#upon further reflection I just maybe have no idea how to live if I’m not comstantly at least a little stressed about money

[shatterthefragments]

Aaaand just like that (and I haven’t even added an extra show yet even though I REALLY want to) money goes poof! (I got a reminder I’m due for a dental appt soon, getting more tattoos, uhhh concerts every week for a bit if I include local ones in the budget even though they’re less expensive. And I paid back nearly all of what I owe on splitting a cost that I was set to repay much slower.)

…but really it’s sad. 20 overtime hours and my paycheque is barely more at all bc a lot of it went to deductions 😭

[witchmoon]

by our red string of fate.

Part 3

Pairing: Prince Aemond Targaryen x fem! Reader

Summary:  Aemond broods reflects on the night he met his love interest Y/N, leading him to reassess his current situation + internal conflicts. He also searches for creative ways to occupy his time while he his impatient ass waits to see her again.  

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: 18+ NSFW Angst, Language, Masturbation 

Author’s Note: Slow burn AF, but we’re getting there! Writing this exhausted me because heavy feels, but I love it and hope you do too! Multi-part wip / Comments always welcomed <3

ALSO- I’m actually pretty soft for Aegon, so apologies for making him an insufferable little villain in this.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

pretend to love my imperfection at least for a minute, infect my dreams with your taste, you know how to enter in me.

Aemond waits for her, conjuring sinful thoughts that begin to distract in a frustrating way, forcing him to practice a restraint that’s hard to fully commit to. He fights the temptation to comb the streets of King’s Landing in a desperate attempt to locate her, finding that he really has no patience at all. It’s a mad idea, but he begins to seriously entertain it as one day fades into the next and still nothing from Y/N.

He strategizes plans he knows he’ll never execute, mentally listing the most affluent parts of the city as his main starting points for the search he’s too proud to actually undertake. Nonetheless, he carries on with this mind-game primarily to occupy the time, attempting to stay level headed and maintain some semblance of hope that he will see her again.

The truth is he misses her, left in a state of constant wonder these past few days of where she is and why she has yet to return to him. He’d really like to know because he’s steadfast in his desire to continue building on their relationship and know her more, as well as share more of himself.

Isn’t this what she had wanted as well?

The lack of response feels damning, cutting him deeper than he cares to admit. He’s growing tired of the wait, where immediately following that night, he’d carried an abundance of ambition - so certain that all would be well. Everything had felt setup for success, but it’s quickly been replaced with agitation, though Aemond isn’t sure if it’s towards Y/N or himself.

It’s worrisome as time progresses and still no word arrives to give indication of a possible reunion between them. In this way, he begins to feel helpless, like maybe his approach had been completely off base and he’s just now fully realizing the error of his ways. Maybe he would have benefited from being less assured in the presumption that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. It’s hard to know for sure.

But now when he reflects on his decision to give her full control of their fate, the intention seems deranged, even to him. It’s a regret he fears he may end up living with for the rest of his life if the tides don’t turn soon within his favor. He probably should have just been cordial, fucking normal, like any other sane person might have been, and inquired upfront where he would be able to call upon her in the coming days.

He had done nothing of the sort, which feels idiotic now. However, Aemond really hadn’t wanted to force her hand that night, even despite the overarching evidence of their mutual attraction, the undeniable chemistry. For once, he’d wanted to have the experience of being pursued.

And he didn’t regard the approach as a game, so much as a selfish experiment to prove to himself that he was wanted - and not wanted by just anyone, but by the very same person he wanted too.

Perhaps it’s in ignorance, but he’d also thought at the time that the universe should just go on and conspire with her for what came next. He had been willing to take that chance without further intervention, because his faith in what he’d been feeling since meeting Y/N had already instilled a confidence in him that they were of the same mind.

However, lately he’s been second guessing his choices, finding only criticism when he re-examines his former train of thought on the topic. Perhaps it had been a grave misjudgment to bypass the finer details and fail to put some insurances into play to prevent this uncertainty, but he’s rather slow to convince himself of this as a possible fact. He doesn’t want to be that cynical, not yet, and he holds out hope that if it’s meant to be, then it will be.

You need to accept this.

She’s worth the wait, he’s convinced, recalling so many qualities he had identified during their brief time together - the sincerity of her words and the kindness of her actions.

There was also the physical attraction - substantial from his viewpoint with her devastating beauty, how she possessed that and intelligence, more than any other women he’d ever encountered before. And he would know because he's hyper-observant, rather particular and aware of the personality traits and habits of those he meets.

The laughter and wit, recalling the utter sweetness of her leaves him to miss her impossibly. And he’s fully aware that she’s the only reason he’s still remained at the capital, never intending to stay beyond the week. In any other scenario, he would have been gone already, providing whatever vague excuse necessary to resume traversing the skies, anything to get away from here.

Even before Aegon’s name-day celebration, he’d already intended to head North following the event, overdue for a visit to the abandoned ruin nestled deep in the moon mountains. If there was ever a secret that Aemond kept, it was this one - an unmapped location that he had discovered and claimed for his own some years ago.

It was mere happenstance that he’d come across the location while scouting enemy lines with Vhagar. It had good structural bones, and he’d immediately idealized the design of a secret refuge in his mind - one in which he could escape to on a whim. Gods knew he needed a place that wasn’t under the same roof as his mother or brother, but it had developed to be so much more.

Keeping his project under wraps, Aemond took to repairing and furnishing it on his own, though progress had been painstakingly slow as second priority to his duties to the crown. Nonetheless, it had transformed in time to become functional and then livable again - something he took great pride in.

In ways, it’s become more his home than the Greens primary residence in the Red Keep, which is a place he never felt any great attachment too.

If he’s honest, he longs to return to the mountains sooner than later, keen to reconnect with the surrounding nature and all the tranquility that only a place that remote can afford. It’s a peace unlike any he’s ever known, one that certainly can’t be found in the city. And when he’s there, he’s always consumed by a sensation of walking on hallowed grounds - of being deeply connected to a worshipful wilderness, an inherent freedom.

i'm so disgusted by the victories i never conquered, i feel sorry for the defeats i am roughly heading to.

The memory of this beckons his soul, just as finding any opportunity to disconnect from the rest of the world will always have an attractive pull on him. And after the recent mouthful he’d received from the small council regarding his “abominable” behavior towards Aegon, he’s less inclined to stick around now, having grown tired of playing the role of the devoted prince regent on standby.

The resentment towards his station had peaked that night, inevitable and leaving him to fume over the reprimands, how he’d been told he was actually the problem. But it hadn’t stopped there, for Aemond had also received a subtle warning to refrain from romantic pursuits and engaging further with “outside distractions”. It was clear as day what they were implying.

Fuck the council and fuck Aegon.

Despite this anger, he refuses to leave the city, finding it an impossible task when he knows the woman of his dreams is somewhere just beyond these suffocating red walls. It’s excruciating being left in limbo though, and it feels like a personal purgatory stationed inside this damned fortress - the very place he’s been kept chained to for far too long.

She’s out there somewhere, and she’s walking around with my heart in her hands.

Aemond simply cannot leave yet, finding the thought unimaginable without seeing Y/N again, but he’s getting worn down the longer he remains. The majority of his time here revolves around politics and scheming, of treachery and family dramatics - all topics that hold some responsibility for the irreparable damage done to him over the course of his life.

It feeds his disgust, anger and rage, pushing him closer to the edge of his sanity, thinking any second could be the moment he finally breaks. He’s all too aware of how close he is, pressured to the point that surely it will be impossible for him to be put back together. And if that happens, he can’t begin to anticipate the level of self-destruction that might follow in its wake.

Please come to me darling, I am running out of time.

He isn’t sure what he’s expecting from her, only certain that something powerful exists when they’re together. And although it's a very broad assumption, he still can’t shake the feeling that there’s potential - a capability for more intimacy between them. It’s a higher love that’s being sought, and Aemond thinks it’s entirely possible that they could become each other’s haven if they so wished.

During this time of so many unknowns, having one constant could also be the difference between him giving a fuck about his life and what happens to him or not at all.

While he doesn’t want a savior per se, and would never press that upon her or anyone else, having something rooted for him to cultivate and grow and protect would be profound. It’s an idea he wants realized more than he’s ever admitted to anyone, even himself as he considers the night they met - how she’d inadvertently set the scene so perfectly for him, making the conquest seem like the obvious next step.

I would have her.

He’d been so drawn to Y/N, enticed by her mirrored interest in him and disinterest in everything else around them. Then there was her curious demeanor of contradictions, something he found relatable in that she had placed herself somewhere she didn’t actually want to be. Similarly, she’d been close to tears, eyes brimming with emotions and then a moment later, ready to convert that frustration into something more physically damaging.

It enticed him, to say the least. Instinctually he knew she was remarkable, someone to be adored and admired - cared for in a way maybe she never thought possible. And he felt capable of being the one to see this realized for her, wanting to be that person, rather precipitously hoping she might be agreeable to the design.

He was certainly up for the challenge.

you know how to softly torture, you know how to torture my innocence.

Although Aemond has never been in a serious relationship, he doesn’t refute the existence of a love that can persist between two people. To the contrary, he’s retained his romantic tendencies - holing them up all his life to remain stagnant, concealed, lying in wait until called upon by a pre-eminent receiver. At least that’s how he’d always secretly dreamt it would happen.

And it would seem that time for him may have finally arrived. However, there are certain realities he has to consider too, as bothersome as they are to recount…

He is complicated - thought of as damaged, even culpable by many and though it stings, he wouldn’t necessarily argue such generalizations regardless of how misguided they usually are from an outsider’s perspective.

Admittedly, his wounds have been slow to heal due to being so heavily stemmed and indefinitely attached to the last vestiges of his humanity. In fact, it’s the bad memories that keep him infected in such a way that it feels inescapable, burdensome, even after all this time.

In this regard, Aemond has struggled, weighted by an anger that’s allowed his hurt to define him so greatly, for so long - to the point that even he’s repulsed by his inability to simply accept and release all that’s been lost, all that will never be regained.

Though he tries to do this, the idea of moving beyond his past seems inconceivable with each attempt he makes, easier to just convince himself that a blissful way of living isn’t ever going to be part of his destiny. It’s a truth thats often driven him to the conclusion that he’s simply undeserving of such experiences anyway.

And if proven correctly, he wouldn’t be surprised, because he knows how fucking difficult he can be and how deep within himself he can go, to the point of being untouchable both physically and emotionally. It’s a defense mechanism, and he has no other explanation.

Who would want that? Who would want me?

For most of his life he’s been living at a distance from people for this very reason. Yet at the same time, he’s measured his own value based on other’s acceptance and understanding of him. It's a hard reality for a dreamer such as Aemond, especially as someone who has inherently always needed love, but has never known how to ask for it.

i’m not allowed to love - then i don't have to suffer and no heart breaks.

It’s a disheartening cycle, one he mulls over almost daily just to find some peace of mind, a semblance of control. But it just puts him in a fouler mood, with everyday feeling more intolerable than the prior, like a constant navigation through hellfire as he struggles to hold on.

He goes on searching for an abidance to his ruined fate, willing something that just won’t come, but he knows why - he still wants to believe in something beyond the tangible, an elusive magic he’s been chasing since boyhood.

Its fucked up, but most days he doesn’t really feel like he’s living either, which is something Y/N had expressed as well. It’s like a dagger to the heart, a permanent ache that he’s deeply intimate with. Somehow it hurts him more to know she shares these same controversies, hardships in life that have left her wanting with a spirit at least half-broken.

But he believes he could provide something of substance, something meaningful thats been absent in her life too. His caring nature compels him towards this idea and there’s a confidence in his capability. It’s reinforced when he reflects on the multitude of ways he’s demonstrated his loyalty and devotion throughout his life - in many a variation, primarily towards his dysfunctional family.

From a romantic perspective, he’s not yet put such behaviors into practice, but they must exist. He’s a giver, certain to be an attentive partner as well, and he’s motivated to provide more than one might expect because everything inside him has been so damn pent up.

It’s just something he finds that he wants to do with an eventual love, though this could be a means to overcompensate for how imperfect he feels he is… Unfortunately, he’s also an over-thinker, easily overtaken by suspicion and charted to question the motivations of others.

It’s just very difficult for him to grasp the concept that someone could want him and he reckons it's the control freak within that automatically cages him to cause further discourse.

Yes, idiot - it is.

It’s a figurative wall that’s proven to be as impenetrable as it is detrimental to his life, his happiness, at least until recently. Aemond continues to make efforts to improve on this front, finding its coming more naturally than before, which he accredits to a developing maturity and the natural passage of time. Even so, he never really escapes from this theory that everything will forever remain in opposition between his head and his heart, regardless of how hard he tries to claw out of the abyss, course correct old habits and persevere.

Still, he will continue to try.

All he’s ever wanted is a love so impossible.

not to be a cliche, but i feel bewitched.

He thinks about her again and all the characteristics that had registered to him, like how she was free-thinking and independent, yet still demonstrated a need to be supported - cared about and for, by someone. And there were also instances where her confidence felt lacking, but not in every aspect, which had immediately resonated for him.

During their first exchange she had really seemed so alone, and she was alone, he had found out later. But that initial first glance and his impression of her from across the room had really pushed him to go to her in an unfathomable way. Then when Aegon had shoved against her, even bold enough to try and lay a claim on her, he’d felt ready to break his brother’s face.

That encounter still plagues him, but there are so many additional draws now, including the benefit of anonymity. He can’t get over how when they had finally spoken, he’d realized rather quickly that she wasn’t familiar with him or his turbulent history, and that alone, was reason enough to be captivated.

It really is so rare, and Aemond is still unsure how to fully react, having no previous comparison to draw from. He can’t remember a time when someone wanted to know him, who didn’t already know him in one way or another, and the reality of this is incomparable.

There’s such a purity to the concept for him, despite still having reservations. He doesn’t necessarily doubt their compatibility, but he’s also not confident enough to assume anything she might actually feel. He needs to experience her to know for sure.

Along these lines of honesty, he also doesn’t want her to view him as someone in passing, who was nice to her in a moment of need, but nothing more or less coming from it. It's a depressing thought for him, especially since he already knows he wants more…

That blasted kiss.

He still hopes she’ll reach out. He was so sure she would as he walked away from her that night, but again, the certainty of the moment has since waned. To counteract this and tame the evolving distress, he’s tried his damnest to remain occupied in body and mind as a means to pass the time, but nothing is really coming to him as a viable distraction.

The anticipation blows as he stalks through the gardens in an attempt to quell his anticipation for he knows not what, but the Keep, even his own room has begun to feel like a prison again. He’s grown antsy in the wait, and it's tiresome when the memory of her lips flood through his mind again and again, the wine taste that lingered on them…

It leaves Aemond impossibly frustrated.

He wants more, glad he’d finally had the opportunity to initiate and act on their kiss. Truth be told, he was so close to doing it in the courtyard, but he just couldn’t, withdrawing at the last minute, preferring they didn’t have an audience for that first time.

Of course, people could have simply been looking at her, as she certainly drew attention with her looks, for which she seemed completely unaware of and he still can’t understand that phenomenon. But as a precaution, he’d thought better of it, and he can’t say that he’s disappointed how the events had unfolded in the godswood just a time later.

She had been so lovely, personable, thanking him for such basic things that had come natural for him to provide. It’s a sweet memory that leaves him yearning to give her more of that, whatever she needs.

The way she’d just stepped into his arms without preamble had come with such an unexpected impact to his heart - one he hadn’t been prepared for, though he was elated to receive her in his embrace. He could tell that she was someone who needed someone, and that sensation of hope that he could be her person lingers on.

You just don’t open yourself like that, hold someone like that and make them feel like the most important person in the world to then never want to see them again.

He’s fucking convinced of this.

i'll need a cruel master who will save my vicious soul, but a master i will hate…

After several hours of field training, Aemond returns to his rooms sweaty and exhausted.

