#shooting star spits glitter

[averydeadshootingstar]

how can someone genuinely think im cool like dude have you seen me

[sexlapis]

# a snowy morning .·

𝗓𝖹𝗓 🦌 ⎯⎯ &. ♥︎

❤︎ toji x gn!reader

sfw, fluff, christmas season, petnames (‘kid’, ‘sweetie’), playing in the snow, old man toji, he’s a tiny bit mean but … <3

wc: 1.9k

a/n: just wanted some toji winter fluff…<3 merry christmas everyone ᒄ₍⁽ˆ⁰ˆ⁾₎ᒃ♪♬

masterlists

*

toji awakens with a startle at your shout, shooting up and out of bed, swiping his handgun from his bedside drawer and stumbling to where you stand, looking out of the bedroom window.

life away from the city was all toji wanted, along with peace and quiet, which is why you and toji live just on the outskirts of the woods, where your only neighbours are the wild animals that roam the surrounding forest.

and toji likes it that way; no annoying neighbours, no noisy cars, no air pollution and clear, vibrant skies where you can actually see the fucking stars when you look up.

but with you around…peace and quiet are nothing but foreign concepts.

“toji, look!” you exclaim. “it’s snowing! it’s- toji put that away.” you frown at him, referring to his gun.

“what’s with all that yelling?” he grunts, lowering his weapon and instead unsafely using it to scratch his back.

“it’s snowing! it must’ve started when we slept!”

toji huffs, his heart slowing down a little in relief. “alright, let’s jus’-”

“it’s so deep too. and it looks so soft. i’m going outside!”

after your sporadic ramble, you’re flinging out of your pyjamas and into thicker, warmer clothes.

“it’s six in the morning.” toji deadpans, blinking away the sleep in his eyes and ruffled by you shocking him awake. “we can go outside later.”

you were always so spontaneous with your plans, he could hardly keep up with them.

“no! it could be melted by then,” you claim, throwing a large, cream-coloured sweater over your head, “put your clothes on, you're coming with me.”

“now why am i involved?” he asks, rhetorically of course, since he’s already heading to his wardrobe and picking out a black fleece along with a long sleeved shirt.

he should really stand his ground more, show you who’s in charge and who makes the rules around here. after all, it is his house.

but when you look at him so expectantly, hoping for him to agree, he knew that he would only comply with your wishes.

and you know that too.

“someone needs to help me build the snowman!”

*

minutes later, you’re skipping in the sparse forest behind the house, travelling through crunchy snow to the best of your abilities, leaving uneven footprints in your path as toji trails behind you, chiding you to slow down.

frosty, crisp air bites at your exposed face, sure to ache when you get back inside to the warmth. the wintry sky is painted in a pale periwinkle, cloudless and plain lest for the faded crescent moon that follows you on your merry way.

you leave the forest and you are welcomed to the wide, vast and picturesque landscape of the field you and toji commonly frequent. said field is completely blanketed in a white sheet of pure snow, going on for miles and miles, glittering in the morning glow.

“kid, what’d i say.” toji huffs, coming to stand beside you with a hand supporting his back, a little out of breath. “what a view, huh?”

“mhm!” you agree and then you’re plopping right down into the snow, repeatedly spread and closing your arms and legs, more strenuous than you expected, “come make a snow angel, toji! next to me. not too close though or you’ll mess mine up.”

toji sighs, mostly fond, breath leaving his nose and he clambers onto the snowy ground with his knees cracking, something you then proceed to make fun of him for and he flicks snow at you.

“toji, that got in my mouth!” you sputter and spit, glaring at a flailing toji who attempts to make a snow angel. his long, big limbs make the movement look heavy and odd, causing you to snort in his face.

“what’re you laughin’ at?” he grunts, his expression determined like he’s in a competition to make the greatest snow angel of all time. snow splatters all around him from his brash actions.

he looks so cute like this, you think. rosy cheeks, the sweet dimple on his left cheek that appears when he grins, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkled even more as he smiles and entertains you.

“okay, that’s enough!” you stand, brushing the snow away from your body, “get up. i wanna see what they look like.”

toji sticks his hand out, “‘right, help me up.”

“oh toji..” you mutter in faux annoyance before you clasp both of your gloved hands around his one, groaning with the struggle of lifting him up.

“i’m not that heavy, sweetie,” huffs toji, clapping his covered hands, causing snow to powder all around him, “okay, what’d you think?”

you both observe at the snow angels created by your bodies. they are…simply a mess and bundle of piled up mess, shapeless silhouettes dented into the snow, the size difference between them almost comical.

“…yeah it’s looks great ♡,” you smile, looking to toji who nods in agreement, clearly pleased with himself.

*

“okay! toji you make the body and i’ll do the head!” you call out to him from a distance after playing and prancing around in the know. you’ve already begun rolling out a small ball of firm snow along the ground.

meanwhile, toji’s snowball is already up to his knee. he shuffles and rolls his huge globe of snow around the field, leaving swirls and spirals in the sheet of snow behind him.

“how is yours so big already?!” you screech, glancing down at your pitiful snow ball, “we just started!”

“‘cos while i was getting down to business you were doin’ backflips in the fuckin’ snow.”

“hey!” beyond your better judgement, you launch the ball of snow right at toji, striking him square in the chest.

a quiet “ufff” leaves toji’s mouth and he peers at his once black winter coat that is now splattered in snow. then, he slowly raises his head back to you, a malicious glint in his eyes.

“ohhh, you really shouldn’t ‘a done that, kid…”

toji’s lifts what is supposed to be the body of the snowman and stalks towards you in swift strides. you scream, already on your feet and dashing away downhill, squealing and cackling as toji runs after you with the giant snowball in his arms, a sight that would be absurd to onlookers if there were any.

your foot slides off the floor and up into the air, landing on your back onto the pillow of snow, leaving you completely at toji’s mercy.

it took a mere four or five steps for him to keep up with you. quite sad on your part, really.

toji’s looms over you, a wicked grin on his lips as he holds the large snowball in his hands, “i hate to have ’ta do this but…”

“toji, please! have mercy-”

but your words fall on deaf ears. toji’s raises the vast ball of snow, creating a shadow over your vision, and your eyes are bulging, your stomach dropping slightly as he promptly drops the snow onto your awaiting body.

you gasp. luckily, your winter coat protected you from the bite of the snow, the clothing now caked with snow.

toji pats his hand for good measure right over your body, sprinkling snow on your face.

“how’s that, huh?” he smirks before noticing how you’re covering your face with the back of your hands, your shoulders shaking slightly.

shit.

“shit,” he crouched down and going to comfort you, thinking he took this game a little too far, “kid, you okay? ‘m sorry-”

a snowball is smashed into the side of his face.

“ha!” your giggles fill the bitter air and you shove him into the snow, jumping up and scurrying off, “got youuuuuuu!”

“oh, you fucking-” toji springs to his feet, shaking the snow his face, the area now red and flushed, “yeah, you better run!”

you and toji chase each other through the snow, launching snowballs at each other, noses rosy and cheeks aching from smiles and laughter, breaths heaving and hearts running as you both reveal in this newfound peace and joy.

playful, free and happy.

toji tackles you, cupping the back of your head as you fall to the ground softly.

he hovers over you. the hat that previously covered his head is long gone, most likely buried within the surrounding snow. his raven locks point in all directions and droplets of snow seasoned in his hair. tender, rounded eyes decorated with fluttering, thick lashes study you adoringly and you feel like hiding your face as your heart bursts in your chest.

you bite your lip and say, “i think i won.”

“yeah, sure you did.” toji rolls his eyes, shaking his head and kissing your nose, “c’mon, let’s go. it’s just gonna get colder, anyway.”

“i wanted to go ice skating on the lake, though…”

toji rises to his knees, lifting you up with him. he sweeps the snow from your hair and scans your body, his actions instinctual at this point, “yeah, yeah, we’ll go tomorrow, promise.”

you seem satisfied with his answer, allowing him to stand you up.

“i want a piggyback ride, please” you beam at him, and…toji is a weak man. only for you.

seconds later, he is letting you mount him like a horse and he begins the journey back to the cosy home you both created for yourselves.

toji’s large, strong stature makes you feel safe, protected. it always has. and with the smoothness of his steps, you find drifting off into a momentary rest against his broad shoulders.

*

the next time you come to, you’re on the couch of your living room, the fireplace crackling and illuminating the dim room. a fluffy, lengthy blanket protects you from the slight chill in the air which is also permeated with the scent of chocolate. you blink, licking your lips and yawning. you are by yourself, you note as you stretch and sit up on your knees.

shortly after that thought, toji walks in, holding two mugs of what you presume to be hot coco.

“hey, sweetie,” he coos, wishing to keep the quiet atmosphere, “got ya some hot coco,” he hands you the cup, placing his own on the coffee table and taking a seat right next to you, “‘fell asleep on the way back. musta been tired from waking up at ass ‘o clock, huh?”

you pout, gulping some of the chocolatey beverage which has your mouth hot and warming up your insides. you stick your tongue out at him, feeling too drowsy to even refute his snipe.

toji huffs, grinning softly. he licks his thumb and wipes the corner of your mouth to get rid of a chocolate stain.

“ugh, toji.” you grunt, “gross.”

“c’mon i've done worse than that.”

you grumble, sipping on your hot drink and ignoring his short chuckles.

he shifts closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “c’mere.”

toji is so big and so warm and so soft and just so tender. you’re dropping your mug next to toji’s and snuggling up right beside him, also wrapping your arms around his waist, your cheek pressed up against his firm chest. it’s the perfect fit and you’ve never felt so content.

“hmm..think i’m gonna fall asleep again…”

“that's alright, baby.” toji hums, kissing the top of your head and smoothing your hair down. he loved the feeling of you in his arms, it made him feel like the protector that he is at his core, something he’d forgotten so much about - the true nature of himself.

“go to sleep,” and you are already passed out, fast asleep on toji’s firm body. he nuzzles against the top of your head and closes his eyes, breathing you in and holding you close.

he can stay here, with you in his arms, far away from the rest of the world, forever.

