to this, he wondered. But you did know the answer to it. You didn’t know how much longer you could handle being under his intimidating gaze. A moment passed before he sighed and began his explanation while showing you his notes.

“The macro theories explain everyone’s behaviour while micro theories focus on people as individuals rather than as ‘one’.” He drawled on, his voice monotone because of how mundane this was to him. You weren’t even paying attention to his words. Instead you watched his fingers as he trailed them over quotations from his notebook. You admired the sensual way his fingers traced the edge of the page as he explained. Soon you found your gaze on his lips. They glimmered under the light in his room because he would occasionally lick his bottom lip during his explanation.

Scaramouche rolled his eyes when he noticed you were no longer paying attention to him. Typical. He turned to you with irritation but it faded when he saw your gaze locked on his lips. His breath hitched.

You looked up when you realised he stopped talking and muttered ‘Oh’ when you realised how close he was to you. For a moment you both stared, daring the other to act on the tension you had created between each other. You didn’t have the guts to do that and Scaramouche knew that.

Scaramouche trailed his fingers along your hand and wrapped it around your wrist. When you didn’t pull away he closed the distance between you and placed his other hand behind your neck. His breath fanned your lips, hesitation lacing his actions. When you didn’t resist he pressed his lips against yours.

He pulled you closer to him, the contact between your lips becoming more rushed and urgent. He grasped the front of your shirt with his hand while the other fiddled with the waistband of your pants. You gasped into the kiss at his touch and brought him closer with your hands that were now wrapped around his neck. You bit his bottom lip then soothed it with your tongue and he allowed himself to melt against you.

You pushed Scaramouche onto his back and trailed kisses over his jawline then down to his neck. He gasped when your lips kissed a particular spot and this encouraged you to linger on that area a little longer. His hands were in your hair in seconds, pulling at the strands like his life depended on it. You shivered at the sensation and continued your assault on his neck. You used one of your hands to support you as you hovered above your best friend, the other hand snaking its way down his chest. You parted from Scaramouche’s neck and kissed him once more as your hand grazed one of his nipples causing him to break the kiss to whisper your name with desperation. Your stomach curled at the sound.

You toyed with his nipples while moving your knee between his thighs, Scaramouchs arching further into your touch. You savoured the little gasps and noises he made as he lost himself in the pleasure you gave him. He began to roll his hips against your thigh over time and to you, this was a sign to go further. So you did.

Your hand trailed down his chest and creeped over his abdomen before settling on the waistband of his pants. You halted and broke the kiss. Scaramouche immediately protested but he cut himself off with a shameless whine when your hand held him from over his pants.

“You have such a pretty voice.” You said before leaning in until your lips brushed against his ear. “You should sing for me like this more often.” You felt him shiver from beneath you which only spurred you forward, “Would you like another kiss?”

He nodded and breathed, “Just not on my lips this time around.” You found his shameless behaviour very endearing but before you could act on his request, your phone rang from the bedside table. It was Aether. You realised why when you noticed his keys beside your phone.

Shit.

[scoobydoodean]

sometimes people accuse tfw of being hypocritical of working with demons and while i personally think dean's line of "we dont make deals with the devil" is a bit too broad with their prior dealings with crowley:

1. they dont know When castiel started working with crowley

2. they were under duress during their deals with crowley in season 6 and were being coerced into the deals

3. castiel could've stopped working with crowley at anytime after any instance of crowley dealing blow after blow to the winchesters (threatening bobby's soul, threatening sam with hell, trying to kill sam and dean, etc)

Prior to season 6, the Winchesters had only willingly worked with Crowley to find the horsemen's rings. Working with him was all done in the open. They didn't hide what they were doing from one or two members of the group. Crowley did actually try to get Dean to exclude Sam from Brady's interrogation (because Crowley didn't trust Sam to behave around Brady) but Dean refused to exclude Sam. This is really what Dean is getting at when he says to Cas that "you don't make a deal with the devil":

DEAN: No, actually, it's not, and you know that. Why else would you keep this whole thing a secret, huh, unless you knew that it was wrong? When crap like this comes around, we deal with it... Like we always have. What we don't do is we don't go out and make another deal with the Devil! CASTIEL: It sounds so simple when you say it like that. Where were you when I needed to hear it? DEAN: I was there. Where were you? You should've come to us for help, Cas.

Their conflict is about mutual feelings of abandonment (though I think Cas's are largely self-inflicted tbqh) and Dean is saying "Why did you go to Crowley when you could have gone to your friends, who you defied all of heaven with once before?" Instead, Cas explicitly chose to exclude all of them and work with Crowley in secret. It was worse than just that though.

During season 6, you're exactly right—Sam and Dean didn't work with Crowley by choice. First, they (and Gwen) were unknowingly working for Crowley by helping Samuel capture alphas (and Dean was already highly suspicious of Samuel's activities). Then after they found out Crowley was secretly Samuel's boss, they refused to work for him, but in 6.07 and 6.08, Crowley claimed to have leverage over Sam's soul and threatened to throw him back in The Cage if they didn't do as he says. As a cherry on top, if they did what he said, Crowley promised to return Sam's soul (which Dean and soulless Sam both want back until 6.11). They are under the impression that Crowley is the one person with access to Sam's soul and is essentially holding it hostage.

Dean repeatedly expressed outright disgust at being forced under Crowley's thumb. He outright refuses to work for Crowley at the beginning of 6.08 until Crowley physically harms Sam, then he stops putting up a fight, but he never stops hating what they're doing. In 6.10, soulless Sam and Dean even have this exchange:

DEAN: No man, screw it, I’m done. SAM: Calm down. DEAN: We’ve been going on these freaking Crowley runs and it’s not getting us anywhere. SAM: Dean – DEAN: I mean, the only thing that’s really changed, is now I need a daily rape shower. SAM: OK, you’re right. Let’s go with Plan B. Oh yeah, we don’t have one. So till we do, sorry dude, stock up on soap-on-a-rope. Dean, if you wanna get my soul back, that’s what we gotta do, OK?

Dean's utter disgust and the dirtiness he feels from being forced to work for Crowley can't be missed from 6.08 to 6.10. This is actually where the bulk of feelings of betrayal toward Cas come from. The whole affair made Dean feel infuriated and used, and Cas knew after a certain point that Crowley was coercing Sam and Dean into working for him (using lies that Cas could have cleared up without even revealing his plans and by simply admitting that he was the one who raised Sam—not Crowley). Cas did not admit it was him because it was not in his own self-interest (and probably because he felt guilty about botching Sam's rescue). By extension, Sam and Dean weren't just working for Crowley but also for Cas, and it hurts Dean more that Cas didn't have the decency to just ask for their help with heaven (Dean offered his help in 6.10 and as early as 6.03, asked why Cas didn't tell them he was struggling). Instead, Cas decided he would work with Crowley, decided Sam and Dean wouldn't like it, then (after originally balking at the idea) let his business partner exploit them as free labor using threats based on lies Cas could have cleared up easily.

Cas didn't just make a deal with the devil—he signed Sam and Dean over to Crowley as forced labor, and instead of coming clean about it in 6.10, he tried to scare Dean into backing down, and then when it didn't work, orchestrated a dramatic confrontation that involved burning fake bones. That's a lot of lying. That's lying that took effort, and it was all done in an effort to exclude his friends, because Cas wanted to cover up something he was ashamed of, because he knew what he was doing was wrong—something Dean points out in 6.20. Cas wouldn't have lied if he actually believed he was doing the right thing.

That said, Dean's pseudo love affair with Crowley IS hilarious actually.

[charlesangels03]

Disembodied Identity

Does the disembodied identity really separate you from yourself? Does it show the monster you really are?

We don't show others our vulnerabilities or our "real selves" when we are in the "outside" world. We try to mask our emotions by stilling our faces when walking on the street. People don’t know if the person you are right now is just a façade to hide your true colors.

My experience in this online chat platform called ChitChat made me realize that the anonymity that these platforms provide can be used for bad. Unlike in the real world, people can see you, hear you, smell you, or touch you, that's why you are careful with your actions.

It was this instance that while I was assuming an identity of an Indonesian girl, I encountered a Spanish guy . We started with the usual exchange of pleasantries like "hi" and "hello". He asked me "Why are you here?" and I plainly replied "Just trying to socialize here." He cannot believe that I am just in the platform trying to socialize. (In hindsight, saying that you are there just to socialize sounded so vanilla and boring that it makes you question "why am i really here?")

Now it got to the part, where I asked him what his hobbies are. To which he replied, “gym, movies, hiking.” Before I get to reply, he added “guess you were having dirty thoughts?” And to my shock, it took me a minute just to process this sudden escalation. “What dirty thoughts,” I replied. "U tell me haha," he said. It got weird that I said to him, "Nooooooo... I don't have any haha." ?Are u sure? haha" "Yes haha." "Sad" He said sad because he wished that I had.

Afterwards, he replied “Ahh okay. I guess, I should get going” Then he exited the chat, or he skipped me.

Afterwards, I started to experiment with other identities. Most of the people using ChitChat are men in their 20’s. Whenever I assume a female identity, they get excited and would ask for my SnapChat or Instagram. But when I assume a male identity, they would skip me. Most of the times It led me to this realization that the Internet is a medium for these guys to find someone to talk to. Usually chatting with someone would imply to hook up with them or to be in a relationship or whatever. And I find it uncomfortable or even alarming that these people would just assume me trying to find someone to like hook up with.

Although, this is not always the case. Not all people you meet in the Internet are bad or would expect something from you. But this disembodied identity experience made me realize that our selves is separated in the physical world and the digital world, and both selves exhibit different symbolic markers. We mask parts of ourselves in the real world, while we unmask those parts in the digital realm. At the same time, we mask parts of our identity in the digital world that only the physical world can see.

Elijah's 7th Week Blog Entry: Personal Writing

[enidette]

GOT IT CYCLOPS? carl grimes x fem!reader

warnings — both are 18+, stupid grimes part 2, e2l?, adopted!rhee!reader, teasing, making out, fingering, jerking off, lovesick once they stop having bitch fights

it went unspoken that you and carl were going to ignore that day in the janitor’s closet. you both were snapped into reality and rescued before things could escalate much further, leaving tension and awkwardness at a high.

and carl couldn’t tell if he liked that or not, on one hand, he’s glad he let everything out and the two of you shared a moment. on the other, you’re really hot when you’re mad.

currently you were ready to chew his ass out, ready to pound his face in for being so stupid. he walked through the streets of alexandria with you hot on his trail, a smirk playing on his lips despite the circumstances.

this was another instance where the adults were trying to put you both together again. they noticed how at peace you seemed after coming home that one day, despite being bombarded by a herd. but after that it was right back to how it was before. and they were determined.

it was mostly rick and daryl, your mom too if she weren’t at the hilltop. you can still remember carl begging you to stay and then acting like he hated your guts again when you caved.

this time the run was nearly successful, though on the way back to your car to load up and leave, carl decided to pick a fight.

carl lifts the trunk with a grunt, tossing in diapers and other things judith needed. you were carrying miscellaneous things negan would want, making your way to the car. you sling your haul into the trunk, turning with a grimace when you hear carl’s snarky laughter.

he points behind you at a trio of walkers headed your way. from the looks of it, it’s only them. but you settle for just your knife anyway. but carl’s hand is on your shoulder before you can make your way to them, they’re about thirty feet away.

“rock paper scissors for ‘em.” he smirks and holds out his fist. you narrow your eyes at him and swat at his hand.

“are you crazy? let’s just deal with them.” you remember him lecturing those kids for playing with the walkers before, now look at him.

carl lifts his hands in the air, “i forgot how afraid you are of losing.” you go to turn to him, ready to spew out the meanest things that came to your head. but he darts ahead of you, killing two of the walkers. the last one is able to get it’s hands on him while he was busying himself with it’s friends. you watch amused as he tackles it to the ground, showing a little struggle as he does so.

you make slow steps to him, watching for a while until the walker’s mouth gets dangerously close to carl’s neck. carl who was still telling you to hold off on killing it. but you ignore him, running over and piercing through it’s eye with your blade in one swift motion.

“i said i fucking had it,” carl huffs as he stands, brushing off his clothes. he looks to you, your sour expression stunning him. “what’s that look for?”

you let out a short laugh and poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue. “you had it? come on, if i wasted thirty more seconds listening to you, i’d have a dead grimes on my hands.”

carl smirks and walks closer to you, placing a hand on your waist, “didn’t know you cared that much, rhee.” you push him away with a dirty look,

“this little cool guy act doesn’t amuse me.” carl sighs and slides his knife back in his belt. “you know what will happen to me if i come back with you bit? i’ll never be trusted again.”

“admit you’d be at least a little sad.” carl’s voice isn’t teasing anymore, it sounds like he genuinely wants you to say it. like he believed you would be so heartless. you just sigh and nod, mumbling a ‘whatever’ and walk to the car. that’s enough for him.

you were still pissed at him for that little stunt, and made it very known. you followed him around all day, making sure to let any strange lookers know that his reckless behavior led him to being babysat all the time.

instead of bickering back he just took it, and even laughed. “what are you laughing at grimes?”

he shrugs, lifting his hat to run a hand through his hair. “i just like riling you up like this.” he smiles at your annoyed expression. “it’s fun!” you roll your eyes and walk past him, parting from him for the first time that day. he looks at where you were just standing, then behind him, running a bit to catch up to you. the approaching footsteps behind you cause you to sigh and cross your arms.

“what happened to babysitting me?”

his voice is still laced with humor, it’s starting to make you mad. “carl.” you whip around, your stern voice startles him, leading him to freeze. you get close to him, so close he can feel your breath on his lips. again, and it drives him crazy.

your composure falls and you adjust yourself on your feet. “carl, i’m not riled up, i’m not just babysitting you. what happened today scared me. you got too cocky with things and almost got yourself killed.”

carl bites his lip nervously, looking into your eyes. he dips his head down, not worrying about the gazes trained on you. “let me make it up to you.”

his lips brush yours and you place your hands on his chest, blocking him from going further. he pouts slightly, tilting his head. “that won’t work this time.”

that night you laid in your dark room, not bothering to turn on the lantern. you were lost in your thoughts, what if you had just let carl be? what if he did get bit? why is he playing it off like it didn’t happen? why is he playing that night off like it didn’t happen?

the last thing has made you snarkier with him. you were pissed he was acting like he hadn’t confessed to you, like he hadn’t kissed you and almost took it to the next base if it weren’t for your little rescue team.

a noise rips you out of your thoughts. it sounded like something small hitting glass. you lift the headphones of your walkman off your head and creep over to your window. on the way you slide your gun off your nightstand, would you realistically need it? nine out of ten times no one could get in the walls, but you’ve learned to never play it too safe.

another noise comes before you can reach the window and you sigh when you see the pebble hit the glass and fall. carl.

you huff and toss your gun onto your bed, rushing to the window and throwing it open. your hands slam on the window seal, a loud smack sound echoing through the night.

“that was a little dramatic.”

“what do you want, grimes?” carl answers you by climbing the tree next to your window. you roll your eyes but stand to the side to allow him entry anyway.

he breathes heavily when he makes it to the top, looking into your room and then at you through the glass. “i can come in?”

you give him a stupid look and lean on your hip, “no, i’ll push you and watch you fall and snap your neck.” you reach out and grab him by the collar to tug him in. “you can be so stupid, grimes.”

“stupid for you.” he attempts to wink but mentally face palms when he realizes that’s definitely not possible at this point. he makes a funny face at himself and you can’t help but smile, his poor attempt at being mr. smooth reminded you of that night.

then your mind drifts to how he’s ignoring it. and you’re back to mad again.

“what do you want?”

carl frowns at your tone, so you’re still mad, got it. “i want to make it up to you. besides the fact, you know, i’m still here and breathing.”

“that’s not the point carl.” you grunt as you sit on your bed, putting your revolver in your nightstand. carl sits next to you, looking at you expectantly for you to continue. a sigh leaves your lips and your head falls to look at your hands instead of him.

“you could have died.” carl opens his mouth to protest, but you’re quicker, placing a hand over his mouth. his shoulders fall dejectedly but he awaits your explanation nonetheless. “you’re being idiotic and careless and just an asshat like you were before.”

your hand slowly falls from his face and he looks at you with a glint of regret in his eye. “i just thought things would change after what you explained and confessed. i didn’t think you’d just act like nothing happened.”

he doesn’t know what to say, so his hand reaches out to grab yours when you smack it. he looks up to see your sad expression wiped away with an angered one. “and if you’d died without acting on whatever the hell that was, believe me grimes, i wouldn’t let you rest easy.” carl smiles at your returned sassy spark, the you that was so fun to toy with.

“okay then, rhee.” he grabs your hand, harsh enough to keep you from pulling away but not enough to hurt you. “catch me doing it again and you can take me out yourself.” you seem satisfied at that, causing carl to laugh at your antics.

“can i finally make it up to you now?” you quirk a brow at him, breath hitching at how close he was getting. “i’ve been wanting to kiss you, but i didn’t want to push anything.” so you do it for him, you close the gap between the two of you with a kiss slower than last time.

you pull away for a second and he chases your lips, leading you both to fall back on the mattress. “if you’re gonna make it up to me, you’re gonna do it right. we’re doing this how i want it. got it, cyclops?” he narrows his eye at you and tilts his head at the nickname, but doesn’t protest against your demands.

you slide your hand through his hair, gripping the tufts near his neck to pull his lips back to yours. he groans against your lips with every tug you make, his hips involuntarily grinding down onto yours.

you guide his right hand up to your waist and his left to your chest. he pulls away, a line of spit connecting your swollen lips. he looks down, finally realizing that all you have on is a sheer tank top and shorts. fitting for summer heat, but the lack of a bra surprises him more than it should.

he swallows thickly and feels his pants get uncomfortably tighter. the hand at your waist tugs your body closer to his while the other makes work on your nipples through your shirt. you can tell he’s inexperienced but so are you, the only thing giving it away is the confused look on his face and how needy he’s acting.

he shuts his eye tightly when you stop his movements and trail your hands down to his pants. you nod your head to the side and carl sits himself against your headboard, watching you intently. he’s breathing heavily again and his right hand comes up to cup your face.

if you were to look up you would see the adoration in his gaze, but your focus is trained on pleasing him instead. your minds are on polar opposite sides. you get his pants down and wrap your hand around him, causing him to suck in a breath through his teeth.

his hand goes to yours before you could even think about going further, “wait.” he pulls you closer to him, placing you on his lap. “i want to make it up to you.” you get the hint when he messily glides you over his cock. he shivers slightly at the contact but holds back as best as he can.

“what happened to this going my way?”

carl lets out a noise between a whine and a groan, “please.” and who are you to deny that?

“i’d like to see the protection you have then.” carl’s head falls back, knocking his hat off. he hadn’t planned things to go this far.

he throws an arm over his face, “where the hell was i supposed to get that?” you pat his cheek as a warning sign,

“don’t get snarky again. i don’t see mini rick and michonne’s running around. i’m sure you could’ve found something.” carl gives you a pointed glare, hinting at you to do the same. “i’m not going in my parent’s room, that’s a one way ticket to busted-town, grimes.”

carl huffs and pushes his sweaty hair away from his face. the comment you had made before about him being pretty, even now, has his face turning slightly pink. “i have an idea.” his hands find their way on your hips, and he looks to you for confirmation before he continues.

he guides you to get on your knees, your cunt hovering right over his dick. he takes two fingers and experimentally runs them through your folds, coating his fingers in your slick. he groans at how wet you are, trying to rack his brain for what to do next.

you giggle at him, watching the gears turn in his head. he smiles softly at you in return, sliding one of his fingers into you. he does his best at trying to keep his composure as he leads your hand to his cock, letting you take the reigns.

he curls his finger, eye searching your face for any hint of pain. your eyes meet his as you run your thumb over his slit, challenging him to keep eye contact. his mouth falls open and his movements are already getting messy. he leans in to kiss you, matching the ferocity from that night in the closet. teeth clashing and moans and heavy breaths mixing.

you feel his thumb on your clit, attempting to rub slow circles but he just can’t hold himself back. his movements echo yours, or what he wants you to give him. instead you’re being too slow for his liking, getting back at him for all his innocent teasing.

but it still gets him close, because he’s starving and it’s you. and he can tell by the way your thighs are shaking that you are too. he parts from your lips just enough to speak, “with me.” he’s so out of it, so breathless and entranced he can barely speak. “please.” you nod, speeding up your movements until his cock is twitching in your hand and making a mess of it and your sheets. though his lap isn’t much better, causing you to bury your head in his neck.

carl couldn’t help but laugh, you’ll never escape his antics if he gets this out of it.