He’d pushed himself further today than ever before, at least that he could recall, spurred by his own growing irritation of feeling so fucking forlorn. Despite his pointed efforts, he’s no less despondent within the privacy of his bedchamber upon return, alone once more to sit with his thoughts.

He feels unhinged when he erratically begins undressing, breaking the fastenings on his sporting tunic along the way. He needs to be freed of the layers as soon as possible, bothered beyond belief by such material confines.

The garment drops to the floor where he’s standing in record time and then he’s unraveling bit by bit as he quietly revels in the sensation of the cool air hitting his naked chest. He pulls his shirt over his head, quickly adding the bundled heap to join his belts and sheathed weapons.

His belongings lay scattered, haphazard about the floor as he begins pacing the room with no clear intent on what his next move is.

Nonetheless, the space seems to cave as he welcomes the subtle draft that permeates to caress upon his heated skin as if it were a woman’s lips. As soon as that visual takes form, he curses himself for conjuring the very thing he’s been working hard to expel from his riddled brain all day.

He rolls his eye with self-directed discontent, proceeding to pull his eyepatch off just to chuck it with substantial force against a neighboring wall. Damnation. It becomes impossibly warmer with his body temperature rising from two day’s worth of repressed anger as he pulls the cord from his hair to let it fall loose.

He tries to make sense of it again, but his locks are damp and tangled from his extreme physical exertions. It bothers him enough to gather the mass and knot it up on this rare occasion - needing to have it completely off his neck and shoulders because its become a great nuisance. Fuck this Targaryen hair!

He just can’t be fucked, unbothered by his less than pristine appearance at the moment. Not that it matters, not that anybody is even with him to observe this raw and roughened physical state anyway.

He collapses in a nearby chair, huffing as he settles into it in a way that is bratty in nature. He could counter the notion however, chalking it up to an inherent need to blow off excess steam that’d recently accumulated within him - how it brims now, threatening to spill with indignation.

As he kicks off his boots, Aemond also resists the urge to return to his feet and find something valuable to break. There’s a frenzy in the way he’s ready to rip the hope he’s been harboring in vain from his chest to tear into shreds, cursing the abundance of his naivety. Mostly he’s just mad at himself, which is nothing new.

My shitty heart can get ripped out too…

In the anger of the moment, it feels infinite and he’s so tempted to just fuck it all and depart from King’s Landing tonight. Leave with Vhagar and disappear indefinitely. He has half a mind to do it in his current state, knowing how easy it would be to forgo family dinner and begin packing right away for the journey to the mountains.

It’s an attractive idea, but he’s too worked up to seriously entertain it at the moment. No - just impossible to consider when he’s wound so tight with disappointment and self-loathing as another realization hits him head-on.

He’s been taken for a fool, essentially ghosted. And he’s fucking offended! But what’s really sending him in a spiral and messing with his head is that he still wants Y/N.

…or that maybe will save me.

He’s mad over the untamed desire he still holds for such a wicked offender - the one primarily responsible for all his angst. But he wants the opportunity to lash out, punish her with his passion, and disrupt her world to the extent that it’ll leave her questioning her entire life. It’s delusional and cruel and he doesn’t care.

Feel what I feel and hurt the way I hurt. You’ve caused this.

Aemond gets caught up, head in his hands as he visualizes them together in an intimate way. And it’s dangerous how he imagines throwing her on his bed, rough in demeanor because it’s what he thinks she deserves after keeping him on the precipice between love and hate like a puppet master.

In his mind, he descends on her with an implied ownership of her body as his fingers learn her - every dip and outline, all the beauty marks and undiscovered places he intends to burn with his lips.

He sees himself doing this while ripping the clothes from her body, using his dagger if necessary to cut her out of her dress, ultimately forbidding her to hide behind her hands with modesty once bare before him.

The visual of this behind Aemond’s closed eye gets him bothered, aware of the strain on his tightening trousers as he touches his fingertips delicately against his lips, his own throat, and then to the prominent veins that surface his neck. He’s reminded of the subtle pressure from her lips against the spot below his ear - a place he touches now, too.

He recalls how whisper soft her touch had been, almost indiscernible when they’d held each other that night and he longs to feel that again. But more deeply now, with a desperation from her that she can’t deny and doesn’t try to hide. It’s killing him as he progresses his imagination, moving her naked body beneath his, writhing as she begs to be kissed by him while he pounds into her relentlessly.

Fuck! His entire body tingles with the wild thoughts and he acknowledges his body’s need for relief - all the parts of him that have been physically aching for too damn long. And this specific ache has reduced him to such a needy state that he actually thinks he might die if he never sees her again. It’s a devastating thought and he rejects it vehemently.

I will find you, no matter what. You belong with me.

But for now, he’s tired, high-strung, vaguely annoyed and impossibly turned on. There’s no getting around it when his dexterous hands skim down his abdomen to the opening of his trousers and then he’s releasing his manhood - so fucking hard within his own grasp as he begins stroking himself.

It’s self-gratifying, sensual and so natural, but he’s never felt this level of intensity before when getting himself off. It’s clear why, as the current situation develops - a fantasy formulating where his hand is actually hers.

It's so easy to do and then he’s taking off, as if she were real and before him, doing these things in real time.

When he licks his lips, he pretends it’s her doing it and when he’s biting his lower lip, his teeth become hers to capture and tease. So he bites harder and fucks himself off faster as his low moans begin to fill and circulate the room, breathless sounds the closer he gets.

He’s disintegrating, losing himself to the pleasure as his head falls back, long legs sprawled wide, sinking further into the chair. His abdomen is tight, muscles bunching and dancing in the flickering candle flames. But although it feels so damn good, there’s still a deep longing present - for his pouty lips have missed the opportunity to be truly kissed, and his lithe body continues to exist beyond the admiration of a real worshipful touch.

The loss is great and it’s killing him, knowing he deserves more than this as his heart starts to pound and evened breaths become harder to maintain. But still he goes on, taking what he can get and making the best of the situation.

And the best that he can do to get him over the edge is to imagine that the hand encircled around his cock is her mouth now, those full lips. He can see that gorgeous face when he shuts his eye tighter, concentrating on keeping the image sound as if his very life depended on it.

His grip is tortuous as he recalls her beloved face from memory. There you are, darling. She is perfection in his mind, her cheeks streaked with tears, an evident strain in her jaw as she maintains eye-contact and an open throat to take as much of him as possible.

She’s such a good girl, willingly accepting all the violence of his ardor. And he just goes on, fucking her mouth, choking her while his long fingers tangle into her hair, piling it away from her face so he doesn’t miss a one second of the pure unadulterated dragon love she’s consuming.

This is everything for Aemond, and he can’t stop, though on the off-chance that she’s not actually like this in reality, he’s not sorry. And if he’s inadvertently degrading her right now, knowing this type of intimacy isn’t for everyone, he just can’t find a fuck to give.

He’s gasping, going hard and fast with his pulls, ready to finish himself. Then he’s on the brink of coming, but in the scenario playing out in his mind, he can’t decide if he’d prefer releasing down her throat, giving her no choice but to consume his seed or somewhere else.

But then he recalls her tits, how good they’d looked in her dress and how he’d real-life love to see them bare, glistening with his cum because he’s obsessed and the kink is real.

Then he’s exploding.

look at me all the same, when i’ll be jester of violence and pity.

Aemond’s breath is still shaky several minutes later.

He’s made a mess, hard not to, but he doesn’t really care as he revels in the residual pleasure of his orgasm. His body feels better too, finally rid of so much of the building tension of the past few hours.

Passively he makes a mental note not to wait this long next time, but the reminder snaps him back to a reality where disappointment still lingers, working to settle its way into his marrow once again.

It forces him to cynically ponder if what he’s experiencing is how most lovers feel - as if they’re in a perpetual state of anxiety-induced anticipation, grappling with the fear of being let down. It all feels futile somehow, although he technically had self inflicted this specific course in allowing Y/N to hold the control, all of it.

Lesson learned.

This regret over a singular choice makes him feel… crazy, and it’s not a feeling that abandons him soon. In the water’s reflection of his bath later in the evening, he’d looked manic to himself - so much more than usual.

And that image had stayed with him into the late hours of the night, only yielding to sleep as he drifted off to a familiar void, the infinite sadness.

there's a falling bridge between my heart and your upside down world.

In the morning Aemond is slow to wake, his sleep overnight mostly fitful and garnering unrest.

Because of this, he stays in bed later than usual, not really wanting to face the day in any capacity. He knows he should get up though, at the least, in order to begin preparations for his upcoming departure. He wills his vision to focus and his abandoned energy to re-emerge, despite the darkness that remains by the drawn curtains.

He’s struggling to find a motivation as his room entices him to stay put, and he begins to entertain feigning illness should anybody come to call on him. It seems rational, as he’s not really in the mood to see anyone and he’ll be damned if the council expects his meeting attendance today for a review of closed trade routes and their current economic impact.

Count me out.

He’s aware that this behavior is a dangerous adoption - alluding to that of a renegade, and he’d be remiss to deny that the idea wasn’t alluring. But what he’s seeking is more of a temporary break, he thinks, at least to recollect himself, prioritize himself, feel…fucking human again.

I’m not a traitor looking to permanently detach from my duties.

He stares at the ceiling, seeing nothing as he waits for his vision to cloud again. Once achieved, he closes his eye, willing his mind to follow suit - hoping to recapture the solitude of nothingness for a bit longer. However, just as he feels he’s reached the threshold of that mental grey area, ready to enter back into it, an abrupt knock on his door forces him to full consciousness.

But before he can formulate a response for his caller, intending to turn them away, the door opens and to his surprise, its Helaena who rushes in. She’s a welcomed sight, for Aemond adores his sister, but her distressed energy puts him on alert immediately.

He rises to meet her at the edge of his bed, waiting as she makes her way to him in haste. When she sits next to Aemond, her face is marred with worry, regretful and sad - it’s concerning the way it all transfers to him when she places a gentle hand on his arm without a word.

“Dearest brother”, she begins woefully, “this note has been withheld from you for two days past.”

She’s upset and it’s even more palpable when she places a crumbled piece of parchment in his hands before continuing.

“Please forgive me for just discovering it amongst the devils. I came to you as soon as I could.”

Aemond experiences a spectrum of emotions, but at the forefront is both disbelief and relief. But there is anger too, as the initial confusion clarifies and he begins to understand that someone has intentionally intercepted and prevented the delivery of this letter intended for him.

It’s the very thing he’s been waiting for, the very same that’s kept him paralyzed and resentful, sickened with uncertainty. He’d been melancholic, convinced so soon that nothing and nobody was coming for him and he’d been ready to leave.

I was so wrong.

It’s a callous move that’s been played on him, enough to reinstate a new type of rage towards the one so obviously responsible for this. Actually it could be a combination of transgressors or all the entitled fucks that collectively sit on the council and think they control the world from a table.

In his bones though, Aemond feels it’s Aegon and The Hand who are responsible for this offense. But confrontation, even retribution is not priority. It matters naught in light of what he’s just received, indebted to his sister as he draws her in wordlessly to kiss her forehead with reverence.

Unshed tears collect, burning at his eye as his surroundings become a kaleidoscope of images across his distorted vision. And he’s ever-grateful to have the purity of Helaena in his life - how she’s always been a protector and champion of his heart, offering her unique gift of foresight and an abundance of unwavering love.

“This note becomes your destiny, Aemond. The love within it is real and it will not fail you.”

There’s a lump in his throat that he longs to swallow, forcing it down in order to breathe deep again, but there’s no air left as he tries to comprehend his sister’s departing words several minutes later.

He perceives himself as floating outside his body when he begins unfolding the note within the privacy of his domain, alone once more. His fingers tremble, uncontrolled as the powerful combination of adrenaline, anticipation and elation begin to course.

What he feels is inexplicable when he reads the words his love has written to him, beautiful words meant for him. He reads them again and again, allowing the truth to sink in. Without a doubt, he knows now that they are inevitable.

‘No pretenses, no games. I want you, only you - forever. We belong together.’

@a-beaverhausen @boofy1998 @caramelcandescence @wanderingcl0ud

[florserence]

Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Dagger

It was freshman year, first or second day of school, and we were in art class. We were doing the dreaded “introduce yourself and your art” and it had gotten to him. There was just. . . Something.

About him, I mean. He was timid presenting his work, forced by systemic school social pressure, and I was intrigued. His work glittered in my eyes and wrapped me within his world immediately. When we had become friends shortly after my persisting, his energy was addicting. I wanted to see what was behind his wall, his wall that was created to survive living in this world.

Later on, it was during the period of world-wide social isolation that I thought of him as my solution. I could feel myself falling further, whether it was love is something I’ll never be sure of. It was like the sculpture, where Psyche is revived by Cupid’s kiss. His timid person and art were my limerent obsession that lasted even long after we broke away from each other.

Loving him- or rather perhaps a better phrase- loving the idea of him had consumed me. It was disastrous, because once I had broken the wall it was a never ending black hole. He was a supernova. Who knows when he exploded though, because I only existed through his emptiness. Existing in a black hole is terrifying to say the least. You lose sense of yourself, time, reality, everything. He himself was even losing touch with that.

I do think that I loved him. Through his struggle of reality, there were moments when he would try to be kind and understanding, despite everything begging him not to be. I’m not always sure if he loved me, however, maybe I reflected his own instability. “And me, I am her dagger, too numb to feel her pain,” Slowdive sang and he repeated. He saw me as his angel, his sunshine girl.

He communicated through art instead of language. It was the only way I could ever see the light on his true self, a reflective surface. The problem he experienced was of his making, a reflection of others’ and never knowing what was behind it. But when art’s light shined upon him, he glittered beautifully. It didn’t matter his words, because he didn’t have to speak for me to understand. When he painted us together, it’s what kept me addicted to the pain. It was light of what we wished we could be. The light reflected his love back to me. But unfortunately, the light also reflected his pain.

Humans are not built for black holes. My guts were ripped out of me and I felt even my exterior stripping away. I had lost my insides by trying to morph myself into what would help his pain. All I ever wanted was to be able to help him in these moments, but losing your organs slowly decays your flesh. I was numb to the pain by this point, but my skin was decaying enough for my animatronic-like bones to give away hidden masochistic desperation. It was truly painful to be with him and I tried to just survive.

But there was one day where my attempts at bandaging with toy doll PVC material couldn’t sustain us any longer. It wasn’t until I was caught being broken to my last bits of bones in my car, when my curated malleable playtoy persona had been destroyed. He saw what had become of myself.

It was humiliating. To be so ripped apart by a black hole and then to see my limbs strewn about by string. He saw what had become of me. The greenery outside had turned to white when he called me, saying he saw me in the car and asked if I was okay. I don’t even remember what I said, but I knew it was too late. Our conversation blurred together, the only parts I remember being the feeling of my bones rattling through the crushing sobs erupting out of my broken voice box that was so used to playing scratched records.

He was comforting me for once! It was embarrassing, to finally be seen for how I truly was. Having concealed myself with gentle-spoken phrases when pulling my toy string attached to my spine for so long, I was mortified. There was nothing prepared for this moment from the voice box. I realized what had become but didn’t want to leave. I knew, funnily enough, that he would be the one to end it. It was painful because, now, after all this time of trying to love his pain, he couldn’t handle my own. He and I knew he couldn’t, not when it was this far, which is why he ended it.

I was crazy obsessed. I was a masochist in love with a masochist. They may attract for their shared love for pain, but there is only so much pain that one can endure before suicide. I think that’s why it was so wrong to me that he thought he was my dagger. For it was the opposite, I the Knife and him the Drug. He did teach me, however, that through all of the pain, I would rather be used for cooking than for stabbing.

[maoist-mizer]

If i was more bothered I would figure out a way to write this more eloquently but I’m not bothered so I’m just going to talk about something that’s been on my mind.