*

a/n: have a very merry christmas everyone! please make sure to rest and stay healthy ^_^🎄💚❤️

[healer-pop]

Mmkay first off can I just say I LOVE your work?? Your writing is so damn good like save some talent for the rest of us pls—

Anyway, I’ve been in love with your AMAB venture blurbs but hear me out.. virgin AFAB venture, but imagine they have bottom growth that makes their clit so so sensitive and bigger than it was before, maybe they’re a little insecure about it but that doesn’t stop you from taking every chance you get to reassure them and tell them how much you love them, kiss and lick and suck them until they’re seeing stars ??

wow anon what’s it like being my idol….. seriously i have heart eyes for this prompt 🫶

the way you make their head spin, starstruck in the most literal of senses, bright spots glittering their vision, as Sloane clutched onto the side of the desk, fingers trembling with effort. you work your magic below them, pants and boxers shoved down to their feet and kicked off just as rapidly, your eyes are fixed on their growing clit, which is pulsating with need, shiny with your spit. you curl around their legs like a serpent, cooing and coaxing pitiful moans from their mouth with every lewd compliment you give them.

“God, I love your cock like this… it’s so gorgeous… I wanna suck it all night,” you croon, saccharine sweet and making Sloane’s heart pang with desire. a finger matches your gaze’s pace, along the side of Sloane’s slit. “It’s so fucking hot, V. Can’t believe you were nervous to show me this.” the same hand lifts, changing direction and carding through the small patch of curls above their hood, humming happily as you leaned in and pressed a kiss to it, making Sloane yelp, head twirling at the sensation, held captive by the throes of sensation, enhanced 100 fold, shooting down their nerves. unconsciously, they bring a hand up to cup over their mouth, to try and muffle these embarrassing sounds, but you reach up and tug it down, interlocking your fingers with theirs.

“Uh-uhn, baby,” you whisper, and Sloane is transfixed with the way your glossy lips shiny under the dingy desk lightening. “This is the best part.”

They can’t even attempt to open their mouth with the way they’re shivering, barely even able to keep themselves up, but you can see the question in their eyes, a trail of sweat dripping down their forehead. you smile, all teeth and a pulled corner of your mouth, devilish. oh, they don’t like that….

with your eyes locked, you lean down and take their whole clit into your mouth. you’re lucky their housemates aren’t in, because the way they scream would probably have them calling the cops.

[sweet-bazzle-bean]

White Knight

Black Pete/Lucius | 1.5k words | Rated T

Warnings: Ed gets shot but he’s very much okay

___________________________________

They had only been aboard the revenge for a couple of minutes, and it was already turning to shit. Everyone was shouting over each other and Pete was pretty sure this was going to end in a fight. Blackbeard had like, ten more guys on his crew and they looked mean too. Izzy was the only one in the group talking, but they were all squared up like they were ready to fight. Blackbeard was there too, of course, and he looked… he looked a little weird actually. Kinda bummed out. He was just staring at Captain who kept on trying to talk to him, but Blackbeard wouldn’t answer.

“At a minimum,” Stede’s high voice rises above the din, “We’re here for our crewmembers. Jim, Frenchie, and Lucius will be coming with us.”

“Yeah, where’s Lucius!” Pete shouts to make sure he's heard, because there’s Frenchie and Jim, both looking pretty cool in their new black get-ups, but no Lucius.

Izzy glances at him and chuckles, then turns back to Stede.

“Lucius is dead,” Izzy spits, “Blackbeard killed the ponce.”

Pete stands there stock still for a moment, the sound of the crew’s angry shouting is like a distant echo as his head goes fuzzy. He hadn’t believed it. Everyone had been tiptoeing around it because no one had seen Lucius for a full day before they’d been stranded. But Pete hadn’t for a second believed it possible that he was actually dead.

He doesn’t think. He can’t. Instead, he raises his pistol.

It’s loaded despite Stede’s instructions that this was to remain peaceful at all costs. Blackbeard sees the movement, turns towards Pete, and Izzy moves fast but it’s too late. Izzy’s sword comes down on his gun the moment he pulls the trigger - in that spit second pulling his aim from Ed’s skull to his chest before the bullet’s path is set, but that’s good too.

Izzy’s shout of rage is almost as loud as Stede’s, not quite, but that all sounds far away too. Pete sees Stede break rank and rush to Blackbeard's side who is collapsing to the ground. Izzy lunges for Pete with murderous eyes. His face is twisted with anguish. Pete dodges the first strike, reckless and sloppy, and then the back swing is –

___________________________________

“Can I stay here for a minute?”  

“Course you can, Pete… c’mere.”

The dream swims into the memory it belongs to as he starts to wake up.

“You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Lucius had said it so simply.

“You can be as macho as you want out there. But when we’re alone you can just… do what feels nice.”

Lucius had held him, Pete’s head cradled on his chest in a forgotten corner of the ship made comfortable with a pile of torn sails and a single lit candle.

“Does this feel nice?”

“Feels nice,” Pete says out loud, something gentle touching the side of his head. When he opens his eyes, he sees stars glittering above him, or maybe shards of heaven’s light.

“You stupid idiot,” a voice says, affectionate and close to his face.

Pete breathes a sigh of relief.

Dead then, he thinks, was bound to happen eventually. At least I’m dead with him.

Lucius’s face eclipses the light reflecting above him.

“Shooting the scariest man on the fucking ocean…” Lucius says shaking his head and wiping Pete’s face with a wet cloth.

Read the rest on Ao3

[lynnedwardswrites]

velvet pumpkin, star-shaped crystal

velvet pumpkin: what do you like describing the most when it comes to scene dressing? share an excerpt

oof this is a pretty tough one because I feel like my writing is pretty weak here. I tend to only describe the setting if the characters are interacting with it directly, or if I'm foreshadowing that they will. So these are definitely cherry-picked:

She’s pointedly ignoring me, so I start stabbing at the steps with the end of the torch, trying to remember which one activates a spike trap. When I hit the fourth, half a dozen metal spears shoot from the wall, blocking the path. A tuft of dark fur and the glisten of half-dried blood ornaments one of them. Rookies, I think, releasing the mechanism with satisfaction.

Or

I wink and she laughs and we join the masses, avoiding the middle of the road where the mud is thickest. The rain has stopped finally, and a few timid seedlings of late-winter sunlight are piercing the clouds out to sea, smiling on the waves and making them glitter in undulating ribbons. Just beyond, partially shrouded in mist, I spot the narrow mouth of the bay, where two thin stretches of rock arc out from the mainland. An ancient lighthouse, complete with a large signal fire, rises from the left spit. “A few weeks from now and there will be dozens of ships strung up along there,” I say, jerking my chin towards the sea.

Maybe the one exception (and the way I've been enticing myself to write this kind of stuff more in general) is when I can turn scene description into characterization:

(POV the Lord Sovereign:)

“Mary, you can’t seriously intend to turn that much land over to the Church,” I say, navigating the wide stone hall that leads to my audience chamber, hung with an insulating array of dark red velvets painted with white, stylized eagles. Everything about my daughter’s formal, military regalia matches it perfectly, right down to her white sash and the luster of her buttons. Everything pressed. Everything in its place. “I can, actually, and I do!” she says, as several servants in crisp tan uniforms with the remnants of someone’s lunch service scuttle out of her way. “Think of your son!” I beg, slowing as we near the dark paneled doors at the end of the hall, flanked by guards. “The peerage will tear his house apart, demanding their due, whether you’ve left it for him or not.” She scoffs as I knock and wait for a steward to open the room for me. “The Gods will bless a righteous house with a greater inheritance than you could dream of.” Two stewards, dressed in a similar tan to the serving staff, open the doors from behind. The rug ends at the door, and my shoes make a satisfying click against the dark marble tile as I enter, headed for the austere, understated desk painted in pale winter light at the far end of the room. I circle behind it and peer out the window, blinking into the sun as I wait for the stewards to leave so I can unleash my next retort. The doors click shut. Mary is standing opposite the desk, arms crossed impatiently, but without the frill and pomp of the halls extending her Morgenstern colors into a mantle the size of a mammoth, it’s easier to see her for what she is: tired, and so stiff I’m surprised she doesn’t have a scepter shoved up her ass.

star-shaped crystal: have you ever been inspired by a dream? tell us about it

I basically only have three kinds of dreams: sexy; clothes shopping; and Spiders.

So I may have been sexually inspired by a dream at one point but I don't have any major Meyer-esque plot element stories to tell.

Thanks for the asks! I really like the questions in this post, so send me another if you'd like to participate!

[emojunkdog]

cosmic lover, dark enerjy drink, dark matter hair. im tired. jazz lullabies. lovers in other hemispheres die with tied hands and broken bones. night wolves running with dead white herons in their mouthes. all the pacific ocean is covered in fire and molten rocks. hand in hand. hand in hand, singing silently. breathing. soda bubble stars. cool wind, hot boiling sky.gracefully. 4:05am novels. chewed and spitted plastic. smell of burned hair on hands &smell of dirty hair. needles o' safety pins.claw marks on thesand. last cigs. kill the sun and make a coat of its skin. sound likea lamb. sound like a japanese nooise musician. your homeland was burned down and never there. blessed strong winds.ashhaired. tarhaired. wirehaired. downfall three times. swallows four times. shooting at the north point. broken nails screw out the bullrts from wounded knees of dying men, older but not wiser. smile of hungry addict and eyes of a feverish bird. who can last so long without any goodbye. crooked wounds of river. looking down. looking up. hand in hand. possibly. longing again. exploding stars sending the glitter rain. forever sunless neverending night realms.

[crass-and-loses]

Unrequited Love (snippet)

"You know what I want to be? A porn star!" She puckered her lips and put on her red lipstick glittered in stardust.

I don't know why she said that. It was silly, an idea that came from drinking too much beer and smoking too much weed. And yet...

"I would suck dicks for money. Put whip cream on my vagina, I don't know! Sounds fun." Smoke rises on the room that it was clogging my lungs. I had to open the window to let the smell out.

It was night and the sound of police cars and shooting indicated that there's a crime nearby.

"I'll open the window for a while then close it." I said spitting few coughs here and there that needed to be drowned by more liquor.

"What about you?" Her big brown eyes glistened in anticipation, as if asking me if I want to be like her. Well.. she's fun. Blonde, tall, with just enough humor that she's not a bore. She's everything that I want, but she would not want me. I know it.

"I don't know. Sounds unsustainable." I took another sip of alcohol on the glass that we shared. It was smeared by her lipstick and it felt like a kiss. It made me smile a bit but I hid it well. For the ten years we've been together, she never got a clue.