[yutasbellybuttonpiercing]

Don’t underestimate me, Noona - P.JS

Pairing: Park Jisung x (fem!bodied) reader

Word count: 3312 words

AU/Genre: college!AU, dom!Jisung, smut, attempted humor

Warnings: usage of the word ‘Noona’, porn, roughness, choking, hair pulling, dirty talk, fingering, pussy slapping, degradation, name calling, overstimulation, begging, teasing, brat taming??? i think that’s it...

Summary: Bascially, the title says it all. You’re tutoring Jisung and one thing leads to another until he shows you what he can do right there on his desk.

A/N: Jisung is of legal age, but I know there are many people who still don’t want to read smut about him. If this sounds like you, don’t read this! <3 Apart from that, this is filthy. My apologies...

In general, you would consider yourself a patient person.

That's why you accepted to help Jisung with his maths homework in the first place, tutoring him for the past weeks because all of the other students in that course had given up on him. But you swore you wouldn't let him down, setting the goal for yourself of him getting at least okay results in every test. Back then, you had horribly underestimated Jisung's inability when it comes to maths.

"I'm really not in the mood today, noona." Jisung leaned back in his chair, sending a bored frown your way. Right this second, Jisung could think of 100 things he'd rather be doing. For instance, make out with you. He's had a crush on you for the past two years, probably. Not that he'd ever start anything, he's way too shy for that and even though you're friends, you're kind of intimidating.

"Jisung, you're never in the mood. Now focus. If x is..."

"No." he remarks. He doesn't know why, but today, it's really hard for him to concentrate on the numbers and letters on his work sheet, it's almost like the digits are flowing off the paper to float around his head to laugh at him for 1) being incompetent when it comes to maths and 2) for being too much of a coward to finally make a move on you. So instead of letting the x's and y's mock him, he leans forward and opens his laptop to occupy himself with something else.

It's always like this and you've been nothing but patient with him, but today, he seems to be planning on driving you up the walls. You get that maths is hard, everyone has a subject they're not particularly talented in, but Jisung seems to really want to push it, he doesn't even want to try.

"Park Jisung! If you don't-"

Your raised voice gets interrupted by a loud moan. Jisung's face flushes red within a second as he pushes the laptop close, panic visible in his widened eyes. He looks at you and you both know what just happened.

"Please don't-" he starts.

"Was that porn?!" you laugh out and - even though you thought this wasn't possible - Jisung's cheeks blush even darker as he sinks deeper into his chair. He feels extremely humiliated "Aww, did Baby Jisung watch porn last night?" You tease.

"I wasn't..." he lies, eyes focusing on a spot on the wooden floor. Of course he'd watched porn the night before. He always does before you come around because even though his heart is more in love with you than his dick is, he can't deny the fact that you're extremely pretty and tend to wear tight clothing whenever you're around him. He has nothing to support the assumption that it's about him, but let a man dream for once! So, to make this short, he jerks off so there's a slight chance not to pop a random boner if you were to lean forward and give him an exhilarating view of your cleavage.  

"Don't lie to me." you grin scooting closer to him to ruffle his hair. "Show me! I wanna see what you watched."

"Hell no!"

"Oh, come ooon~" you singsong, then try your best puppy eyes "Please?!"

"It's embarrassing."

"Why? It's normal to jerk off, Jisung, everyone has kinks. Now, come on..."

He sighs. "Alright, but you can't laugh. Or tell anyone!" His nervous eyes catch yours. Maybe, just maybe, this is his chance. Maybe he can win you over like this? Or at least have you see him as a sexual being, have you take him into account when looking for a partner...

"Pinky promise." You grin as your little finger intertwine with his and your thumbs press together. Jisung concentrates to ignore the rush of heat that washes over him as soon as his skin comes in touch with yours. Though it's always like this, he can't seem to get used to it.

You can't believe you're going to see the porn Jisung likes. Jisung, for the most part, you'd thought he wasn't even interested in sex. Then Donghyuck came into his life, constantly teasing him and making sexual jokes until Jisung seemed to feel comfortable enough with the topic to make some jokes on his own. Still, you see Jisung as more of a cute boy than anything else.

With shaky hands, Jisung opens his laptop again, immediately turning the volume down before skipping to the beginning of the video. He then places the laptop on the table in front of you, turning it so you can see. Nothing in the world could've prepared you for what you see.

The screen shows a man, bound to a chair. He's unable to move. In front of him, there's another person, touching his chest, his nipples and his neck, gently wrapping their hand around it. The man moans into the touch, eyes fluttering close as he gets touched like this.

The camera zooms out, showing the man's whole body. His dick is throbbing and hard, leaking precum onto his stomach. He's wearing a cock ring. The person in front of him starts touching him around his dick, gently drawing their finger over his skin until his abs flex. He wants to be touched more.

Next to you, you can hear Jisung gulp and shift. He seems highly uncomfortable on the outside, but his heart is racing for a different reason. He'd actually forgotten about the nature of the porno. Now that he sees it again, he can't help but to imagine you doing the exact same things to him.

Finally, the man on screen gets touched properly. Lubed-up hands wrapping around his length, cupping his balls from time to time as they start stroking him. The man can't contain his groans anymore. The touching goes on for a while until the person suddenly stops, and now you understand. The man's being edged.

The person starts touching him again, wrapping their hand around the tip, flicking their wrist to draw a higher pitched moan from the man. Their other hand slips deeper, finger circling his rim before slowly pushing in. The man almost chokes on his spit that's drooling down his chin.

It goes on like this, the man gets his orgasm denied about 10 times before he finally spurts his cum all over himself. Quickly, Jisung closes the tab.

There's an awkward silence in the room.

"So that's what you're into?"

Jisung only nods, eyes not meeting yours. You kind of feel sorry for embarrassing him. But only a little. To be honest, it's kind of hot seeing him flustered like this.

If only you'd know what's really going on inside his head (and pants).

"I actually liked it." You admit to him and his head shoots up, his gaze meeting yours.

"Really?!"

"Yeah." You smile, hand reaching out to ruffle his hair again. "Nothing to be ashamed of, Jisung."

"Thank you, noona." He smiles slightly.

"Can we go back to maths now?" You laugh, playfully pushing at his shoulder, but he keeps staring at you instead. You try to read his face, but nothing could've prepared you for what he says next.

"Noona." He starts, then quickly averts his gaze towards the ground, finding sudden interest in the clumps of dust that had gathered around the feet of the chair you're sitting on over time. God, why'd he have to start this now, fuck this confident boost a second ago because, right now, it's already left Jisung's body, slipped through the door and fled the country.

Jisung takes a deep breath. "How come you don't see me like that?"

The look on your face tells Jisung that you have no idea what he's talking about as you just blink back at him continuously.

"Do you not think I'm... sexy?"

You can't hold back the snort that erupts from you, regretting it instantly after meeting eyes with Jisung's frowning face. "No! I didn't mean it like that!" You try, hands reaching out to shake in front of Jisung's face to support your point. "It's just that- this comes- sudden?"

Jisung does not seem convinced so you try again.

"It's not that I don't think you're sexy, Sungie. I just- I don't know, you're more cute than sexy, and there's nothing wrong with that!" You try again, but it does not seem to calm Jisung down by any means.

"I am sexy!" Jisung gasps. "I'm not cute!"

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Jisung, honey, I really don't want to hurt you by saying this, but if it came to the hypothetical scenario of the two of us..." - you gesture between the two of you – "and especially after seeing this..." - you gesture vaguely towards the laptop- "I like it rough, Jisung, and I don't think you have it in you to-"

"I can be rough!" He looks at you with (unintentional?) puppy eyes and you grin at him as if to say 'sure, whatever you say'. Reaching out to ruffle his hear before dismissing the conversation to go back to maths, you're interrupted by Jisung grabbing onto your wrist to prevent you from even coming close to his hair.

"I'm not a baby, noona. I can be rough, I can be everything you want."

"Jisung-"

"If you allow me, I can show you. I will show you" By the time the words had left his lips, he's already impossibly close, having pulled you closer by your wrist so that he's barely an inch away and you can feel his breath against the skin of your chin. You'd lie if you said this didn't stir at least something up inside of your stomach.

Jisung honestly has no idea what's gotten into him. He just heard you underestimate him, then one thing led to another and now he's here, staring deeply into your eyes, slightly widened by surprise, only one answer from you away from pressing his lips against yours.

"Jisung-"

"Please."

You release a shaky breath. The longer he holds you in this position, the weaker you get under his gaze. This side of Jisung you'd never seen before, nor anticipated to see ever in your life, but here you were, heat pooling in your lower regions as you shift slightly to press your thighs together. You ask yourself: do you want this?

"Okay." You breathe out and in an instant, Jisung connects his lips with yours, hands letting go of your wrist to wrap around your waist. He pulls you up from your chair and turns you so your back is pressed against his desk. You mewl into the kiss at his roughness, closing your eyes to emerge in the feeling.

It's then when you feel his tongue swiping over your bottom lip, asking for entry which you grant him instantly, parting your lips further for him to push the muscle against your own. His tongue plays with yours skillfully and you wonder where he's learned that, but really, you don't care. At this point, you really just want to be wrong about your assumption about Jisung's lack of a dominant side in bed, you just want him to rock your world.

Jisung can't believe what's happening. Right here, right now, he's kissing you! Kissing! You! Something he'd only ever dreamed of doing. Your mouth is so soft against his and something about you tastes so sweet, he feels like he'll get addicted if he doesn't stop right now, so he doesn't.

He allows his hands to roam over your sides, pulling you closer to him in the process before his hands settle on your ass, roughly massaging into the softness of your cheeks just to force a moan out of you.

The next second, Jisung swiftly puts his hands against the back of your thighs to hoist you up to sit on top of the desk now, legs spread widely for him to step in between them, grinding his growing errection into your clothed core.

The sounds you let out at this are pornographic, probably even better than all the porn he's watched till this day combined. Jisung feels lost in the moment before he remembers what had gotten him into this situation initially: you thought he couldn't be rough.

To be honest, Jisung doesn't have 100% of a clue what he's doing, but so far, you seem to like it so he tries to test the waters by wrapping one of his big hands around your throat. In an instant, your body tenses and you sigh contently into his mouth, pushing your hips forwards to create friction between your bodies. It's probably the sexiest thing Jisung's ever experienced.

Jisung's hand around your throat feels like it belongs there, his fingers are so long and strong that he instantly presses down on your pulse point, restricting the blood flow into your brain just enough for you to feel it, but not to get overwhelmed so early on. At this point, you can already feel the wetness pooling in your panties as you wiggle around pathetically, trying to gain some friction or to get him to touch you already.

As if reading your thoughts, Jisung moves the hand that's not wrapped around your throat at the moment in between your bodies, pulling his hips back just enough for his fingers to tease your exposed thighs under your skirt.

"Jisung..." You whine against his mouth, not wanting him to tease you any further and – even though he had planned to keep you waiting for a few more minutes – Jisung grants your wish by running his finger over the wet patch of your panties, grinning against your lips.

"So wet already." He muses, pulling back to look into your eyes. The hand around your throat releases its strong grasp so you can focus on his ministrations against your core, hand reaching behind you to grab a handful of your hair instead, pulling your head back to expose your neck to him.

The whine you let out sounds heavenly to Jisung's ears as he decides that you've been teased enough and pushes your panties to the side with one swift motion, exposing the glistering wetness of your cunt to the cool air of the room.

Jisung tests the waters by running a finger through your folds towards your entrance, circling it before moving back up to rub soft circles into your clit.

"F-fuck." You whimper as Jisung bites into the side of your neck before licking over the mark he's created, pushing down on your clit a little harder to have you jump in his hold.

"Does that feel good, noona?" Jisung whispers against your skin, fanning it with his warm breath.

"Y-yes." You bring out, eyes fluttering shut before flying open abruptly as you feel Jisung slap against your clit, a broken moan leaving your throat.

"I can't believe you underestimated me" Jisung speaks, accentuating his words with another spank to your clit before he quickly lets his fingers glide down to plunge two of them into your hole.

Your back arches as he fills you so suddenly, pleasure-filled sounds of all kinds flowing freely from your lips at his ministrations. Jisung curls his fingers against your walls, massing them as he flicks his wrist, making you clench tightly around him, pushing against that special spot inside of you every so often to rile you up even more.

Finally, he releases the hold on your hair, the stinging pain fading into thrilling pleasure.

"Look at me, noona." Jisung says and you comply, eyelids heavy as your gaze meets his. God, he looks so hot, so dominant and superior, making you feel so small under his gaze. "I'm going to make you cum on my fingers and I want you to keep looking at me, understood?"

You nod quickly, maybe a bit too enthusiastically, but when he brings his other hand into the mix, rubbing rough circles into your clit with a precision like he's watched you do it to yourself thousands of times, you have trouble keeping your eyes open.

A harsh slap onto your clit makes you squeal, averting your gaze back onto him.

"I said look at me." Jisung warns, fingers going back to rubbing your clit while simultaneously pressing into your g-spot over and over again. "Can't even do that, huh? What, did I already fuck your brains out with only my fingers?"

It's almost embarrassing how loud you moan at his degrading words.

"Such a pretty girl, but such a submissive, little slut. Thought I couldn't put you in your place, huh? Fuck, and now, look at you, struggling to even look at me when all I did was touch your pretty, little cunt with my fingers. I don't think you could even handle my dick."

That's all it takes for you to arch your back into his touch, eyes closing as you moan out syllables of his name, your walls clenching around his fingers repeatedly as you cum hard. To be fair, Jisung has really nice hands and a really nice voice, so.

When you've finally calmed down from your orgasm, you open your eyes to look into Jisung's, who tilts his head to the side, a taunting look on his features. "I told you to fucking look at me."

"Sorry-" you bring out, but he slaps your clit again, hypersensitive from your orgasm, you whine and pull away, but he stops you by grabbing onto your hip.

"I'm gonna make you cum on my dick again and this time, you won't take your eyes off me, understood?"

You nod and he lets go of your hips to yank your panties down with force, spreading your legs again before he motions towards his bulge. You understand, shaky hands unbuttoning his pants and opening the fly before you struggle with pulling them down. Finally, you manage to pull his pants and underwear down, revealing his length.

He wastes no time and swats your hands away, aligning himself with your entrance.

"Please..." You whine, wiggling your hips as he only teases your hole with his tip, not even thinking about pushing into you already.

"Think you deserve it?"

You halt, blinking at him before whining again. "Yes, please, please." He just looks back at you, tilting his head once again. You can't believe he's making you beg right now.

"Come on, Jisung, fuck me already." You try to push forwards on his dick before you smirk. "Or am I right about you not being able to be rough with me?"

Jisung clenches his jaw. What's going on with you now? You were so pretty and obedient and submissive just now, cumming on his fingers like the good girl you are, but now you want to test his patience? Alright, he's going to show you rough.

The next second, his hand is back at your hair, grabbing onto them harshly to pull you off the desk onto your knees. You squeal at his roughness as your knees hit the carpeted floor by his feet.

"Why are you trying to test me?" Jisung spits, leaning down so he's close to your face and grabs your jaw with his huge hand, pressing against it until you open your mouth. "Huh, what have I done to you? I made you cum, you unthankful bitch. Put your tongue out."

With wide eyes, you follow his instruction, only for him to spit right into your mouth. You groan, eyes rolling back at his degrading action.

"I'm going to fuck your throat, and hopefully some respect into you and if you take me like the good little cockslut you are, I might fuck you." He announces and you nod (as much as you possibly can with his harsh grip on your face). Maybe you did underestimate him...

© 2022 YUTASBELLYBUTTONPIERCING all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works.

[obae-me]

Upside Down- CH 5

Author's Notes: This chapter was so fun! I love trying to take what we know from the game and turning it around to match what would happen in the human world. This chapter was a bit more world and character building, but shenanigans will be right back in the next chapter! 

WARNING: This chapter contains cussing, mentions of death, mentions of abuse, spiking a drink, as well as other possible general sensitive subjects. As always, read safely! 

Word Count: 7210

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Blood of the Covenant

Oil popped up from the scalding pan, making little sizzling and popping sounds. Steam rolled up from a boiling pot, wafting up to the ceiling where a little vent fan kept the moisture in the air from sticking to surfaces – or at least that’s what you were told when you asked. Human technology was so convoluted. Why not just make the cabinets out of a material that wouldn’t be ruined in the first place? You kept quiet, watching from your seat with your legs crossed underneath you. The sight was too nice right now to ruin. A quiet peace. Despite there being other things you could be doing, coming up with a plan for instance, you resigned to simply watching Mammon move side to side in the kitchen, a more neutral but focused expression on his face. The more you stared at the back of his head though, the more his eyebrows furrowed till eventually he turned around, pointing a cooking utensil at you. 

"What? What're you looking at?" He asked, a scowl on his face but a little heat coming to his cheeks. 

You were just observing him in general, a little surprised that he seemed to be cooking rather efficiently. But you couldn't let him know that, so you just pointed to the apron he was wearing. That got him flustered, although for him the expression was very similar to anger. He turned around and went back to what he was doing. "My clothing is expensive, alright? I can't let it get dirty! If you make fun of me, you're not eating anything!"

"I wasn't planning to," you mentioned flatly, tilting your head a bit. "I just came up with an excuse to get your brother to eat something so he doesn't collapse.” You flopped your head to the other side in thought. “Well, I mean if he ends up being so gravely weak that he can't go get that figure, that might not be a bad plan either." 

Mammon threw some stuff into the pot, set a timer, and then turned around again. "That sounds like a very bad plan!" He put a hand on one of his hips and changed the subject. “And whadda’ mean you’re not going to eat, what did I even make this for then?” 

“For you and Levi.” 

“But I made enough for-” 

The door to the kitchen opened causing you both to turn your heads. Heavy steps down the hall had suggested someone was approaching, but you assumed they’d simply pass by. A head covered in ginger colored locks looked inside before stepping through the door. The human blinked in a bit of shock, but other than the blinking, his expression didn’t change much. “Mammon, you’re the one making the house smell good?” The human looked at you but hardly acknowledged you, walking towards the cooking. 

Mammon huffed. “Yeah, I am! Why is that so shocking to everyone?” His gaze shifted back and forth as he contemplated what to say, almost like he was embarrassed to say it. “I’m making food for Levi.” 

“Can I have some?” Mammon’s brother stood there expectantly, not expecting no for an answer.

With a sigh, Mammon nodded. “Fine, fine, but it’s not done yet. Sit down for a minute.” He picked up the utensil again and pointed it at you again, swinging it as a gesture between you and the human. An introduction of sorts. “MC, Beel. Beel, MC.”

Beel came over and sat in another chair. The furniture made a little noise as it moved across the polished floor. It must have also been caught off guard by being used for once. The human was wearing a simple tank top and some black pants with a red stripe running down the outside of each pant leg. The moisture clinging to the neck of his clothes and the skin of his forehead suggested that he’d just come back from some sort of physical recreational activity. Gluttony was the name the lesser demons called this human back home. All the followers of him had a tendency to stuff themselves to the point of sickness. Occasionally it did damage to others, but more often than not, it mostly sabotaged themselves. You would hope the brother didn’t embody all that up here but…who knew? Humans, much like their creations, were confusing. You really had taken on more than you could chew…pun not intended…with these brothers. It didn’t require magic to tell they were falling apart. “So there really has been someone new living here,” Beel confirmed with a rather monotone voice. 

Again with that…You finally spoke up. ”Is it really so surprising to have someone else here for a while?” 

Both humans nodded in confidence at the same time, not needing even a single second to think it over. Beel was the one who answered. “Sometimes Asmo will bring a lot of friends over, but other than that, no one really comes around. Lucifer tries to keep people out for the most part.” 

“Of course he does,” you muttered, keeping it mostly under your breath. You should’ve known. “He definitely seems…” You stopped yourself, thinking of many crass or even vulgar metaphors to use for the eldest brother. Most of them referring to a stiff object being lodged in even stiffer places. Probably not the best first impression to make to this new human. “Quite authoritarian.” 