I find it bleak how easy it is nowadays for people to just reject the idea that the stories they consume have any sort of larger meaning at play. That there was any intention at all, no the creator just made something fun, and if they don’t say it themselves and if it isn’t just obviously written out then it doesn’t exist. Given that I’m going to be talking about Chainsaw Man in particular, it’s so sad that the author said himself that he didn’t want to spoon feed the audience, and yet here we are in 2022 with the manga adapted into an anime with millions of people arguing online that, hey, maybe the curtains are in fact just blue because the creator likes blue! And if you think any differently, not only are you “pretentious” for finding meaning in the text, but its an attack that I take personally.

Like for example how are you going to read Chainsaw Man, and read about the Gun Devil, one of the main antagonists for the first saga and not think there’s any sort of meaning behind its inclusion. As a response to devils existing, the US had an increase in gun usage which resulting in an increase in fear of guns and much unrest and protesting, this led to a terrorist attack in the US involving guns, which then triggered the appearance of the Gun Devil as fear is a source of power to devils. The Gun Devil went on to killed over 1.2 million people by its speed alone as it moved across the planet.

While we are told that many devil hunters dream of killing the Gun Devil, it is revealed later that it has essentially already been defeated, yet this is unknown to the public. Countries like the US, the Soviet Union (as this is set in the 90s), China, and such have all divided up the Gun Devil’s flesh, owning certain percentages of it. And it is specifically stated that the US President in this world has a contract with the Gun Devil where they’ll receive power in exchange for offering it a year off every American citizen’s life.

Like surely, surely, there is no larger meaning behind this. Surely fantasy doesn’t reflect back on our own reality but with more exaggerated fantastical elements to make the message tangible. Yeah, no, it’s apparent that the plot surrounding the Gun Devil is commentary on gun usage in the US within our own reality. Don’t you think it’s a little on the nose that the president is literally selling the lives of Americans for power, and that regardless of how large these massacres get that involve guns that the president still values them above their people? You could even say the percentages of the Gun Devil shared between countries reflects further upon our reality with the militarisation of these countries and the hoarding of atomic bombs.

I mean even if you don’t get this far into the manga, even something as simple as devil hunters making contracts requires parts themselves to be consumed in exchange for power and to keep themselves alive in their job. Like that’s clearly a small aspect of how Chainsaw Man comments on work, as they are literally being eaten alive in order to keep working. And I think it really sucks how even if, say, by some horrible miracle that the creator Fujimoto didn’t intend for any of this and this was all my interpretation, who cares? Authorial intent isn’t absolute, your interpretation of what things mean is just as valid as if the author confirmed it themselves.

I don’t know how to end this all, just that I’m tired of people online that think everything stops and ends at whatever a creator puts on paper and spells out to you in size 36 Arial font. While I understand the urge to just want to consume content for fun, I feel like at some point you really do need to just use your brain, you can’t go your whole life consuming art mindlessly.

[lyramundana]

I’m still processing that someone made a headcanon about my au, that I invented based on another au. I feel honoured🥺

And I absolutely love that idea. I actually have my own version of each villain’s backstory on my mind and this one with Kate is very close to what I thought. I believe the drama with the yandere Bridgertons feels juicier if they’re the only ones that don’t remember anything and the Spouses, on the other side, have every single memory and live with the trauma of what happened, and it happens that the Bridgertons are triggerers of all those bad memories. So it’s only natural that once they get a hold of the new situation, their first reacion is to “nope” out of London. 

One thing I adore about the isekai au is the importance of platonic bonds and yandereism. Look, I think the trope of someone “fixing themselves” thanks to romance is really cute and hearwarming, the message that love can defeat anything. But platonic bonds are equally important and impactful. And I’m a sucker for the found family trope, which happens to be with the Featheringtons and the Spouses in all its glory. Instead of improving themselves by falling in love, they find comfort in their new family and naturally become better people because of it. The power of family is powerful too, and sometimes I think the message that “romance is the answer for anything” is a bit toxic. So yeah, in my mind, the Spouses all have their shit together already by the time they finally meet their Bridgerton counterparts. It’s the crazy family that goes nuts instead.

Now with my personal addition to this beautiful idea. 

While Kate felt that she was always the forgotten daughter, the third-wheel, the one that didn’t belong, it wasn’t like for her family, of course. She may have not carried her in her womb, but Mary loved the girl from the moment she layed eyes on her. How could she not? She was her husband’s flesh and blood, a breathing reflection of the love of her life. She always wanted to be a mother, so she took to little Kate instantly. But when she fell pregnant, her and her husband were over the moon and focused a lot of the uncoming baby. Maybe they should have payed more attention to Kate, maybe she should have spoke to her husband about his grief and remind him that Kate was her own person and not his deceased wife. She should have noticed that the girl’s compliance and soft-spoke nature was just her hiding her feelings and making herself smaller because she felt left out. 

She should have done so many things, but she didn’t. When Edwina finally arrived, praised and compliments flew upon her as soon as she could walk. She was a ball of joy, the daughter everyone dreamed of having. She was Mary’s miracle, her pride, and perfect. Of course she didn’t love Kate any less, but she got a bit caught up in the hype. If she had looked away from the veil of happiness and perfection surrounding them three, she would have seen a fourth piece suffering in the shadows, slowly moving further and further from them. Her husband’s death only worsened things. Kate took over everything and became everyone’s stability, keeping them afloat. Mary noticed she had gotten quieter and colder in the last months, making a lot of preparations for them in London and even finding a good husband for Edwina, but she rarely spoke to them anymore. And when Mary finally realized what was happening, it was too late already. Her daughter was gone. 

Edwina didn’t really understand what happened. She was innocent and blind to the pessimist aspects that surrounded her family, having been shielded from it by both her mother and Kate. Like any girl that grew up sheltered from the evil of the world, she could be ignorant to problems and don’t really understand the gravity of a situation. She never lacked anything, everything that went in the house was for her first, and she grew up hearing nothing but praises about her. She never felt the comparisons to Kate as something hurtful, since she only got the good side of them. Edwina wasn’t a bad person the slighest, just naïve. And so, she had no idea why her sister dissapeared one day out of nowhere. Just few days ago, she had announced them that Edwina will be marrying a rich and handsome lord as soon as she debuted in London, which would put their family in a great position. Things were good, more than good, so why? Why did she leave? How could she?

Kate is on the edge of a heart attack when she finds out. It’s Simon who tells her, having recognized the surnames on one of Portia’s letters he saw by accident. This shouldn’t happening. She worked so hard to change things, to start a new life. There’s no way Portia wasn’t aware of who they were. Is the past doomed to repeat itself? Can’t she enjoy her second opportunity without having to face the physical reminders of her old pain? The encounter is far from ideal, but the three of them are forced to deal with it

In the isekai Portia au, where the Spouses remember but the Bridgertons, it's implied that Kate had a bad relationship with her family at the end and that's what pushed her to become a villainess. Her father couldn't look at her because she was a reminder of the wife he lost, her stepmother was kind but focused on little Edwina and everyone around her compared her constantly to her perfect sister. It'll drive anyone mad, and It's understandable Kate developed some resentment.

What if Kate, when she reincarnates, instead of staying with her family anyway, she decides to leave before things get bad? She doesn't want to repeat her actions, but can't stand another lifetime of feeling left aside and sacrificing herself for her family's happiness. She arranges everything for Edwina to find a good match and guarantees them both a cosy life, and starts to look for ways to move out. Then it comes to her ears that some Baroness Featherington is looking for a governess for her young children and Kate takes the opportunity. She makes sure Mary and Edwina are settled, and once everything is done, she packs her stuff and leaves.

Her new life in the Featherington residence is better than she expected. Lady Portia is a very busy woman but has still taken under her wing children that aren't even hers and raises them along with her daughters. She can't always be with them, so that's what Kate is for. Teach them, guide them, look after them. She meets Duke Simon, a regular visitor of the Featheringtons, and they become best friends. Things are going well for her.

Until Portia tells her that they'll be housing the Sharma family for a while because the daughter is about to announce her engagement and Mary needs assistance. And if the situation wasn't awkward enough for Kate, when she meets her sister's bethroted it's even worse. It's no other than Viscount Bridgerton, the man that started all her problems in the past life and caused her death

Drama ensues

I like this, let me tweak it a little bit to fit a little better with the rest of the au. @lyramundana since spouses remembering was your addition to the au I think you might want to see this.

Kate was young when she left India, only 18. Governesses were not usually hired that young but she had some hope. Lady Featherington, who was a long distance associate of her father's, had a reputation of taking in those who needed it among her staff and some rumored even her wards. There was only enough money for one of them, and Kate refused to let the past repeat itself so she chose to take herself out of the picture. Even if things were good now she knows they won't last.

Kate tried not to wrinkle her nose at the tea, English tea was never as good as the tea back home.

"You are a bit young for the position," Lady Featherington said, her eyes looking over Kate's qualifications.

"But I am well qualified-" Kate started.

"Of that I have no doubt," Lady Featherington said, her voice gentle. Then the conversation took a turn. "Tell me Ms. Sharma, if you were to start a business what would be your trade?"

Kate glanced down at the tea again. "Tea, I can't stand the way English prepare their tea." She blushed realizing she just insulted the offered drink from her potential employer.

Lady Featherington laughed. "I see. Very well Ms. Sharma you will be instructing my youngest two, Lucy and Felicity, on writing, reading, and arithmetic, but when Simon comes to instruct the older ones on business you shall join them. He will help you on getting started with your tea business. I will help with funding and eventually we will make you a woman of independent means."

Kate didn't know what to say and was not sure of what just happened. "Lady Featherington I-"

"I like to make good investments Ms. Sharma," Lady Featherington said. "Like the others I believe you will be a good one too."

What Kate doesn't know is that Portia also has knowledge of the before, and she truly did believe Kate could do it. Like her other little villains she deserved a second chance as well. She also knew Kate's pride and with her being older than the others when she got them wouldn't accept help without putting in some sort of work. So a compromise.

The next day Portia introduced her to the rest, and Kate is quickly welcomed. They honestly treat her more as an equal or an an older sister than a member of their staff. With time she basically becomes another ward without the official papers. Especially when she joins them for Simon's lessons. Kate is astounded that Simon is actually a duke. They quickly become best friends.

Over the next few years Kate begins her tea business. Experimenting and mixing new teas for different pallets. She is prouder the more her business grows. She is happy, especially since Portia avoids London like the plague so she had no worries of running into the god awful Bridgerton.

Over time Kate learns the others were like her, villains in a past life to different members of the Bridgertons who got a second chance and was not willing to mess that up. They were also thankful Portia avoids London as they rather not have London seasons themselves.

Then one year on the verge of one London season Portia announces that they will be spending it in London and that those old enough will be entering society. "Kate, Prudence, Philippa, Sophie, Phillip, and Michael that all means you. You all need to learn to navigate business around London."

A collective groan is heard around the table. None of them want to go. There is so much of a higher chance of running into the Bridgertons if they go, they don't want that kind of trouble for themselves! But they're also not gonna disobey Portia like that.

"I also have a friend who will be arriving tomorrow. She and her daughter will be staying with us during the season. I will be assisting her with some business deals here in England before her daughter debuts."

What Portia doesn't say is that the friend is Lady Mary Sharma, who has been friends with Portia before she married her husband and she has been in contact with since Kate showed up on her doorstep. Mary had written to her frantic that her oldest daughter had left for England on her own. Portia had reassured her and sent updates to Mary about Kate. Now that Portia is forcing the kids to learn how to navigate London she asked Mary if she wanted to see Kate in her first season? Mary jumped on the chance, she was absolutely going to be there for her daughter's first season she'll fight anyone who tires to stop her.

Portia invited Mary to the country estate first before going to London. She suspected the Sharma family will have to work some things out first.

[aresrambles]

Hiya! Could I please request a movie night with Hawks that quickly turns into something spicy? I understand if you can't take the request but can't hurt to ask right?

Fast and Furious

hawks x female!reader - explicit nsfw, strictly 18+, married!reader, degradation, creampie, fluff (1306 words)

a/n: hi anon <3 so sorry this took fucking forever. i also went w fem!reader bc it wasn’t specified so i hope that’s ok and took some creative liberties. i hope u enjoy~

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Huddled together in a fleet of cushions and blankets, you and Keigo stare idly at the large flat-screen TV that illuminates your shared living room. Truth be told, the film had long ago become boring to you- the only thing on your mind were the soft circles that your husband had been drawing on the space above your hips.

You look over to your right and watch his focused expression, eyes filled with the colorful reflection of the TV light. Keigo was so beautiful. Although he hadn’t shaved in a while due to working overtime, and his eyebags had looked better, he was still insanely attractive. He could pull off anything, really.

“What’cha looking at, Birdie?” Keigo catches you in the corner of his eye and turns to smile, the circles on your hips creeping up further and further toward your waistband.

“I’m looking at the guy that won’t stop trying to turn me on.” Hawks pauses for a moment before bursting out into a fit of laughter. “Alright, alright- you caught me. This movie sucks and I’m horny.” You can’t help but smile upon hearing his remark and lean forward into a kiss. When you pull away, Keigo’s eyes look different. There’s an intensity to them as he looks back at you, mouth still relaxed in an upward curve and fingers still playing around with your waistband. “D’you wanna forget about the movie? And, well… Do you wanna…”

“Go on, Number 2 Hero.” You chuckle, mockingly tossing your head back and batting your lashes at him. Keigo feels his dick jump at the light-hearted term and wastes no time in pulling your sweatpants down, before taking his own off and settling down between your legs.

"Look at your fuckin' panties..." He murmurs, dragging his slender finger along the drenched fabric clinging to your folds. You hadn’t realised how wet he had made you throughout the film until now. Keigo could see everything and you hadn't even taken them off yet. The sight makes his abdomen twitch. "Maybe you should keep these on for a while." He says softly before pushing them to side and pressing his mouth onto your clit. "S'kinda sexy."

The vibrations of his voice made you want to close your legs on instinct but Keigo's grip is firm, already anticipating that delicious reaction of yours. Instead, his fingers pinch at the flesh of your thighs whilst he begins to lap away at your sweet spot, all wet and all warm and all his. Keigo had always been good at eating pussy- it was something that he genuinely enjoys. He gets off to it. The shy gasps when he sucks on your clit after tongue-fucking you, the long, firm licks from top to bottom. Everything about it is too much and somehow you can never get enough.

You look down at him and meet your husbands eyes as he eagerly eats you out. Reaching down to stroke his hair, your arm is suddenly stopped in its place. Keigo moves his lips away from your pussy and instead drags his tongue along your fingers, never once tearing his gaze away from yours. Your body temperature rises with the warm, wet sensation of your fingers enveloped in his mouth. He sucks on them like he's starving, eyes hungry and half-lidded like a puppy drunk on milk.

At the same time, he brings his other hand back to your pussy, toying with it teasingly. He presses your folds together and rubs alongside the middle before letting go again, repeating that action a few more times before you inevitably begin buck your hips up and whine. "Dude, just fuck me already."

Keigo only smirks before pressing that same hand that had been teasing your pussy into your mouth. "Louder, sweetheart. I don't think I got that."

You wait for him to remove his hand from your mouth, but upon realising that wasn't going to happen you attempt to speak up again.

"Fuck. Me.”

“Look at that, you said it all muffled and now you’re drooling all over my hand like some kinda bitch in heat." Keigo leans down until your faces are centimeters apart. "Well, are you? Are you my bitch, Y/N?” He asks softly, tilting your head up to look at him properly.

The dull ache inside of you is what propels you to nod your head. Keigo chuckles as he palms a dick a few times, lining it up with your entrance.

“If you’re gonna be my bitch then I wanna hear you pant like one.”

The end of his sentence is almost lost in a deep groan as he slides inside of you, face twisted with pleasure. “That’s it, sweetheart.” He exhales, pumping in and out of you with shaky arms holding his body above yours. The room feels so much heavier and you weakly push away the blankets that surround the two of you. Keigo’s dick felt like it was burning you up from the inside out, so anything other than his body was an unneeded addition of warmth.