"Come on! That's pretty simple and fun!" She bit her lips teasingly and reached out to grab me back to the hard floor. She snuggled on my shoulder. I was aware of her scent, her cheap perfume that tickled my nostrils, she smelled so good.

"What would happen if we were older then? When our bodies were wrinkled and no boys would want us?" A simple thought, a simple idea.

"By that time we'll be rich! Like sleeping-on bed-full-of-money-rich!" Her hands shot up like a child. Full of wonder and awe.

"It's not simple."

"Then we'll make it!"

"Why are you so insistent on the idea?" I asked, as I reached for her waist and hugged her tight. "Why do you want to be a pornstar?"

"Cause... It's.. a good profession." Now she sounded unsure.

"What's good about it?" I laid my head on the crook of her neck as we fall on the soft mattress on the floor.

"Because there's money... And boys would worship us." Now I know...

I pushed her from the mattress, her body hitting the floor with a thud. Arms spread wide, I took all the space I could and refused to let her lay beside me.

"It's your boyfriend, isn't it?" It was huff that sounded dry. It made her snort, laugh, then she broke into tears just like that. A pretty thing broken by love many times and whom did not learn any lesson at all.

"He found another girl!" Her knees fell down and she became an awful mess of tears and snot.

"Caitlyn! What did I told you? He's a problem!" It sounded merciless but she had to hear it.

Caitlyn just gave me a deer like stare and nimbled on her lips.

Because of too much comfort from the mattress, it was hard to rise. Still, I willed myself and when I sat, I gave her the coldest stare that soon melted when she pounced and hugged me.

"I'm sorry, Regina." She sniffed, tears wetting my smelly hoodie.

My fingers found her beautiful blonde head and gave her a scratch, like the one you would do to a whimpering dog.

"It's fine." I sighed. "I love you, Cait."

"I love you too, Reggy."

I wish you could love me like those boys that left you.

[silverheartlugia2000]

Jason wasn't sure what the hell just happened. One minute he had the Fenton's roped up, getting results, then Danny walks in and all hell broke loose.

They had been loosing. Loosing badly. Babs had already broke her silence once the shooting started and Dick was halfway there on the Wally express. He was sure the others were probably on various other Supers or Flashes that were free but then all the chaos just seemed to freeze.

Jason panicked, thinking he had gone deaf somehow, complete silence in the wake of a warzone. The only thing that moved was Danny, the only sound was Danny, Jason's only thought was DANNY.

Then the scream. it felt like a scream at least, Jason could feel so much emotion pouring off of it. Danny's emotions.

Being revived had left Jason the slightest bit empathic, though it had taken several sessions between JL Dark and Raven to work through the overwhelming rage that lived in his bones. They told him he was a Revenant, an undead with a purpose of vengance. The rage had been caused by his own plans, triggering death trauma onto himself and escalating his now emotion driven soul. That and being hangry for ectoplasm apparently, Ghostbusters was right, who knew?

He had thought Danny had been a meta at first, it made sense with the cloning and all. But now he can see its something else entirely.

He could feel the scream vibrate around him, he could see the Fentons collapse and claw at their ears in what was possibly to them something more like Black Canary's cry.

What Jason could hear, what he was seeing was something different entirely. He can hear the sobs of a boy, the cries of someone injured left alone in the dark as laughter cackles. Jason can see Danny, perfectly normal, HUMAN Danny, standing in front of a tunnel, the same one just feet away without the lazerus green light. watched him walk in, watched him trip, saw his hand hit something before the boy lights up like a lightbulb being turned on. He can see Danny being torn apart and remade. See the fights he was forced into. See the pain when the Fentons turned on him, the town turned on him, the ghosts that interacted with him thinking he would just KNOW, know like they do, all the ins and out of who he was and how he worked. How he was confused and half starved like (Jason had been coming back to Gotham..) Before he finally got someone to tell him what was wrong.

Jason fumbles with his helmet, fighting with the latches barely noticing when he somehow gets knocked over by something hard and then tossed into loose dirt. There's hands suddenly pulling his away and taking the helmet off and he just barely sees Dick's suit in the corner of his vision as he lets his stomach empty onto the ground under him. Coughing and spitting for a good 30 seconds as Dick holds him away from the mess.

Once Jason could breathe without heaving, he leans back into his brother's arms, taking in his surroundings. Dick is hovering, Wally just off to the side having pulled the unconscious Fentons into a pile. B was standing in front of them with Superman looking at here Danny had been standing..

Danny!

Jason scrambles, pushing himself between them to see something in a dark cloak. They had no legs, just a long tail that was currently holding a staff with clocks set into it. In their arms was something small and shiny, glittering like moonlight that trembles as the entity shushes and rocks them.

Batman reaches out to Jason, to stop him from moving forward but he pays it no mind. Drawn toward the shivering star Jason stops just out of reach.

"Is he alright..?" Jason can't help but ask the entity, it felt OLD, old and powerful, strong enough to blink him and everyone else out of existence if it wanted. But right now Jason had the feeling that it wouldn't.

"He will be.. It's been a long day, and without an anchor he's not going to be himself anytime soon."

"He needs something dosen't he? Like I do?" Something to protect, something to keep grounded, something to LIVE for.

"Yes. I would advise taking it slow though, let him make the choice. Though he leans more toward the Banshee classification, he does take after you in more ways than one." Jason can feel the amusement from them, watching as the little star huddles into the cloak, warn out with frost on his cheeks.

Jason feels more than sees Bruce and Dick next to him, Knows they want a full report for why the boy he was tracking down just made a whole ass house dissapear.

"His friends and sisters staying nearby should help." The entity says, gently transfering the small ferret shaped body to him, stopping for one more brush through the moonlight hair. "The first three should be here in a moment. The other sister will be visiting Paris tommorow. If someone were to be hovering near the very tip of the Eiffel tower at 3:26 AM and said 'Clockpa sent me'. she should listen."

Bruce glanced at Clark, getting a small nod. Not that Jay would expect them all getting let back to the manor tonight, not until everyone had their questions answered. Good thing Danny seemed to love space. it would probably help keep his mind off things.

"Oh speaking of which.." The entity hums, their hand suddenly reaching right INTO Danny pulling out two backpacks seemingly already packed, right out of the tiny void of blackness in his arms.

"Tell Jazz he's going to need the leash before you get there, otherwise you might not be able to find him for a week. He dosen't need to worry about the portal either, as it is now settled within him. But he will need lessons on using it, his gate is a bit more complicated than Constantine's teleportation but that man could use a head start on his community service." The entity smiles once more and vanishes into thin air.

Danny lands at the feet of his cloning template, and in a desperate bid to not get murdered by said template, he gave a wry smile before saying, "HI, dad." He then used the moment of stunned silence to escape.

A week later, he regrets his decision as he walks down the stairs to find his template in his living room, interrogating his tied up parents.

[wordcharming]

Sometimes

Sometimes grey clouds swallow up sun and seem to spit out rain

Crisp fallen leaves get caught in the claws of howling wind

Tumbling, tumbling until entangled in tree sap

Sirens sound in the distance

. . . louder . . . louder . . .

quieter . . . quieter

. . . settling into a whisper

Supersized sledgehammers swan dive from the sky

Horrific elegance commemorated by mouths agape

Ground ruptures with an ominous clamor

Revealing crevices stretching toward a bleak abyss

Slick surfaces lure the people toward their demise

But to their surprise . . .

Glitter, rainbows, upbeat dance music pulsating through cartoon-like speakers

“And you, and you, and you — and you were there!“

Paris Hilton, six drag queens in shimmery stilettos, a unicorn roller skating on one leg, a robot spewing pink sparks from its oustretched pinkies

Shooting stars painting the raven tapestry

reflecting in the plum river

and a banner reading

Ready? Player 1, For Your Outlandish Dreams . . . Level III

[averydeadshootingstar]

i need regulily fics

[littlest-dark-age]

He's so pretty when he goes down on me

Headcannons for eddie with a thembo!partner

Listen to while reading : shiny by lil mariko

tagging @eddiemvnsongf

Warnings : unedited, cream pie, penetrational sex, slight degradation, underwear thief eddie, eddie touching you in public, slight public sex, sexual pictures, cum eating, spit, cockwarming, mentions of love bites, mentions of being fed, mentions of spanking and bruising

Eddie saw you around school, always admiring from afar. Thinking you wouldn't give him the time of day if he were to approach you. Especially with the way everybody else treated you. Which, is as if you're royalty. And you might as well be.

He notices how you seem to drift between the "groups", always offering your sweet smile to anybody even if the people you're with roll their eyes at it. How you seem to be a much kinder person than most of the people in hawkins, even if he thinks that just for the simple fact that you don't look at him funny when the two of you are sat next to one another during the few classes he actually attends

While thinking the fact that all of your school supplies are pretty shades of pink and most of them covered in glitter is pretty cute.

It's not until one day, when you walk up to the hellfire table, does he fully recognize how ethereal you are. You completely ignore him and the others, in favor of asking Dustin and Mike something. Causing his brows to shoot up, since when did you know them?

He stands up at the end of the table, with his usual dramatic flair. The shift catches your eyes and you look up at him from your bent over position at the opposite end, before offering him your candy sweet smile he's seen flashed around the halls

"What brings such a lovely creature over to our very own corner?"

Dustin chimes in with a soft "they're my babysitter"

"And I was just checking about something. Sorry to bother you! Nice hair though!" You tell him before going back to your own table without a second thought

You helping dustin calm eddie down when he has the bottle to steves neck, causing a look of confusion to flash over his face. Wondering why you're with the group and why you were even looking for him

A few moments later, after he's done explaining what happened with chrissy, you explain your involvement with dustin and the others. Telling him how you helped steve protect the kids from the demodogs, the way you made sure El was safe and that you were there at the starcourt mall when every thing went to hell.

"I've always babysat dustin and it just turned into....this. But steve, nancy and robin don't make me feel dumb for anything. Same with little dude, he always just explained it. Kids too smart for his own good if you ask me."

Thinks you look cute offering suggestions to help with vecna, even if some of them don't quite make sense. Like when you asked if you could try to politely ask him to leave hawkins alone before trying to attack him

Made sure to zip up your jacket and double knot your shoes for you before going into the upside down because he knew probably won't think about it

Once the two of you started dating, eddie started carrying whatever you usually forgot in his metal lunchbox. A extra tube of the glittery lip balm that he loves to kiss off between classes, a couple of your pink pencils for class, the specific brand of gum you always seem to chew, anything he noticed that you've forgotten a couple of times and pouted over it.