“I think he’s just paranoid,” Beel stated honestly. It got you to drop your sarcasm for a moment. 

There was a very long period of silence, the only noises coming from the meal Mammon was making, although even the food seemed to try to stay quiet. The faint ticking of the kitchen timer was your proof ensuring you that you weren’t frozen in time. As for the metaphorical basilisk in the room, there were a lot of context clues given to you already. Mammon kept bringing up having a loss, and there were frequent mentions of how everyone was grieving. You really needed to know. Normally you would’ve decided it was not your place, but the source of their sin, of their struggles, seemed to tie or at least stem from a certain event. “What happened?” 

The humans both looked at each other, silently debating to each other who would talk about it. Mammon gave in first. His shoulders slumped, and he spoke to you without looking at you. “It was a few years ago.” But before the story could continue further, Beel stood up, tucking the chair back against the table, striding towards the kitchen door. “Beel,” Mammon called, a waiver of emotion in his voice. Beel stopped for a moment, but didn’t answer back. You watched Mammon struggle with a decision on what to do, and got caught a little off guard when you observed his eyes soften towards his younger brother. “I’ll set your food aside for later, yeah?” 

A quiet “okay” was muttered before the red-haired human left as quickly as he came. Apparently whatever this was, it was even more important than gluttony’s own sin. Or perhaps he felt that such a stranger didn’t need to know. So much for first impressions. 

There was more silence for a time, and while you were usually one who preferred simple quietude, this was driving you mad. “Forget I even brought it up.” 

“Too late for that now,” Mammon sighed. “We’re all still…” He took a deep breath in and a deep breath out. Then with the violent ringing of the kitchen timer, the subject changed completely. As he pulled down dishes and utensils, he turned back around at you with his usual stance, as if you had both picked up where you left off before Beel had come around. “I don’t care if ya don’t need to eat or whatever. If you want to keep up this whole secret, you hafta act like a human. So, as your royally approved guide-” 

“I think you and I remember that whole meeting differently.” 

“-I insist that you have a little bit to eat. It doesn’t have to be much. Here.” He scooped a little bit of food into a tiny bowl, placed a fork inside, and handed it over to you before doing the same thing three more times. One of the bowls he wrapped and placed inside a large cold box. “Let’s take one of these to Levi and then…we can continue our conversation.” Refusing wouldn’t do you any good in this situation, so you stood, leaving your bowl on the table. “Don’t forget your food,” the human mentioned. 

“Are we not coming back down to eat? Do you not dine, as it is so aptly named, in your dining room?” 

“First off, this is just the kitchen,” he corrected, which made sense. The little table they kept in here would hardly seat more than four people let alone seven. “Secondly, we haven’t used the dining room for a long time. We’ll just make sure Levi eats and then we can eat in my room or somethin’.” He tucked one bowl against his chest with his arm and kept the other one in his hand so he could open the door for you. With a quiet sigh, you grabbed the food he made for you and went on your way. 

When you had both dropped dinner off, Levi actually looked surprised. It was short lived however, as Envy quickly went on to say how this was just one step above whatever ramen was. They both quipped at each other for a little bit, but not nearly as serious as before. Apparently Levi was feeling grateful in his own strange way. He had taken the food and shut the door while mentioning some sort of ‘raid’ he had to attend to. And so now you were here…in Mammon’s room. A giant screen to your right was playing some odd video while music spilled out of two large boxes right beside it. You almost bumped into a pool table while staring at it. 

“Careful,” the human warned while trying to casually kick a small pile of dirty clothes under his bed. Other than that though, his room wasn’t too bad. Not as bad as Levi’s had been anyway. While the other brother seemed to live in his room, Mammon’s appeared to exist only as a display. Plenty of lights showed off little trinkets here and there ensuring that they glittered at every angle. Glass displays on dressers housed watches and gems and coins. There was even another car placed on a platform…above his bed. You withheld the skepticism about the safety of it all. The door next to the car, as well as your internal mapping of the place, suggested that this was close to the garage if not directly attached to it. But what really confirmed that this room was hardly a bedroom was the fact that Mammon’s presence was hardly felt here. “What?” Mammon asked, looking at the way you were eyeing everything. “Don’t tell me you don’t like it, just look at all this!” He sat at the foot of his bed, gesturing a hand to show off his many treasures. 

You headed over to the set of stairs that led up to the car and selected the third seat up to serve as your seat. “When’s the last time you’ve been here?” 

You asked him the question while he was in the middle of a bite. He raised an eyebrow and waited till he was done to respond. “Whadda mean?” 

“Your scent in here is stale,” you admitted. “Almost completely faded.” The main and almost only thing you could smell in here right now was the scent of metal and plastic. 

Jaw slightly dropped and eyes wide, the expression he was giving you was rather laugh worthy. He took a minute to recover before clearing his throat. “Okay, first off, do not say weird stuff like that here at all! You sound totally alien! Or a complete freaky weirdo at best!” Rude, you thought. He rubbed his forehead before his eyes cast down. “But you can really tell I haven’t been here just from that huh?” 

You nodded, taking the smallest bite of the food Mammon cooked for you just to keep him from bugging you. It was human food alright. “Have you been staying somewhere else?” 

Shoulders shrugged. “Motels some nights, my cars others. I can’t stand to be here much anymore. Although anytime I try to leave, it usually causes trouble.” 

“Is that what Lucifer and you were arguing about before?” 

With that, Mammon scoffed, his jaw clenching. “First time I tried to move out, I did it impulsively, sure, I’ll admit.” His hands went up in a mock surrender. “No plan, no job. Ended up running out of money when no job would take me. Little did I know it was because my dear older brother was creepin’ on me. Somehow caught wind of anywhere I tried to apply and called in to give a bad impression of me, only to blame me for leaving in the first place when I came back home after being evicted.” He settled his bowl off to the side, no longer up for eating at the moment it seemed. “Second time, Cash offered me a place to stay. I knew it was a sketchy offer, but getting out seemed too good to pass up. When I figured out some of the stuff he was doing, I left. And well, you saw how that went.” Mammon formed a fist and pounded it against his bed. “And now we’re on house arrest. I swear, Lucifer is doing whatever he can to keep us all trapped here.” 

Strange…the brother who acts like his brothers are a burden is going out of his way to ensure his brothers stay home…why? “Is that part of the paranoia Beel mentioned?” You rotated your own bowl in your hands, absorbing the heat into your palms. 

“Maybe,” Mammon whispered. “Still no excuse for him to be such an asshole.” The muscles of his face were so tight with rage the ends of his eyebrows almost touched. Then it all lifted at once, the seething turned solemn. He looked up at his ceiling with a gaze so intent you imagined he was trying to look through it. “She was murdered.” A sudden statement spoken so softly, you relied on the movement of his lips to understand what he had said. 

Maybe it was the pact, that was the only reason you could think of for feeling…a tug of some sorts inside you. You stood up from the steps and went to join him on the end of his bed. With a swift movement, you picked up his bowl and put it back in his lap hoping the sensation would ground him back to reality. “Who was?” You asked. 

“Our sister.” His head then lowered, his eyes covered up by the hair blanketing his face. “It happened two years ago, but to us all it still feels like only a month or even only a week has passed…” He went on to explain the situation to you, starting at the beginning. 

Unfortunately, the beginning started quite like the ending. With death. 

 Two humans met, and like quite a lot of them do when they fall in love, they got married. Husband and wife had found a place on this earth, found a place to start a family. The dream that so many humans crave came true. She got pregnant and they were elated, for why wouldn’t they be? Then when the child came, there were complications. Dire ones. They had no idea. They had no time left to dream. The child lived, but the mother died before she got to hold her only son. A soul snuffed out in an instant. The father was convinced he would never love another woman like her again, and so, raised the son on his own. They were the last two of the Morningstar line. And for a time they were happy, they were fine. All the love they needed they gave to each other as father and son. Until some things felt wrong. Until the father went to the hospital and discovered that which cuts human’s short lifespans even shorter. Despair filled him, yes, but more so than his own life was the thought that his son would be alone. So for that he prepared. 

Then we find another beginning, a beginning also filled with death. It started with a small child who could barely count to ten and a mother in a desperate situation. One where the number of alcohol bottles scattered on the ground could tell you how many bruises you would find the next day. But the mother wanted better for her son. She wanted out. She wanted to run. And so one night she did. Tucked her baby in the backseat of her car and ran…but not without being caught. Not without another car pulling out of the driveway right behind her. 

“It’s funny,” Mammon told you. “My mom died in a car, and yet despite that, I love to drive. Maybe it helps me feel closer to her. It is the only thing I know about her really…” 

“You only ever remember being with the Morningstars?” 

“Yeah.” Mammon set his now empty bowl aside, having eaten it in between storytelling. You had finished your food as well, stacking your empty dish with his. “I’m fairly lucky in that regard. Wasn’t in an orphanage for long at all. Dad always used to say it was because it was destiny or somethin’ stupid like that.” 

“Guess that solves the mystery on why none of you look alike.” 

Mammon straightened his back. “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.” Then his posture slouched again as he gave a thoughtful shrug. “Or at least I think that’s what Satan always says anytime someone brings it up. Think it’s a fancy way of meaning a true bond doesn’t have to do with being blood related. But yeah. Dad and Lucifer share DNA but the rest of us were brought in. I came first. Levi came in after. Asmo next, and then the twins and…Lilith.” 

“Your sister,” you realized, glad to finally put a name to this lost sibling. “Wait, when did your brother Satan come in? I thought he was the fourth oldest.” 

“He is…he was adopted last though.” The pause alluded to a touchy subject. “Remember how I said I was fairly lucky to be adopted so quickly?” You nodded at that and he continued. “Satan was not so lucky…He was there for a while. Dad brought him in last…Died before it went through actually…it was Lucifer who ended up making sure he could come home. So, we were all always kinda messed up, but…it was never this bad.” 

“Humans are bound to indulge in sin eventually, it’s impossible for you all not to.” You had no way of knowing if that would sound helpful to him or not. From the looks of him though, it wasn’t. So you sighed and wondered why you were playing therapist when you could be investigating…but you were bound through a pact now…and you did ask. “But you’re right, it doesn’t have to be this bad. If it wasn’t this bad after your father died, I’m assuming your sister’s…” Death was much worse, you were going to say, but felt the implied word was enough. After all, humans did take murder much more seriously. 

“It happened so fast,” he recalled, pulling out a golden coin from his pocket to flip between his fingers. It seemed to calm him. “Lucifer had just gotten his big promotion that he’d been working on getting for ages. So naturally, he took us all out to eat at this big boujee restaurant with a ridiculous dress code and expensive wine.” That description elicited a single chuckle from him. “He was so pleased with himself I wanted to puke. And then…” He stopped fiddling with the coin as he clenched it in one hand. “I don’t even remember how it started. It was stupid. One minute, I’m trying to convince Lucifer to let me have another drink, and then the next, Lilith goes running out the door with the twins running after her.” Apparently his willingness to go into detail had come to an end. He stopped speaking. 

But you still had more questions. “And then?” 

“And then I never saw her again.” 

Not wanting to push him too far, you figured storytime was over for now. However, you had the feeling that there was more to the story than was said. At least now you had a few more pieces to the puzzle. Not that you would make a frequent habit of this, but… “Thank you for telling me,” you praised. “I’m certain it was…difficult to talk about.” 

He simply stared at you for a moment before removing his gaze to push air out of his cheeks in exasperation. “Geez, you sound like my therapist.” 

“I practically was one, so figured I would play the part.” Half a tease but half honesty. “Don’t suppose you’ll pay me for my time would you?” 

“Fat chance.” 

“...I don’t know what that means, but by your tone I’m assuming it means no.” That seemed to relatively lighten the mood. “How about a change in subject?” You got to your feet, hopping down the raised platforms his bed was on to lean against the pool table adjacent from him. He simply raised an eyebrow as a response allowing you to move on with your new topic. “Let’s discuss, oh I don’t know, the fact that your brother Levi has set up a rendezvous with a demon. We need a plan.” 

“A plan to do what, exactly?” 

“To stop him, obviously!” You focused on him with a bit of disbelief. “As much as I think a bit of fresh air would do your brother major good, getting up close and personal with one of my kind usually doesn’t improve one’s health.” 

You went from leaning on the pool table to lifting yourself up and sitting on it which only had Mammon wince a little. “How do you know it’ll end badly? I mean, you didn’t hurt me.” You gave him a pause to work it out. The gears in his head were turning, the flicker of a memory flashing across his eyes as he undoubtedly remembered all the other poor unfortunate souls that got abruptly sent back down home by you while you were saving him. So he nodded in agreement. “He won’t want to give it up. Once he sees something he likes, he kinda obsesses about it. Plus we’re on house arrest.” 

You heavily rolled your eyes. “I truthfully couldn’t care less about Lucifer’s so-called house arrest. What good is a bodyguard who can’t even leave the premises?” 

“The more you piss him off, the more you’ll be on his radar, trust me,” he warned, speaking from his own personal experience. “What if he gets suspicious and figures you out?” …Darn…the human was speaking some sense. “If we can find a way to stay home and stop Levi, my brother’s soul won’t be stolen and better yet Lucifer will probably find someone else to yell at.” 

“Glad your priorities are in order…but, fine. You make a decent point.” No promises that you would simply stay put though if it came down to it or even just in general. You could do with stepping out to do some surveillance. “You know your brother best. How do we stop him from leaving in the first place?” 

He sat in contemplation for a while, humming a little to himself as he mulled it over. “I guess…the first thing that comes to mind is to make him obsess over something else.” 

“That’ll be all for today.” Low muttered voices spoke amongst each other as chairs were pushed back, papers and devices were grabbed, and tired feet shuffled out the door. You watched them go feeling almost as exhausted as they did, and yet you had been lying here all day. Although you weren’t necessarily one to rely on luxury…would a couch have been too much of a pain to put in here? The floor wasn’t exactly your favorite to lie on. You went from a fully horizontal position to sitting up, rubbing the back of your head, watching the last person in the room sigh, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Why do I feel like they didn’t listen to a word I said?” 

You would have responded to that question with several answers. Maybe because it had been one of the most boring human experiences you’d had thus far. Maybe because you could tell that people were subsisting off of a handful of hours of sleep and coffee. Or maybe it had something to do with being one of the most insufferable humans you’d had the misfortune of meeting. Unfortunately, you couldn’t respond with any of these lovely examples. You stood up, silently stretching, trying to shake the terms like ‘pipelines’ and ‘liquidation’-- which strangely enough had nothing to do with actual liquid – out of your head. The door to the room then opened and the last remaining human stepped out. Quiet as a shadow, you followed him, keeping your hands behind your back as you slipped through the crack before it shut behind you. You followed the human through the hallways, passing a few exhausted drones with cups and files in their hands. 

Soon the human approached a desk where a young man typing away at a computer looked up quickly and got to his feet. “Mr. Morningstar! I have some important papers for you! Oh, and Mr. Collymoore called again about that proposal.” Blah, blah, blah, human work stuff. He handed a folder to Lucifer who took it with a nod and nothing more before moving on without even a thank you. Which wasn’t all that surprising, all things considering. The young man sat down and honestly looked relieved. Silence must’ve been on the better side of reactions. 

Lucifer approached the sleek black door, the tip of his index finger placed over a tiny groove next to the doorknob. A little light flashed before it beeped and the room was unlocked. Like you had already done so many times today, you slinked through right behind him. All this security was obviously not demon-proof. As soon as the door clicked shut again, Lucifer sighed, heading over to what you were assuming was his desk. After seemingly endless meetings, the both of you were finally able to have some quiet. 

The room was…rather nice if you had to admit. The floor was lined with white marble tiles, streaks of black and silver mixed in with the ivory shade. To your direct right was the desk, positioned so he had to take no more than five brisk steps to sit in his chair with his back to the wall. The far right wall was made with dark wooden tiles, a large display shelf against it which kept little statues, plaques, pictures, some bottles of alcohol, and other human things you couldn’t place. There were only two solid walls in the room, the one behind you and the one to your right, the other two – directly in front of you and to your left – were purely windows. Plenty of natural light flooded into the room, removing the need for any sort of lighting during the daytime. And while you didn’t necessarily like the noise of this human city, being able to look down and watch humans and cars scurry around far below you like little insects was pretty entertaining. But even better than all these…was that there was a couch right near the window. Perfect. While Lucifer was distracted, you settled yourself onto it, making sure you made no noise and didn’t disturb the pillows. While the human left a bitter taste in your mouth, at least he had good taste. You were worried that the couch would be as stiff as he was. You glanced up at him, watching him sort through the papers with a surprisingly calm look on his face. 

Oh how badly you wanted to mess with him right now…The temptation was almost too much to bear. 

Mammon had protested you leaving in the first place, but eventually gave in when he heard your reasoning. Although you didn’t give him all the information, it was more of a need-to-know basis. And by that, you mean you thought it would be more amusing if he didn’t know what you had planned. The plan required you to leave the house though, and so you had left this morning right behind Lucifer as to not arouse suspicion. Cloaked of course. Then while he sped off to work, you had the time to walk around town and get what you needed. Luckily your previous hopes had pulled through, finding an unassuming little store that was run by one of yours. While it was true you hadn’t gotten out much in the past millennia, it seemed your kind hadn’t changed too drastically, and so you knew what symbols to keep an eye out for. Those little clues went unnoticed by humans and led you right to your kind. And wouldn’t you know it? The demonic shopkeep had exactly what you needed. You still had it in your pocket right now, making sure it stayed intact till you made it back to the house. If you didn’t die of boredom first…

Sure, you probably could’ve headed back without needing to come to the office in the first place, getting Mammon to let you in. Surely if he didn’t leave the property he wouldn’t get into trouble. However…you wanted to get a sense for things here. Lucifer had the most following down in your world, and so he had the most corrupted soul…the most sought after. Yet…despite that, you had no sense of him being in danger. You sensed none of your kind in the building at all. Good news you would normally think…but it only succeeded in making you more suspicious. This place as well as the house…was protected. That was one of your guesses. Otherwise, demons would’ve hopped over or broken through to the house a long time ago to snatch up the free all-you-could-eat Morningstar soul buffet. 

So what…or who was protecting them?

A sudden classical melody broke through your thoughts. Lucifer placed down a paper and picked up his phone. With a quick tap, he placed it against his ear. “Yes?” There was speaking you could hardly hear. You could probably make some words out if you cared to pay attention to it, but if it was more workplace jargon you didn’t understand, you’d pass. Although Lucifer’s expression shifted to one you hadn’t seen him use yet. He seemed pleased. Show-stopping. “How are you?” Lucifer leaned back in his chair, his shoulders less tense. “I’m glad to hear that……Oh, you know, just the usual tedium. Although, I don’t think I’ve informed you yet, but we have a guest living at home right now.” Well, now your ears were burning. “Yes, of course I did a background check……I had thought of that. In fact, I did refuse at first……It was all rather sudden.” Just sounded like he was trying to slide past the fact that he let you stay in his house for a bribe. “No, I know Belphegor comes home soon, I didn’t forget.” Belphegor?...One of his brothers? “No need to sound so worried, Diavolo, trust me I’m handling it.” Diavolo…hm, you felt like it was a name you should know, and yet despite that intuition, the name wasn’t ringing any bells. “I think that sounds like a plan as long as you can ignore my family. You can come over and we can catch up……I have plenty of drinks already, you don’t need to bring any……Yes, we’ll plan a time for soon…” He hummed a bit in response as he listened to the person on the other side say goodbye before hanging up himself. 

Interesting. You’d have to ask Mammon about Belphegor and Diavolo later. Speaking of, maybe you were no longer needed here. Lucifer seemed to be perfectly safe here and right now Levi needed more of your worries. You got up off the couch, heading over with quiet steps to the display shelves. What to mess with?...Your eyes locked onto a picture that had been framed. It was all of them. Each brother close together, trying to all squeeze into view. In front of them all, crouching with a smile was a young woman. Lilith you could only conclude. Seems even Lucifer couldn’t part with some sentiments. You put your hand on the picture and knocked it over, making sure not to break it but causing a decent clattering noise. 