Keigo's lazy thrusts became faster and rhythmic, reaching deep inside of you. The soft grip he previously had on your thighs was now trembling and sweaty, almost as though your flesh was about to slip out of his grasp. The sheer strength of his grip made your thighs hurt but the sensation was nothing in comparison to the one deep in your belly. "Keep going." You pant, in a trance. The only thing that matters is that he keeps going; that he keeps pushing himself inside till that ache in your core dissipates. "Keep going, keep going, keep going-"

Your chanting does not fall unto deaf ears, however your husband has other plans. Keigo leans down until you can feel his hot breath fanning over ear as he begins to slow down. "What did you say?" He taunts, inbetween his own gasping breaths. "What do you want from me?"

He was insatiable in his need to make you beg for it. To beg for that release that he knows you so desperately crave despite the fact that you were both reaching your limit. “I said, ah, keep going. Please.” You whine, rolling your hips up to meet his movements. “Whatever you want, beautiful.” Keigo huffs, eyes gleaming. He speeds up again and doesn’t withhold his own moans and shaky mewls that echo throughout the living room. You begin to feel the familiar build up of a climax in your insides as Keigo whines about his own oncoming orgasm. “Cum with me. Cum with me, baby.” He pleads. Keigo’s arm slipped as he crashed down on top of you, never once stopping his frantic thrusting. You take the opportunity to bite into his shoulder as your own orgasm rolls over your body, taking it captive in a frenzied hot flush.

“I’m gonna- I’m-I’m-“ Keigo can only babble incoherently as he fucks you through his climax, thick, ropey cum spilling inside of you. Your pussy clenches around his dick; the overstimulation milking him for everything he has. “That’s it, baby. Give it all to me.” You coo in his ear, embracing your lover as he became limp on top of you.

You both take a while to come back around, Keigo’s head resting upon your chest. As you play with his hair, you feel his wings twitch with satisfaction.

“Now that was a good movie night.” He mumbles, nuzzling further into you. Although he should, he doesn’t pull out for a while. The idea of keeping his cum stuffed inside of you was an exciting thought, and it was too hot to start moving again. You guys could always clean yourselves up again later, until the cool running water of the shower. And perhaps have room for a round 2.

[nctsworld]

skateboard love

✩‌ yangyang x reader | skater boy!yangyang | college au | fluff | 2.2k

SUMMARY | yangyang tries to get you to skateboard for the first time and in doing so, you’re taken back to when you first met him. // for @notnctu​’s beginning collab! WARNINGS | slight injury (reader trips over a curb), one swear word, kissing RATING | teen+ TAGLIST | @infnteen​

“I can’t do this,” you mutter, shaking your head in defeat.

The ocean waves clamour nearby as you stare down at the skateboard and concrete pavement beneath your sneakers in frustration.

The weight of your helmet and the wrist guards are blatant in your every movement. Sure, it’s a little embarrassing at your age, but it’d be best to rather be safe than sorry.

Thankfully, they’ve been coming in handy during the times you almost fell and slipped off of your boyfriend’s skateboard. It may have been his idea to try to learn, but you weren’t opposed to it, thinking it’d be easy.

They say things are easier said than done, and now you’re forced to admit skateboarding definitely falls under that list.

“Yes, you can,” Yangyang softly says. Beside you, he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, causing you to peer into his gleaming eyes and bright smile.

Despite the recentness of your relationship, your boyfriend’s patience and encouragement feels like routine, like he’s been by your side for your entire life. His words don’t fall on deaf ears; you parrot his smile and muster a small nod, albeit glancing away shyly.

“Just think about all the times you’ve watched me skate past the library and copy what I did.”

Petulantly, you stick your tongue out. “It wasn’t that often.”

Disbelief reflects back at you in the form of an eyebrow raise.

“Really?”

“Really!”

Around mid-September, in the most modern, glass-structured library on campus, you found a studying area that was perfect for you.

Main floor, nearby the entrance doors for an easy exit when class was about to roll around. A high stool chair that was cushioned comfortably for endless hours of equal parts studying and procrastination. Plugs and desk space galore.

Above all, it was perfect because you had the picturesque view of the boy who always skated every other day around 11:50am towards his next class across the wide stoned boulevard in front of the library.

You noticed him the first few times when you initially sat upstairs. Even from afar and above, your interest was piqued over how coolly he skated past all the students. There were only so many students who biked to their next class, and even less who skateboarded.

And after you decided to sit downstairs for once to finally steal a closer glimpse of him, you were completely smitten upon capturing his handsome features.

Thus, your heart constantly raced in anticipation when 11:50am hit, as students scattered all across campus during this transition period. 

With a thumb tucked in his pocket and headphones over his ears to boot, the mystery skater boy often slid past around 11:55am, making your mind wonder where his former class was and where he was going. Was he in Engineering? Arts? Business?

The latter option didn’t seem likely since his style didn’t echo the stereotypical look of the faculty. Dark coloured hoodies and sweaters, bomber jackets, and skinny jeans were his usual choice of fashion, alongside the occasional baseball cap. And on the days he wore his cap backwards, he was truly in his skater element.

No matter, you always swooned with your chin perched atop your fist or resting inside your palm as he passed by. The brief sighting of him easily became the highlight of your day.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t try to look for him in your classes, but to no avail. You had to live with the fact that you’d only get to know him in passing as he skated on by the library.

When the mere hoodies and sweaters were exchanged for heavier, thicker jackets and coats, he still continued to traverse across campus via his unsurprising mode of transportation. You especially admired his dedication on the days filled with rain and wind, wishing there was some way for you to ease his trips to his next class.

All throughout the couple of months, he was consistent in attending that one class.

Except one day.

It was a Friday, about a week or two near finals season. The weather was quite chilly now, but snow wouldn’t be an issue until after winter break and well into the next semester, so there wasn’t any reason for him to not use his skateboard still.

Maybe he was sick at home, you thought. Pouting, you tried not to dwell over the stranger because that’s all what he was. 

Someone you didn’t know, someone you only watched from afar. Someone that filled your daydreams, pondering what he’d be like and what’d you two could talk about... but nevertheless a stranger.

Oddly enough, about an hour past noon, someone dragged you out of your thoughts momentarily as they unusually sat nearby your spot. 

The unspoken library etiquette was to sit as far away from others for more personal space, especially in the area where you frequented. You tried your best to ignore the shuffling of the person placing their laptop and books onto the elongated wall-length table, feigning laser-focus on your notes.  

But a few moments later, you heard a whisper coming from their direction.

“Is this your favourite spot in the library?”

“Hm?” you hummed, dragging your headphones down to your shoulders as you swivelled towards the seated stranger. Air seized in your lungs and your eyebrows shot up.

The gorgeous skater boy glowed with rosy cheeks from the cold air outside, paired with his stunning smile. You realized this was the first time you’ve ever seen him smile—preciously, by the way, with his teeth on full display—and your heart stirred like crazy.

A beat stretched out. Your jaw hung in shock and you blinked blankly. Guess you solved the mystery as to where he was today.

He beamed more intensely at your awe struck and continued to whisper, “I always see you sitting here when I get to my next class.”

“Uhm,” your jaw snapped up, prior to your dry gulp. “What?”

“Yeah,” his deep chuckling tickled your ear. God, of course a smooth voice matched a face like that. “you stare out the window so cutely whenever I pass by the library.”

A record scratched, then you rewound the moment in your head. Not only did he knew you existed but...

Did he just called you cute?

Catching on with awareness over his own words, the skater boy pouted to one side. His cheek jutted out adorably and red seemed to crawl over them, progressing over to the tips of his ears too.

Light giggling from both parties filled the space, with you tucking your hair behind your ear and him tugging on the ends of his sweater paws.

“So, are you skipping class?” you asked, tilting your head curiously.

“Yeah,” he replied, gesturing towards his busy study set-up ahead of him. It was a similar scene to yours—notes layered and layered upon each other, a laptop which displayed more notes, and a few textbooks were open too. “When you need to skip a class to study for another class...”

You nodded sympathetically, pointing a finger to your organized mess to imply the same. “Finals season.”

He nodded as well in unity and you two exchanged another round of smiles.

“I’m Yangyang.”

With that, introductions were made and bits of information were shared. Your hunch was right—he was in Engineering, but he also had some elective labs that were being held in the Science side of campus. Made sense why he had to navigate across campus from one end to the other.

Before the conversation began to get carried away, he issued a small apology. “Sorry, I really shouldn’t be interrupting your studying. I’ll leave you be.”

Admittedly, it caught you off guard. You wanted to pipe up about how he wasn’t interrupting, that you wanted to dive into getting to know him more. You’ve seen him practically almost every day for the last couple of months and you didn’t want to let this chance slip through your fingers.   

Yet, at the same time, you begrudgingly knew he was right. You had to study for your upcoming in-class final, so you held your thoughts back and unwillingly turned back to your responsibility at hand. 

It was difficult to study with skater boy being in the same vicinity as you—practically an arm’s length away from you—but you eventually tampered down your jitters and honed your attention.

Hours passed. Neither of you really shifted much besides the casual stretching or the much needed break to the bathroom.

Darkness loomed in the winter sky and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him writing, which he hadn’t done during the time he’d been there.

And then, after an ear-piercing slow rip of paper that echoed in the library, he slid that piece of paper in your direction with one simple question that ignited the spark for the beginning of you and him—

I know we just met, but do you want to go out sometime?

“’Cause if I recall...” Yangyang continues, breaking you away from your bout of reminiscing. He absentmindedly tucks away some loose strands of hair sticking out of your helmet. “You watched me at least since the beginning of last semester—”

“Nu-uh,” you cut in, lying in a childish tone.

“Yuh-huh,” he rebuttals.

Under the warm afternoon sunlight, you two begin to have a staring contest, squinting and playfully seething at one another. When your boyfriend squints harder with a ruffle of his nose, you follow suit. Eventually, you give in with a sigh.

“Okay, fine. Even if I did watch you a lot, it doesn’t mean I can just absorb your skateboarding skills through memory.”

Cockiness fades over his joking exterior as he flashes you a shit-eating grin. “It’s cause you were too busy focusing on my handsome face.”

Becoming second nature for you by now as he’s often like this, you roll your eyes and lightly punch him in the arm, but... he isn’t wrong.

And from your lack of an articulate response, Yangyang knows he’s right.

Sparing you from injuring your pride further, he swings the conversation back to what you were doing here in the first place. 

A hand of his steadies you by the bottom of your back. “Balancing feels weird, I know, but you’ll get the hang of it. Let’s try again.”

Releasing a lengthy exhale, your head bounces fervently in hopes that false confidence and your boyfriend’s support can morph into a successful skateboard run.

The careful push he gives you is ample enough to have you ride down the street by yourself. Your body wavers side by side and you fear that you’ll teeter to a stop like all the other times, but somehow, your foot swipes across the pavement, carrying you further down the street.

It’s not fast by any means, but as you persistently execute it, you gain traction and see yourself finally riding without any issues.  

“Yangyang, I got it. I got it!” you shriek as you quickly glance back towards him.

He radiates in response and gets lost in you, equally proud that you finally found your balance and basking in how stunning you look as you coast down the beach side street.

However, his trance breaks when he sees you’re about to hit the edge of a street curb.

“Babe, watch ou—”

The scene happens fast. You’re suddenly laying on a patchy part of the grass, with the skateboard by your feet. Yangyang bolts to you, hunching down as he daintily tugs you to sit upward.

“You okay?” he pants nervously.

At first, you nod without a thought since the helmet and wrist guards have saved you from any potential major injuries. 

However, your boyfriend’s eyes widen when out of nowhere, you draw in air between clenched teeth. Your butt feels as if it’s on fire, since it was actually the body part that mostly broke your fall.  

He suggests to sit here for a while to let the pain dissipate, reassuring you’ll be fine from his own past experiences. 

As you rest awkwardly beside him on the grass, placing weight on your hip rather than your rear end, he aids you in ridding of your safety gear. Once they’re off, he kisses your hand tenderly.

“Maybe we should leave the skateboarding to me, for now,” he mumbles softly into your skin, leaving another kiss upon your hand.

You mope in agreement. “Maybe so...”

Caressed in his arms, you link eyes with him. Your eyes flutter to a close while he delicately eases you into him by the back of your neck.

The intense pressing of his lips against yours feels heavenly, almost entirely sedating your mild pain. He kisses you deeper, disregarding everyone and everything in proximity. You reciprocate it all back eagerly, cupping his cheek and gripping onto his strong frame as you do so.

Peeling away breathlessly, you tip your forehead against his. “Should we go back to the library and have me watch you longingly from our old spot?”

Yangyang hurriedly shakes his head.

“Nope. Never again,” he replies, his thumb stroking your cheek. “If you’re watching me skateboard, you’ll be doing it by my side from now on, beautiful.”

A chuckle trickles from you. You’re about to retort back, but your one and only skater boy diverts your train of thought, dragging you in for another long, blissful kiss. 

[tressasinterlude]

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓 #𝟑: Female Public Figures Dating Men with Questionable Views That Contradict Their Image & Alleged Politics

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗥: These rant blog posts are really just reflective of my thoughts at the time that I make them and are posted here because I need an outlet to release all of this shit I have going on my busy ass mind. That’s it and that’s all. Now let’s get into it..

This rant was greatly inspired by none other than Ms. Robyn Rihanna “Tell Your Faves To Pull Up [in regards to social injustices directly affecting black people]” Fenty and her openly colorist boyfriend, A$AP Rocky. Aside from the fact that Rihanna tends to slip under the radar and is never held accountable for her problematic ways due to her conventional beauty (i.e. Her heavy usage of anti-Asian slurs, particularly targeted towards Chris Brown’s ex gf, Karrueche), it’s very alarming that a woman who has an entire makeup brand with a campaign based around the inclusivity of ALL black women is publicly flaunting a beau who once said that DSBW do not look good with red lipstick.

And yes, I’m very much aware that Rakim said this tasteless comment over 8 years ago but from the looks of it, not much has really changed with him. Don’t @ me about it neither because I don’t care.

Also peep how he compares a hypothetical darkskinned woman to a man (Wesley Snipes) while trying to explain how his antiblackness isn’t wrong because he said something about white women as well. Gaslighting at its finest. Don’t you just love it! 😀

Furthermore, you would think that somebody of Rihanna’s level of stature would know not to associate themselves with someone as messy as A$AP Rocky but... Stupid is what stupid does, I guess! I can’t even begin to place the blame on him anymore because he’s revealed his true colors and we all have made the deliberate choice to either accept it or don’t and have discontinued all support for him. Unfortunately, misogynoir is never the dealbreaker for most people and the hatred for [dark-skinned] black women is so engrained in society that it’s frowned upon when we publicly speak out against it. Very ass backwards if you ask me but that’s society for you. Now, enough about that. Let’s focus back on Ms. Vita La Coco.

As a woman who claims to be a girl’s girl and is always presenting herself to be someone who is the epitome of a pro-black feminist bad ass, it just makes her alleged activism come off so disingenuous when she’s also laying down with the same man that actively attacks the demographic she’s supposed to be standing in solidarity with. It’s “Black Lives Matter” on the IG posts but your vagina is getting moist for a man who openly stated he doesn’t relate to what goes on in Ferguson because he lives in Soho & Beverly Hills. Ferguson being the exact place where a 17-year-old black boy’s lifeless corpse laid on the hot concrete for FOUR hours after he was murdered by a police officer. He couldn’t 'relate' to the fate of so many black men, women, and children who are murdered or seriously injured from state-sanctioned violence because they’re poor and he is not or so he thought.

But then again, what can I really expect from a woman who identified as being “biracial” until as recent as roughly 6 years ago? What can I really expect from a woman who called Rachel Dolezal a ‘hero’ for cosplaying as a black woman? I’d be lying if I said my expectations for her were high in this regard because sis has always shown us she was lacking in this department. And just for the record, this is not a personal attack on Rihanna at all for the die-hard Navy stans in the back. I admire her latest fashions and bop my head to her music just like the next person but she’s getting the side-eye from me on this one.