Constantly opens things for you, but at the price of a kiss. All you have to do is hold it out with puppy dog eyes and he'll grab it with an eye roll. But he does it every time, and even when he grabs something from the store for you, he automatically opens it before handing it to you. Tapping his cheek with a grin just waiting for you to lean up and give him a soft kiss.

Always calling you sweetheart, honey or bunny. usually dripping with sickeningly sweet tone.

Thinks it's cute when you look at him as if he hung the stars in the sky when he explains things to you. Eddie always makes sure you're listening and asks if you have any questions as you're going over something. Like when he was explaining d&d to you, his heart melted(and he got hard) everytime you turned to him to make sure you were doing everything correctly. Even with the small things like designing your character. Which you still had him help you with.

Whenever you but new clothes, he always expects a fashion show after. Full of twirls showing off every inch of the new outfits, complete with your happy laughter. He tells you how pretty you look in everything even if its not his personal style. Eddie couldn't dream of his pretty fairy dressing like he does, he thinks you look perfect in the pinks and the crop tops that show off your soft skin.

Eddie will crumble if you whine and pout about something, and if you break out the tears? He will do anything physically possible to solve it. Always softly shushing you and wiping them off of your face with his big hands, telling you that you don't wanna ruin your pretty mascara now do you?

He instantly puts his hands in front of you whenever you sit by him, so you can fiddle with his hands and rings. After noticing how you always stare at them whenever you zone out and constantly play with them whenever the two of you hold hands. Teases you for it all the time, asking if you like how big his hands are and how shiny the rings can be.

Bought you a stuffed animal one day and was shocked that it sat separate from all your others that litter your bedroom. Even more shocked to find out that you sleep with it every night.

He buys you a set of die and customizes them to be baby pink with white glitter numbers.

Always pats your head when you look over at him confused about something before trying to explain it, doesn't always work out but he at least tries.

Started carrying an extra jacket or hoodie in his van for when your outfits get too cold you can have something if he's not wearing his battle jacket or leather jacket

Loves when you get so excited over the smallest things, like when the store had a cute sticker pack and you had enough change to get it. Some ended up on his metal lunchbox.

Always holds out his fork or spoon whenever he's eating, offering you some. Gently reminding you to stay hydrated, holding the bottle or cup to your mouth to make sure you actually take a drink.

Doesn't mind if you leave lipstick marks on him, especially not when you giggle about how it stands out against his pale skin.

Eddie will sometimes spend far too much money on movie nights just so you can everything you want. So what if he has to skimp a little on food? The way your eyes light up when you see everything set up, as nice as he can offer.

He feels bad when you spend money on him but realizes later on you don't care as long as it makes him happy, the same way he is with you. The way you look at him with soft doe eyes, waiting for his reaction to the newest ozzy cassette or the deluxe version of the mettalica album he doesn't have yet.

Constantly kissing your forehead and telling you not to worry your pretty little head over things, that he'll take care of it for his lil baby

Nsfw

Guides your hips when you're on top most of the time, usually leading to him flipping the two of you over so he can thrust into you. Asks if you're gonna take it like he knows you can and laughs when all you can do is nod and whine while bucking your hips into his

Introduces you to cockwarming, knowing you'll want more before five minutes go by. Ready to tease you and call you his greedy crybaby while starting to bounce you on his cock

Drools over you in white panties, especially if you make a wet spot in them. Immediately reaching out to touch it and ask if you got messy like that just for him? Grinning when you tell him that its always just for him, you're his pretty baby and nobody else's

Tries (and does) to convince you to have sex in the hellfire club room.

Regularly steals your underwear and lotion so he can jerk off with it later, wanting to smell you as much as he can.

Could have stock in polaroid film with the amount that the two of you use. He keeps his current favorite ones tucked into his wallet, the rest are in his bedside table drawer as well as the camera.

Says you look so pretty already but even prettier when he marks you up with lovebites all over. Loves when they peak out of the collar of your shirt at school the next day

Cums in you and cleans it up with his fingers before sucking it off and giving you a sweet kiss

"God you feel so good wrapped around me baby, like you were made for this. Were you? Made just for me to fuck even dumber?"

Would rather die than tell you the amount of times he's dreamt about you in the cutest skirts and he woke up with cum in his boxers

Constantly has his hands in your bottoms, gently playing with you. He can't keep his hands to himself in general and loves see you squirm and send him questioning looks while making your underwear messy

Loves when you drool and it makes him want to lick it up before spitting it back into your mouth and making you swallow it

Doesn't usually get frustrated when you brat unless you push it too far, then you end up with bruises and indentions from his rings on your ass and on the tops of your thighs.

Rolls a d20 to decide what your reward for being good will be, the list of possuble rewards is tucked away with the pictures and camera in the drawer.

Bites. Just bites you where ever he feels like it. On your neck, your chest, your thighs, your hips, etc. Eddie grins whenever you yelp when you're not expecting the bite.

Thinks its cute when you watch his guitar pick necklace swing in your face when He's on top of you, letting you catch it in your mouth some times so you have something to suck on while his hands are supporting his weight.

[supportyours]

Cuando Me Miras [M.P.]

I'd leave everything behind when Maddy looks at me like that.

PAIRING: Maddy Pérez x Trans boy

NOTES: Life-time crush. Smut implied. Maddy and Nate never met.

SONG: Cuando Me Miras - C. Tangana

WORD COUNTER: 2.8k

I always saw her as almost surreal; out of my league, out of anyone's league. It's very confusing for a little girl to feel this way towards a classmate, much more so when you feel it for the first time.

She looked down at the girls and with disdain at the boys. Winning beauty contests with her hands tied and failing subjects nonchalantly, constantly thinking that this town was too small for her greatness.

I would give anything for a minute of Maddy's attention.

Things changed in senior year, when she started keeping her middle fingernails short, wearing mini-skirts much more often, and giving me sneaky glances from across the class. Her perfume kept me in a kind of limbo, I dreamed of her practically every week and my legs weakened when I met her gaze. My infatuation was already almost completely unconcealed, she knew perfectly well and I couldn't do anything to avoid it.

—You on astral travel? –I blink a couple of times to clear my vision and look over at her, leaning with both hands on my table. Her hair falls to her shoulders, her collarbones look so delicate even under the school's LEDs that the prospect of having to form a coherent sentence right now overwhelms me– Hey! Are you still with us?

—Mh-mhm. Just thinking.

—Yeah, do it some other time. I need your test –I frown in confusion. What's going on that she needs my test? How long had I been looking at her legs before this? She snaps her fingers and reaches out to me–. Your test. Now.

I'd rather eat shit than contradict her, so I fold the papers and hand them to her I don't know why.

That little interaction is enough to keep my stupid teenage brain daydreaming for days to come. I think about her when I study, when I'm with my friends, when I see her and when I don't and I know that this has gotten worse for me noticeably.

Five minutes of her attention this time, please, God.

On Friday we have this festival. I consider myself the number one fan of high school festivals. I don't know what they're about, I don't understand the game or the rules of American football, the guys on the team make me nauseous and the seats hurt my ass. But the cheerleaders, I forget everything when I see the cheerleaders. I'd let them kick me, spit on me, step on my face and would thank them.

They come out, wonderfully made up, wonderfully coiffed, incredibly stylized in their uniform. My eyes go to her. How pretty.

Avery sits down next to me again and offers me a soda. She makes empty conversation as she pulls her blonde hair up into a ponytail.

—Then we go to the party, huh.

—Oh, Avs, if I see another straight white man with the most ordinary face you've ever seen making out with the hottest motherfucker you've ever seen 'M gonna fuckin' shoot myself.

—You are the most dramatically Shakespearean person I have ever seen.

—Oh Juliet, my Juliet, this gonna end in a double homicide and that's a threat.

When the game and performances are over we take Avery's car to her place. She puts on an obscenely tight dress, does her makeup and my makeup, fills my hair with star-shaped glitter and baubles that make me feel pretty. We pick up Amelié and go to the house of I don't know what player who drools over Avs.

I sit on the first couch I see, where I settle down before taking out my things and starting to grind. I see Avery and Amelié disappearing into the mass, ready to dance. On the contrary, I find it comforting to be unnoticed in the crowd, it's calm, feels like being in a different dimension for me.

I finish rolling the joint and light it up. The smell must be like a super signal to Rue, who finds me in the blink of an eye. She sits next to me, hands me her drink, and I pass her the joint.

—It has M? –I ask smelling the liquid and she nods.

She spends ten minutes talking about her girlfriend without barely taking a breath and says goodbye when she sees her sister walking through the front door.

I continue alone for another half hour until the first Spanish song we'll have in a long time comes on, even though a quarter of us here are Latinos, and I get up to find my friends. I spot Amelié with a redhead on her neck and start shouting the lyrics at her:

Pobre diabla

Se dice que se te ha visto por la calle vagando

Llorando por un hombre que no vale un centavo

Pobre diabla, llora por un pobre diablo

Amelié throws herself into my arms and I give her a spin. I don't know where she left the girl, but I'm glad she did. We dance the whole song. It makes me feel happy and euphoric, maybe it's just because I'm extremely stoned but I don't want to think about it too much. She dances and jumps until she is lost again among the people.

I laugh to myself. I gather my things that are miraculously still on the couch and go to the bathroom.

I throw the butt in the sink and wash the few parts of my face that aren't covered in purple paint. I hear the sound of the door and I raise my head, seeing Maddy's reflection in the mirror.

—Hey.

She doesn't say anything, just smiles at me and leans against the sink. She's wearing a dress that barely covers four inches below her low hips, her hair pulled back, knee-high boots. Has to be the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my entire life.

She taps her fingernails against the marble, again the right middle ones short. Isn't she straight? That gives me a chill.

—You look pretty tonight.

I dry my hands on my pants and position myself in the same way as her.

—Can I ask you a question?

—Sure.

—You want to fuck me, don't you? –I choke. This can't be happening, it's impossible. It's definitely the work of my stoned brain begging for a little spice. But it does happen because she keeps talking– I realize how you look at me, how you do it especially with my legs.

—Who wouldn't? –I shudder at my own response. Why have I said it like that? God, what an asshole. I want to go home and lock myself in my room. Maybe I'll skip our common classes for a week.