With a startled jolt, Lucifer looked up. It was all you could do from chuckling at his reaction. As he got to his feet to fix the picture, you headed over to the door where his back was now facing. Luckily the door on this side was able to be opened without any fancy human ritual. You only opened the door as much as you needed to sidle through, and then without looking back made your way back to the House. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“And why not?” 

“Because it’s…Weird!” 

“...” You gave Mammon a look but couldn’t help but smirk a little. This was about the reaction you expected. You dangled the tiny vial in front of his face. “You told me what would stop Levi, and this is it. All you have to do is slip this into a drink and make sure you’re the only person in the room when it hits.” 

His arms folded, and you had to bite your tongue from comparing him to a less intimidating Lucifer. “I’m not drugging my brother!” He exclaimed in a sort of whisper yell. 

“Then I’ll do it,” you assured him. “Didn’t you want to see some magic?” Tempting him was far too easy. He’s lucky you’re the demon he made a pact with. You looked right into his eyes, gaze unwavering, the bottle and its contents glittering under the light. “From what you figured out, Levi is supposed to leave tomorrow, so it's either this or plan B.” 

His resolve was cracking, you could tell. “What was your second plan?” 

“Physical restraints,” you answered. “Or blackmail. Or perhaps some kind of mild torture.” 

He sighed, pacing, his expression suggesting that he was trying to figure out if you were joking or not. You were not. “Can’t we just…follow him to his meeting and make sure he’s safe? The demon probably won’t do anything if you and I are there! You could talk to ‘em or somethin’ right? Or fight them off if it comes down to it!” 

“Mammon.” You said his name so seriously he stopped talking. He sat down on his couch in his room to listen to you. “First off, you were the one that wanted to not leave the house in the first place, I’m simply following what you wanted. Secondly, demons are much more dangerous than you still give us credit for. Your best case scenario, we follow after him and this demon is alone and weaker than I am. Which if I’m being honest isn’t likely. Demons are selfish. We don’t want to share. We’ll kill anyone who gets in our way. I suspect one of the only reasons you’ve all stayed alive for this long is because all your hunters keep killing each other off simply so they’re the last ones standing. Which means one of two things. One, the demon after Levi is so strong that no one is willing or able to keep them from taking your brother. Or, the more likely of the two, is that a few demons have ganged up and are, for once, willing to split the spoils.” You came up to stand in front of him. “Going out is dangerous. Staying here is safer. And besides…” You took his hand and placed the vial in his palms. “Worrying isn’t like you. You like the thrill of the unexpected, don’t you?” 

For reasons unknown, he didn’t seem to be able to meet your eyes. “I thought you were supposed to keep me from giving into impulses.” 

“I’m a demon, not an angel.” You shrugged, folding your arms across your chest. “I’m just here to observe your actions and make sure they don’t get you killed.” He still remained silent for a while and you sighed, snatching up the vial. “If you’re too scared to do it, fine.” 

He got to his feet rather quickly at that, looking irritated at being accused. “I’m not scared, just…it sounds too weird!” 

“What’s weird about it?” You held the potion behind your back, taking a few steps away from the human. “He consumes this and then after a few seconds becomes obsessed with whoever he sees first for a few hours. A pretty cut and dry potion. If you do it, you can literally get him to do whatever you want. Just tell him to completely forget the figure and the demon, and his mind will erase the memory. Then just do the little clicky-clacky internet thing and make sure the demon can’t contact him anymore. When the potion wears off he’ll resume his hermit ways and…do whatever else it is that he does.” 

Mammon’s eyes shifted back and forth. “He’ll do whatever I want for a few hours?” 

“Yes.” 

The worry lines that had been digging themselves into trenches between his brows suddenly cleared. He smirked like he normally did which made some sort of weird knot in you subside. “Give it to me.” Another day another human won over to chaos. You handed him back the vial. He took it quickly and marched out of his bedroom with surprising speed. If anything this would at least be interesting. You followed after him, making your way through the hallways before settling back in front of Levi’s room. Before he summoned his brother, he whispered at you. “Hey, how about you do that little invisible thing again? Levi’s gonna be skeptical if we both come in.” 

“...Fine,” you muttered. Using all this magic was getting to you though. A nice nap was deserved. You took a look around you, ensuring the coast was clear before your human disguise was dropped, your horns and tail revealing themselves before eventually all of you faded from view. 

“So cool…” Mammon then turned and knocked intensely, not letting up till the entrance to the room swung open. Levi’s annoyed face peered through the crack in the door. “Again, Mammon? What do you want now? You better not expect me to owe you for dinner or anything.” 

“Listen, man, I’m bored. Lucifer’s got me on this stupid house arrest and I feel like I’m losing my mind.” He leaned against the doorframe, slipping the vial in his back pocket. “So, hear me out. You and me, some drinks, and that racing game we always play. Whoever loses takes a shot.” 

A little intrigued, the door opened a little more, but you could see the human shuffle on his feet inside. “I don’t know, Mammon. I actually have to go outside tomorrow…and I don’t feel like being hungover for that. It’s hard enough as is.” 

Mammon simply chuckled. “Oh, so that means you know you’re going to lose, eh?” 

The sudden challenge to skill tore at any anxiety Levi had possessed. “I would never lose to someone like you!” He stormed away from the door, leaving it open for his brother to enter. Mammon looked behind his shoulder, giving you some time to head in. You easily stepped inside and touched his shoulder to let him know where you would. However, even though he was in on your secret, he still jumped. Levi looked up from his seat. “What?” 

“N-nothing.” Mammon shut the door and scurried around the room, grabbing two miniature glasses and a large bottle to put on Levi’s desk as the sound of a car engine roared through the room through some speaker, two overly shiny vehicles displayed on the computer screen. Look at you, remembering all the technical things. You simply leaned against the wall for now, watching carefully as Mammon chatted with his brother, pouring two shots of human alcohol into the teeny glasses waiting till his brother was turned away before dumping the little potion in his brother’s drink. You would’ve thought that maybe the prospect of having his brother at his command soon was what was making Mammon practically glow with happiness, but…maybe just playing a game like this with his brother was something he needed. 

Then they got to playing. There were shouts and screams as they competed, and then…Levi won the first round. Mammon proclaimed that he was simply giving his little brother the first one out of respect. It was quite possible Mammon didn’t plan this through. What if he got drunk before Levi could drink the potion? Your fears were supported when he lost the next two rounds…But then, after literally swerving and leaning his body along with the fake car, Mammon won. Levi took the shot with a scoff, although he was smiling too. For once, this house felt normal, like what you imagined the warmth of a typical family should feel like. Levi, probably already feeling the effects of the potion, stood up with a little wobble. Mammon, already a bit tipsy, only held out a hand as support for his brother. So it wasn’t much of a surprise that when Levi’s foot came into contact with the bottom of his chair, he tripped. Face mere centimeters from the ground, Levi’s eyes went wide when he simply…stopped. All because in a moment of panic, you dashed over to grab him. You quickly dropped him again, hoping Levi would feel it was just a fluke. Instead, he scurried back to his feet, freaking out. 

“What the hell was that?!” 

“Uhhhhhh,” was all Mammon could say in your support. Note to self: keep your pact-mate sober while you try to remain a secret. 

“S-s-someone grabbed me!” He looked around the room wildly, trying to spot you but obviously unable to since you were cloaked. A little light flashed across Levi’s eyes. The potion officially had worked its way through the human’s body. Now all he needed to do was turn around and look at Ma……you…why was he looking at you? Maybe not directly in your eyes, but in your direction. “Maybe ghosts do exist…or maybe guardian angels…” With two quick steps, Levi came up right to you, his arms wrapped around you. “I can’t see you, but I can sense you. I can feel you. Which means you’re real, right? You’ll protect me.” 

Mammon’s mouth was open, flabbergasted…which was simply just a mirrored version of you. He rubbed the back of his head, perhaps sobering up a bit from the shock. “Shit…”

@rayanicaraynbow​

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@josiedoesdoodles

[webangchan]

✜ going a little further ✜ jisung x fem!reader x chan 2.8k words kinks and warnings: dom!jisung, sub!reader, dom!chan, dirty talk, cuckoldry, oral sex, blowjobs, jacking off, panty play,  chan setting you up to fuck his friend so he can watch.

It’s not often that you come visit Chan in his studio without him asking you to. Sure, you dropped by sometimes to surprise him with a meal or to give him something he forgot at home in his rush to get out of the house, but those instances were few and far between. For the most part, you only come when you’re called. 

Today, for instance, Chan had texted you asking you to come by. He mentioned that he and Jisung were going to need a break soon, which didn’t surprise you. You knew they had been working through issues with a couple of tracks all afternoon, and it was already the late hours of the evening. It had to be stressful.

“What better way to relax than getting to see my lovely girlfriend?” Chan had mused over text. 

Despite dating for a while, your heart still fluttered whenever he called you his girlfriend. You were completely wrapped around Chan’s finger, and he knew it. Hell, everyone knew it. The boys, particularly Jisung and Changbin, loved to tease you about how whipped you were. Chan only smirked whenever they would tag-team you, not bothering to correct them. He had once mentioned it was because of how cute you were when you were flustered.

When you get to Chan’s studio, you don’t bother knocking. In his reply to the text you had sent notifying him of your arrival to the building, he had simply told you to just come in. Of course, you were only doing what he told you to do, so it surprises you when he and Jisung both look up at you like you’re interrupting them. 

There’s an awkward silence hanging in the air for a few moments. You decide to write it off to their stress and tentatively hold up your hand to wave. “Um, hi?” you say, but it sounds more like a question than a greeting.

Chan takes a deep breath and a warm smile soon forms on his lips. “Hey, Babygirl,” he says. “Glad you could make it.”

You walk over to where he’s sitting, and he wastes no time pulling you to sit down on his lap. With your back against his chest, he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek as you tell him hello.

Jisung, who’s sitting on the couch across from you, tilts his head up at you as a greeting. “Hey, Babygirl,” he says, clearly mocking Chan from seconds earlier. 

You return the gesture, playing along. “Hey,” you say, failing to bite back the giggles you try so hard to. 

Chan scoffs, but you can tell he’s trying hard not to laugh. “Flirting right in front of me, damn,” he says. 

You’re about to deny that you’re flirting, but Jisung speaks up before you can. “Only a little,” he says. “Nothing wrong with that.”

Your jaw drops a little as you laugh incredulously. “Ji! We’re not flirting,” you say. Still, the idea has you squirming a little. Jisung’s bold. He has to be in order to say that in front of Chan, even if he is just joking around. 

“We kind of are, though,” Jisung says, shrugging a shoulder lazily.

Chan clears his throat, and for a moment, you think he’s upset. He’s not the jealous type, never has been. Sure, he loves having your full attention, but he trusts you completely, and it shows in his actions and words. But you and Jisung have always gotten along, becoming close friends from the moment Chan introduced the two of you to one another, and now you’re worried you’ve crossed a line.

That’s why his words catch you off guard. “Don’t let me stop you, then,” Chan says. 

You reach down and smack his arm playfully, which is still wrapped around you. From looking at Jisung, you can tell he and Chan are having some sort of non-verbal conversation. Years of friendship will allow people to do that, you’ve learned. You’ve witnessed it with these two and Changbin multiple times. You’re tempted to break the silence when Chan continues talking, beginning to trace circles on the outside of one of your thighs, dangerously close to the hemline of your skirt.

“Actually, Babygirl, Jisung’s had a really rough day working on this track. Maybe you could help him get rid of some stress,” he says, then stops for a brief pause, as if he’s deliberately choosing his words. “Maybe you could make him feel good.”

Your eyes quickly widen at the realization of what he’s suggesting, and you turn your head over your shoulder to look at him. “W-what?” you stutter out, your voice barely louder than a whisper. 

Chan’s staring back at you with smoldering eyes. “You heard me,” he says, voice low. 

The two of you had discussed bringing someone else into the bedroom with you a few times before. Chan had admitted to finding the idea of watching you be fucked by someone else beyond sexy, and although you hadn’t expected to be so turned on by the suggestion, you knew the thought excited you. Still, the end result of the conversation was almost always the same: You both agreed you were extremely interested, but you had never been in the right situation to make it happen. 

It became clear that Chan had gotten tired of waiting and decided to set one up.

Chan leans closer to your ear, speaking softly. “Who better than Jisung?” he asks. “We both know you think he’s hot, and we both trust him. Besides, look at him. Look how badly he wants you.”

You turn your head again to look at the other man. He’s still seated on the couch, legs spread apart as he sits comfortably. Jisung’s always sat like he’s a king, like his energy dominates every room he’s in. And Chan’s right: You do think he’s hot. You always have.

“You do?” you ask. Chan’s fingers have disappeared underneath the fabric of your skirt now, and he gives the inside of your thigh a reassuring squeeze.

“Why don’t you come over here and find out, Baby?” he challenges. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat, and before you can stop it from happening, your thighs are clenching together. Chan, whose hand is still settled between them, chuckles lowly. 

“I was going to remind you that you can say your safe word at any point to stop this, but I don’t think you want to, after all,” he says, removing his hands from your thighs so that he can turn your head to make you look at him. He presses a firm but sweet kiss to your lips, which you happily return before he pulls away. “Now, be a good girl -.”

“And do what I tell you,” Jisung finishes. 

Although you appreciate Chan’s reminder that what happens next is entirely up to you, your mind’s already made up. Ignoring how shaky your legs suddenly feel, you stand up from your seat on Chan’s lap and make your way over to the couch. When you come to a stop in front of Jisung, he looks your form up and down before patting his thigh.

“Have a seat, Angel,” he says, but as you go to sit down, he stops you. “Face him.”

You turn around and sit so that you’re on full display for Chan. If you were worried about how much he was actually enjoying this, you definitely weren’t now. As he stares you down, the glassed-over look in his eyes tells you all you need to know, and if the look didn’t, the tent forming in his pants surely did. 

Jisung’s hands are gripping your hips, pulling you further down on him so that you can feel all of him. “You feel that? Feel what you do to me?” he asks. When you grind down more, he moves his hands up to pull your thighs apart, causing your skirt to ride up, leaving you exposed. “I asked you a question.” 

You purr out a “yes” before he gets his hand in your panties. He starts by trailing his fingers up and down your lips, spreading them apart as he goes. 

“You’re already so wet for me, huh?” he teases. “The thought of being fucked by another man in front of your boyfriend get you off that much?”

Across the room, you hear the sound of metal clinking, and you look up to find Chan unbuckling his belt. His eyes are still trained on you, even as he works to pull his pants down to his thighs. As soon as he’s done, he starts to palm himself through his briefs. “She’s such a good little slut,” Chan says, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“She is,” Jisung says, pressing a kiss to your jawline. His finger moves up like it’s about to tease your clit, but then he suddenly stops. “Chan tells me you’re great with your mouth. Why don’t you give me a demonstration?” 

You’re on your knees faster than you can blink, reaching up to undo his jeans. Both Jisung and Chan chuckle at how eager you are, but you’re too focused on pulling down his pants and underwear to notice. As soon as his dick is out, you’re practically drooling. It’s a bit shorter than Chan’s, but a little extra girth more than makes up for it. “Can I?” you ask, looking up at him from where you sit on the floor. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” he teases, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. It’s strangely intimate, but you don’t mind it. 

You take his shaft in your hand and give it a few slow strokes before licking a stripe along the bottom, moving from the base to the tip. As soon as you reach his head, you swirl your tongue around a few times before moving to take more of him into your mouth. You let your hands rest on his thighs, digging your fingernails in every so often as your head bobs up and down. Behind you, Chan’s low hisses make you sure he’s beginning to touch himself.

Jisung has one hand resting lazily on his stomach while the other reaches up to thread his fingers through your hair. His moans are low, and they only spur you on more. As you suck him off, you flatten your tongue against the bottom of his shaft and move one hand to play with his balls. He only allows you to continue for a few more minutes before gripping your hair and pulling you off of him. 

“Damn,” Jisung says before guiding you to stand up.

Chan uses the opportunity to speak up. “She’s got a filthy mouth,” he says.

When you look at him, you find you were right. He’s got his dick out, and he’s alternating between jacking himself off and letting his hips do the work, thrusting up into his fist. You’ve watched your boyfriend touch himself before, and it’s always a sight to behold. As much as you want to go to him, you turn your attention back to Jisung. 

“Let me return the favor and taste you, Baby,” Jisung says. 

You sit down on the couch where Jisung had been, scooting closer to the edge before spreading your legs for him. He’s already kneeling in front of you, and as soon as your legs are open, he’s tugging your panties down and removing them from around your ankles. He holds them on his finger for a second before throwing them over his shoulder at Chan, who catches them with ease. 

“Even wearing my favorite pair,” Chan says, examining the black lace. It doesn’t take long before he’s dragging them up and down his cock, using them to get himself off. 

Jisung’s teasing you again, licking up and down your slit but avoiding where you want him the most. He’s staring up at you through his lashes, and you know he’s enjoying the torment he’s inflicting. 

“Ji, please,” you whine, not even trying to hide how much you want him.

You can tell he’s debating on teasing you more, and you’re close to begging when his tongue finds your clit, giving gentle licks to it. A shuddering moan slips from your lips. He begins to flick faster and slips two fingers inside of you, gently curling them upwards in search of your sweet spot. If he thought you were good with your mouth, he was absolutely sinful with his. He knew exactly what he was doing, knew exactly how you wanted it. You found yourself briefly wondering if Chan had already told him what you liked, but you were brought back to reality by your building orgasm.

“I’m – shit,” you say, trying to form a sentence but the words refuse to cooperate. 

Jisung doesn’t respond; he simply continues eating you out like you’re the last thing he’ll ever taste, and he’s savoring every drop. Even as your high washes over you, he doesn’t stop pumping his fingers in and out of your heat. When he does finally pull away, he moves to sit next to you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. How good you’re doing, how good you tasted, how proud he is, how proud Chan is. 

As soon as your breathing goes back to normal, you open your eyes. Chan’s stopped touching himself, but his cock is still rock hard, pressed up against his stomach. “You want more, Babygirl?” he asks. The sweat on his brow doesn’t go unnoticed by you. When you nod, he continues. “Tell us what you want.”

You roll your head to look at Jisung. “Want you to fuck me, Ji,” you say, quickly followed by a “please.” 

“You sure you can handle more?” he asks, and the smirk on his lips is comforting, despite the depraved look he’s giving you. Before you can even answer, he reaches for his pants, which are now on the floor, and pulls a condom from the back pocket. You watch as he rips the foil packet open and rolls the condom onto his dick. 

As soon as he’s done, you climb onto his lap, once again facing Chan. Jisung’s gripping the base of his length with one hand, squeezing your hip with the other. When he starts to pull you down, you lower yourself onto him. The stretch he’s causing feels heavenly, especially because you’re still sensitive from your last orgasm. 

“Shit, Babe, you’re so tight,” he says. “Can’t believe Hyung hasn’t already wrecked this little pussy.” 

If Chan’s bothered by the comment, it doesn’t show. He’s watching the two of you intently, and he’s jacking off again, his grip noticeably tighter than before. 

“Ji, feels so good. Go harder, please,” you whine.

He’s more than happy to oblige. “How’s it feel, Hyung? Watching your girlfriend bouncing on another man’s cock?” Jisung asks. “Tell her.”

Chan answers through gritted teeth. “You look so fucking sexy, Babygirl,” he says. “You’re doing so good for me, for Jisung. Such a dirty little thing.”

You’re hoping that the studio is as soundproof as Chan says it is, because your moans only continue to get louder. When Jisung brings his free hand around to rub circles on your clit, your head falls back on his shoulder. He seems unsure at first, but he soon brings his lips to yours, and you melt into the kiss. 

Your second orgasm builds quickly, with you coming undone around Jisung’s cock. You can feel his thrusts getting more erratic, and soon after, he comes into the condom, not bothering to pull out of you as he does. 

A few more kisses are shared between the two of you as you both drop back into reality. When you look at Chan, he’s got cum on his bare stomach, showing he had also finished around the same time you and  Jisung had. 

You speak his name softly, and although he’s also coming down from his high, he pulls up his pants and makes his way over to the other end of the couch. You remove yourself from Jisung’s lap, wincing at the empty feeling, and move to curl up next to your boyfriend. 