Trust and believe me though, she’s not the only woman who I can call out for being a hypocrite. Of course not! This stone can be cast at a few others. So without further ado, why don’t we bring Ms. Kehlani Parrish to the front of the congregation? Prior to Kehlani’s recent declaration of identifying as a lesbian, her last public relationship with a man was with YG. Yes, the same YG who felt it was necessary to say him & Nipsey had ‘pretty light-skinned’ daughters to raise in the middle of his deceased friend’s memorial. By the way, Nipsey’s daughter is not even light (or at least not in my book anyways.) She’s a very deep caramel tone just like her father which makes what he said even more moronic. Yes, the same YG who thought it was clever idea to use slavery as an aesthetic for a music video to a diss track about 6ix9ine. And yes, also the same YG who has derogatory lyrics targeted at bisexual women. Just to end up sweating the red carpets with one. I swear the jokes just continue to write themselves.

This raises the question once more; How high of a pedestal can I really put a multiracial woman who has a song titled ‘N*ggas’ and when received backlash for the song in question, she used the ultimate ‘I’m mixed’ copout while not having a visibly black parent in sight?

It’s also kind of suspicious to me that many were not privy to Kehlani’s secret romance with Victoria Monét (pictured bottom right) until Victoria did an interview with Gay Times revealing she fell in love with a girl but they subsequently broke up because Victoria had a boyfriend and that girl was pregnant in a polyamorous relationship. Fans began to speculate because both Victoria & Kehlani previously candidly spoke about their sexual orientations, Kehlani had just had Adeya and they both were seemingly close. Their short-lived fling would later be confirmed when Victoria released the song ‘Touch Me’ on her last project and Kehlani hopped on the remix. Meanwhile, Kehlani’s relationship with Shaina (pictured bottom left) was very overt and all over her Instagram feed from my recollection. And as you can see, Shaina looks absolutely nothing like Victoria. They look like the complete opposite of eachother in every aspect which is kind of alarming(?) to say the least because why is it that the women she proudly claims as her partners tend to have a very racially ambiguous look such as herself but her ‘sneaky links’ on the other hand are undoubtedly black women? Again, it could just be me jumping conclusions. You know, I’m kinda good for that however something tells me I’m not. Y’all be the judge of the material though.

Last but not least, I’d like to touch on Ms. Raven Tracy very briefly. I was very weary about even including in this segment and if I should just put her in a entirely separate blog post with other women who openly date abusers despite their checkered past (alongside Nicki Minaj & her r*pist murderer of a husband, India Love & Sheck Wes etc.) being this particular blog post was based around the theme of lightskinned/mixed women dating men with extremely problematic views about DSBW. Raven obviously isn’t lightskinned or mixed however I refused to ignore how contradictory her [former] relationship with an alleged (I used this word very loosely and mainly for legality purposes.) serial r*pist while promoting a brand that is all about feminism & body positivity. This also traces back to A$AP Rocky by default being that Ian Connor is his very close friend and he came to Connor’s defense when several women came forward detailing accounts of Connor allegedly s*xually assaulting them. (I wish I could place the actual video of what A$AP Rocky said verbatim but Tumblr only allows one video per blog post. 🙄)

Back in June of this year, Ian & Raven had a back & forth on Twitter after Ian tweeted about Raven “fucking everybody” behind his back. I can only assume that he was alluding to Tori Brixx posting a video of her ex, Rich the Kid & Raven kissing on her story. Disgusted is not even the word to describe my feeling when she admitted she stuck by Ian despite of his many allegations of s*xual abuse because she loved him and her being a empath causes her to want to help everybody. Imagine aiding and abetting a predator and even paying for his bail & legal fees just to turn around and expect sympathy because this same individual cheated on you and exploited you all over Twitter for the public to see. The same man that you would get back with not even a WEEK after the fact & turn off your IG comments because it isn’t our “business” after making it our business...

That being said, I just genuinely want to know: Why do these women completely go against what they stand for in regards to these men? Maybe it was never genuine from jump street and if that’s the case, why jump on the bandwagon of performative activism? Is it because it’s profitable right now? Is it because disrespecting black women is not an immediate death sentence to your careers and more often than not actually helps you advance even further? I guess that’s the billion dollar question that’ll never truly be answered. I just want the world to stop using black women as their stepping stool to get to where they need to go and then discarding of us when we’re no longer beneficial. Support us all the way or don’t support us at all. We deal with enough disrespect as is so we’d appreciate if y’all would stop straddling the fence and partake in your misogynoir out loud if that’s what you choose to do. We have no use for fake allyship and quite frankly, it’s doing more harm for us than good. Please and thank you!

Sincerely,

- 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂 𝙴𝙳𝙶𝙰𝚁 𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙽 𝙷𝙾𝙴. 💋

[beatricebidelaire]

thanks for adding your thoughts!

J’s investigation is a pretty good point and I’ve kind of thought of that briefly as well. i think i have a, preferred interpretation on this matter but definitely not a fixed one. i can see it being either way.

and on the one hand i think it makes pretty strong argument, on the other hand i’m uncertain of how long something like this has been going on. like, the fire at the royal gardens is a recent thing j is investigating, but lemony had been on the run for arson charges for ages, which, while possibly not all of them, i think at least some were committed by olaf. so maybe J has been doing this investigation on various fires. for many years.

so while this could have been a bother for olaf, it’s also something going on for long enough. and olaf had never done anything prior. (also olaf’s whole condition in tbb was like …… he’s been living in that kind of terrible state for seemingly some time.) i kind of feel like he wouldn’t spend that much energy on long term keeping track of J specifically, especially considering he must have other enemies as well. (that said i do think it’s a possibility and wouldn’t be unreasonable if he does so, just not exactly my most preferred reading of him)

about the couplet, in a way i feel like it’s to reinforce(?)/plant the idea that the village jacques is hiding at is village of fowl devotees, and made to seem like isadora did it. although upon further inspection the timeline wouldn’t be possible for isadora to have done it, nor does it make sense for her to be the one to write such things, which if we’re going to be watsonian about it, then we could say, now that the statement “isadora wrote the couplet” was taken away, we could no longer use “isadora was hidden at village of fowl devotees” to assume “this means it’s likely that J was a referring to village of fowl devotees when he said he’s at a village”. at least not based on this letter alone. if these were real events, and if solely just based on this letter only, then that would be a reasonable thought process to follow.

but since it’s a novel (children’s literature, no less). since DH wrote it. i kind of feel like the realization that isadora couldn’t have written the couplet does not …… take away, or diminish the likelihood of the village J was referring to being village of fowl devotees. because the couplet was meant to make readers think of isadora. and while there’s definitely an argument for red herrings and also this series never lacks red herrings. and this could very well be intentionally misleading in that sense, and J could very possibly be at some other random village, my instinct is that it’s not the impression i got. i think my impression is more like ……

the curtain is blue and it has a meaning. like sometimes we say the curtain is just blue and nothing to read into it, but sometime it’s reflective of something else. something like that. like sometimes the author using the weather of the day to hint at / parallel the protagonist’s current feelings. like a particular song comes up in the background in a restaurant when the protagonist is there. it’s the kind of parallel / emotion designed to invoke from the readers, outside of the story’s context. doylist explanation is more important than watsonian. while most of these things i guess are more about …. emotions and life lessons and dramatic ironies and less often about clues like “this means this character is at specific location”, this is still the impression i got from the paragraph itself.

“We have all the information about V.F.D.,” Isadora said, taking out her notebook, which was pitch black. “The real V.F.D., that is, not the Village of Fowl Devotees.”

Duncan opened his notebook and blew on some of the damp pages. “And we know the complete story of poor Jac—”

-

“Olaf smuggled us away in that item from the In Auction with the help of Esmé Squalor,” Duncan began, referring to the last time the Baudelaires had seen him and his sister. “And he hid us for a while in the tower room of his terrible house.”

Violet shuddered. “I haven’t thought of that room in quite some time,” she said. “It’s hard to believe that we used to live with such a vile man.”

-

Isadora smiled, and patted Klaus’s hand. “Meanwhile,” she said, “while we were trying to contact you, Olaf hatched a plan to steal your fortune—and get rid of an old enemy at the same time.”

_

duncan and isadora were placed at olaf's house (specifically, the tower room) after they were smuggled away from the in auction, which was at the end of the ersatz elevator. during this time, duncan and isadora overheard olaf hatching a plan to steal baudelaire's fortune and get rid of an old enemy, jacques. duncan also said "we know the complete story of poor jac-" before he was cut off. so, it's reasonable to assume that olaf and esme, aside from talking about how to get rid of jacques, also talk just, in general about jacques himself. what i would give to hear that conversation, especially how esme talks about jacques ...... anyway, it's important to note that this is after the events of tee.

now, going to the unauthorized autobiography, we have jacques's letter to jerome, begging him not to marry esme. jacques mentions being at a village. "a couplet i recently found, in the village where i am hiding, says it best: someone at the newspaper changed the story once again, it was not coffee, but black ink, that made the jacket's stain".

i always felt there's some ambiguity about this part (possibly intentionally on DH's part). like i guess it's mean to imply, or maybe i should say, meant to be wondered by readers and draw certain conclusions from the keywords, that it's village of fowl devotees, and the couplet - it's something isadora writes. except isadora could not have been at the village inside the fountain before jerome and esme's wedding. also it doesn't make sense for her to have been the one to write that poem. so it's just a couplet, most likely by someone else. as to whether the village was village of fowl devotees - while it seemed like, in tvv, jacques arrived at the village later than the baudelaires, it's likely not actually the case. for one, because olaf's plan this time included "getting rid of an enemy" at the same time.

_

“Well, Madame Lulu will know,” Olaf said. “With her crystal ball, she’ll be able to tell us where the orphans are, where the file is, and anything else we want to know.”

“I never believed in things like crystal balls,” remarked a white-faced woman, “but when this Madame Lulu started telling you how to find the Baudelaires every time they escaped, I learned that fortune-telling is real.”

_

esme was already at the village when the baudelaires arrived, as officer luciana. that meant she knew, before the baudelaires arrival, that they were going to be sent there. olaf often found out the baudelaires are by asking madame lulu (olivia). he may have found out about where the kids were going to be sent this time, or it might be through esme's financial contacts - poe and esme both worked in the financial district. although now that esme was in leagues with olaf, it might not necessarily means that she can't still access her contacts and get information she needs.

that said, after tee, olaf and esme were hatching a plan at olaf's house, overheard by duncan and isadora. the plan involved jacques. esme might've found out where poe is sending the baudelaires through her financial advisor contacts, but not about jacques's whereabouts. but somehow, they knew, as they were planning, that they could count on jacques also showing up / being there. jacques might already be there - therefore, the village mentioned in jacques's letter is village of fowl devotees. olaf often asked olivia where the baudelaires are, and if he found out through her this information, he might very well likely have found out jacques was at the same village (already, before the kids were sent there by poe) from the olivia. after learning this, he and esme made their plan.

but why does olivia tell him that? did olaf ask the question himself? is he also constantly keeping track of jacques? i feel like he has other priorities than jacques snicket. like, jacques is trying to clear lemony's name and investigate the arson he suspects olaf had committed. it's probably a nuisance to olaf, but not one he judge threat enough to take care of before this. so he's not that high priority on olaf's list, not when he's more focused on finding the baudelaires.

would olivia mention this unprompted? would she say, oh, by the way, jacques snicket is also at the same village that the baudelaires would be sent to by mr poe? book olivia is .... very passive, and answers questions that were asked instead of unprompted. i don't think she has strong enough of grudge/hatred of jacques to simply just provide information about this unprompted.

so, eliminating those two possibilities for now, the only answer left is - esme asked. esme was the one who wanted to know where jacques is. esme is the one who might constantly want to keep track of him. so when olaf asked about the baudelaires, she asked about jacques. because she was planning on making a move on jerome, it's natural enough that she would want to keep track of one of her biggest obstacles.

and then, olaf's and esme's goals collide. olaf wanted the fortune. esme wanted to put a more permanent end to jacques snicket. especially after what she's done to jerome, it's better to get rid of him before he does something.

jacques was an old enemy - and yet olaf didn't get rid of him sooner. didn't plan for it. now that he's focused on the baudelaires, he's taken even lower priority. but esme, who keeps track of jacques, learns where he is, and just so happens that the baudelaires were going to be sent there. and olaf is after the baudelaires. they team up. olaf get the fortune. and they / one of them kill jacques.

if esme was the one more focused on the goal of getting rid of jacques, then when duncan said he'd learned the whole story about jacques snicket, perhaps esme talked a lot about how she managed to steal jerome away from jacques. (this is the woman who, according to jerome, want to give jacques 'some kind of gift' - jerome’s words. esme’s words were to “finally give him what he deserves”)

when jacques was captured, one of the elders said that he arrived just that morning. in jacques's letter, he was hiding. it's possible that he left and came back, all very discreetly. and if he was always hiding, then the capture - esme (and olaf) did something to arrange that. to make sure that the villagers catch him. maybe lured him out or something, so it seemed to the villagers that he only just arrived that morning. that would explain why they saw his tattoo. he'd normally been in hiding, and hiding that as well, but E did something about that.

[sparks-joy-imagines]

Hi! Could I request some hcs or a one shot (whichever you prefer!) where Gojo finds out reader has never orgasmed with a partner before because her previous partners were kind of asses. Thank you either way! Have a lovely day! :)

hello love~ I figured I might as well turn this into a one shot because there had been just so~ many ideas floating around my head for this (including a few Japan traumata lol) - I hope you're ready to buckle up cause this one comes in at 5k appr. enjoy -mesu. PS: A very special thanks to niob for beta-ing this monster and talking me through it!!!❤

Gojō Satoru x f!reader warnings: vaginal penetration, oral sex (receiving), Gojō being a smug arse

You cursed the day you were born. Actually, no. You cursed the day Gojo Satoru was born to torment your existence.

The first time you had met Gojo it had been your first year teaching at Kyoto jujutsu high and your first impression had been that no single living being could withstand his gaze of scrutiny. Given, as the wielder of both infinity and the six eyes there wasn’t anyone on his level to begin with, but did he really have to be an arse about it? Who even hired him as a teacher – a person supposed to be of pedagogic value – in the first place?

Luckily, you didn’t have to see him all that often, usually just whenever the time of year came around for the good-will event with the sister school in Tokyo but he had picked up an unhealthy interest in your person and relentlessly teased you for whatever you did and didn’t do alike.

Utahime had once suggested that it was Gojo’s twisted way of flirting with you and you couldn’t help but scoff and reply that you had seen Gojo flirting. And it was nothing alike how he was acting towards you. Afterwards, Utahime had taken pity on you and acted as an intermittence between you and Gojo so he wouldn’t get under your skin anymore, albeit he mostly ended up getting under hers instead.

At least, that was until tonight. With the students being sound asleep in bed, everyone involved in the event unanimously had decided to head for a drink at a fancy bar in Ginza to celebrate the event ending more or less successfully despite the unforeseen interference of some higher ranked curses and you ended up sitting sandwiched between Utahime and Shoko who both had insisted on a girl’s table away from curious colleagues and ears, while the other staff were seated at a slightly larger table just out of earshot.

The back of your head hit your nape when you downed what felt like the 7th shot of nihonshu. The alcohol prior to the shots had already infiltrated your system, leaving your senses foggy and your tongue loose. You weren’t about to spill your secrets just yet, but it was definitely getting harder to suppress the glances you’d love to gift Gojo who seemed entirely unfazed by any of the liquor he had consumed this evening.

That prick has to use his innate techniques to cope with the alcohol!

You narrowed your eyes, glaring at the tall man across the table who hadn’t even bothered to take his blindfold off while sporting a vaguely amused if aloof expression while the headmaster of Kyoto high and Tokyo high appeared to be in a heated discussion. Speaking of rude.