—Yeah, right? That's what I ask myself. And I ask it myself day, after day, after day, after day... But you never take the first step –she moves towards the door. For a moment I think I screwed up, but when I hear the latch I go to heaven. She turns and looks at me leaning against it–. What are you waiting for?

I walk toward her tentatively. I don't really know what to do. I have spent so many years of my life adoring this woman and now I am so close.

—I guess at a signal from you.

—Is this not enough signal for you?

It's the moment. I know it's the moment, I can't let it pass. I take her face in my hands and kiss her.

I'm so nervous that I forget to move for the first few seconds until she takes the initiative. It's messy and confusing, but it's so good. I've waited so long for this, I've had so many fantasies, so many failed attempts that came to nothing.

We move to the counter and I lean her against it. I don't know where to go. My hands itch. What do I do with them? I want to have them in too many places at once. I scan her face to make sure it really is her, travel my hands down her chin and cheeks, place them under her ears and stroke with my thumbs. It's obvious that I have never been so anxious about anything, but she fits perfectly.

—Why don't you let me take care of this? –she suggests without almost separating from my mouth and I can only nod.

She pushes my chest to give herself some space and get out of the confinement between my body and the sink. She has the most lustful look I've ever seen. She has so many things that I have never seen in anyone else.

—Down –she demands and looks down at the ground.

Before I know it, I'm already on the floor. I hold myself up straight on my elbows and watch her bend over. She straddles me, places her hands on the sides of my torso, and flies on top of me. I try to move towards her lips, but she quickly backs away and pushes me back into place.

—I wanna kiss you –I ask. My voice is completely distorted, I'm almost embarrassed to sound so desperate.

She ignores me with a smile and moves to my neck.

She still doesn't touch me. I only feel the heat and know she's very close.

—Be quiet. You don't want someone to come close to the door and hear you, do you, honey?

I deny busily, which must please her, because she closes the distance and starts kissing. Her plump lips feel like they belong there, at least to me. I want to feel this for the rest of my life. I drop my head back and it resonates as it hits the ground. She can't help but laugh softly.

She doesn't stop. Starts grinding her hips, which I guess she does to get guys hard, but for me, it only brings a louder sigh than I would have liked. She slides her hands inside my shirt, runs over my hips again and again as if she was trying to create a mental image of it before seeing them. I'm sure they're much thinner than she's used to, more like hers. She goes higher and higher, squeezes and kneads here and there. She stops when she feels the edge of my binder and brings them back down, near the waistband of my jeans.

—Madds...

She breaks away to look at me. Her cheeks are flushed, but all of her makeup remains intact; she could walk out of here right now and no one would know what happened, but to me she looks like a sin.

—You all right? –she whispers.

I decide not to answer her, I think it's my chance to kiss her again. Since the first time, my lips have been itching, anxiously waiting to meet again. She takes it so well, arching her back and pressing her hips harder. Oh, she's the sexiest girl in the world. I hopelessly moan into her mouth and she indulges in that, using me as she pleases.

She starts to unbutton my jeans without stopping to kiss me, slides her hand inside and touches me over my underwear. I move my hips up a bit, trying to get her to take it as an incentive to take off my pants, and she does.

She runs her hands up my thighs and slightly separates them. She caresses my skin towards my hips, hooks the elastic of my boxers from each side of my hips and slowly starts them down. The wait is killing me. The feel of her acrylic nails running down my legs as she drags my underwear makes me sigh. Her gaze is on me constantly. I lift my hips so she can lower them all the way down and she slides them off my legs, leaving them somewhere on the floor.

She climbs on top of me and returns to my neck, her hands pressed tightly to my hips. She has something with my neck, she has spent more time there than anywhere else. She leaves a wet trail behind my ear, along my chin, briefly past my throat before making her steps back. She sucks and sucks like a professional, she wants to leave a mark on me for tomorrow and I'm totally okay with that. I'd let her fuck me in front of everyone if she wanted it that way. I would do anything Maddy asked me to.

I can't help but moan when she bites my neck and I feel her immediate smile against my skin. She pulls away to kiss me on the mouth. My legs open more instinctively and she takes the opportunity to slide her hand from my hip to my lips. She runs a finger lightly over my slit as she continues to kiss me.

—You look so pretty right now -she says on my lips.

—Please...

I have completely lost it. I'm a mess and she hasn't even inserted the first finger. I can't think of anything but how right her hands feel on me.

—Beg for it –she asks with a cocky smile. I would never have expected this from her.

—Please, touch me. Please.

She slides a finger inside me looking at me expectantly for a reaction. When I moan she's satisfied no matter how soft it was and returns to my lips.

She kisses me like it's the last kiss she's going to give. I've never felt like this before, everything about her is surreal. I feel like I could explode at any moment, she moves inside me perfectly. I arch my back when she takes her finger away.

She bites my bottom lip as she pulls away from my mouth and wastes no time going down. She kisses my abdomen over my shirt, grabs the edges and pulls it up a bit so she can lick. She rips the skin over my pelvis with her teeth and digs her fingers harder than ever into my thighs. That too will leave a mark.

Bites my hip. She loves to bite. Spreads my thighs again, finally focusing on my crotch. I feel her hot breath and from one moment to another her tongue is on my clitoris. My breath quickens twice as fast. I try not to make it loud as she told me, so I clench my fists as hard as I can. She redirects her hand again and slides two fingers in at once. I feel satisfied and dissatisfied at the same time because I know that's all she can give. She turns her face away and looks me straight in the eye, at which I can't help but moan too loudly and she laughs softly. I don't know if she's aware of what she's doing to me.

She readjusts and starts moving her fingers back and forth. She brings the thumb of her free hand to my mouth, I spread it open and suck, she slides it across my lips and onto my clit. She begins to move it in a circular motion and my sense completely leaves my body, if there is still anything left.

I don't know how long she spends masturbating me, to me it feels like years, so close and so far at the same time. She picks up the pace and starts to thrust, making my eyes go to the back of my head. I moan uhs constantly, from time to time, her name. I don't realize that she has left my neck until I feel her saliva on my pelvic area. She withdraws her fingers from inside, her thumb still moving, and replaces them with her tongue. She blindly moves my legs with her free hand to place them on her shoulders and slaps me hard on the right thigh.

There's no way this is the first time she's done this. Which girl has Hetero Maddy been fucking with? I don't know why but that makes me hot.

I don't know what she does with her tongue but something hits inside me.

—Yes, yes! If you stop 'M gonna fucking kill you, baby -I don't know what I'm saying. I'm building too fast.

She puts her fingers in again and again falls on top of me.

—You'd have to kill me for me to stop. Taking it so well for me, such a good boy –she flies over my head, speaking in my ear–. You have no idea how much I wanted you. You think you can spend years looking at me like that without expecting consequences, huh? I bet you've fantasized so many times about fucking me on those tiny tables not knowing if any teacher could hear you rail the shit out of me. And at the end of the day, it's me who has the power, having you so wet for me. Just for me, right? –she gets what she wants when my legs inevitably go weak and the pre-orgasmic tremor spreads throughout my body– Finish for me, baby. I know you can do it. So ready, at my mercy –she encourages me and that's all I need.

I bring a hand to my mouth and yell loudly into it. The orgasm comes and, even though I don't cum, I firmly believe that I could position this as the best sexual experience of my life. She stops her fingers inside me and smiles at me.

[missgeniality]

A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna​​ is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this!   This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy! 

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods. 

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning. 

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold. 

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity. 

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully. 

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.” 

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?” 

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation. 

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?” 

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious. 

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well. 

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight? 

BTS is on your flight? 

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography. 

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger. 

BTS who? 

Biggest boyband who? 

You only listen to Frank Sinatra. 

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally. 

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours. 

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help. 

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved. 

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could. 

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back. 

Aw, you are in trouble. 

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face. 

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true. 

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth. 

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you. 

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you. 

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to. 

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all. 

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile. 

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously. 

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.  

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean. 

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.” 

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..” 

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in. 

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb. 

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.” 

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.  

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told. 

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep. 

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began. 

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you. 

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you. 

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you. 

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family. 

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen. 

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request. 

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement. 

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.” 

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck. 

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart. 

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him. 

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon. 

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.” 

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence. 

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car. 

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you. 

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that. 

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of. 

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far. 

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode. 

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma. 

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this. 

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong. 

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do. 

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall. 

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!" 

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!” 

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor. 

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so. 

But you’re not anyone else. 

He isn’t just anyone.  

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two. 

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours. 

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century. 

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind. 

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours. 

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation. 

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end. 

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark. 

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.” 

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible. 

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken. 

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him. 

The elevator door opens, and people walk out. 

But that’s not where your attention is. 

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm. 

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad. 

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present. 

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.” 

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” 

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile. 

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too. 

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space. 

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!” 

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed. 

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again. 

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.” 

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”. 

The punctuation was not vocalized. 

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself. 

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there? 

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna. 

So far, no sign of him. 

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far. 

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode. 

And then you hear it. 

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but. 

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck. 

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight. 

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight. 

 “Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement. 

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is. 

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart. 

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.” 

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first. 

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own. 

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes.  “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.” 

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter. 

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?” 

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight. 

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger. 

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware. 

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer. 

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue. 

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch. 

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates. 

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?” 

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air. 

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative. 

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?” 

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress. 

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured. 

“On your knees.” he commands.  

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.” 

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on. 

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm. 

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head. 

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise. 

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly. 

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him. 

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him. 

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.” 

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over. 

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench. 

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening. 

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod. 

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum. 

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you. 

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him. 

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss. 

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair. 

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt. 

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room. 

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom. 

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you. 

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention. 

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought. 

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret. 

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch. 

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth. 

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way. 

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face. 

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs. 

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem. 

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-” 

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him. 

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason. 

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard. 

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him. 

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making. 

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls. 

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat. 

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it. 

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response. 

“Go on baby, ride me.” 

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better. 

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!” 

“That’s fucking right, only me.” 

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away. 

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve. 

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full. 

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high. 

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face. 

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!” 

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.” 

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way. 

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole. 

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs. 

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core. 

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours. 

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.” 

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon. 

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart. 

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.” 

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness. 

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy. 

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance. 

He finds none. 

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go. 

You inch closer. 

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his. 

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win. 

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words. 

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst. 

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it. 

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows.  You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him. 

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far. 

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up. 

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement. 