“You did so well, Babygirl,” Chan says, pressing kisses to your temple. 

Jisung moves around, removing the condom and tying the end in a knot before tossing it into the trash can. He slips his pants back on, and although you’re not looking at them, you can hear Chan mouthing words to him. Jisung soon disappears out of the studio, and you turn to face your boyfriend. 

“Where’s Ji going?” you ask, worried something had happened, worried he was feeling regretful. 

Chan smiles. “He’s just going to get you some water. He’ll be back,” he says. “How was that? Did you like it?” 

You don’t respond immediately, but when you do, you nod. “I loved it. Did you?” you ask. He hums in agreement with you, and you can see the sincerity in his eyes. You speak up again. “But Chan? Next time, I don’t want you to just watch. I want you both.”

Chan’s eyes widen for a second, but a smirk quickly appears as he scoffs. “Good. Because there’s definitely going to be a next time.” 

[no-droids]

Whenever You Want

Part Fourteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.2K

Warnings: Listen there is some dirty smut in this one yall okay like I was blushing when I wrote it, it has a very stark beginning and theres a pagebreak afterwards if you would prefer to skip over it. Smut includes oral sex (female receiving) rough sex, sensory deprivation, butt stuff (ass to mouth, anal fingering/penetration) so PLEASE LOOK OUT FOR IT PLEASE. Also there is jealous/possessive mando in this, season 1 Karga makes another appearance, and some angst/fluff towards the end

A/N: Nothing much today yoditos just love you all

***

Din said he’d meet you here.

You’re currently sitting across from Greef Karga in a cantina on Nevarro, a closed shield next to you and a blaster tucked into the back of your waistband, hidden underneath your shirt.  You’re barely even looking at him, though—your eyes are attached to the door by an invisible string, forcing your gaze back to it no matter how much it bounces around the room.

You don’t know where Din is, you haven’t seen him in hours.  But you do know that when he left, he was moving slower than you’re used to.  You don’t think anyone else would notice, but you sure did.  Not that he was obvious about it—you only picked up on very subtle hints.  Leaning up against things just a bit more than he usually does.  Taking slightly longer exiting the ramp of the Crest than his normal strides would carry him.

He didn’t say what he was going to do—just that he needed to find someone before meeting with Karga, and you accepted it.  But truthfully, you didn’t want to.  You were worried about him—still are, actually.  But for all intents and purposes, he was speaking and acting like himself, showing no real signs of exhaustion other than the smallest instances you described before, so you didn’t really have a leg to stand on.  He’s been through way worse, and you know it.  You just… find yourself worrying about him so much more than you used to, and you need to learn how to gain some control over that part of you.

The kid was still passed out from healing him and you remember Din carefully setting four pucks down in the sleeping baby’s sphere and giving his ears a gentle rub between leather fingers.  He turned back to you and told you to meet him at the cantina in three hours, but if it ended up taking him too long for any reason, to try your best to see if Karga will let you exchange on his behalf.

Admittedly, he didn’t sound too confident about it—the instructions were delivered with a tone that implied a doubtful, just-in-case scenario he wasn’t foreseeing happening.  Or maybe he just doubted the likelihood of Karga agreeing to do business with you, you’re not entirely sure.  All you know is that when he left, you were almost certain he wouldn’t be late, but you also took the time to grab the smallest blaster from his armory before heading out just in case.

Yet—here you are, three and a half hours later, eyes flicking between the door and Karga as you attempt to keep up polite conversation.  After turning down his offer of alcohol for the fifth time and still not seeing any glimpse of beskar coming to your rescue, you figure this may be as good a time as any to start the exchange.

During an extended break in the small talk, you slowly reach over to the corner of your booth and press a button on the face of the kid’s shield.  It hisses open and you completely miss the way Karga’s hand raises while three of his guards automatically reach for their hips.  The little green monster is still snoozing comfortably while you pull out the four glowing pucks Din left you and set them on the table one by one.

They scrape along the top of it as you slowly push them over to him, before sitting back in the booth and clearing your throat, flicking your eyes between Karga and his guards.  To you, nobody appears to have moved, so you muster a polite smile at him.

Karga smiles back, but makes no move to gather or inspect the offerings in front of him.

“Um…” you say after a moment, suddenly feeling your heart start to beat a little faster.  “Mando… Mando gave me permission to exchange on his behalf.”

“I believe you,” he drawls out in response, but the pucks still sit untouched in front of him as he leans back in the booth and studies you.  “Mando has always had a… let’s say, a frustrating penchant for disregarding the pillars of our code.  My apologies, young lady, but I’m afraid that I cannot accept these from you.”

Your voice comes out quieter than you’d like it to sound.  “Why not?”

“It is… unlawful,” he answers after a moment.  “Our organization operates under strict rules.”

Does it?  You blink.  No, it doesn’t.  You’re nothing to the Guild and you’ve sat next to Din quite a few times while Karga talked, listening to him drunkenly boast about return rates and out members by name.  You’re not sure why he’s barring you like this, but you’re also not self-assured enough to put practically any spine into it whatsoever.  “I’m… afraid I don’t understand.”

“I cannot legally do guild business with individuals not recognized as members in an official capacity,” he sighs, sounding grave and almost apologetic about it, but you don’t know him well enough to know if he’s a good actor or not.  “There’s nothing I can do for you besides provide you with my company, not until Mando decides to show.”

Well now that doesn’t make any sense, and you’re starting to worry that for some reason or another, he isn’t going to show.  Though it was incredibly well concealed, you’re well aware that Din was still lingering in the final recovery stages when he left the Crest earlier and all you have to go on is his word that he’d be here.  Something could’ve happened.  Something could be happening right now, you need to push.

“People pick up bounties for extra credits all the time,” you mumble, still way too fucking quiet about it.  Maker, you’re not even sure if he could hear that over the sound of the cantina.  Speak up, speak up.

“Yes, but those quarry are listed on the New Republic’s most wanted database,” Karga acknowledges diplomatically, educating more than he is arguing, before uncorking the bottle of glowing blue alcohol in front of him and beginning to pour himself another shot.  “They’re fodder.  Up for grabs—names, last known locations, and biometrics published for the entire galaxy to read.”  He tilts his head down at the four metal pucks on the table without removing his gaze from the gradually filling glass.  “Those pucks are different, they’re commissions.  Tied specifically to Guild contracts.”  Karga clunks the bottle back down again and corks it, pinning you with a stare.  “For all I know, you could’ve murdered a member of our ranks and come to collect payment for his bounties.  Can’t have that.”

Your blood suddenly turns to ice at the implication, eyes wide and your heartbeat rocketing as you look from Karga to the three guards casually stationed behind him.  “You—You think I murdered Mando?”

“No,” he says, easily and in the very same breath, before throwing the shot back and wiping his mouth with a grimace.  “Not sure I’d care too much if you did.  It’s not my rule, but I am required to follow it or risk losing my position in the Guild.”

Shit.  Shit.  What do you do?

You’re blank, left quiet and feeling increasingly unsure of how to proceed.  Karga, however, seems completely unbothered and even appears to be enjoying himself and your company.  He gives you another smile, this one a lot friendlier and more genuine than the one earlier, before setting his elbows on the table and leaning forward.

“Look, I want to help you,” he admits, keeping his tone light, “but my hands are tied.  Just relax and share a drink with me until he gets here, it’s not a problem.”

Fuck, you don’t like this, and a quick look around brings another reminder of Din’s continued absence.  Your chest feels tight, the anxiety starting to compound and make you jumpy.  It’s been too long—it’s been at least forty minutes or so of waiting by now and something just feels wrong about this.  Not having him next to you feels wrong enough on its own, but when he specifically told you he’d be here?

You clench your jaw and try to work up your nerve.  Karga is a nice guy, right?  He knows you by name, he knows who you are to Mando.  And while you never really thought about the bounty hunter’s omnipresent protection as being anything other than metaphorical, you suddenly realize that… it might be literal, too.  How much sway do you actually have here, you wonder?  You’re not stupid, you’re not going to try anything stupid, but maybe just another question won’t hurt?

“Well, um… how do you become a member, then?”  You ask him, and you watch as he leans back in the booth, raising both eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me?”  He asks, though there’s a genuine amusement in his voice.  Stunned that you’d even say the words aloud.

“I have four bodies,” you tell him shortly.  You’re still quiet about it, but his thoroughly entertained astonishment is beginning to rub you the wrong way.  You don’t want to be part of the Guild, you don’t want to be here, you’re doing this out of growing necessity.  “One of which I dragged through a blizzard on Hoth by its ankles and put into carbonite myself, so please just tell me what I have to do to get you to take them.”

“I can’t,” he repeats, shaking his head like you’re just not getting it.  “New members are only accepted if they bring in an S-level criminal from the database or if they complete a commission that was granted to them by someone of my station—neither of which apply to you.  If you cannot present me with any sort of reasonable argument for which they could, then I’m afraid this is not a favor I can swing.”

“I was sitting right here,” you return, suddenly finding your voice.  If Karga wants an argument from you to get this to happen, then you’ll do it.  You just need to finish this exchange, go back to the Crest, and scan around for Din’s signal.  “When you first gave the pucks to Mando, I sat right here and you pushed them over to this side of the table—I was present for the commission and now I’m here to complete it.”

He shakes his head.  “But I didn’t give them to you, I gave them to Mando—”

“Yes, but you only wanted to give him three,” you immediately point out.  “The last one, the one I told you I put into carbonite—you said you threw it in because you liked me, it could’ve been for me.”

Karga suddenly stops and blinks at you for a few seconds, and you bite your lip, wondering if the logic will hold.  It’s flimsy as fuck and you know he could very easily rip it apart if he wanted to.  It could’ve been for you but it wasn’t, he gave it to Mando.  You also purposefully leave out the fact that you’re also the reason Mando only gave him three bodies in the first place; your only goal here is to complete this transaction as quickly as possible and leave.  You don’t like the fact that it’s taking Din so long, and you also don’t like the fact that Karga seems so keen on keeping you here with him, no matter how many reassurances he provides.  He said he wants to help you?  This can be his chance to prove it.

After a few extended moments of consideration, Karga finally shrugs like he really couldn’t care less before reaching across the table for the pucks and beginning to stack them in his palm.

“What is your last name?”  He asks, turning behind him to gesture for one of his men with a jerk of his head.  The bodyguard exits the cantina without another word and your eyes flick back to Karga’s.

“Why does it matter?”  You ask uncertainly, watching another guard approach with a holopad as he shrugs once more.

“It doesn’t, but we need something for our records,” Karga explains, grabbing the device as it’s tapped against his shoulder without removing his gaze from yours.  “I can just use Doe if you don’t feel like sharing—most of our members tend to prefer anonymity, including your companion.”

Your eyebrows furrow even as your heart continues to pound, wondering how they can afford to be so lax about some things but take others so seriously.  “You have him down as John Doe?”

“First name Man,” Karga grunts in response, finally breaking eye contact to begin navigating through pages on the holopad.

“Ah,” you say shortly, knowing you’d probably find the joke funny in other circumstances.  You’re not out of the trenches yet, you still feel the worry tugging hard at your chest.

“Very well,” Karga announces with a sigh, pocketing the pucks in his leather overcoat and then handing the holopad back to one of the men flanking him after a moment.  “Someone is collecting the carbonite plaques from your vessel as we speak.”

You give him a nod, taking a deep breath that you hope is slow and subtle enough to not give your anxiety away.  He helped you out, you’re halfway through this.  Now comes the exchange.  Now it’s his turn to give you the credits and four more pucks, that’s how this should go.

Only, Karga leans back in his seat and cocks his head at you.  “Unfortunately, I believe we have found ourselves in the midst of yet another predicament.”

Your heart continues to slam, praying you haven’t somehow majorly fucked things up by getting this far.  Din still isn’t here, why is he so fucking late?  He nearly froze to death and you handled a dead body just to make this meeting on time, where the fuck is he?

You raise an eyebrow at him, willing the building panic not to show on your face.  “Have we?”

“You’re lucky credits are attached to commissions instead of rank within the Guild,” he prefaces, pulling out a large handful of them to begin counting, and your eyes flick around the cantina while you know he isn’t looking, “or else you’d be getting about half of what I’d normally give him.”

Heart galloping when you still don’t see any sign of him, you just decide to keep extra quiet as you watch Karga divvy out a sizable stack of credits, hoping your prolonged silence will protect you somehow.

“The question now becomes…” he lifts an eyebrow at you while sliding them across the table to you, “how many pucks do I give you in return, hm?”

Fuck, you don’t like this, you’re trying to make it crystal fucking clear that your intentions do not extend beyond the perimeter of this table.  There’s no you to be found in this deal, you’re just an emergency proxy in Din’s absence and you only inserted yourself in the situation to accomplish that task.  “I told you I’m only here to exchange on Mando’s behalf, that’s it.”

“Be that as it may…”  Karga glances around the cantina like he’s thinking extra hard about it.  This is a made-up problem, you both know there’s no predicament here.  He knows you didn’t kill Mando, he knows there’s no real reason to be giving you such a hard time about this, and you clench your jaw as he still seems to take his time considering it.  “Tell you what, young lady,” he finally turns back to you.  “Do me the honor of sharing one sip of this fine spotchka with me and I’ll give you four pucks to pass along to Mando.”

Okay.  Okay, you can do that, if he really cares that much.  Karga gestures for the closest droid to come by with a glass for you, but you just grab the bottle in front of him and uncork it without thinking too much, balancing the glowing blue liquid with two hands and diligently taking a small sip of it before setting it down again.  Appearing satisfied with your demonstration of upholding your end of the bargain, Karga grins and reaches into another pocket.

“Four for Mando,” he pushes four pucks across the table, “same rate and return as last time, as promised.”  You nearly deflate in relief as you quickly gather them up and begin dropping them into the snoozing baby’s shield along with the credits, but then Karga reaches back and pulls out another puck, pushing it over to you.  “And one for you.”

You blink at him, frozen in place.

“Lowest level, lowest pay.  Not even a criminal by New Republic standards, just a missing person,” he goes on to say, but then quite suddenly… 

Quite suddenly you’re absolutely fucking horrified.

You don’t want it.  Everything inside you surges up to scream that you do not want that puck.  It’s a waste of time, even if it’s an extra job—it’s too much trouble, too much fuel for such a small reward.  You already know good and well that Din won’t want to bother, getting this extra puck would be considered a detriment to him.

“What if I don’t want it?”  You ask, sounding nervous and vaguely out of breath as you look down at it.

Karga scoffs.  “Of course you don’t.  Nobody wants these, why do you think I’m trying so hard to pawn one off on you?”

Shit.  This is not at all how you expected any of this would go.  You know he’s not really asking, even if his tone and continued courtesy implies it’s only a request.  There’s an expectation attached to this, and it appears you take too long pondering an offer that isn’t actually voluntary.  Karga stares at you and your clear apprehension for just a few seconds more, before finally giving you an ultimatum.  “You said you’re here on his behalf.  You either take all five pucks now or Mando only gets three next time, your choice.”

Oh.  Oh, no.  This is a lose-lose; three pucks means more fuel and less credits, five pucks means more fuel and less credits.  It’s not like you have any real bargaining power here—almost everything he’s done for you today has been a favor of some sort and you’re well aware that things can always get worse.

Still, you take a deep breath and try your best to throw around whatever weight you have left in one final agreement.

“Give me your word you’ll go back to giving him four from now on, no more hassling or hard time constraints and we’ll take it just this once,” you tell him, trying to conjure and put power behind your words even though you’re unsure if they’ll stick.

“Deal,” Karga readily agrees with a smile, reaching his hand across the table.  You have no choice but to meet him in the middle and clasp it, unable to feel anywhere close to good about your performance here.  It was clunky and insecure and even though you just barely succeeded in making the exchange overall, you’re massively disappointed in the specifics.

But then Karga’s eyes quickly flick over your shoulder.

“Ah, Mando!”  He suddenly calls out, and your hand nearly snatches away from his while your body goes rigid.

Oh, this isn’t good, this is not good.  Well, it’s good that he’s here but it also really fucking isn’t.  You don’t even turn your head; you sit completely straight and still while the cantina falls to a hush and heavy footsteps begin to approach behind you.  You fucked up—you fucked up, you didn’t wait long enough and you feel the sharp regret instantly twist in your stomach.  He said he’d be here, why didn’t you trust him?  Your anxiety and stress compounded and spurned you to act too quickly, you made the deal a few fucking seconds before he showed up.

And, as Din eventually comes into your peripheral, taking his time leaning his rifle up against the table, you immediately realize that you should not have worried.  Recovery isn’t even a word in his vocabulary right now—he’s more intimidating than he’s ever been, more powerful and certain and dangerous while he lowers himself into the seat next to you than he’s ever felt to you before.  Everything is so quiet now that he’s here; you feel like even just swallowing against the sudden dryness in your throat turns into an audible gulp.  The man sitting across from you may own this cantina and every material good under its roof, but the one sitting by your side feels like he steals the literal air from the room just by walking inside it.

Yet, in spite of the daunting presence of the Mandalorian, Karga beams and tips his glass at him.  “I believe you’ve arrived just in time for your favorite part of the conversation, friend.  The farewells.”

You stare wide-eyed down at the table as Din leans back into the booth and very slowly extends his arm behind your shoulders, saying nothing at all to him.

The testosterone is radiating from him to the point of near suffocation, you can taste the alpha in the air.  Your heart slams in your chest at the unspoken claim he just made with a subtle movement, and though you’ve never been one for masculine displays, this one weirdly feels… good right now.  You know it’s primitive and crude and you’re not a piece of meat to be fought over, but it doesn’t feel like that at all.  It’s the immediate feeling of security that serves to heat your cheeks, the fact that you’ve been a nervous mess trying to be extra brave this whole interaction and then suddenly you have the backup of an entire army contained within one single suit of armor next to you.

If you weren’t internally panicking at how badly you screwed this shit up, you’d probably be going fucking feral for him right now.

Karga says your name and your gaze snaps to his, feeling like you can’t breathe.  “My associate has collected the plaques, nothing keeps you here any longer.  It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

Still, nobody at the table moves.

After a moment, you carefully glance up and to the side at the sharp, metallic profile of his helmet.  Maker, you can’t explain it—it’s like you feel terrified but not really for yourself, if that makes sense.  You’re upset with yourself for not having enough trust in his word, absolutely, but something in Din’s demeanor tells you that he’s going to be considerably less understanding of how Karga handled this situation than the way you did.

The helmet slowly turns down to look at you, and you bite your lip while carefully placing your hand on his thigh brace under the table, letting him feel your fingers brush against the bend of his knee.

He turns back to Karga after a few seconds, still not saying a single word, until eventually Din’s arm is lifted from behind your shoulders and you feel his leather fingers gently clasp your hand, before he starts to rise from the booth and pull you along next to him.  You both stand, and he silently presses a button on his vambrace without dropping your grip, urging the kid’s shield to follow along behind him.

“Um, goodbye,” you just barely remember to tell Karga as Din begins leading you away, apparently not waiting for the polite farewells he arrived in time for.

“Wait!”  A voice calls out just before you can make your exit, and Din pauses just in time for Karga to extend that damned fifth puck out for you to grab.  Right in fucking front of him.  “Can’t forget this!”

Fuck.  Great.  Thanks.

Blood rushes to your face while you go to reach for it, taking the puck and then placing it in the open shield along with four others in a way that you hope is casual but you know isn’t.  You close the lid on it and then squeeze Din’s hand slightly, but he stays rooted to the spot for a few more seconds, having watched the entire exchange play out.  Though you obviously wouldn’t be able to read his facial expressions even if you could lift your head to look up at him, you can’t will yourself to do so right now.  You’re too disappointed in yourself and nervous—you just stand there silently as he looks back at Karga, staring at your feet and praying he doesn’t do anything brash.

After too many moments of uncertainty, you squeeze his hand again and slowly begin to pull on it.  Without needing much pressure at all, he goes where you go, and you end up being the one to lead Din out of the cantina by the hand still tangled with yours.

*** 

The walk back to the Crest lasts an eternity.