Lost in your thought of how much you longed to wipe that smirk off of Gojo’s face, you didn’t follow the topic of conversation of your friends at the table who definitely had one nihonshu too many.

“I’m telling you, anatomically speaking, it’s just unfair. It’s so much easier for men to achieve an orgasm, alright? It’s as if nature was against us women,” Shoko sighed dramatically, taking the nihonshu bottle to refill the shot glasses only to find it empty. Another, this time desperate, sigh followed.

“What’s even worse is that men usually don’t care about their partner's pleasure at allll,” Utahime responded with a distinct lull in her voice while she was already close to resting her cheek on the table. She’s definitely had enough but that didn’t stop her from going on, “Ever since I started dating, there’s been what? Maybe two decent enough guys that actually cared if I came too or not.”

“Sounds about right,” Shoko agreed, apparently trying to find some universal truth in the emptiness of the bottle she was still holding onto.

You shot a glance to the two unhappy women at your side, deciding that it was time to share your two cents of truth under your breath, “At least you’ve had partners before who took care of your needs, too. I for once have only been with arseholes who could care less if I came or not. And so I never did… so…consider yourselves lucky? I guess.”

As expected, your volume made it impossible for them to catch what you were revealing and Utahime unbeknownst interrupted the aftermath to your soft confession by suddenly straightening her posture in a surge of drunken energy, grabbing one of your and Shoko’s hands respectively to declare something about not letting this circumstance prevent anyone from having a great night.

You could’ve sworn the corner of Gojo’s mouth perked up the second you shot him another glance…

A few drinks, a second bar, and a couple hours later.

Your head was spinning slightly and you leaned your back against the wall of the establishment you’d just stepped out of. Damn your senpai for making you drink. You soaked in the wet, clean night air which could only be achieved during the rainy season in Tokyo.

The moment you pressed your eyes shut you could hear Utahime demanding to move onto a karaoke bar and continue this until morning. Of fucking course, you thought to yourself and opened your eyes, desperate for any excuse to skip what was about to come.

Among general consensus with a few nods and exclamations here and there, you slowly noticed how Gojo was watching you intently. By now he had actually gotten rid of his blindfold and was sporting his dark shades, his soft hair was framing his angular face, slightly damp by the drizzle and you would have gladly punched him for the way the street lights and shop signs reflected in his hair.

Still, right now you had other things to worry about and so you took a deep breath and spoke up, “Thanks for this evening but I’ll have to take my leave now. It’s already late and I don’t think my voice can handle singing right now.” An obvious lie as your voice was just fine, but it’d do the trick of getting you out of corporate pressure.

And that’s exactly what happened. Your excuse was accepted at face value and you were wished a good night’s rest. Umbrellas were opened and the group made of two faculties strolled towards the closet illuminated Karaoke sign.

You waited until everyone was on the move, so you could gather yourself in your time without any scrutinising eyes on you.

“Leaving an intoxicated damsel to her own devices? How could I be the strongest without taking care of her? Allow me to lead you home, (Y/N)~”

Just when you thought you had lived through the worst, Gojo’s voice piped up right next to your ear. You hadn’t seen him stay behind and now he was close, dangerously so, and he didn’t even care to hide the glee in his voice.

You managed to turn your head in his direction and gift him – what was in your imagination – a nasty stare. For Gojo, it rather seemed like you were trying your best to fixate your dizzy gaze on him.

He sighed and for once dropped his excruciating façade, speaking in a normal tone, “Seriously tough, (Y/N), I’d rather lead you home. Tokyo’s far from being safe at night.”

Seeing and actually hearing Gojo apparently genuinely concerned made you weigh your chances enough that you finally sighed in defeat, “Fine. But only up to the doorstep.”

Gojo blinked at you repeatedly, appearing almost insulted that you dared to think him a man who would take advantage of women like that – truth being that he was more insulted that you thought that he was actually in need of such tricks – and made an off-hand remark of how he could never.

You waved your hand dismissively and slowly tried to straighten your posture, “You’re here by car, right? That’s why you used your innate technique to not get drunk. Wish I could’ve done the same, wouldn’t be dying of spinning world syndrome right now.”

That stopped Gojo’s rant about his hurt pride. A sheepish smirk appeared on his lips and he stated flatly, “You noticed.”

You nodded, which turned out to have been a terrible idea. Nausea overcame you and you tried to curl into a ball, but Gojo was next to you in a second, smoothly wrapping his long arm around your waist while his free hand reached for your hand, easily securing your stance like that.

“Let’s get you home, shall we?”

You nodded and simply concentrated on not getting sick while he led you towards the parking lot where his car was parked. He left you shortly to pay for the ticket and you leaned against one of the nearby vending machines, concentrating on your breathing.

A few moments later the relatively quiet night was disturbed by the low roar of what turned out to be a pricey sports car. It didn’t take long for Gojo to stop said car right in front of you. Ever the gentleman he stepped out of the driver’s seat and opened the door to the passenger’s side for you, offering his hand to you for assistance. The entire picture which enfolded in front of you seemed to be taken out of a romance.

Only when you wobbled over to the car and felt the infinity between your hand and Gojo’s you snapped back to reality, pursing your lips as you stated, “You never let anyone actually touch you, do you?”

“If someone’s worth my while, sure I do,” Gojo replied with a sly smile, but something in his eyes appeared resigned, almost lost. But maybe that was just your imagination? Almost promising.

You didn’t even have time to follow-up on his statement as he simply shut the door in your face, cutting any further discussion short. Soon, Gojo settled in the driver’s seat and drove off towards your hotel. You didn’t even question how he knew where he needed to go.

Silence fell upon you and you simply turned your gaze to the flashing street lights, allowing you to marvel at Tokyo’s nocturnal atmosphere for a while. This was so much better than making your way through the confusing public transport in time for the last train. You shot Gojo another gaze and were surprised to find him diligently keeping his eyes on the road.

At once you wondered if you unwittingly had been keeping him from joining the others at karaoke. Singing one’s soul out and getting undressed in the process seemed right up Gojo’s alley.

“…Thank you for taking me back to the hotel. I appreciate it. You… didn’t really have to do this though, I’m sure you wanted to attend karaoke with the others,” you started off your half-apology.

A soft yet deep chuckle escaped Gojo’s throat.

“Oh sure I did, hun. There’s been something on my mind concerning you which is just soooo much more fun than karaoke could ever be after all,” Gojo casually replied, eyes never straying from the road.

You frowned and cocked your head in an inquisitive manner.

“Don’t act confused now, love,” Gojo smirked as he pulled over and parked the car right next to the entrance of the hotel. He unfastened his seatbelt to turn to you completely and casually rested his elbow against his seat, “Now, why don’t you tell me about never having orgasmed with a partner before?”

The question hung in the air for a moment as Gojo watched you curiously while you didn’t believe the meaning behind what your ears had picked up on.

“I…,” you spilled quickly, already feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. This had to be a nightmare. How did he know of that? You never told a soul, too embarrassed by your unfortunate choice of past sexual partners, and now Gojo Satoru – out of all possible people – knew of your secret?!

The panic must have shown on your face as Gojo’s smug expression softened slightly and he leaned closer to you, only stopping when the tip of his nose almost collided with yours, “You should take more care who might be listening in when you’re talking to yourself, (Y/N).”

You nodded once and leaned back, avoiding Gojo’s touch and gaze as best you could, “T-thanks for the ride.” Even if his revelation had thrown you off entirely, you tried your best to hide it.

“My pleasure. I’ll have to insist on taking you to your room though.” Gojo’s tone was unforgiving and made it very clear that you wouldn’t get out of him walking you all the way.

You sighed deeply and submitted to your fate, sinking into your seat until he had rounded the car and opened the passenger’s door so you could accept his hand to disembark in a semi-elegant manner.

Once you had found your balance he let go of your hand, matching your pace as you walked towards your room, acting as if he hadn’t just nonchalantly invaded your privacy. You shot him several glances but Gojo acted very interested in the interior of the hotel. You didn’t buy it though. Obviously he was just relishing in the fact that he got under your skin.

So he didn’t want to push any further? Fine by you. You huffed softly and pushed the button for your floor once you boarded the lift, Gojo strolling on your heels, hands shoved into the pocket of his trousers.

You refrained from looking at anything close to Gojo’s direction, albeit you could feel his piercing gaze on you. You used the time of the short ride to get your room card out of your purse and as soon as the automatic doors opened, you darted out of the lift and unlocked the door to your room with a soft beep.

Barely having shuffled inside you got rid of your purse and turned around to thank Gojo once again, finding him right on your doorstep.

“Thanks, Gojo, I appreciate what you did tonight,” you smiled awkwardly at the close proximity and mustered the courage to look into his eyes, just to be surprised by their intensity.

“Of course,” Gojo hummed, resting his left arm on the doorframe he leaned closer, stopping right before crossing the threshold with his movements. He easily kept your eyes locked in his, making you all but forget about bringing some distance between you.

“Before I leave… y’know I could help you out with your little problem, (Y/N). If you’re up for it, that is.”

Gojo’s voice was low, eyes dark, pupils dilated with a certain hunger as they stared right into your soul.

When his words registered a soft gasp unwittingly left your lips as your eyes grew wide.

Just what was happening? Had Utahime been right all along?

The next moment Gojo was leaning down to you, making all but sure that your senses shut down to a bare minimum. Standing there frozen in place, time seemed to slow down around you as your eyes flickered from Gojo’s luscious lips to his cyan eyes and back to his lips again.

Was this really happening right now?

Your heart pounded against your chest harshly and you pressed your eyes shut to calm your nerves. That is when you felt his soft lips against the skin of your cheek, undoubtedly skin on skin. He‘d really turned his infinity off!

“As I have told you prior, I don’t take advantage of intoxicated women. But as I understand it, you still have a couple hours before your bullet train back to Kyoto tomorrow. I’ll be waiting for you, (Y/N). You won’t regret it. . .~”

You held your breath and nothing. When you finally opened your eyes again Gojo was gone. Simply vanished! He had done exactly what he had promised to do. Taken you home, up to your doorstep and not a millimetre further.

Did this mean that he was going to keep what he offered if you turned up at his doorstep tomorrow? Up until now Gojo had never given you any reason to doubt him. Sure, he was a prick, but he was honest about being a prick. At least that was more than could be said about any of your former affiliations.

It took a couple more moments before you managed to close the door and turn in to a sleepless night contemplating if you might as well take Gojo up on his offer.

The next day. After some empty excuses to Utahime of why you couldn’t spend the last hours in Tokyo together. In front of Gojo’s apartment.

You stared at the kanji at the apartment, contemplating if you should really proceed now. It had been a pain to get Gojo’s address, dodging several inquisitive questions of Utahime, but now that you were finally here you weren’t sure if you should be anymore.

Given Gojo had lived up to every single thing he had proclaimed so far, plus he never had given you any reason not to trust him. Still, did being here meant that you were willing to compromise your integrity for something as trivial as good sex? More so than the actual act, you were afraid of what it might mean for your future relationship with Gojo; which would be anything but professional hereafter.

Before you could spiral further into second guessing yourself, the apartment door in front of you opened smoothly, offering the view to a slightly dishevelled looking Gojo apparently just out of the shower.

The moment you locked eyes with his bare ocean orbs, a smug grin emerged on his face, “Fancy seeing you here, (Y/N). Come in.”

You mumbled a greeting and stepped into his modern apartment, quickly getting rid of your shoes and outer layers while Gojo walked further back into the flat calling out to you, “Can I offer you something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Pineapple juice?~”

You rolled your eyes, very convinced that you just shouldn’t have come here. You followed Gojo’s voice into a broad living room with an open kitchen. The colours and décor were kept simple, black and white, sometimes a splash of colour in the colour of his goddamn eyes.

After having accessed the surroundings to your heart’s content you turned to Gojo, “Do you happen to have pineapple juice – notoriously known for apparently for making the taste of oral sex sweeter – at hand for your guests at all times? Or did you go shopping for me yesterday?”

A soft chuckle, “I happen to like the flavour. Plus, I am quite certain your juices aren’t in need of any enhancement.” A wink followed. What a bastard.

Ignoring the faint blush that emerged on your cheeks, you countered, “And what exactly makes you so sure about that, mh?”

Gojo shortly nibbled on his full lips as he sized you up with hungry eyes. Then, he slowly rounded the kitchen counter until he stood right in front of you. The smell of his surprisingly fruity after-shave intoxicated your senses.

“Wanna find out?”

You managed a nod and Gojo smirked wider, simply lifting you up on the counter so you were closer to eye level with him.

And then he finally let his soft luscious lips collide with yours, involving you in a breathless, inifity-less kiss while your arms wrapped around his neck on their own accord. Gojo smirked against your lips pulling you closer to himself, gladly taking the opportunity to feel up through the fabric of the blouse you were wearing for travel.

How you cursed the school’s clothing protocol at that moment!

Frowning slightly you broke the kiss, quickly trying to get rid of your blouse with your hands, but Gojo had other plans, catching your hands in his he leaned closer and purred on your lips, “Ah-ah (Y/N), there’s still plenty of time till your bullet train. No need to rush~ This is more than a mere quicky to shoot one’s load and carry on, after all. I need you to relax and enjoy the ride.”

You weren’t quite sure what did the trick. The proximity to him or his genuine tone, but you visibly relaxed and started shamelessly feeling Gojo up in return. You weren’t surprised to find defined abs when you pushed the fabric of his shirt out of the way and followed their lines for a bit before you moved on to explore his back.

“Good girl,” Gojo chuckled in your ear and let out a teasing gasp in response to your initiative before he went to nibble on your earlobe, making you cross your legs behind his hips as a soft whimper escaped your lips.

“Sensitive, are we?”

Gojo moved back, capturing your lips in another kiss, this time parting yours with his cheeky tongue so he could explore your mouth to his heart’s content. You happily complied and concentrated on his tongue enough that you didn’t notice how he skilfully unbuttoned your blouse.

Your legs tightened around Gojo’s hips and you moaned when you felt his growing bulge through the fabric. Gojo took this opportunity to kiss down your neck only to ravish it mercilessly while his hands had taken a liking to your boobs, kneading them through your lacey bra.

“Hah~” More and more lewd noises filled the heated air as Gojo pinched your hardened nipples just the right amount to send shivers down your spine and you were glad that you didn’t have to depend on your trembling legs anymore.

Desperate for support you scratched blindly over Gojo’s upper arms which led him to gift you a wolfish smile as he pulled back enough to strip off your blouse and a swift motion later your bra followed.

Pouting slightly you picked on his shirt, making Gojo scoff and get rid of it, too. You sighed content about the equal stages of undress and wiggled slightly on top of the counter, enjoying the friction this provided against both the fabric of your pants and Gojo’s bulge.

“You little minx,” Gojo growled lowly, suddenly pinning you down to the counter by your neck. The cold surface sent a shiver through the entirety of your body. He adjusted his grip to be more gentle, yet still determined enough to hold you in place, actively preventing you from escaping from his touch. You would welcome the sweet torture that was to follow deliberately and Gojo was very aware of that.

Soon enough Gojo began his agonisingly slow treatment of your torso, mouthing his way from your collar bones to your chest where he spent his sweet time circling each nipple with his tongue.

You didn’t know what exactly he was doing with his shameless long tongue but you had never felt your body rise to the touch on its own quite like that and it took a minute to recognise it was your own voice which echoed through the apartment so obscenely.

Desperate for more stimulation which Gojo still withheld from you, you tried to pull him closer with your crossed legs, earning a suppressed moan from him as his erect member brushed against your clothed sex. How much you would’ve given for those layers to finally be gone.

“You really haven’t been getting laid properly at all, huh.”

Completely unnerved by now you groaned and shot Gojo an acid glare, but the elite sorcerer just chuckled to himself as he straightened back up, sizing you up in the process once again. You had never seen his eyes this dark.

In a split second his hands were undoing your pants as if they had never done anything else in his life and a few moments later you were sitting on the counter completely undressed.