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

[multi-maker]

for the event... how would xiao, childe, and venti react to being isekai-ed into the game and meeting y/n? 👀 i can imagine the fanboying kekeke !! love this event :)

- eclipse

in a world where genshin characters pull for you, how would they react to being isekai-ed into the game and meeting you? ft. xiao, childe, and venti!

notes. omg i’m so glad you liked this event~! anemo and i give you our gratitude ehe~!

“state your name and your purpose.”

xiao freezes at the cold yet smooth voice that interrupted his inner panicking, amber eyes snapping to where he heard your voice. there you stood, y/n, the vigilant yaksha. the conqueror of demons. 

his crush in the goddamned game his best friend introduced to him.

your eyes were narrowed, your polearm in hand as you eyed the newcomer who arrived like a shooting star. his clothes were weird, and he looked...starstruck?

xiao is MALFUNCTIONING

the moment he sees you, decked in your clothes and your weapon on your back, he literally lets out the most inhumane sound ever

he thought he was dreaming but seeing you - his crush in the game called “genshin impact” and feeling the painful way his blunt nails were digging into his palm, he knew he wasn’t dreaming

how in the name of y/n did he get iseka-ed into genshin impact and meet you??? what the hell ???

he faints.

“the wind told me of a new outlander, ehe~! so pray tell, dear boy in green,” you coo’ed, hanging from a tree as colored eyes glittered mischievously. venti was still as a rock, mouth agape as he stares at your character, the same character he was just building last night and the character he religiously cried over at every day.

“who are you?” you call out, landing softly on the ground as your eyes gleamed.

the moment he hears your playful chime, venti is not gonna function properly for at least 30 minutes

he’ll be staring at you with wide eyes, his brain unable to comprehend what the ever living hell is happening??

venti would be unable to speak, words stammering as he waves his arms around, amusing your character

you can bet your strongest f2p character that venti literally shuts down

he is not okay, please help him

“oh?” you hummed, eyes glinting mercilessly as the tip of your weapon touched childe’s neck. you looked down on him, foot against his chest and your elemental power on one hand. “will you give me an exciting fight, dear outlander~?” you coo’ed, smirking.

childe is in shock, mouth agape and hands twitching. he was just reading a fanfic of you last night while he watched over teucer - now you were in front of him ???

the moment he sees you, weapon drawn, lips sliding into a dangerous smile and eyes twinkling

childe malfunctions 

he chokes on his spit, waving his arms around as he pointed at you 

while letting out inhumane sounds the same time

once childe is calm, he won’t stop admiring you and he would literally act as your bodyguard

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

car ride, m | kth, jjk

pairing(s): taehyung x reader x jungkook

summary: You really know how to make a car ride, er... eventful. Maybe too eventful for Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook. They try to punish you, but who are we kidding? The three of you are too busy being horny as fuck. Oh well.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, (slight) exhibitionism; intense smut (fem reader, fingering, lil cock slapping, threesome, m-receiving oral, f and m-masturbation, double penetration/spit-roasting, cum eating; also you get covered in cum, yay!); fluff; non-idol!AU; noona!reader and you’re all nymphos, welp

Technically a continuation of just kidding and ii, but can be read alone.

–

Kim Taehyung said it first.

“She’s actually insane.”

Jeon Jungkook nodded tightly; jaw clenched as he tried not to stare at you through the rearview mirror.

Thirty minutes ago, you had called Taehyung, tone casual and light.

“Hey, could you pick me up? I think I missed the last bus.”

“Hm, sure.”

“Bring Jungkook with you, please.”

And then you hung up.

Taehyung had stared at his phone, frowning. Then he went to go collect Jungkook, who was in the middle of editing a music video. He edited videos for indie bands in his spare time, kind of for fun, kind of as a passion project. He did want to be a director or video editor, after all.

“Oi, our horny little seductress called.”

Jungkook had snapped his head far too quickly, long black hair cascading against his cheek, eyes glittering with interest. Too much interest. Taehyung would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little annoyed.

“Asked you to come, so you’re driving.”

Jungkook had grinned.

“Okay.”

Except it was not okay. Very not okay.

“You can sit in the front, Tae. I need space for my bag.”

So now the three of you were sitting in Jungkook’s car, Jungkook driving, Taehyung riding shotgun as you sat in the backseat. From this position, you could see Jungkook’s black sweater and Taehyung’s camel coat. You were wearing an oversized black parka with a nine-pointed star embordered on the chest, your black leather skull-shaped purse chilling beside you. Knee-high black leather boots.

Bare legs.

That should have been their first warning sign.

“What were you doing?” Taehyung had asked as you climbed in. Jungkook started the car, pulling out of the parking garage, into the night.

“Doctor’s appointment for my wrist.” You sighed, tapping your right arm. “Just a check-up.” You pulled down the sleeve of your large parka, showing the wrist brace. “I should at least sleep with it.”

Taehyung scratched his head. “Damn, I didn’t realize your carpal tunnel was that bad.”

You waved your hand. “It’ll be fine. I’m exercising it.”

“Where to?” Jungkook chirped, stopping at a red light.

Pop.

Jungkook’s dark brown eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, narrowing. His face was lit with red from the cars in front of him. Taehyung turned around sharply. You smiled, feeling the cold air on your bare collarbones. Pop, pop, pop. The silver buttons of your parka snapped apart, revealing skin. Bare skin, the gentle curve of your breasts and cleavage. Taehyung’s dark eyes widened, as you pushed the sides apart, your naked breasts bouncing as the light turned green.

“WHAT THE FUCK?”

A car honked very loudly behind Jungkook and he was forced to press on the accelerator as Taehyung exploded, his deep voice booming as he gawked at your tits.

“Are you insane?” Taehyung shouted.

You grinned, cupping your breasts and squeezing your nipples between two fingers, mouth open, tongue tracing your teeth from side to side.

Taehyung snapped back forward, searching for police.

“She’s actually insane.”

Jungkook clenched his jaw so tight that he couldn’t say anything, trying to focus on driving and only driving, and not the sound of you moaning as you played with your breasts, pressing them together and flicking your nipples.

“Do you want us to get arrested?” Taehyung hissed, sneaking glances at you in the darkness while simultaneously darting his eyes around for literally anyone who might be able to witness your sinful lunacy.

“Taehyung, she went to the doctor like that,” Jungkook gritted out.

That thought apparently hadn’t crossed Taehyung’s mind. He whipped his head around again, eyes so wide that you paused your heinous display of lust for a second, afraid they were going to fall out of his head.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” he roared.

You grinned, holding your hands up. “I didn’t have to take my coat off, if that makes you feel better,” you said cheerfully.

Taehyung did not look like he felt better. In fact, he looked like he was going to pass out. He lifted his head to stare at the sky, mouthing silent words, running a large hand through his dark brown hair and messing it up. Your mouth watered, seeing that hand, knowing what it could do. Jungkook’s knuckles were white with how hard he was gripping the steering wheel.

“So, where are we go–?” you began, far too cheerfully for the two men in front of you.

Jungkook cut you off tightly. “Ours. You are going to our place. Now.”

“Ah,” you exhaled, smiling. “That’s good.” You nuzzled back into your seat, tits still out, nipples hard from the cold air. “That’s very good.” You spread your legs, hands clutching both sides of your black parka.

Pop, pop, pop, pop.

Jungkook nearly veered off the road.

“WHAT THE HELL?”

Taehyung was going to get whiplash with how hard he kept jerking his head back and forth. “Where the fuck are your panties?”

You placed a finger to your lips, smirking. “Oh no, I think I lost them.”

Maybe it was time to pray because Jungkook was trying very hard not to fucking die, his eyes shooting from the road, to the rearview mirror, to the road, to the mirror, veins popping in his forehead, his black hair covering his left eye. You pushed the shoulders of your parka down, spreading it open, inserting your finger into your mouth.

“Noona, don’t you fucking dare…” Jungkook warned.

But you did dare, swirling your tongue around your finger, softly moaning his name, Taehyung slack-jawed as your lashes lowered. You ground your hips into the seat, pussy already glistening as you popped your fingertip out of your mouth, making Jungkook hiss, sliding your hand down your neck, between your breasts, all the way down, down, pressing your wet finger against your clit.

Taehyung’s voice went low, dangerous.

“Are you a bad, bad girl, noona?” he growled.

You bit your lip, pressing down on your bundle of nerves, gasping. “I’m a good girl sometimes… But it’s so hard...” You rubbed your clit slowly, pushing your head back into the headrest, locking eyes with Taehyung, rocking your hips into your hand. “It’s so hard when I want to be naughty for you, Tae…”

His beautiful lips curved into a wicked smile, voice so low it was tearing through you, burning you with arousal. “Yeah? Just for me?”

You cried out softly, adding more pressure. Your eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, to Jungkook’s panicked, blown-out pupils.

“No… For Jungkook, t-too…”

“Fucking shit,” Jungkook breathed, trying to drive slow and steady so he wouldn’t die while having the biggest hard-on of his life.

Taehyung yanked the lever of the passenger’s seat, pushing down the back to get closer to you. Jungkook slammed his palm against the wheel, snarling at him, but Taehyung completely ignored his outburst, sliding up the seat. You licked your lips and rubbed yourself faster, tipping your hips in his direction.

“Fuck,” Taehyung breathed, eyes roaming over your form. “You’re so fucking hot, noona.”

“Tae…” you whined, angling yourself to him.

“You want me to touch you, noona?” Taehyung purred; eyes even darker from the low light. He lifted his hand, flexing his long fingers. “You want me to touch that naughty pussy of yours?”

You whimpered, stroking your clit, chasing your orgasm, your dripping wet hole opening and closing, begging for his fingers. He dragged himself closer, fingertips dancing on your thigh. So hot, so close, fuck, you wanted him, Taehyung and his hungry eyes.

“I want to tell you no,” he whispered, gravelly and deep. “Shit, I want to tell you no and make you get yourself off, but you’re so fucking sexy, I just have to touch that dirty little pussy.”

And then he shoved two fingers into you, making you throw your head back and moan, long and wanton, Jungkook’s frustrated cries coming from the front seat as Taehyung’s fingers squelched into you, hard and fast and rough, not letting you get used to him, but you didn’t care, didn’t give a single fuck as you fucked your hips into his fingers. Gasping his name, rutting into his hand.

“Tell me when you’re close,” Taehyung demanded. “Be a good girl and tell me when you’re close.”