Neither one of you say anything at all to each other the entire way there, and you know he’s not mad at you yet, but you’re worried.  You feel incredibly self-critical right now and it’s really not helping that he seems even quieter and more wound up than usual.  You don’t know if it’s because he already figured out that you just handed him extra work or if it’s because whatever made him late to the cantina also altered his mood, hit a reset button and reminded him of the way he used to be, the armor he’s wearing.  Was there a confrontation, you wonder?  Is he okay?  He seems like he’s… extra Mandalorian right now, there’s not really a better way to describe it.

He doesn’t drop your hand, though.  As you pass through the markets and shanty huts lining the streets, Din holds onto you.  Shoulders tense and strides heavy, but his fingers stay tangled in yours.

Regardless, you keep your mouth shut and eventually the Crest comes into view.  The ramp drops to the ground and the three of you make your way up, and you have enough foresight to carefully drop Din’s hand and lead the baby’s shield over to the unused cot built into the hull walls, closing him in a safe quiet place to sleep and continue building up his strength again.

You turn around to see Din press another button on his vambrace.  He stays with his back to you as the ramp slowly closes, but as soon as it latches up against the hull and locks into place, he nearly whips around and suddenly he’s right in front of you, gloves cupping your face.

“What happened?”  He asks sharply, the helmet looking you up and down.  “Are you alright?  Why did you look so scared?”

You reach up to rest your hands on his, blinking up at him and not knowing what to say.  How are you going to tell him?  He’s gotta waste extra fuel and time on a bullshit quarry because of you, what are you going to say?  You don’t even know if it’s last known location is nearby; he might have to fly to some remote, desolate corner of the galaxy just for a handful of credits because you couldn’t wait a fucking hour for him.

“I, uh…  I-I’m sorry, I just…”  But it’s nearly impossible to form a coherent thought when he’s this close to you and sounding fucking sincere, genuinely concerned about you while you’re stuck worrying about how to break the bad news to him.  “Oh, stars, um…”

“Did Karga fuck with you?”  He asks in that same sharp tone when you don’t finish your thought, but you’re so absorbed in your own conflict that you barely even hear him.  “Because I can go back right now, the cantina is just—”

“Okay wait, please—” You suddenly speak up, “before I tell you, just… please keep in mind that I did save your life two days ago, so…”

“Sweet girl,” Din rumbles slowly, a subtle warning for you to hurry up and spit it out.  His fingers tighten just slightly on your cheeks, still so gentle but needing you to communicate with him right now.

Tell him, you just need to tell him.  If he gets mad, then he gets mad, but at least he’ll know at that point and you won’t just be springing it on him out of nowhere.

“I fucked up,” you breathe out, eyebrows pulling up in the middle as you tighten your own grip on his hands.  “I’m so sorry, I fucked up and you were late and I got nervous and I didn’t wait long enough and I tried to make the exchange like you asked me to but then I had to take a fifth puck and I didn’t want to but Karga threatened to short change you next time around unless I agreed to take an extra one for the lowest pay just this once and I didn’t have any bargaining power and you showed up right after I agreed to the deal and I’m so so sorry—”

You cut yourself off with your own ragged gasp, not having paused once to breathe throughout the entire thing while your expression twisted up with regret more and more the longer he allowed you to speak.

Din stands there in front of you and doesn’t move, hands still attached to your face.

“Okay,” he eventually tells you.  Stunted words, like he’s trying extra hard to find them when yours just fell out of your mouth in a complete mess.  “It’s okay.  You did… good.”

The silence is tense and you’re becoming more and more anxious the longer he takes to speak.  He’s lying for your benefit, he must be.  When he drops his hands from your face and takes a full step back, you take the gesture as symbolic and nearly launch into panic.

“Maker, I’m so sorry I didn’t wait for—”  You start to say, but Din cuts you off.

“Did he make you…”  His back suddenly goes a little straighter, voice finding a quiet edge through the modulator as his fingers subtly twitch at his sides, “…Uncomfortable?”

You pull back at the sudden change in subject and furrow your eyebrows.

“Who, Karga?”  You have to think about it.  Did he make you uncomfortable, or were you just uncomfortable already?  You might’ve just been scared because you were making it scarier than it really was, you can admit that’s a valid possibility.  “Um… no?  I don’t know, not… not really, I don’t think.”

“No?”  He asks, taking a small step forward.  “You don’t know?  Or not really… you don’t think?”

You know you can only see the blade of his visor, but something makes you feel like you’re looking right in his eyes.  You even go back and forth between where you’re pretty confident each one is, trying to read his intentions right now.  It’s like he’s purposefully trying to keep space between you even though he looks like he wants to move closer, fisting his hands at his sides when he looks like he wants to touch you.

“No, he just… lowballed me towards the end of it and I got intimidated, but I’m also not…”  Your expression narrows in concentration while you try to find the words to explain yourself, wanting to be as honest as possible with him.  “I don’t know, I’m not like you.  I’m not that strong, but I’m trying to get better.  I think he was probably just being normal.  He did offer me alcohol a bunch, but I’m pretty sure he also did that last time, so—”

“And I didn’t like it the last time he did it,” Din says quietly, taking another small step forward.

You blink up at him, completely dumb.  This is what’s bothering him?  Is he really not upset with you at all for giving him more work?  It’s like the major fuckup on your behalf just went in one side of the helmet and out the other, he barely even acknowledged it other than the role Karga played.  He said it’s okay and you did good, which are like… five of the most common words in Galactic Basic, a Wookiee could probably find a way to say them.  How are you supposed to take that?  Were you just overthinking this whole thing from the very beginning?  You know anxiety tends to be irrational by definition, but has none of your panic from the past hour been justified whatsoever?

“Why were you so late?”  You ask him, but it’s not accusatory in the slightest.  It’s… concerned, worried about his well-being without having a real reason.  He’s clearly more than fine right now, he’s like a hurricane enclosed in metal and holding still in front of you.  Too much potential energy just waiting for a reason to be released, too much tension held tight and ready to snap.

“I’m sorry.”  He quickly reaches out to grab your hand and squeeze it, before dropping it just as quickly.  Fucking lightning quick, you’ll never understand how he can be so damn quick with all that extra weight strapped to him.  “It took longer than I thought it would and she’s not really someone you can rush.”  His response, ironically, feels very rushed, like he’s trying to address the tangent but also keep things on track, but something in the answer he gives catches your direct attention.  “Did he flirt with you?”

“Who is she and what can’t be rushed?”  You blurt at the same time, not even taking a split second to think about it.

Din stops short at the blunt question, staring at you in a silence that feels like it’s vaguely taken aback.

After a few moments of that… strangeness, of the two of you realizing that you’re both feeling slightly possessive over each other for absolutely no reason whatsoever, you start to feel… warm.  In another weirdly stupid, primitive way.  You know that letting those kinds of thoughts have their day in a relationship isn’t a good thing, but you can’t explain it.  Some deep-seated, prehistoric instinct inside you just goes fucking nuts whenever he gets in either provider or protector mode.  Now you understand exactly why he wanted to get you alone after you admitted to being jealous once before.  You totally fucking get it, you’re right there with him right now.  He hasn’t said anything, but you think he feels it, too.

“She makes things,” Din finally answers you, careful with his words and somehow managing to address your question while also sidestepping it, leaving you with only the smallest bit of information to go off of.  “Did he flirt with you?”

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly.  “Maybe.  He could’ve just been trying to be friendly.  What did she make for you?”

“She made it for you,” he responds, again not really answering the question but continuing to juggle two separate conversations for your benefit.  “Did he scare you?”

“For me?”  You ask, eyebrows shooting upwards.  Provider, that stupid cavewoman DNA whispers to your lower body, making your voice go a little breathless.  “You asked her to make something for me?”

“Did he scare you?”  Din repeats sternly, grabbing your hand and giving it a firm squeeze.  “Because I can go back, I swear—”

Protector, it whispers this time, and your knees nearly buckle.

“Everything is scary when I don’t know where you are,” you admit to him, knowing it’s the truth regardless of how self-deprecating it sounds.  The only times you’ve ever truly been brave was because of him or the kid.  Stabbing a Corellian and then immediately flying the Crest out to him afterwards, walking through a pitch black forest believing a dangerous criminal was hiding in it, dragging a dead body through snow and shoving it into carbonite, standing up for yourself and pushing a deal through when odds were stacked against you.  Though it’s nothing to him, it’s nothing, it’s leaps for you.  You’re slowly learning to find a backbone, and he’s the one inspiring it.

Din holds there for a moment, unmoving with his hand still clutching yours.  You can’t get a read on him but you know how you feel right now.  Achy.  Hot.  Needy.  Wanting him to come closer.

“Will you do something for me?”  He asks you after a prolonged silence.  His voice is quiet, but… incredibly restrained.  Controlled chaos—his body is rigid and he’s flexing muscles that aren’t necessary for just standing, feeling like a sprinter holding still on the starting blocks.

“Of course,” you breathe out.

Din lets go of your hand and tilts his helmet over at the corner of the hull behind you.  “Go turn around and face that wall.”

You freeze, immediately recognizing the undertone in his voice.  Heat ladles deep into the pit of your tummy, sends warmth pooling downwards.  He wants to do this here?  Right now?

“We’re—” you look around the enclosed hull, “Mando, we’re not in hyperspace, we haven’t even left the surface yet…”

He looks around too, taking a second to blankly take in his stagnant surroundings like he had absolutely fucking no idea, before turning back to you and not saying a word.  Maker, everything below your waist is already stirring, twisting hot and deep inside, but you’re trying to be the voice of reason for a second.

“What if somebody hears us?”  You whisper, and Din cocks his head to the other side.

“I can help you stay quiet,” he murmurs, and… fuck.  You don’t know what it means, but you immediately imagine his hand held tight over your mouth while he takes some of this stress out on you and you already feel yourself wilting at the thought.  Okay.

“Okay,” you breathe without needing anything else at all, before spinning around and standing exactly where he told you to.  It’s just a corner near the back of the hull, nothing else here to look at besides two metal panels meeting at a right angle, but that’s admittedly what makes your heart start beating quicker.  You can’t see him come up behind you but you can feel it.  Slow, measured, but so restrained.

But then he stops almost immediately, before the back of your shirt is suddenly being yanked upwards and you remember at the very last second.

Din carefully grips his blaster and then eases it out of your waistband, the metal sliding warm along your skin from pressing against it for so long.  You never told him you took it with you, and he’s so fucking quiet behind you.  You have no idea how he’s reacting to that piece of information you originally didn’t think twice about.

“Do you like carrying my gun around?”  Din’s voice murmurs soft through the modulator to you, but then the blaster is tossed uselessly to the side, skittering loudly across the floor of the hull.

“Yes,” you reply, beginning to shyly turn your head back to look at him, hoping to gauge his response.

“Don’t turn around,” he quickly interrupts you, pushing your shoulder back into position and keeping you facing the corner.  You blink at the metal walls in a bit of a daze but follow instructions regardless, feeling your heart pound at the sudden display of dominance from him.  He has a very valid reason for it and you don’t realize what it is until a few seconds later, but even if he didn’t and he was just telling you what to do for the fun of it… you’d still like it.

But then his helmet is carefully being lowered over your head and you shudder as your vision is replaced with a familiar black abyss.  Fuck, his helmet, why does he like it so much when you wear this?  Admittedly, you don’t have much time to contemplate—as soon as it’s fitted and secure, he spins you around and you have to just do your best to maintain your balance, not having any visual to help.

“Can you hear me?”  Din asks, and your clothes start to be ripped off of you.  Your shoulders tip sideways with how quick he is about it, feeling him pull the fabric off and hearing the soft sound it makes landing on the floor.

“Yes,” you tell him, but he doesn’t respond, continuing to strip you completely naked in the hull.  Once your upper body is bare and he’s yanking your pants and underwear down your legs, you try saying it again as you step out of them, louder for him this time.

“I can’t hear you,” his voice grunts after a moment.  You know he’s in front of you but you can’t really tell where, now that he’s not touching you.  “Scream.”

You take a second, not having hard evidence anymore but still very well aware that you’re parked close to a marketplace on Nevarro and multiple people are nearby while you’re wearing his helmet.  This is dangerous for him, and not sure if you should, but then an arm is wrapping around your back and a large leather palm rests directly over your chest.  Din repeats his last word very slowly and clearly for you, waiting to feel it under his hands.

Your sternum lifts while it rises with your deep breath and then collapses as you diligently yell as loud as you can into the helmet, feeling like you might deafen yourself with the trapped sound.

“Good,” he growls, suddenly spinning you around and pushing you back into the metal paneling.  “I can’t hear you, be as loud as you need.  Hit me or something, put up a fight if you want me to stop, alright?”

Arousal rockets through you and you let out a moan already, taking advantage of the noise suppression and beyond turned on at this point.  You feel like you’re buzzing with it, lit up with excitement and wondering with bated breath what he’s planning to do to you.

“Alright?”  Comes his voice from behind you once more, and you quickly jerk the heavy helmet in a nod for him.  You can put up a fight and you know he’ll stop, you don’t have any problem with that and the fact that he specifically made sure to wait until he knew you understood him makes you start to pant inside the hollow beskar.

But then you feel him flick a small switch at the base of the helmet and then everything abruptly cuts out and goes dead silent.

Nothing.  Nothing.  You’re standing in a pitch black room where no other sound exists besides your own labored breathing.  Just like the waterfall on Naboo, but you can’t speak this time.  Temporarily making you blind, deaf, and putting a proverbial gag over your mouth all with one powerful piece of armor.

You shudder and he kicks your legs apart before you can do much else, yanking your hips back while you just try your best to cling to the wall for stability.  You don’t know what he’s going to do, you’re completely isolated in here and the only way you can even tell he dropped to his knees is the hot glide of his tongue through your pussy from behind.

Oh fuck—you arch into position as best you can while hands wrap around your ankles to pull them apart, trying to make the angle better.  His tongue licks softly over your clit and each time is like an electric shock jolting through your body, making you twitch back and up for him, stretching and begging him to do it again.  You can’t see anything right now so your mind readily imagines the visuals instead, providing you with a third party view.  Din, fully clothed and face shielded by your thighs, eating you out from behind while you brace yourself against the wall, completely naked and at his mercy, head tilted down from the weight of his helmet and living for the moments he decides to drag his tongue across your clit.

Without warning, a sudden burst of sensation ripples along your backside and causes you to lift the beskar in surprise, but without being able to hear anything, it takes you a second to figure out that he just smacked your ass.  The realization comes more or less at the exact time he decides to flatten his tongue and follow the curve of you back and up.

You gasp into the pitch black and there’s a moment where you just hold utterly still for him, experiencing and processing the sensation for the very first time.  His mouth is soft and warm as he tastes you here, his fingers digging into the swell of your cheeks to spread you open.  You’re glad your face is hidden so he can’t see the shock in your expression, the way your mouth drops and your eyes close as you let him explore you this way.

His gloved hands leave you for just a moment while he continues gliding his tongue against you, along every single bit of skin he can reach, and then you feel a bare hand reach up between your legs and begin to rub slow circles around your clit.  His other arm pushes against your lower back and you’re forced into the corner even more, your naked breasts pressing hard against cool metal and feeling his hot mouth and strong fingers work you closer to the edge from behind.

You’re panting into the helmet, your hips arching back to feel that stimulation on your clit better, and as his fingers move over it slow and strong, you feel a soft vibration against your skin and you realize he’s moaning into you.  The knowledge sparks a different kind of heat through you and makes you suddenly go still and tense right here.  If he stays just like this for even just a few more seconds, you’re going to cum.

“Din, I’m gonna cum,” your voice warbles inside the enclosed steel—just as his touch decides to abandon your body.  You groan loudly in distress, completely alone without his hands or mouth on you anymore, but all he likely hears is the silence of the hull and the way your palm smacks against the wall with it.  You were so close, everything feels like it’s pulled up so tight and painful and it hurts—

A hand clutches your hip and then a thick cock is suddenly pushing up against your soaking wet entrance, going to alleviate that twisting discomfort.  Your eyes roll back and your whole body goes limp as he slowly eases forward and breaks you open, fitting himself deep inside where you love to feel him most.  Your hands claw down the walls with a swell of bliss as he pulls out and then starts thrusting—and fuck, you love this.  You love the way he’s trapping you up against the corner and making you see stars at the same time, the way he’s supporting your weight but crushing down into you, too.  It makes you go boneless and want to riot simultaneously, groaning loud into the quiet abyss as he gives you what you both desperately needed.

One of his hands sinks down between your legs to play with your clit again, while a slick finger presses up against your ass and you gasp as he slowly penetrates you there, too.  Din’s hips work steady and powerful behind you, pushing you into the wall with every desperate thrust, using the arm shoved between your legs to support you as well as stimulate, and you just feel yourself move into a different place.  You don’t have a name for it but it feels like hyperspace.  Silence so loud it feels suppressing, faster than anything light can touch, nowhere and everywhere, hurtling towards something you can’t see but know lies in the distance.  You can tell he’s still fucking the tension out of his body, you can feel him working another wet finger inside you and stretching the virgin muscles back there, but every sensation begins to slowly blur together in a wicked uprising of ecstasy.

You don’t know where you are anymore, just that his fingers keep rubbing your clit and you think he's trying to ease a third into you when your destination abruptly arrives.

You nearly collapse when you cum, contracting so hard around his cock and fingers that you cry out unexpectedly—and because of the helmet, you think it’s just as unexpected for him.  He stops moving—everything stops moving besides you.  Your hips stutter backwards into his stationary body, dragging your clit back and forth against the tips of his unmoving fingers and fucking him as best you can.  It shatters white hot and goes straight through to your soul, wringing pleasure and wetness between your legs in waves.

Your knees are knocking against each other when Din pulls out, his cock still deliciously hard and now soaking wet with your cum, and then they just suddenly decide to give up without warning.  You don’t fall necessarily, but you do slowly slide down the wall like a slug and Din follows you to the floor instead of holding you up any longer.  His sternum moves quick and heavy against your back as he breathes and then suddenly the same switch at the base of his helmet is flicked, and sound bursts into existence all at once.

He’s panting.  Harsh breaths behind you that match the rapid pace of his chest, and the ambient noise of the rest of the hull.

“Can you hear me?”  He gasps, sounding fucking wrecked, and you nod the helmet against the wall while gravity and exhaustion and his beskar chestplate squishes you into it.  “P-Put up a fight if you want me t-to stop, p-please—” he rasps out, almost the entire thing air and so close to cumming, and then his knees lift just slightly and the blunt head of his cock presses against your other entrance.

And, if you wanted, you absolutely could.  He’s got you boxed into the corner but he’s not constricting your movements, he’s given you every ability to struggle.  You could easily throw an elbow back against his side, push against the wall to shove him away, smack at his arms or even just flail against his body in panic—you could do one or all of those things to signal him to stop and you know he’d do it immediately, he’s asking you to.  You could struggle.  If you wanted.

Instead, you just grab hold of the beskar strapped to his thigh and drop the helmet to your chest, nearly vibrating with the thrill and preparing yourself for it.  You know he’s gotta be inches away from orgasm, you know from the tone of his voice that he’s right there on the edge and it’s not like it’s going to last a long time.  Thanks to him, you also feel like you’re just as slick and wet back there as you are between your legs, stretched open by his fingers while you came all over him.  You want nothing more than to give this to him, to let him be the only person in the universe that knows how you feel this way.

When you pointedly do not put up a fight and even go so far as to arch your lower back for him in presentation, Din curses and his fingers begin jerking back and forth over your sensitive clit once more.  It might normally be too much for you, but your body is sparking with lust and quickly acclimates to the stimulation, learning to burn and ache for it, too.  Fuck, it feels so good, you tense and melt into it at the same time, letting him ease you back up to that peak once more.

He pushes up against the tight ring of skin and you can’t fucking explain it—his fingers keep rubbing your clit and he’s slowly pushing into your ass and—

“I—I think I’m—” you suddenly lift the helmet to gasp out in surprise, forgetting he can’t hear you, “ngh—D-Din, I think I’m gonna c—”

He’s just barely able to breach the tight entrance and fit the head inside before he freezes—and even though everything happens consecutively, it’s all so rapid that it feels simultaneous.

Your hips could go forward, but they don’t.  Your body decides to send you backwards into him, pushing him inside nearly halfway all at once as your muscles lock down and just fucking strangle his cock.  Your piercing scream gets trapped in the silence of his helmet as you cum once more—painfully, madly and with every fucking part of you for him.  There’s maybe one or two mind shattering pulses of ecstasy before the rest of your body catches up and starts convulsing, and by then Din is already gasping and fumbling behind you, suddenly realizing what’s happening without hearing the sound of your ragged warnings and then ripping himself away just in time.