When you blinked away your surprise, Gojo brushed another deep kiss on your lips, humming on them, “I’d hold onto something if I were you~”

And then he dove down to your core, hands holding your hips in place well aware that you wouldn’t be able to hold still.

As soon as his lips connected to your nether folds, a lightning impulse flashed through your body and your loudest moan yet left your lips. Your head flew back by itself and you wreathed as best you could on the counter top for either more or less friction, you weren’t quite sure.

All the while Gojo relentlessly continued his pursuit of your sex, tongue swirling expertly over and around your clit, building up a certain intensity before he moved down slightly to lick and mouth at your entrance.

You desperately held onto the edge of the counter for support, spilling his name over and over again, while Gojo cheekily thrust his tongue into you for a taste before he redirected his attention to your clit again.

The coil in your core seemed to harden and become undone at the same time and another flick of Gojo’s tongue made you scream as you jerked up as you finally hit your high. Juices spilled out of your cunt and you buried your flushed face in your hands while your entire body was convulsing in ecstasy.

Gojo made sure to keep his grip on you so you wouldn’t slide down from the counter, licking his soiled lips. Once he was sure that your breathing calmed down a bit he gently stroked away a couple of stray strands of hair and smirked, “Told ya you weren’t in the need of any enhancement, babe. You’re to die for~”

Still concentrating on your oxygen intake you were feeling rather overwhelmed with everything that had played out just now. It took a bit of bargaining with yourself to search for Gojo’s gaze again, but when your eyes met you immediately noticed the mixture of hunger and smug complacency in his. He had gotten you good, but you decided you weren’t going to leave before payback.

And so you cocked your brow up and smirked, “I admit you lived up to your word, Gojo. Mind if we take round two to the bedroom?”

A grin.

“Not at all, princess,” Gojo replied and picked you up bridal style to carry you off into his chamber.

Gojo’s bedroom was dark. Both furniture and bedding were either held in a dark grey or black and the shades were lowered. When Gojo let you down on the bed you took a look around and tended your head slightly at the unexpected interior.

You were torn out of your thoughts when you heard Gojo unbuckle his belt, followed by the sound of his zipper and turned back to see him in his whole glory.

His member was definitely on the larger side, but you were happy to see it came short of what you knew would be painful to insert. It had a nice girth and was slightly tended to the right, the tip glistening with pre-cum meant for your prior endeavors. You licked your lips unconsciously, eager to feel it in you.

“Marveled at my dick enough, have we? ” Gojo smirked knowingly and reached for a condom which just happened to lie on top of his nightstand.

You nodded slightly and watched him routinely put it on, before you pulled him on top of the bed and ravished his mouth with yours. He had deserved your undivided attention after making true of his promise and you were way past the stage of having any second thoughts.

Gojo curled his lips against yours, easily positioning himself on top of you while his hands were suddenly all over your body. It seemed like he wanted to leave his touch on every inch of your being and honestly? At this very moment you didn’t mind if he did.

The energy between the two of you grew hotter by the minute and you gasped for breath when he readjusted your hips so his member was prodding against your entrance.

“Last chance, (Y/N)…hng~”

The strain in his voice did it for you and you brushed a fleeting kiss on his cheek on your way to his ear, “Take me already, Satoru!”

A deep groan reverberated in Gojo’s upper body at the mention of his first name and he penetrated you in a swift, smooth motion, making both of you moan with pleasure.

He gave you a moment before he moved, offering the opportunity to get used to his considerable size before he started moving at a cheeky pace. Something had just clicked between the two of you and you moved against him as if you had never done anything else in your life. It felt liberating. It felt right. . .

A couple many minutes and exchanges of ecstasy later.

You were laying sprawled half-way over Gojo while he lazily played with your slightly damp hair. After your last round he had suggested a shower since you technically still had a train to catch and you thought it a good idea.

If you hadn’t stopped him, you would’ve also stained his bathroom with his name. Who would’ve thought that his infinite also applied to sexual stamina? But then again, it was Gojo who you were talking about.

You weren’t quite sure how this session was going to change your relationship with Gojo in the future, but you definitely didn’t regret going through with it.

You shuffled slightly on the bed and stretched slightly, “Mh, what’s the time?”

“Hn, ten past two,” Gojo replied with a raspy, yet slightly amused voice.

Ten past two. Ten past two. The bullet train back to Kyoto you were supposed to board was leaving at half past two!

You jumped out of the bed, hurriedly reaching for your clothes.

“FUCK!”

“Any time, (Y/N)”

You shot Gojo another glare, painfully aware that he had to have known.

Gojo only gifted you a wink and grinned, “If you are going to be as nice to me as you were just now the next time we meet, I might be willing to help you out, (Y/N)~”

You cursed the day you were born. Actually, no. You cursed the day Gojo Satoru was born to torment your existence.,

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

The Last Chthonian

Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader

Part 1

Author’s Note: Had this idea living in my head rent free so hopefully I don’t butcher it.

Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You stumbled upon Earth many centuries ago and since then have resided on the foreign planet. During the recent years you created an alias for yourself to hide your true identity, and after the war against Thanos you chose to live out your days in the Scottish countryside, until a certain trio appear at your doorstep one day.

Warnings: language

Part 1 , Part 2

“So, where are we going again?” Bucky asked Sam, confusion written on his face as he leaned back in the front passenger seat of the car.

“You’ll find out. We’ll be there soon.” Sam answered, his eyes glued to the road and hands gripping the wheel.

“But we’ve been driving in the middle of nowhere for an hour now.” Bucky fussed while staring at the never ending green grass that passed by, clearly irritated with Sam’s lack of details.

“I too would like to know where we are going.” Zemo spoke up only to add to Sam’s annoyance.

“YOU don’t get to ask questions.” Sam glared at Zemo through the rear view mirror before staring back at the road. He was starting to get fed up with their questions and lack of patience.

The three men had been driving with their windows down for what felt like hours through the Scottish countryside, watching the green highlands pass by. Though they admired the beauty of the landscape, they were extremely anxious to stretch their legs and get to their unknown destination. Not to mention, they were starting to get a little hungry as well.

“Are we there yet?” Bucky broke the silence after some time.

“We get there when we get there.” Sam snapped, his knuckles turning white from gripping the wheel a bit too hard. He was really looking forward to getting out of the car and away from those two.

After a short while they neared a small seaside village. The place was not that busy, save for the few locals and fishermen going about the cloudy day.

Sam drove on a little further before finally reaching a quaint stone cottage that sat on a hill at the edge of town, overlooking the ocean. He pulled up next to the 60s convertible cream colored Volkswagen Beetle that had a surfboard tied on the roof, parked next to the cottage. Sam took the keys out of the ignition and stepped out, stretching his legs as the others followed suit.

Sam smiled to himself as he walked up the path leading to the front door and glanced upon the flower garden and the decorations out front. He knew for sure this was your place. The other two quietly followed behind while looking around the residence, from the neatly kept garden and the vines that crawled along the house, to the fishing equipment hung up on the side, down to the handmade birdhouses and the wind chimes and sun-catchers that clinked melodically against the ocean breeze, including the collection of garden gnomes. The place reminded the men something straight out of Jane Austen’s novels, not that they’d like to admit they knew such a thing.

Sam stopped at the front door before turning to the others with a pointed finger. “Now whatever you do, don’t stare.”

“Wait what?” Bucky scrunched his nose.

“Just don’t.”

Sam paused for a moment, thinking of how to explain this situation to you before tapping on the wooden door. No answer. Sam could feel Bucky glaring at the back of his head, ready to scold him about how this was a big waste of time. So he knocked again, this time calling out if any one was home.

Before Bucky could open his mouth there was rustling coming from inside and the sound of someone knocking into furniture before a faint “ow” and “fuck” of a woman’s voice made Bucky and Zemo glance questioningly at each other. Where the hell did Sam lead them to?

The locks on the door were fumbled with before opening up to reveal your head poking out from behind.

“Sam?” You breathed out. You were slightly out of breath and your hair was disheveled with strands falling out of your bun at the front from under your silk scarf. The sleeves of your button up blouse were rolled up at your elbows, revealing your dirt covered arms. You were working on your vegetable garden in the back before you were interrupted by your unexpected visitors.

Bucky stood behind Sam and couldn’t help but widen his eyes when he saw you. He only met you a few times during the threat of Thanos and before, but the interactions he had with you were very brief. All he knew was that you were a good friend of the Avengers, especially Thor, Clint, Nat, Wanda, Tony and Steve and now apparently Sam. But after Thanos was defeated you disappeared and nothing was heard of you since.

Zemo glanced out from behind Bucky and tried to remain hidden behind the super soldier once he recognized your face. You weren’t exactly an Avenger and you weren’t on Earth when he tore the Avengers apart, you were helping Thor at the time and little to everyone’s knowledge, you were also defending your planet against an inside threat. But you had heard of him through your friends, and though you hadn’t met him, Zemo knew you would strangle him once you spotted him.

“Hey y/n.” Sam smiled at you, calling you by your alias name. He knew who you were through Steve, but even then, he didn’t know everything about you and about the recent events that took place in your home planet that still devastated you.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked with a mixture of surprise and annoyance, wiping your hands on your apron. There was a reason you chose to live all the way out here, and though you gave Sam your new address, you didn’t expect him to bring company.

“I came to see how you were doing?”

“Bullshit.” You scowled, crossing your arms over your chest. “If you wanted to check up on me you wouldn’t have brought someone.”

Sam opened his mouth to speak but decided against it, refused to meet your stern eyes and looking down at the ground instead with his hands in his pockets. He often forgot how well you were able to read people, almost as if you were telepathic. Little to his knowing, you were in fact a telepath but decided against telling him. You’ve known people who became uncomfortable when finding that detail about you and noticed how they tried to avoid you, constantly guarding their thoughts when around. If only they knew you never bothered to do such a thing because you respected their privacy and because you’ve seen things in people’s heads you wished to forget. You’ve only ever used your telepathy when it was absolutely necessary. Straightening up, you finally took a better look at the other man behind him and instantly recognized him as Bucky.

“Barnes?”

“Hi y/n.” Bucky smiled shyly at you as he looked into your eyes. And that’s when he noticed for the first time that your eyes were different from when he last saw you. Your irises were now a shade of purples and blues with flecks of gold that spread out, a reflection of the stars and the universe. So that’s what Sam meant when he said to not stare. But could you have just been wearing contacts? Bucky’s stare was cut short as Sam noticed, glaring at him and clearing his throat before elbowing him in the stomach.

Suddenly, there came the sound of a little girls squeals coming from inside your home, startling the men except for Sam. And before they knew it, a small girl in overalls who looked to be of 6 years of age sprinted through your legs and out the door. “Uncle Sam!”

“Oof! Athena wait!” You gasped against the impact as you tried to reach for her.

“Hey hey little Athena!” Sam smiled as he picked the excited girl up into his arms before setting her on his hip. “How’s my favorite little warrior?”

“I’m helping Mommy with the garden! See!” She squealed in delight before showing off her dirty hands.

“I can see that.” Sam chuckled. “Looks like you’ve been working hard.”

“God, I’m so sorry Sam. She’s covered in dirt.” You tried to apologize with an embarrassed face.

“Hey no worries.” Sam smiled at you. “Some dirt is not gonna kill me.”

“Mommy who’s this?” Athena questioned as she looked at the man next to Sam.

You looked at Bucky and gave him a look that questioned what name he would prefer, to which he nodded and mouthed Bucky to you.

“That’s Bucky sweetie.”

“Hi Bucky! I’m Athena!” She stuck her tiny hand out to for him to shake, a big grin plastered on her face from meeting new people.

“It’s very nice to meet you Athena.” Bucky smiled as he gently shook her hand, making her giggle.

The scene made you smile to yourself as you pushed a strand of your hair behind your ears. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that Sam and Bucky decided to pay a visit.

“Mommy who’s the man in the back?”

The man in the back? You looked to Sam and James with a raised brow before craning your neck to see who the third guest could be, only to tense up and clutch the door frame, forcing yourself to not go over there right now and throw him off a cliff.

“What the hell is he doing here?” You glared daggers at Zemo as he watched you with caution, before you turned to Sam.

“I can explain.” Sam tightened his jaw as he saw your expression.

“Athena, sweetie.” You turned to your daughter with a gentle smile. “I want you to go up to your room and clean up okay?”

“Okay mommy.” Athena looked back at you with a worried look as Sam set her down.

You caressed her head as she walked in, watching her go up the stairs and waiting for the sound of her bedroom door to close and her shower to turn on before shutting the front door behind you.

“Are you out of your goddamn minds?” You glared at the two, trying to not yell, your fists balling up in anger. “What in the three hells is going on?”

“Look y/n. He might be of some use.” Sam tried to explain.

“So you broke him out of prison?!”

“Well technically he got himself out.” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. He was starting to think that this wasn’t such a good idea and felt guilty for coming here.

“Oh? So what? He magically decides to join your little boy band? The Wakandans are after his ass in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Look I get it. Working with Zemo sounds like a terrible idea and you have every right to be upset. We just need a place to lay low for now. Just...hear us out.” Sam responded with a pleading look.

You stood there with a hand on your hip, squeezing your eyes shut while you pinched the bridge of your nose, not even caring that you still had dirt on your hands.

“Please y/n.” Bucky spoke up, making you look up at him. “Sam wouldn’t come here if he didn’t know what he was doing.”

You looked between the two, rubbing your chin in contemplation as you thought everything over. Bucky was right. Sam would never try to purposely put you in harm’s way.

“Fine.” You breathed out. “You can stay for the night. But you are going to tell me everything. Every last detail.”

“I promise.” Sam looked to you as he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“Well come on then. Get in.” You nodded your head towards the door as you opened it, letting Bucky and Sam in before putting yourself in front of Zemo and blocking him with a threatening look while speaking in a cold tone. “I swear to the gods, if you so much as try anything, I will bury you alive in my backyard and use you as fertilizer to grow fungi.”

“Y/n what the fuck.” You heard Sam utter from inside.

Zemo gave you a bewildered look and decided to keep quiet as you stepped aside to let him in, watching him closely as he went in. You stuck your head outside again, looking around for any bystanders and making sure the men were preoccupied before muttering something in Ancient Greek, waving your hand around and moving your fingers in specific gestures as a clear glass like film covered the area around your home for protection. You did another once over before going back in and closing the front door, readying yourself for the conversation you would have with Sam and Bucky.

[mandospace]

My Moon (Boba Fett x Virgin!Reader Smut)

Request: Hey!! I really enjoy reading your fics <3 I don't know if you still take requests but if so, maybe something with current older Boba? Virgin, touch starved reader who is so kind but never gets kindness in return? Crushin' on Boba but you don't think he'd ever want you. Thank you for reading. <3

Requested By: @ortizshinkaroff​

Word Count: 5,041

Warnings: SMUT! If you are under 18, DO NOT INTERACT! Swearing, dry humping, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), PinV sex, innocence kink, virgin reader

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this... like, a lot. If Boba could take my virginity like this I would DIE! Anyways, my requests are open so send in any Din or Boba requests you’d like me to write! I hope you all enjoy!

MASTERLIST

“Right behind you, mesh’la,” Boba passed behind you, his large hand splayed against the small of your back as he squeezed past. His touch was fleeting, only a momentary brush of his fingers over the dip of your back, but its effect was lasting. Heat coursed through your body like a tidal wave. It was burning on your cheeks and you ducked your head away from his gaze. He didn’t even notice your reaction to his touch, he just continued on his way up to the cockpit of Slave One, like it was no big deal to touch you. Yet here you were, nearly hyperventilating as you tried to calm your racing heart.

He shouldn’t have this much of an effect on you.

Kriff, he could just look at you and you’d melt into a puddle. You weren’t sure if it was the green and red armor, his walk, his broadness, his voice, his touch-

Oh, who were you kidding? It was everything about him. He was perfect, like the Maker hand-crafted him just for you. Gave him all of the qualities that you look for in a partner- strong, brave, incredibly handsome. He was both heaven and hell for you. Heaven to look at, hell to be near. 