You nodded tightly, feeling the car slow as Jungkook pulled into the neighborhoods, nearing your orgasm, rubbing yourself fast as Taehyung thrust his fingers into you, your head pressing against the glass window. You panted, hip rising to meet him.

“A-ah, Taehyung, your fingers feel so good, so good, so fucking good,” you gasped. “Gonna cum, gonna cum just for you, Tae, all over your hand...”

Taehyung’s eyebrow rose, a smirk on his lips as he pumped his fingers into you, watching you come undone, seeing you hit the peak. Voice low, sexy, and authoritative.

“Oh, you wish.”

And then he ripped his fingers out of you as you screamed, your juices spilling out, pussy empty and clenching, orgasm hit, but wildly unsatisfying as Taehyung lifted himself up, grinning over you, fingers slick as he slid them into his mouth, licking them off. Your cum slid all over your thighs, dripping down, falling onto the carpet of Jungkook’s car.

“T-Taehyung!” you panted indignantly, sitting up sharply. “How could you!”

He cocked his head as the car stopped. Jungkook tore himself out of the seat, practically blasting his car door open to rip open your door, snatching you from the backseat. He slammed your nakedness against his black sweater and jeans, his hard body flexed against yours. You gasped at the sudden force, skin tingling with stimulation, the aftershocks of your orgasm still trembling through you.

“Noona,” he growled into your face, bringing his dark eyes to yours. “We have to teach you a lesson.”

-

Somehow, the three of you made it into the apartment without you flashing the entire complex.

Nice.

Getting you out of your clothes was easy. You were barely wearing any after all.

Taehyung shoved you against the hallway wall, tearing off his camel coat. You grabbed his white shirt and kissed him, hard, his musky cologne filling your nose. He whispered your name against your lips, grating and dangerous, smiling as you kissed him hungrily. You changed your positions, still kissing him, pushing him into the wall as Jungkook came up behind you, rolling his hard body into your back, sandwiching your nakedness between their clothed bodies. Jungkook grabbed your head and yanked your hair back, breaking your kiss with Taehyung to crash his lips into yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth and fucking it roughly, making you whimper.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Taehyung growled, grabbing your thighs and hoisting them up to hook them around his waist. You leaned against Jungkook’s chest, holding your upper body up Taehyung licked up your breasts, latching his lips to your nipple. You whined in Jungkook’s mouth, hands coming up to grab the black fabric of his sweater, back arching. Taehyung’s large hands found your ass, smacking it once before gripping it tightly.

“You’re so naughty,” Jungkook murmured against your lips, right hand snaking around your waist, in between your legs. Taehyung narrowed his eyes at him, but Jungkook was focused on you and only you, your panting mouth as Taehyung sucked on your nipples, switching between them. “Dirty girl, walking around the city without underwear,” Jungkook purred, watching you gasp as he slid his fingers in between Taeyang’s clothed stomach and your dripping pussy. “Were you thinking about us all day, desperate for our cocks to fill you up?”

Your arms encircled Jungkook’s neck as you moaned, head against his broad shoulder as he began to rub your clit.

“Y-yes…”

Jungkook’s breath so hot against your neck as Taehyung spread your nipples with his tongue. You rocked your hips into his stomach, so wet Taehyung’s white t-shirt squelched against his skin, Jungkook’s fingers rubbing you hard and fast, racing you to your orgasm.

“You’re such a bad girl, noona. What are we going to do with you? Should we give you cock?” Jungkook snarled, so low and dangerous that you shivered, crying out Taehyung’s name as he nipped at your nipple, sending shocks of pain through you.

“P-please…” you panted, eyes rolling back as Jungkook pinched your clit, your hips grinding into Taehyung’s shirt. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…”

Taehyung removed his mouth sharply and you whined, nipples dripping with his saliva.

“You think you deserve cock, noona?” Taehyung barked, spanking your ass hard as he spoke, punctuating his words with slaps. “You’ve been such a bad, bad girl. Should we even let you finish?”

You were nearly sobbing now, knowing you were so close, so close, breath hitching as Jungkook violently stroked you to orgasm.

“P-please… Please, Taehyung, let me cum, please, I need to cum so bad, please…”

Taehyung smirked, locking eyes with Jungkook.

“Aw, too bad I’m not the one pleasuring you.”

And then Jungkook tore his hand from you, making you wail, orgasm met, but wholly unsatisfying as you leaked all over Taehyung’s stomach, legs shaking, almost slipping if it wasn’t for Jungkook’s strong arms catching you. You clenched Jungkook’s sweater, yanking hard.

“You guys are so fucking mean!”

Taehyung chuckled as your legs slid down, down, gently placing you on the floor. He looked down at his white t-shirt and shook his head.

“You made a mess.”

You glared at him and then at Jungkook, who gave you an arrogant smirk.

“Sorry, noona. You nearly killed us all with your antics, after all.”

“Are you saying it wasn’t fun?” you countered.

Jungkook’s smirk grew. “It’s fun punishing you too.”

You narrowed your eyes, but quickly became distracted with Taehyung stepping away from the wall, pointing to the door at the end of the hall.

“Go.” A command.

That wasn’t Taehyung’s room. You tilted your head. You’d never been in Jungkook’s room before.

“Now.”

Your eyes shifted to Jungkook and he cocked his chin in the same direction. You frowned but went, legs still unsteady. Jungkook began to walk after you, but Taehyung grabbed his forearm, stopping him.

“Jungkook.”

The younger man turned his head to look at him. Taehyung’s expression was very stern, almost cold.

“There can be no one else,” he said quietly. “I’ll kill you if you hurt her.”

Jungkook blinked. He had never seen Taehyung so serious over a woman. Sure, Taehyung dated and fucked around, but he let things go quite easily most of the time. Jungkook placed a hand over his, staring straight into Taehyung’s eyes.

“Okay.”

Taehyung’s grip tightened, eyes hardening.

Jungkook smiled, lowering his hand.

“Trust me, hyung, she’s more than enough for me. I don’t need anyone else.”

After a long moment, Taehyung let him go, turning away to go to his room. Jungkook looked after him, rubbing his arm. He turned away, gazing at his now open door. A weird feeling overcame him, a strange push and pull, before he brushed it aside and walked to his bedroom. Jungkook stopped at the doorframe.

And was greeted by the sight of you sprawled out in his gaming chair, holding one of his t-shirts against your chest, inhaling deeply as your eyes closed, right hand between your legs. Your wrist brace was making it difficult to go fast, so instead you stroked your clit slowly, breathing in the scent of his residual cologne that clung to his clothes, paying little attention to the fact that Jungkook was now watching you, amused. 

"You really are a horny little seductress, aren't you?'

You grinned hearing his deep voice, eyes still closed. You rubbed the fabric against your nipples, moaning at the sensation. 

“How often do you sit here, jacking off while thinking about me?” you wondered out loud.

Jungkook clicked his tongue, making you open your eyes.

“Too often.”

You licked your lips, purring his name enticingly. His lips curved into a lazy smirk.

Ah.

Jungkook was just so very, very sexy and he knew it.

Your eyes admired him for a moment. The right side of his hair pinned back, revealing his undercut. Long dark locks obscuring the left side of his face, hiding his angular cheekbone, framing his chiseled jaw and mischievous eyes. He stepped into the room, reaching down and crossing his arms, pulling his sweater up and over his head. You sucked in a breath. His toned torso, lean and tan. His right arm, covered in tattoos, flexing as he pulled the clothing over his head, mussing up his hair. It curled a bit around his forehead. Fuck, both his arms, shapely and strong, deliberately tensing them to make you gasp. Jungkook raised his right hand, tiny tattoos flashing as he beckoned you to him.

“Come here.”

You stood up from his chair slowly, his t-shirt sliding down your body and onto the floor. Light, careful steps as he circled the bed, putting it between you and him. You crawled onto the bed on all fours, hands digging into his slate gray sheets as he stepped to the very edge of the bed, undoing the button of his black jeans, zipping it down as you approached him, nearly moaning when you pushed them past his hips, pressing your face into his black underwear, breathing hotly against his erection. Your eyes traveled back up to him, tongue sliding out and pressing wetly against his clothed cock.

“Fuck,” Jungkook breathed. “You’re so fucking hot.”

You grinned as he pushed his underwear down, his cock springing up to smear pre-cum against your cheek, already dripping from lack of stimulation. You went from base to tip, swirling your tongue all over, watching Jungkook’s head fall back as you took him in your mouth, so wet, so hot, so tight. Took it all the way down, feeling him swell in your mouth deliciously, his strong hand gripping the back of your head, keeping you there.

“Ah, such nice lips…” he purred, releasing your head so you could bob up and down, slowly. “That’s it, noona, just like that.”

You did, keeping a measured but deep pace, sucking in your cheeks. He hissed at the added stimulation, rocking his hips into your face. Jungkook looked back down, seeing you observing him, crouching on your hands and knees, your ass up in the air.

“Look at you, noona,” he murmured, reaching down to tweak your nipple. “So good at swallowing cock, so good at taking it all.”

You whimpered, rubbing your thighs together. Jungkook took both your nipples and pulled, making you groan around his cock. He thrust his hips into your mouth and you almost choked, hands suddenly coming up to grab his thighs. He shushed you, rubbing your nipples soothingly as he pulled out of your mouth, cock slapping your chin wetly.

“On your back. Show me that pretty pussy of yours.”

You scooted back, spreading your legs. Jungkook went to his desk, opening a drawer, watching you as you gripped each side of your thighs, spreading them further, your glistening slit out in the open. You flexed your vaginal muscles, opening and closing, making him suck a tight breath as he rolled the condom on.

“Fuck, that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He climbed onto the bed, trailing his eyes up to your face and your half-lidded eyes, mouth open, panting his name.

“J-Jungkook, please…”

He smiled. “What is it, noona? What do you want?”

You wiggled your hips into his bed. “Your cock, please, Jungkook, I need it…”

He smacked his length against your clit, earning a sharp gasp. You pushed your head back into his sheets, whining as Jungkook slapped your swollen clit repeatedly with his cock, hard and fast, smearing it with lubrication from the condom. He was so hard that it almost hurt if it wasn’t for the lube.

“Is this enough for you?” Jungkook taunted. “Or does my naughty girl want more?”