He punches out your name when he cums like you just fucking snapped him in half—his body hunches and the beskar digs hard into your back as warmth starts splattering along your skin.  You crumple while he shoves his hips up against your spine, riding and working the orgasm out of himself while yours just fucking obliterates you.  You think you whine his name—or a curse word or something, but it gets strained and your lungs lose air every time his powerful armored body humps you into the wall of his ship.

Finally he eases up and you just lay there and listen to the ringing in your ears.  Blissfully empty, still pulsing from cumming so hard and feeling like your bones just decided to stop existing and the rest of you was okay with it since you were already on the floor anyways.  You feel him shudder and twitch behind you, letting go of that last bit of tension until he too allows gravity to slouch his heavy torso over onto you.

You both stay like that for a while, until your eyes close and your everything below your waist goes numb.  Eventually you feel him shift and your head bobbles as the helmet is slowly removed, but a large palm cradles your chin to stop your face from slamming into the wall in exhaustion once it’s off.  You just continue to melt into the paneling like you’re nothing more than goo of a human being while he trades it back to its rightful place on his shoulders and tucks his cock back into his pants, before wrapping his arms around you and lifting you both up.  The floor and metal walls, once feeling like you and them were one, suddenly decide to disappear entirely as you’re hauled up into Din’s powerful arms.

He slowly carries your naked, fucked senseless body over to the fresher, and you squint your eyes open over his shoulder to see… he’s still got his rifle slung around his back while his cum is dripping down yours.  Not a single thing on him is out of place and you’re, well… a mess is a word that works.  Limp and doll-like, carried like your weight is practically nothing to him after years of having the densest armor known to the galaxy strapped to his body.

Setting you down is a mess, too.  At some point you think he just gives up and decides to return you to your humble floor abode with a patience and care unexpected from someone who just defiled you so thoroughly.  You hear the fresher door open and the faucet squeak, before he turns back around and crouches to your level.

“Stay here,” Din tells you lowly, his modulated voice coming gentle and warm through the sounds of water raining down against metal.  You don’t feel his touch directly, but your hair moves away from your face.  “I’ll be right back, okay—just stay here.”

Can do.  Easy.  He waits until you murmur a soft mhm to him before he leaves the tiny compartment, and then you soon hear his heavy footsteps ascending the ladder to the cockpit.

***

You don’t think you fall asleep, but the powering up of the Crest’s thrusters make you realize your eyes were closed.  Opening them barely qualifies as a squint though; you look around to see steam slowly filling the fresher, the water already running hot and welcoming in the small room.

You know you need to shower but you’re so fucking exhausted, you feel like you can’t even move your body.  You also know you can just do the same exact thing in there as you’re doing in here, you just need to muster up the energy necessary to get inside it and then fall back asleep.  He set you down in the small little space outside the shower door and then got everything set up for you, you can at least stand up and take a few steps.

Unfortunately, you might pick just about the worst time possible to plant your hands on the ground and work to struggle upright on all fours like a newborn animal.  The steady rise through Nevarro’s atmosphere pushes gravity down harder than you’re expecting—is he trying to fly quickly or are you just that dead-limbed?—and then of course, by the time you do manage to fight it and successfully get on two wobbly legs to hold yourself up, the subtle shift of the hyperdrive kicking in nearly knocks you back down again.  You stumble and grab the walls, bracing yourself against them and looking down at your knees in exasperation.  Come on, work.  Move forward.  Come on.

You’re glad he’s not here to witness this monstrosity, honestly.  Just opening the door and taking a few steps into the fresher is a feat—while you’re not in any pain and he didn’t leave any marks on you, you just feel… steamrolled.  Ran over by a truck.  Only having the strength to keep your feet beneath you as you finally move under the water and close the door behind you.

Oh, but this is wonderful.  This was such a good idea, he’s so fucking smart.  The shower falls warm and lovely against your body, wetting your hair and immediately heating you down to your bones.  You don’t move really at all—you kinda just stand there and slouch, closing your eyes against the spray and slowly breathing the mist into your lungs.  It feels so nice—not really restorative even though you like that word, it would imply the water provides you with any energy whatsoever.  It just feels like a comfort, a relief and sedative for your already wildly fatigued body.

You haven’t been in here for more than a minute or two when knuckles tap gently against the metal walls of the fresher, before the natural bass of Din’s unmodulated voice murmurs from somewhere beyond it.  “Hey.  Keep your eyes closed.”

How did he know?  You figured you’d be way ahead of him.  You’re standing but slumped over, wanting nothing more than to just say fuck gravity and pass out right here.  The walls are too cold to lean against now that you’re all toasty from the heat and steam, so you’re just unconsciously swaying on your feet, trying to balance the precedence of sleeping versus not falling over.  You don’t even comprehend the sudden flip of the light switch overhead beyond the fact that it makes it easier to snooze without being so bright behind your eyelids.

The door eventually opens at the very same time you realize you never answered him, but you just commit to the silence at this point.  It’s easy, you like it.  Soon you feel warm hands touch your shoulders, slowly spinning you around while you follow and hang your head, your neck not wanting to support it any longer, and then suddenly a bare chest is pressing up against you and powerful arms are wrapping around your body, and you can just lean all of your weight into him while your head rests right here on his shoulder.

He holds you without moving for a long time, keeping you just like this—your ear pressed against his skin while water rains hot and comfortable down your back.  Knowing you’re facing one of the walls, you crack your heavy lids just the slightest bit and finally notice the tiny compartment is dim and shrouded—the only light source is a single one coming from somewhere in the hull beyond the partially closed doorway.  It’s dark and quiet and you can barely see anything besides the metallic fresher walls and unfocused droplets chasing each other down Din’s naked skin.  Just you and him, flowing water with a sheet metal backdrop.

You think you spend an eternity like that and yet you still find yourself wanting another when he finally shifts, reaching over you to grab a bar of his generic soap but making sure to use the arm whose shoulder you’re not currently resting against.

It glides slow and hypnotic down your back, dragging up over your sides and then back down the curve of your spine.  He’s so sturdy and he doesn’t say a word while he does it, lathering it along your body and rubbing it into your skin.  His bar of soap, not yours.  They started out almost the same since you picked them up at the same vendor, but there’s just a slightly bolder and sharper scent to his that you recognize.  How the bar is far larger than yours because of how often he’s gone away.

Your eyes droop and you feel the water trail over your lips, dripping down your chin and pooling the dip of his collarbone.  The only other time you two shared this fresher was terrifying and he’s rewriting the memories right now, whether consciously or not.  Hot water, not freezing cold.  Standing upright and supporting you.  Heart beating strong under your ear, taking care of you this time until you can care for yourself.

You… you just worry so much more now, it’s becoming an issue.  You didn’t realize how much until you nearly lost him, and you know in your heart that he’s just going to go away again.  Throw himself into more danger, tempt death as always, risk his life for mere credits while all you can provide in return is this.  Skin to skin contact.  Someone to hold.  Someone who knows him, who knows the way he struggles between reaching out for a softness that life has always denied him and clinging to what is rough and familiar.  Someone to remind him that there’s still gentle and forgiving things in this galaxy that won’t disappear when he’s gone, and that he can always come home to them, as long as he can manage to find his way back.

Something sad tugs hard at your chest.  You want to tell him not to leave.  Again, again—you want nothing more than to beg him to stay.  You don’t have anything better to offer instead; if he asked you how it would work, how you imagine your lives would go if he wasn’t hunting quarry on a constant timetable, you’d be hard-pressed.  You don’t know.  But you know what you want to say, because it’s two words you shouldn’t say but always find yourself needing to say regardless.  

Don’t go.

But, instead of two words, you give him three.

Instead of asking him not to leave you again… in the haze and comfort of his arms, you think you just tell him that you love him.

And… you also don’t think the water falling down on the two of you is loud enough to cover it up this time.

It’s not ideal, you know.  You know.  From his point of view, he just got finished releasing all sorts of pent up tension on you, overwhelming your body with the strength and power of his in a way that normal people wouldn’t take as an expression of affection.  But you know him.  You know that he finds it much easier to express the things he feels in a physical way, which is why there’s a bar of soap against your back right now instead of his voice in your ear, telling you all the things you’ve always wanted to hear from him in return.  You know that sex is how this all began and it’s likely just the closest link between roughness and sweetness that he can really put his hands on, something that can fit him equally as well as it fits you.  Love is different, it’s thrilling and scary.  Even to someone like him, who lives everyday of his life surrounded by thrilling and scary things, who’s seen more bloodshed and suffering and pain than you can ever even imagine, you know that it’s scary.

Din doesn’t say anything back to your confession, and truthfully, not a single part of you was expecting him to.  It wasn’t said so he could say it back.  It just is.  Some things don’t need explanations, they just are.  You’re okay with that.

But, you eventually come to realize that he always waits until you’re just on the very edges of sleep, holding out until your blurry vision and fading consciousness can trick you into thinking you only imagined it.  You won’t ever figure out if it’s purposeful or if he just needs that long to find what he wants to say.

Another soft, lilting sentence in a language you wouldn’t be able to translate, even if you could pick out a single word.  It sounds so beautiful though, regardless of how mysterious and far away its meaning feels.  There’s something hidden underneath.  You ache to know what it is.

But you’re so tired.  You just whine softly against his shoulder, not being able to transform the thoughts into sentences anymore but hoping he understands regardless.  He can’t just resort to bearing his soul in Mando’a all the time now, especially when you’re always on the verge of sleep when he chooses to do so.

But at some point, his arms subtly tighten around you and the pressure is one of the only things that’s keeping you awake anymore.

“I won’t ever ask you to,” he says to you, the quietness of his baritone getting lost in the gentle spray and your looming slumber.  “I’m…  not allowed to ask.  I can’t.”

Your expression twitches just the slightest bit against his shoulder in confusion, wondering distantly what word or sentence you must’ve missed from before that would make him make sense.  Was that a translation?  Or a continuation?

But then your wet hair is slowly moved away from your nape and his head tilts down, face pressing into your neck and voice lowering until it’s nothing more than a breath against your skin, nothing more than a confession that he couldn’t ever say out loud with his full chest.  It’s a secret he only ever wants you to know, a truth he’s choosing to admit to even though you could ruin him with it.  You have no idea how much, you won’t know for a long time just how much power he’s giving you by telling you this one very simple thing.

“But whenever you want to look,” Din finally whispers, the only version of I love you too that a Mandalorian knows.  “You can.”

[l0ves1ckf0ol]

LATE NIGHT. . . . XOWAN

note: this kinda sucked and honestly i just admire this crackship

tags:

rowan was never the type to stay up late, unless under necessary circumstances. it was exams week, nevermore was just like every other normie school he attended, sure it was full of blood suckers or psychics but it definitely didn't make a change of how he felt. he was known for being a total loser with 0 social skills, the person who can raise him above the bar a bit was the fact that he is xavier's roommate and that they were friends. rowan crept up quietly to the dorms, carefully not to drop any of his books or a strayed out pen from his sling bag.

he then gets inside theirs, dropping his bag and his books at the desk at his side of the room. xavier was awake, sketching away in his sketchpad. rowan would often wake up to that, just him and his stupid sketchpad. when he first was informed he was his roommate, rowan was a bit scared if he even wanted to actually talk to him because of that hobby. it ended in a situation where xavier had found himself talking with him at his first night in nevermore, to rowan who was fighting his own eyelids to stay up. at that night he seemed to have seen another side of the tortured artist. ever since that night there have been instances where both friends would share their troubles with each other, a heart to heart. rowan felt pity at first then it stupendously grew.

it grew to an unfathomable adoration of his dirty blonde hair and his tall lanky figure. his skillfull hands always wrapped around a paintbrush or a pencil of some sort. he hated the way he looked, such a way that made him want to feel the most unideal emotion ever: infatuation.

little does he know whenever he would quit eyeing him in botany class, xavier would sneak glances towards him.

rowan went into the bathroom with a set of his clothes and changed, he went back out, took off his glasses and set his inhaler on his bedside table to finally throw himself on the bed. thinking he could sleep for the rest of the night and get at least 7 hours of sleep.

"rowan?" he didn't dare move, pretending to be falling asleep. the sound of graphite gliding on paper stopped. he hears shuffling on the bed and then light footsteps, xavier sat on his bed. he gave up.

"mmm?"

"can we talk?" xavier asked him. rowan propped himself up with his elbows to meet with his sea green eyes. "about what?" he asked. "i know this'll be a weird ass question you know, since i'm asking it to a dude and not like -"

"just- just say it." rowan rolls his eyes as xavier spares him his rant and sent him a smile. "would it be weird if... if i had feelings for another guy?"

for a moment, for a moment he thought that he had a chance.

"no its completely normal." he blurts out. xavier raised an eyebrow at him, "do you like guys too?" he questions. rowan blinked twice and sighed, "for the most part yeah." he told him. xavier nodded understandingly. "how did you, y'know, like who like..." he was trying to find the right word, rowan steps in "triggered it?" he guessed in a soft whisper. xavier nodded, "someone that i thought who was anti social." he said, with that statement it could've been anyone. "anywayy-"

rowan grinned at him, "sooo who's the lucky guy?" xavier rolled his eyes "like i'm gonna tell you." he jabs his pointer finger on rowan's chest once and giggled. "what? scared that i'll get him first?" rowan joked. xavier laughs, "in all honesty though, how can you tell if like you actually like the guy or like is it just a handful of platonic feelings in one." he asked.

rowan hums, "let's see you talking about him."

"what?"

"come on now, talk about him, his eyes or whatever features you really love about him."

xavier pursed his lips for a moment and folds his arms, "this is just your way of making me describe who he is." rowan laughed, he laughs along. "oh well, i guess we'll never know how you really feel about him."

the taller boy's smile fades away slowly, his eyebrows knitting together in thought. "well he's a bit stupid and dorky." xavier muttered, sighing afterwards. "we've been friends for a long time, he and i are polar opposites. he may seem dorky but in all honesty he's clever and smarter than the people in this dump." he chuckles, rowan had a feeling it might be ajax or one of the nightshade members. he remained silent, listening intently for what he had to say. xavier took this as a sign to continue.

"well you know it would be unfair if i just sit here and talk about my crush when clearly, i think you need someone to talk to about yours." xavier pointed out. rowan widened his eyes, "you don't want me doing that-"

"but i do." he interrupts him. xavier's green eyes boring right through rowan's doe ones. a genuine moment where rowan wanted to kill himself for even liking this boy. xavier could ask him to do anything with those eyes, tension was thick to the point that his cheeks had a crimson glow. rowan was the first to look away. "fine."

"we'll take turns to make this interesting alright?" rowan nods in agreement. "so we alternately talk about what we like in each other's crushes then we get to have one guess at the end of it. we're not allowed to guess who it is in between telling each other." xavier instructs with a mischievous glint in his eye and a grin on his face. rowan sits up this time.

"you first."

rowan swallows a hard lump in his throat, if he ended up guessing it was him he'd have no problem in denying it. "he's popular." he decides to start slow, which makes xavier raise an eyebrow at him. "he seems to be the laughingstock of the school." rules are being followed so far, rowan didn't want to assume "he's caring and really really talented." xavier blinks, having a bit of a suspicion.

"he has the most adorable eyes."

"he likes to be alone despite being popular."

"he doesn't like to have fun."

"he loves art."

there was silence in the conversation, the more they each shared to each other bits of information of who they liked, both had had small clicks in their heads- a wake up call if you will. this makes rowan nervous because xavier does not mutter a word after what he had shared. rowan gulped, "a-are you done?"

"he's short." rowan chuckles at him, xavier frowns "what?" he asks "nothing."

"he has nice hands."

"he has well kept hair."

"he cares about his hair too much."

"i love his eyes, he wears glasses."

"you just said that- i like how nonchalant he is."

"yeah but they need to hear it more."

"do they?"

"mmmm yeah."

for the next 4 seconds utter silence enters the room, the both of them just staring at each other. xavier groans burying his face in his hands in frustration. "can't play the game anymoreee!" he mumbles, which came out a bit muffled. rowan laughs nervously "what do you mean?" xavier huffs taking rowan's hands, and grasping onto them tightly. "we tell each other who it is right now, on 5."

"what-?" he starts counting from 5 and rowan panics. was he gonna say it, he has to say it, he can't lie! whatever name was about to spit out of xavier's mouth in 5 seconds he'd just have to deal with it.

"you."

it wasn't a name. they both looked up at each other, completely in shock as they stared into each other's eyes once again. rowan couldn't take it anymore, he stands up from his bed and went on his way to leave the dorm "rowan- wait! stop." xavier stammers as he struggles to stand up from the bed and chase rowan right before he could open the door to go out. "you like me?" xavier asked him rowan had his back against the door his hand on the doorknob, ready to swing it open to just escape this situation. xavier's hand caressed his cheek, rowan was surprised he didn't trigger an asthma attack out of him. "yeah." rowan sighs out. next thing he knew, a moment he never knew would ever come, his lips on his as he caressed his cheek, he felt butterflies in his stomach and it was a desire fulfilled indeed.

[hoezhatelola]

His Girl

Baji Keisuke x Reader

warnings: dom!baji, sub!fem!reader, toman AU, degradation kink, size kink, gun kink, NSFW 18+, fingering, cunnilingus, idfk what else to put here

a/n: this was kind of rushed but i was suddenly motivated to write a baji smut so here you go all you horny readers :)

sorry if this sucks, terrible case of writers block lately. btw everyone’s aged up !

__________________________________________

everyone who knew baji knew that he was a man who kept his priorities straight. those priorities consisted of toman, his few friends, business, and ever since two years ago- you. despite what everyone assumed, you were okay with not being his first priority. it was normal for you to stay up til the latest hours of the night, awaiting his arrival. it was normal for you to wake up with a cold, empty spot beside you on the mattress.

you never bothered him about what it exactly was that he did inside of toman, or what his so called “business” really was. you knew he was a bit shady, but at the end of the day, when he’s pulling you closer into his chest at 4 a.m., breathing in your scent and peppering kisses onto your forehead, it didn’t matter.

everyone from moebius to valhalla knew that you were his girl. of course, there had been a few instances in the past where baji had to get his hands dirty and correct a few guys for looking at you in the way that only he can look at you.

despite what had become the norm, tonight was different. you were cozy on the couch in the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, a blanket wrapped around your form that was covered with only one of baji’s t-shirts and your lace undies. you sipped on your hot chocolate, slightly jumping as a weak knock sounded on the door.

you got up and went on your tippy toes to peek through the tiny hole, and as you expected you saw baji, his scratched up face and tired eyes looking downwards. your delicate fingers took care of all of the extra locks baji had installed, and you opened the door swiftly.

“finally! i was waiting for yo-” you froze as you looked up at him, his usually narrowed eyes now slightly wider and teary. “baby? what’s the matter?” you took your hand, much smaller than his own, and grabbed his arm to pull him inside before closing and locking the door behind him.

“s too much.. can’t do it ‘nymore…” he muttered, his head now collapsing onto your shoulder. you ran a hand through his black locks as he stood up straight, peering down at you with that same, sad and guilty look. you planted a kiss on his jaw and cupped his cheek. “what’s too much, my love?”

he only looked into your eyes, not speaking as his brows furrowed and a tear silently fell, staining his cheek. he brought his face closer and your lips connected, his tongue rapidly entering your mouth and exploring it with dominance.

“mmh… w-wait, aauh..” you mumbled into his mouth, trying to speak to him. with prior consent, both you and baji had agreed on a safe word and so, naturally, protests such as ‘wait’ or ‘stop’ or ‘slow down,’ meant absolutely nothing to him.

he lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist, his hands resting under your thighs and slamming you down onto the bed that you shared. you looked up at him with lust-filled eyes, and his expression darkened as he bent down and tore apart your thighs.