“I-inside, please, a-ah, Jungkook, it’s t-too sensitive.…”

He stopped for only a split second before thrusting himself inside you, hissing as you sucked him in, previous stimulations already readying you for him. You rolled your hips, arching your back and gasping his name as Jungkook began, long, deep strokes that made you clench and shudder, aching for more. But before you could say anything, a familiar weight landed on the bed near your head.

Your eyes widened seeing Taehyung’s naked body, strong and handsome, tan skin glowing. His stoic, almost arrogant expression burned into your memory as he hovered over you, stroking his cock leisurely. He pressed it against your cheek, the warm, velvety head smearing pre-cum against your cheek. You tried to turn, but he used his free hand to hold your head still, shutting his eyes as he enjoyed himself.

“Fuck, even your cheek is so soft…” he murmured.

You whined but he shushed you, pressing a finger to your lips as he stroked himself faster, harder, Jungkook deep strokes sliding you up and down the bed. He used your face to stimulate the head, your lips, your cheeks, rocking his hips, smacking you in your face with his balls. Over and over as Jungkook thrust into you, watching your wanton expression as Taehyung’s pre-cum coated your skin. You could hear Taehyung’s breathing becoming shallow, clenching his jaw and closing his eyes.

“Gonna cum on your pretty tits, noona,” Taehyung murmured. “All over your tits, and then I’m going to fuck your mouth.”

You whimpered, watching his shoulders tense as he raised himself over you, Jungkook still fucking you agonizingly slowly, his thick cock stretching you out as Taehyung sucked in a breath, hissing your name tightly. You could only watch, breathless, as white strings squirted out, smacking you hotly in the chest with his thick cum, shuddering as you felt it spread out like fucking cake icing on your nipples and breasts. Jungkook moaned, watching the cum drip downwards, all over your skin.

“Open up,” Taehyung commanded and you opened your mouth. He slid in, readjusting himself so that he was above your head, legs on either side of you, facing Jungkook. He filled your mouth, almost too much even though he just orgasmed. You had to push your head up so he sank deeper into your throat, sticky from Taehyung’s cum soaking into your chest.

Oh, fuuuuck.

Stuffed from front to back, tits covered in cum, neck and back arched uncomfortably to accommodate the two cocks spearing into you, pussy throbbing and orgasming at the thought alone. And feeling it, oh God, feeling so full, so dirty, so used by both Taehyung and Jungkook at the same time made your eyes roll back into your head, tightening the muscles of both holes, muffled moans as you heard Jungkook grunt with effort and Taehyung’s hiss of pleasure. Taehyung controlled the pace as he fucked your face, carefully thrusting into your throat, staring at Jungkook’s dark hair bouncing as he fucked you.

Jungkook seemed to feel his gaze. He looked up.

Taehyung cocked an eyebrow at him.

Then he grabbed Jungkook’s head and forced it down, Jungkook’s eyes widening as he watched your cum-covered tits bounce back and forth, hard nipples swaying in the air. He rammed his hips into you and you whimpered, breasts bouncing harder so he fucked you even rougher, fascinated. Wet, lewd slapping sounds as he watched Taehyung’s cock disappear and reappear from your throat, covered in saliva, so messy that you were drooling down your chin, whining as you gripped his sheets. He felt liquid leaking down his thighs from your orgasms, your pussy clenching around him.

It was so much, so fucking much, Jungkook lifting your legs so he could go deeper, rubbing against your clit punishingly as Taehyung fucked your mouth, his tense thighs indicating that he was close. It made your entire body strain with effort and pleasure, head empty except chasing your orgasm over and over, smitten with the idea of being used like a fucktoy.

“S-so fucking good,” Taehyung groaned. “Such a good girl, taking so much cock all at once.”

“Fuck, I’m going to–”

But Jungkook didn’t get to finish because you wailed around Taehyung’s cock, pussy throbbing as you came, ripping his orgasm from him. He gasped sharply, slamming into you as his cock jerked into your walls, pulsing with you, gripping his entire length. So tight, but soft, his eyelids fluttering at the experience.

It only took Taehyung a few more pumps before he moaned your name, spilling down your throat, almost falling onto Jungkook as you sucked it out of him, swallowing greedily. He inhaled sharply as he snapped his head down to watch your throat constrict repeatedly, drinking it all and squeezing the head with your lips. Taehyung taped your side repeatedly, trying to get you to release him.

“Please, noona, too s-sensitive…”

You unlocked your jaw, gulping a huge vat of air as you realized you could breathe again. Taehyung pushed himself off you, falling against the wooden headboard as Jungkook carefully pulled out. You whined at the loss, back and neck aching. Every nerve hummed, brimming with pleasure, shaking you to your core.

It was glorious.

You panted, lowering your head to look down at Jungkook, dark eyes flashing as sweat from his angular jaw dripped onto your legs. He smirked at you, peeling the condom off and wrapping his hand around his still-hard, slick cock. Your breath caught in your throat as he began to furiously jack himself off, scooting on his knees to get closer to you, right in between your legs.

“J-Jungkook…”

The mole under his chin winked at you as he grinned. “Do you love it when you’re covered in cum, noona?” he panted, licking his lips. “Do you love it when Taehyung and I cum all over you?”

You moaned, your hands sliding up your breasts, smearing Taehyung’s drying cum even more, pinching your nipples as Jungkook gasped, pupils blown wide, eyes locked on your every move.

“Yes, Jungkook, I love it. I love being covered in your and Taehyung’s cum.”

He hissed, hips rocking into his hand as you made your lewd, obscene noises, body shaking as you waited for him. It didn’t take him very long before he groaned, towering over you as it shot out of him, showering you with creamy, salty strings of his orgasm. You dipped your fingers into it, scooping it into your mouth, sighing in satisfaction as Jungkook’s taste mixed with Taehyung’s in your throat, eating up as much a you could, and wiping the rest on your skin, relishing in the dirty act.

You were already prepared to do it again.

You heard Jungkook stumble off to the bathroom as you laid there, panting.

"Are you happy?" Taehyung asked, reaching down to pat your head. 

You grinned, bending your head back to look up at him upside down. He seemed surprised at your energy but smiled as you licked your lips, eyes clouded with lust. 

"So, so happy, Taehyungie."

He chuckled, dark eyes gazing into yours. You sensed a shift in his demeanor. For some reason, a calm, comforting feeling came over you when Taehyung looked at you. He bent down, his hands cupping your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks. He whispered your name, low and secretive, sending a shiver down your spine. You stared into his neck, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he spoke. His breath against your lips, tickling them.

"I’ll give you whatever you want."

You blinked slowly, lips parting. Now his lips were even closer, touching yours. 

"I'll do everything in my power to satisfy you."

And then Taehyung kissed you, intoxicating you with his touch, his scent, his intensity of his lips against yours, tongue thrusting into your mouth. You moaned, thighs rubbing together, clutching Jungkook's sheets, your body trembling as you kissed him. He held you protectively, fingertips pressing into your skin.

"Damn, do you two need a room?" came Jungkook's amused voice.

You broke the kiss softly, pecking Taehyung on the nose lightly before sliding down to Jungkook’s playful expression at the foot of the bed. He was holding a towel, raising at eyebrow at you. You sat up, grinning far too wide, making his smile falter a bit.

“Uh oh.”

“Come here, Jungkookie…”

“Please, we’re only men–gah!”

-

The next day, you dragged a seat next to Taehyung's gaming chair. He looked up as you sat down, still scrolling with his mouse. 

"What's up?" he asked. His voice was smooth, even. He gave you a quizzical look as you laid your head against his shoulder. "You want to fuck again?" he added, smirking. 

"No," you pouted, nestling your head on his shoulder. He was reading the new set of League of Legends patch notes. "Just want to be near you."

You saw the reflection of his smile in the computer monitor. He reached over and patted your head, making you hum in bliss. You two stayed like that for a moment, him scrolling periodically as he read, your head against his shoulder. 

Jungkook popped in, wearing a leather jacket over his white hoodie and jeans. He waved a USB drive.

"Gotta drop this off. I'll be back," he said merrily to Taehyung before leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. You turned your head, meeting his lips, and snuck your tongue into his mouth. 

Jungkook pulled back quickly, narrowing his eyes at you. "No. Bad girl."

You blinked innocently at him. "What'd I do?"

Jungkook glared at you, trying not to smile. "I have things to do. Let me kiss you normally."

Taehyung laughed deep from his chest, rumbling his shoulder you were leaning against. "Good luck with that."

Your smile widened. Smugly.

Too smugly. 

Jungkook backed away, pointing a finger at you. He was smiling too now, playful and mirthful.

"Later, you horny little seductress."

He left, winking. 

Taehyung patted your head again, his large hand massaging your scalp. 

"You sure you don't want to fuck?" he teased. 

-

continuation: christmas eve

--

masterpost

[jangofctts]

Are You in Or Out?

Rated: Explicit 

Word count: 11.5K yall I am SORRY

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

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

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

Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes—

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

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

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

Reckless.

An invitation for disaster. 

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever.

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

Maybe. 

                                                       -=-=-=-

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

“Are you sure, kid? This could—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t need the extra baggage.”

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

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

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

“Right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                 -=-=-=-

Well—the cynical part of you was right.

It did end up in a fiery shit show. 

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

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

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

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

It doesn’t matter at this point…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eh.    

Could be worse. 

At least you aren’t dead. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You huff. “Wow. Thanks, Paz.” 

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

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

Damn it.  

                                                     -=-=-=-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Leave.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Boy—“

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

You wince. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown. “Poor guy…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not if they take you by surprise.” 

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

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

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

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

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

A triumphant smile splits across your face—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aha! Yes!

Your reign of victory is short lived, however—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You purse your lips. “Huh.”

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

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

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

“She isn’t made of glass.” 

“She is still recovering—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here you are—asphyxiating.   

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

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

“Din—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But, oh—

Isn’t it worth taking the risk? 

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

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

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

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

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

“Take me like you mean it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck—

Will he even fit?

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

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

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

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

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

“Paz—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wish I could kiss you.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Paz shifts, reaching for your abandoned shirt and stars—

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

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

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

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

“Cant see anything either, right?” 

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

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

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

“You need a haircut, vod.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Din’s kiss is devouring—  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Neither will your arrogance.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Din. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maker—

You’re gonna fucking explode.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug it off.    

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

“You love her, don't you?” 

translation:

vaar’ika--pipsqueak 

or’dinni--dumbass idiot 

vod--brother/comrade 

tag list: 

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