“look at you…” he chuckled against your skin, nibbling on your inner thigh and running a finger along your clothed slit. “such a fucking mess for me already.” you could tell he was getting a kick out of you feeling embarrassed, and it was his sick way of making you feel good.

he looked up at you once more and you nodded before he tore apart your panties, hungrily eyeing your glistening womanhood that ached for his touch. the first warm lick against your sensitive bud caused you to shiver, and after enjoying your reaction he utterly devoured your pussy. two of his skilled fingers entered your hole without warning, causing you to gasp and arch your back in ecstasy.

the pink muscle continued to suck and flick at your clit, your core immediately tightening, the coil nearly snapping. “s so good… gon’ cum s-s-soon.” you purred, and he gripped your thighs even harder than before, lapping at your folds and chuckling into your pussy, the vibrations causing you to snap.

the coil became fully undone, your orgasm hitting you like a fucking bus, your legs shaking and a loud moan invading your room. “that’s my fucking girl. such a good little cumslut, yeah?” you mindlessly nodded in response, lost in bliss. you snapped back to reality when a small click could be heard, and a cold metal was pressed between your thighs.

in his slender hand you saw his gun, and you jumped up, pulling away. “relax, it’s not loaded... just looks so good next to that pretty pussy.” he rubbed the edge of it up and down your slit, and as you came down from your orgasm you sure as hell were ready for more. you needed more.

“i want you…” you said, making grabby hands in the direction of his dick. the gun slid into your mouth as you whimpered in response. “suck.” he ordered, and you knew better than to disobey him.

“you want what? my big cock in that tight cunt?” he grunted in your ear and you nodded, gagging over and over again on his gun as he continued to push it down your throat. you looked up at him beneath your lashes, your cheeks hollowing as strings of saliva ran down his hand. “fuck… don’t look at me like that.”

he unclasped his belt and looked down at you. despite his rough tone and usual severe degradation towards you, his eyes were asking for consent, to which you nodded. he positioned himself at your entrance and slowly slid in, inch by fucking inch. once you were stuffed full of his eight inches, he huffed and leaned in to your ear, thrusting once without warning.

you mewled loudly, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he chuckled, basking in the feeling off your velvety walls pulsating around him. “you’re a bigger whore than i thought… already screaming for me and i’ve barely,” he trusted once more as you moaned, “fucking,” and again he thrusted even harder, “started.”

“kei… s-slow down.” you gasped, clawing at his chest and leaving crescent shaped marks along his shoulders. “what?” he chuckled, “you want me to slow down?” he imitated you by slightly raising his voice before grabbing your neck and pulling you upwards, his lips now touching the shell of your ear. “can’t take my fat cock in that tiny little pussy, hah..”

baji paid special attention to the way your cunt sucked in his girth, groaning at the sight of your throbbing clit begging to be touched by him. he knew your body so well at this point that your walls had molded to shape him, that his eyes flickered to that one spot of your lower stomach, now staring at the bulge that gently bobbed up and down beneath your skin. hell, your pussy was made to take his cock so fucking well.

“f-fuck.. gah.. k-kei, im-” “close? already?” he cut you off. you nodded hastily in response, feeling that familiar warm sensation in your stomach that only he could make you feel. he pressed his hand down on your lower stomach, his dick twitching at the feeling of him inside of you. “fucking pathetic… you can barely last with me fucking your brains out, hm? you’re my dirty fucking slut, aren’t ya?”

you looked up and looked eyes with him, your expression begging to gush all over his length. “y-yes.. ‘m your sl-slut.” you choked on your own words, feeling the air knock out of your lungs as his tip brushed against your cervix and provided a pleasurable sting. baji felt your walls clench around him at his words.

“you dirty little whore… you like being degraded this much, hah?” you didn’t reply as drool seeped down your chin and tears of immeasurable pleasure pricked the corners of your eyes. “i’m fucking talking to you,” he said rather angrily, gripping your throat.

“s-sorry, ‘m gunna cum!” you said loudly, moaning into his sloppy kiss and looking into his eyes as he pulled away and squeezed your throat, cutting off your oxygen almost completely. “yeah? you’re gonna cum soon? gonna cum all over my big cock, right?” he replied with a question, and your vision began to blur.

the biggest orgasm of your life was now pooling in your stomach, and baji knew it too. a smug smirk crept its way onto his face as he cupped your breast and squeezed it gently with his free hand, the other one still lying on your throat. “y-yes… gon’ cum all o-over yer’ f-fat… agh.. cock.”

relaying back to baji that his cock was, in fact, huge was all it took for him to nibble at your shoulder and bring a thumb to your clit before rubbing sloppy circles over it. the coil then snapped, and your orgasm hit you like a crashing wave. you thrashed around underneath him, a pleasurable cry filling the room as your legs shook and he gripped your thighs, watching as your cunt tightened and gushed around him.

“that’s my girl… creaming around me. open wide.” he instructed, and you shivered at the nickname before parting your lips and opening your mouth. he pumped his length dry of all his salty cum that was now dripping down your chin, breasts, lips, and was on your tongue. “swallow.”

you then collapsed after doing as he said as he got up, collecting a warm wash cloth and a glass of water for you. he gently wiped you clean, planting small kisses across your body, all the way from your calves to your forehead. you had to admit, baji’s aftercare was good as hell. he then used a soothing lotion to rub circles on your back, legs, and neck, before handing you the glass of water and collapsing next to you.

your legs tangled together within the soft sheets and warm blankets, and your head was now on his chest as he tangled his fingers in your hair, running them through your locks. you looked up at him and planted two kisses on his jaw as he looked down at you in awe.

“you were so good for me.” he said, and wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you in even closer. the feeling of your warm, naked bodies resting against each other was enough to warm his entire heart, and the smile that you gave him as he kissed your forehead was enough to make his heart flutter.

“did you wanna tell me what happened tonight? you know… why you came back all scratched up and sad?” you asked, and he hesitated to reply before grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him. his back now rested against the headboard, and he pulled you closer so that your foreheads were now touching.

“i wish…” he hesitated again, and you cupped his cheek in attempt to reassure him everything would be ok. “i wish we could spend more time together, so we could cuddle and go out that’s all.” your heart picked up the pace as your eyes widened and a smile spread across your lips.

“aah… you’re so adorable, kei.” you ruffled his hair and planted a kiss on his lips, his hands still gripping your bare hips. “i wish we could too… but i understand you’re busy.” his stomach dropped at your words, did you really think you weren’t more important to him than his ‘job?’

he took a hand and gently ran it up the side of your body, all the way to your cheek, staring into your eyes as if he was deep in thought. “you know you’re the most important thing to me, right?” you nodded in response, his heart aching at the realization that there was nothing he could do to improve the amount of time he actually got to see you.

“let’s just make the most out of the time we do have together.”

[subspencer]

the to-do list

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is worried that she’s not adventurous enough in bed. So, she makes a secret checklist of things to try with Spencer. Based on this request.

Category: Smut, 18+ ONLY, minors dni

Warnings/Includes: switch!Spencer, (sort of?) corruption kink, exhibitionism, mile high club, brief description of oral, unprotected sex, creampie, brief mentions of other stuff but no descriptions

Word Count: 3k

Spencer’s girlfriend has a secret checklist. It could be called a bucket list, of some sort, but really all of the items on it pertain to sexual acts to perform with Spencer, on Spencer, or in front of Spencer. So checklist is a more appropriate term.

The list came into existence after a girl’s night game of Never Have I Ever, in which she discovered there was an embarrassing number of things she’d never done. Some of them seemed nearly impossible to have gone twenty-something years without doing, especially when in a committed relationship. That was made abundantly clear to her when the girls pointed it out, teasing her — and by association, Spencer — for being more than vanilla.

There was no real reason she hadn’t tried those certain things — she wasn’t adverse to the idea of most of them at all. Really, it was just that she never bothered to dip her toes beyond what was familiar.

When Emily, Penelope, and Tara had nearly all ten of their fingers down after a couple rounds, she finally realized she might’ve been coming up short in the sex department. She figured it was about time to find out what she’s missing, so she made a list of everything she needed to try. And one by one, she and Spencer checked the items off.

One of the more simple things on the list, and perhaps her favorite, was giving her first blowjob. It wasn’t something she felt compelled to try with any of the guys she’s been with before, and Spencer, though he was very curious about it, was too much of a gentleman to ask for one.

So when she asked him to sit on the edge of his bed and dropped to her knees in front of him, he didn’t stop to ask questions. His mind went blank the second her fingers undid his zipper. It was Spencer’s first, too, and his fingers knotted in her hair as she took him in as deep as she could, hollowing her cheeks around his cock and swirling her tongue as her head bobbed up and down. Spencer always made pretty sounds in bed, but in this instance she envied his memory because she wished she could replay his moans and gasps from that first blowjob all over again in her mind.

Another favorite was allowing the favor to be reciprocated until completion. She figured she might just be someone who couldn’t get off from oral, because though she always welcomed Spencer to go down, she got impatient every time and pulled his head up by his hair, demanding him to fuck her already. Spencer was one to oblige every request, but he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t overjoyed when one time she never stopped him short.

There were no interruptions, no hands shoving his face away from its rightful place against her, just increasing moans and shaking legs as Spencer was encouraged to give more. She can still remember the half-moon shapes his nails left on her thighs from where he had to grip them so tightly as she rode out her high. And she definitely remembers the almost feral look in his eyes after, because since that first time he insists on doing it again nearly every day.

There were more or less a dozen other items that slowly but surely got ticked off the list.

Handcuffs in the bedroom — fun, but perhaps better saved for special occasions. Or if Spencer was being extra good and deserved a treat.

Various new positions — a reminder to stretch more. And that sixty-nine is not as easy as it sounds on paper.

She let Spencer put a blindfold on her — it was decided they both prefer it more when the blindfold is on him. It keeps him guessing.

Spanking — both of them like this one, either giving or receiving. Surprisingly, she thinks she might like receiving it a little more, and Spencer is always excited to give.

Shower sex — a bit of a logistical nightmare, yet still a weekly staple. It’s slippery, yes, but it’s also relaxing and intimate. And Spencer just enjoys putting his hands on her wet, soapy body.

Sending dirty texts — great, but Spencer prefers taking nude polaroids of her instead. He keeps a few in his wallet for easy access. And because he knows Garcia can’t hack his wallet and find them.

And there were more items that went in the same tune until there was just one left. The one she was most nervous to attempt.

She wondered if joining the mile high club was better or worse if it was on the BAU jet. They’d have ample opportunities to do it, but they’d also be surrounded by their colleagues, and there is no coming back from getting caught.

But the main challenge was convincing Spencer to do it in the first place.

The initial plan of attack was to drop some “subtle” hints. She brought it up for the first time one night in their shared hotel room, right after Spencer fucked her against the bathroom counter, her legs wrapped around his waist.

“We could totally do that in the jet bathroom.”

“Yeah, I guess the basics are the same. Cramped space and a ledge to lean on.” Spencer was completely aloof as he picked up the scattered articles of clothing from the floor, rattling off about the size and dimensions of the airplane bathroom and missing the entire point of the comment.

She mentioned it again a little later, hoping the repetition may help him catch the drift.

“What’s the craziest place you’ve had sex?” she asked, completely catching him off guard as he ate a breakfast of frosted flakes in his kitchen.

“Um.. I don’t know? You tell me,” he shrugged, knowing that whatever the craziest place was, it was definitely with her.

“What about doing it on the jet?” It couldn’t get more obvious.

“We haven’t done that, silly. OH! I’m gonna say it was in my car,” he nodded with a wide grin, confident in his answer that unfortunately brushed past the proposition far too quickly.

It was time to change methods.

The new plan was to see if she could get him turned on enough on the jet to motivate him to do something about it right then and there. It seemed easy enough.

She sat next to him on the small couch, as she always did, and cuddled up to his side as he read his book.

Once everyone was distracted, she snaked a hand onto his thigh, allowing it to rest there long enough for Spencer to get over his initial shock and relax into her touch. As soon as he let his guard down, she moved her hand up another inch or two, watching him squirm again as he fought his mind from wandering. She repeated that cycle every five minutes until it drove him insane, his willpower diminishing in tandem with the proximity of her hand.

When everyone finally fell asleep, she craned her head to press small kisses on his neck, alternating between quick pecks and lingering ones, sucking warm and wet little flecks onto his skin that drew soft sighs without fail.

“What are you doing?” his breath was raspy and low as he muttered into her ear.

“Nothing.” She kept her tone innocent and sweet as she continued to sprinkle the teasing kisses across the column of his throat.

Her hand finally found its way directly on top of the bulge straining against his slacks and gave it a gentle squeeze. Spencer grinded himself into her palm, desperate to feel some friction, his jaw slacked and pupils wide. She dragged a thumb across his length, stopping to rub slow circles over the sensitive tip, drawing out a wet spot at the front of his trousers.

But even with his skin flushed red and his cock leaking and half-near orgasm, Spencer still found the restraint to stop her from jerking him off right on the jet and ripped her hand away, placing it in her lap as if the action could permanently force her to keep her hands to herself.

“I can’t go to the crime scene with cum in my pants,” he hissed, squeezing her wrist tighter.

She smirked at the opportunity, wrapping her warm lips around his ear lobe and tugging with her teeth before whispering with hot breath. “Then put it in me.”

For a second she saw him consider it. His eyes had a dark cast, gaze flickering between her eyes and lips as he swallowed the thick lump in his throat. But then Emily woke up and it was yet another failed attempt.

She resigned to the fact that it just wouldn’t happen, and that the item might remain unchecked on the secret list. So she cleared the idea from her mind, not wanting to keep pushing Spencer toward something he clearly didn’t have an interest in, or to keep embarrassing herself by trying.

And then a couple weeks later, as the team wrapped another case up, she came back to their hotel room to find Spencer sitting on the bed, facing away from the door.

“Hey, baby,” she greeted. When Spencer didn’t respond, she crawled onto the bed behind him, placing both hands on his shoulders and attacking the side of his face with kisses, giggling into his messy curls. “I said hey.”

Still nothing. Her eyes followed his line of sight down to his hands and went wide with realization.

“Spencer, where did you get that!?” She tried to snatch the crumpled piece of paper from him, but he was too quick to pull it away.

“I was looking for gum in your purse,” he explained, reading the sheet over again in complete amusement, “but I found something better.”

Spencer was much too excited about it, bordering on smug, and she rolled off the bed away from him in annoyance.

“Is this what I think it is?” She remained silent, suddenly feeling very insecure about the note. “Did you... did you make a list of things to do in bed?”

“You weren’t supposed to see that, it’s so stupid.”

“Hey, who said it’s stupid?” He tugged on her fingers, pulling her back onto the bed next to him. “I just wanna know where it came from.”

“Well... when I went out with the girls, we started talking about all the things we’ve done…” she paused to see if Spencer could guess where this was going, and of course he didn’t, “... in bed. And I hadn’t even done half of what they have, so I wrote some of them down. I — I wanted to try them with you.”

“So you… you’ve never done these with anyone else?” Spencer’s eyes widened as he pieced the puzzle together. He looked down again at the discarded sheet laying on pillows, his pride swelling at how long the list was. “I’m the first?”

She nodded in assent and no sooner was Spencer pushing her back flat against the mattress, settling his body on top of hers.

“God, that’s so hot,” he spoke into her neck as he sucked purple bruises into it, allowing his hands to roam freely under her shirt. His nimble fingers made quick work of her bra clasp, pulling the hem of the top up to attach his lips to her exposed nipple. He rolled the other in his fingers, tugging gently as she arched into his touch, rolling her hips up to grind against his. He groaned and pushed back, nestling himself perfectly between her legs.

Suddenly his motions halted and he popped his head up, looking at her with wide eyes and freshly ruffled hair. “We haven’t finished the list yet!”

“I — I didn’t think you were interested in the last one.”

“If my girlfriend makes a list of ways she wants to fuck me, I’m interested.”

A devilish grin took over her face. “Well, we fly home tomorrow.”

And true to the plan, they arrived on the jet the next day with at least a vague sense of strategy: wait until everyone is asleep then go at it in the bathroom. It wasn’t the most elaborate of plans, but there wasn’t much else to think of.

Except for the possibility that the others might not go to sleep.

The flight was already halfway through its journey and everyone was still wide awake, and Spencer was growing incredibly impatient. Perhaps even more than his girlfriend, now that he knew this would be part of a long list of things he got to be her first for.

That fact seemed to encourage him, the thrill of forever being her first at something. Never mind that she’d be his firsts, too.

Spencer’s not stupid, he knows that bending her over the bathroom counter while everyone is awake to hear it is a horrible idea. But his willpower doesn’t extend far enough to stop him from dropping his hand to her exposed knee, rubbing it softly just to be able to touch her. It seemed innocent enough in case anyone might see.

He kept his eyes on the open book he was pretending to read as his fingers traced the inside of her thigh, pushing up the hem of her skirt ever so slightly.

He inched his hand up and slowly spread his long fingers apart until they covered the length of her inner thigh. The tips stopping just below her cunt, delicately tracing lines back and forth parallel to the seam of her underwear.

And she quickly discovers there’s no taste worse than your own medicine. There was gentle brushes and concealed touches, all the things that she did to him. But where Spencer would’ve stopped her teasing before it got too far, she wouldn’t have done the same.

She covered up his hands by bringing her own down to her lap, silently encouraging him to continue unseen.

Spencer looked down at her through his thick lashes, bottom lip stuck between his teeth. Looking for more confirmation that she wanted this. The answer came in the form of her shifting subtly down the seat, pressing her clothed pussy firmly against his hand.

His cock twitched against the confines of his slacks when he felt the damp patch on the fabric. His knuckles brushed against her clit and her knees clamped shut, holding him in place as she brought her lips close to his ear to let him hear her soft whines.

He has to put his book over his lap to cover how hard he is, and it almost makes him regret starting this game. Almost.

Because just as she starts desperately grinding against his hand, squirming for more friction, he notices that everyone’s asleep. And then it’s a race to the bathroom, Spencer positioning her directly in front of him to cover his bulge as they stand up.

Their mouths are on each other before the door even closes, her hands wasting little time in going for his zipper. Both desperate to have each other after all the anticipation. She immediately perched herself on the countertop, spreading her legs wide so Spencer could fit in between them, just like in that hotel room. A confused whine fell from her mouth when he lifted her off from the ledge, interrupting her plan.

“No. Like this,” he growled, turning her around and pushing her hips against the edge of the counter, bending her over it. She muttered a “Fuck,” under her breath as he pressed his cock against her backside, knowing he preferred this angle because he could get deeper.

His lips trailed down her neck as he tugged the skirt up to her hips and pulled her panties to the side, running his cock along her folds to gather the wetness that had been pooling there.

“Shit, you’re so fucking wet.”

He quickly inserted his thumb into her mouth to stop any sounds from escaping before lining himself up. Her moans vibrated against the digit as he slowly pushed in, stretching her out and letting her adjust before starting to move. Slowly and deliberately, at first, then quickly gaining speed.

She pushed her hips back to meet his thrusts until he pinned them against the ledge with his own, holding them still so he could set his pace faster.

The hand that was resting on her waist came up to her chest, groping at the flesh over her blouse. Her spine arched into his palm, bending forward to give him more leverage to get deeper to that spot inside her repeatedly.

He alternated between a few quick thrusts followed by a deep one, holding himself there for a moment before repeating.

Her cunt tightened around him as he held still against her, applying firm pressure to her spot with the head of his cock.

“Fuck, do that again, please,” he grunted against her neck, pushing his hips into her ass with bruising force to get impossibly closer. A loud whine nearly escaped her lips as he did so, the motion sending her over the edge.

She sucked harder around his thumb, using it to keep her cries at bay as she reached her climax. Her walls fluttered around him as she did, giving him exactly what he needed.

“Remember what you said before, baby?” he hummed in her ear, “Do you still want me to cum inside you?”

“Please.”

Immediately his thrusts became erratic, hips snapping forward a handful of times before he spilled into her in hot spurts, biting down on her shoulder to stifle his moan as he came.

Still heaving from the comedown, he pulled her panties back on, using the fabric to keep his cum from spilling out.

She turned to feverishly attach her lips to his, panting into the open mouthed kiss. When they finally broke apart, both looked completely wrecked with swollen lips, flushed skin, bruised necks. Still, they tried their best to fix themselves, straightening out their rustled clothes and smoothing knotted hair.

Before Spencer turned the door handle, he pulled her side into him, pressing a kiss onto her forehead. “We should make another list.”

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