You were perpetually stuck in hell. Boba was nothing but kind to you, always treated you well. Protected you on hunts and provided you with everything you could ever want. Every glance he gave you, every story of his past he bestowed upon you, every lingering touch made you want the older bounty hunter. It was almost painful being around him. He was like a roaring fire that kept you warm but if you got too close, he would surely burn you. 

That small little touch had set your soul aflame. You tried to calm down your racing heart and stop the images that flashed in your mind. You wondered how it would feel to be with him. The image of him coming back from a hunt, dirty and exhausted, pressing your body against the metal hull of his ship made your pussy throb with need. You had never been touched by anyone before, but you wanted him to touch you. To take you apart at your seams and put you back together just so that he could do it all over again. Your eyes fluttered closed at the thought of his large hands mapping out your body, leaving sparks in their wake. A breathy moan slipped past your lips and you rested your head against the cool metal of his ship. You needed to get a hold of yourself.

“Are you okay, mesh’la?” his voice snapped you out of your thoughts of him pressing into you. Heat flushed over your skin and your eyes opened in surprise.

“Y-yeah, why?” you cleared your throat, hating how desperate you sounded.

“I heard you moaning. I thought you were hurt,” he strode up to you and cupped your face in his hand. The worn leather felt delicious against your skin and his warmth seeped into your cheek. You flushed again.

“I just stubbed my toe,” you lied through your teeth. His forefinger and thumb gripped your chin and Boba tilted your face up towards his. He had never touched you for this long before, this intimately, and his dark eyes peered into your own. If he didn’t stop this, you were going to do something embarrassing. Like kiss him. He wouldn’t want that. “I’m fine.”

His eyes narrowed. “Be careful, princess.” Boba tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before walking back to the cockpit. His touch lingered and it felt like there were live wires littering your skin. You could still feel the pressure of his fingers gripping your chin.

Maker, you had to get a hold of yourself. You couldn’t think about your employer like this. Boba wouldn’t want someone like you, he would want someone stronger and more beautiful. A woman who knew what she was doing both in and out of bed, not some floundering girl that became flustered after one touch. He deserved better than you. Your brain told you all of these things, anxiety pilling on top of each other. The weight sat on your chest and threatened to push you under.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you got back to work. The day quickly passed on the ship due to its regulated timer. Even though the two of you were hurtling through hyperspace, the ship’s internal clock dimmed the lights in accordance with a planetary cycle. You had worked on many different projects during the day, fixing weapons and repairing the various mechanics found in the ship. You tried to distract yourself from the memory of Boba’s touch on your skin. He was so close to you earlier today, his scent so much more powerful due to his proximity. He smelled of blaster residue and rain. He smelled like home.

Shaking your head to dispel the thoughts of Boba, you made your way towards the cockpit to wish him a goodnight. He was in his pilot’s seat, fingers programming coordinates into the ship’s navigation system. The white streaks of stars and planets passing by the ship shined on his painted beskar armor. His helmet was placed on the passenger seat, black visor reflecting the light. He didn’t notice when you came in, or at least he didn’t give any indication that he did.

“I’m heading to bed,” your voice was small, worried that you were bothering him. “Just wanted to say goodnight.”

“C’mere, mesh’la,” Boba turned his seat to face you and held out his hand. His eyes searched your face, looking for any hesitation. Sucking in a breath, you made your way to him. He grabbed your hand when you were close enough and tugged you towards him. You stumbled over your feet until you came to a stop between his spread legs.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he squeezed your hand tighter and looked up into your eyes. You felt your heart stop when his free hand reached up to caress your face, gloved thumb gliding over your cheekbone. “You’ve been a bit... off lately.”

Heat coursed through your veins in embarrassment. You weren’t as slick as you thought you were in hiding your feelings for the older bounty hunter. You tried to say something, anything, but you just stood there- gaping like a fish out of water.

“You can tell me, mesh’la,” Boba tugged on your arm again. This time you couldn’t go any further forward and you fell into his lap. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest. The other brought your legs up and over so that you were sitting sideways across his lap. His thumb started tracing patterns into the skin above your knee. “Please. You’re scaring me.”

He was so close to you in this position. His dark eyes met yours and your heart sputtered inside your chest. It would be so easy to just reach out and learn what his scarred cheek would feel like against your palm. So easy to pull him towards you and kiss him.

“Mesh’la.” his tone was pleading and the hand tracing patterns on your skin moved up your leg to grip your hip tightly. You couldn’t help but suck in a shaky breath at his touch. Your eyes dropped down to his chapped lips and you wondered what they would feel like against yours.

“I-“ your voice came out choked, the words stuck in your throat. Being this close to him was intoxicating. His very presence was like a drug to you. How were you going to explain to him that you wished he would take everything from you, take everything you had to offer? To take you on every surface of his prized ship until you were screaming his name?

“Girly, you’re driving me crazy with your silence,” Boba growled low in his chest. The hand on your hip moved up to grip your chin, making you look at him. “Tell me, mesh’la.”

The pressure of his thumb and forefinger gripping your chin and his proximity was too much. His scent was overwhelming. Everything about Boba was too much. Before you could stop yourself, your hand came up and tugged his face towards yours. Your lips crashed against his and fireworks that could rival the destruction of the Death Star erupted behind your eyes.

Boba groaned against your lips, his hand holding your jaw moved up and into your hair, tangling his fingers in your locks. His tongue swiped at the seam of your lips, begging for access which you happily granted him. Your tongue pushed against his and you couldn’t help how you pulled him even closer with both hands. The feeling of him biting your bottom lip made you whimper.

“Boba,” you whined against his lips when the need for air became too great. Need for him pooled in your underwear embarrassingly fast. He had barely touched you and you were already soaking through your panties.

“Mesh’la,” Boba moaned against your skin, his lips trailing across your face and down your neck. He stopped over your pulse point, sucking a dark mark into the skin that was sure to last weeks. His lips made their way back up to yours and pulled you into a bruising kiss. He wasted no time before he licked into your mouth. You had no idea that he even remotely reciprocated your feelings. When you had leaned in to kiss him, you were almost positive that he would push you off his lap in disgust. You never would have predicted that he would want you too.

“Need you,” Boba groaned against your lips, nipping your bottom lip again. The hand in your hair moved down and gripped your hip to reposition you in his lap. He grabbed at your thigh and tugged so that you were now straddling him, your legs on either side of his and pressing against the arms of his chair. Boba rolled his hips up into you and you felt the prominent bulge that was straining against the fabric of his flight suit.

Gasping, you pulled away from Boba in shock. Once again heat flushed through your veins, pooling low in your stomach and resting on your cheeks. His hands gripped your hips and ground your clothed center onto him, rolling his hips up to yours in time. The feeling of him pressing against where you needed him most was too much. You had never done this kind of thing before and you had no idea what you were doing. You didn’t want to disappoint him. “Wait.”

Boba’s lips paused against the skin of your neck before pulling back to look at you. One of his hands released their grip on your hip to cup your cheek. “What’s wrong, ner me'suum'ika?”

You were momentarily thrown off by this new name he called you. You knew it was Mando’a, just like the one he usually called you, but you never knew what he was saying. Blinking away your distraction, you met his dark eyes. “I’ve, um, never done... this.”

Boba looked up at you in confusion. “Done what?”

You were positive that you were burning hotter than any sun at that moment. Here you were, straddling the man of your dreams, his hard length throbbing against you, and you had to admit to him that you were a virgin. That you haven’t done anything before and that you couldn’t please him in the way you wanted to, the way he deserved. “I’m a virgin.”

He blinked twice at you, absorbing your words before a chuckle sounded from his chest. Dread dropped in your stomach like a rock until he opened his mouth. “That doesn’t bother me, ner me'suum'ika. If you want to stop we can stop.”

His soft words warmed you from the inside out. Boba gave you such a soft look when he told you those comforting words. He gently pulled your face to his and placed a soft kiss against your lips. While you loved how soft and gentle he was being with you right now, it wasn’t what you needed. You needed to feel Boba inside of you.

You experimentally rolled your hips over his clothed length, basking in Boba’s moan. His hand returned to your hip and he pulled you closer against him, rubbing his hard cock against you. “Mesh’la, we don’t have to-”

“I want to,” you cut him off with another roll of your hips. The feeling of his hard cock pressed against your core was incredible. With every roll of your hips, the fabric of your panties grinded against your clit in the most delicious way possible. The feeling of Boba pressing into you and his lips on yours was driving you crazy. You needed more of him. “Just-” the words caught in your throat when he pressed his cock against you, rubbing against your clit. “-have to show me how.”

Boba’s eyes darkened with lust at your words. A growl ripped through his chest and his grip on you tightened. “Fuck, baby, I’ll take care of you, don’t you worry.”

He crashed his lips against yours and he rolled his hips into you. Your lips parted in a gasp at the feeling of his throbbing length and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth once more. Your hands traced down his chest, trailing over the cool green beskar. Stopping the motions of your hips, your hand palmed his cock through the material of his pants. He felt so big in your small hand and you haven’t even seen him yet. You went to unbutton his pants and release his throbbing length but he stopped you by grabbing your wrist.

“Not yet, ner me'suum'ika,” Boba tsked, pulling your hand away from his groin. 

“But I need you,” you whimpered. 

“Not yet, baby,” he grinned and pulled your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. “I’ve got to get you ready for me first.”

Boba stood up from his chair and grabbed your waist. You squealed at his quick motions and the sensation of falling but he easily pulled you against him and wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you through the hull of his ship and into his chambers before setting you down on his bed. Boba stood between your spread legs and took in the sight of you- chest heaving, hair wild, eyes dark, and lips swollen from his kisses. Maker, he wanted to take you right then and there but he had to be gentle and take his time with you.

Leaning over you, Boba pressed his lips to yours before trailing down your neck. Sighing his name, you relished in the feeling of Boba’s lips against your skin and his hands roaming your body. His large hands pushed the hem of your shirt up, exposing the soft skin of your stomach. He kept tugging up until your shirt was discarded somewhere in his room. Boba cupped your covered breasts and moaned at the feeling of your pillowy flesh. He dipped his head down and pressed kisses over your breasts, licking and sucking marks into your skin. 

“Fuck, you look so pretty,” Boba kissed up your throat. He reached behind you to undo your bra, tossing it to the floor so it could join your shirt. His thumbs brushed over your nipples and a soft moan slipped past your lips. Boba had barely touched you but the pleasure was already too much. 

“Boba,” you whined and tugged his face up to yours so you could capture his lips in a kiss. You trailed your hands down his armored chest, stopping right above his trousers. Gripping his hard cock, you moaned into the kiss. “Please.”

“Eager, are we?” he chuckled. “Don’t worry, ner me'suum'ika, I’ll take care of you.” His lips began to trail down your body, hands cupping and squeezing whatever soft flesh they could grab. Boba licked at one of your pert nipples and smiled when your breath caught in your throat. He made his way down your body and unbuttoned your pants, tugging them down your legs along with your underwear. The garments fell to the floor and Boba laid down between your spread legs, drinking in the sight of your sopping pussy. Your eyes screwed shut when he trailed a gloved finger through your dripping folds, collecting your arousal on the worn leather. Boba’s eyes were dark and the grin on his face was devious when he sucked on his finger, licking away your juices. His resounding moan made your hips buck in need. “Taste so good, mesh’la. Can I taste you again?”

His eyes met yours from between your legs, silently asking for your permission. All you could do was nod your head eagerly, the excitement and pleasure already building up. The answering smile on his face was beautiful, a bright white against his tan skin. Before you could commit the sight to memory, Boba dropped his head and licked a broad stripe between your folds. His tongue was searing against your core- unlike anything you’ve ever felt. The air left your lungs in a gasp at how good it felt to have his tongue on you. Boba licked at your cunt, gathering up and tasting your arousal before he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking hard. You moaned loudly- a little bit embarrassed at the sound he drew from you- but you couldn’t care less. Boba Fett was between your legs, lapping at your pussy like a man trapped in a desert and you were the only source of water for miles.

“Oh!” expletives constantly fell from your lips as he continued his delicious torture on your cunt. You could feel him smirking against your folds, proud that he was making you feel this good with just his mouth alone. The pleasure built up inside of you, threatening to spill over. Boba’s tongue dipped down to your entrance, drinking you in. He brought his gloved hand up to your folds, circling your clit before dipping down to where his tongue licked. Pressing in, Boba worked his finger inside of your tight cunt. It was only one finger but the feeling of it curling against your walls made you throw your head back against his pillows and arch your back in pleasure. Boba just smirked and wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, pushing another finger into your fluttering hole.

“Got to open you up so you can take me, ner me'suum'ika,” Boba hummed against your folds, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. He started to push a third finger into you, the pain of him opening you up stinging just a bit. “Maker, you’re so tight around my fingers. I can’t wait to feel you on my cock.”

His words were like an electric shock to your system. “Please,” you begged, grinding your pussy against his face and fingers. You could feel the coil inside of you tighten as he curled his middle finger against the bundle of nerves. “I want you.”

“Not yet,” Boba chuckled lightly, pumping into your pussy at a faster pace. “I want you to come for me first. Do you think you could do that? Come all over my fingers and mouth?”

Your jaw dropped at his filthy words, mouth forming an ‘o.’ You had never experienced this much pleasure before- your hands had never made you feel this good. You wondered if sex always felt like this or if it was just because of the bounty hunter between your legs. His fingers brushed against that spot inside of you and his tongue flicked your clit and before you knew it you were cumming on his fingers and mouth just like he wanted you to. Your back arched and your hands gripped the sheets under you tightly, a cry of pleasure echoed off the metal walls. It felt like you were floating above your body, watching you cum as Boba licked at your pussy, prolonging your pleasure. Soon enough you were crashing back to reality and the feeling of him continuously lapping at your cunt became too much. 

“Boba,” you choked out, trying to push his face away from your pussy. Before the overstimulation became too much, he pulled his fingers out of you. His eyes seemed darker than they were before as he stared up at you from between your legs. The sight of your cum smeared over his lips and chin made your heart falter in your heaving chest. 

“Did so good for me, mesh’la,” Boba cooed, pressing a kiss to your clit before he climbed his way back up your body. He pressed his lips against yours and you could taste yourself on his tongue. The kiss was passionate and it took what little breath you had away. You had never felt this much pleasure before and you desperately wanted to return the favor. You wanted to know what he tasted like. 

“Not now, little one,” Boba stopped your hand that was palming his hard length through his pants. You whined against his lips but he just chuckled and gave you a quick kiss. “Tonight’s about you. I want to make you feel good.”

“Sucking your cock would make me feel good,” you mumbled against his lips. Boba’s eyes widened at your words, shocked that you could be so dirty. Heat flashed over your cheeks. 

“You’ll get your chance,” Boba smiled and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Trust me, I want to watch you try to take me in your mouth but that’s for another time. Right now, I need to be inside of you.”

You couldn’t argue with him when he used such sound logic. Him voicing that he wanted to be inside of you made your pussy throb with need. Nodding your head, you pulled him into another kiss before he stepped back from you and began to shed his armor. 

He was so broad with his green and red armor, but somehow he looked even bigger when he stripped his clothes off his body. Silver scars littered his skin, each one had a story and you desperately wanted to learn them while you traced your lips over each and every one. Boba smirked at the hungry look in your eyes as he took off his clothes. He knew he wasn’t the best looking man in the galaxy but the way you looked at him made him feel like he was. His cock pulsed in his pants with the need to be inside of you. He couldn’t wait any longer after months of dreaming about it. Boba tugged down his pants, freeing his aching cock.

Boba’s cock sprung free and the sight of him, all of him, made you gulp. He was so big, you weren’t sure how he would fit inside of you. His cock was both long and thick, and while you didn’t have anything to compare it to, you were positive that he was well above average. “I don’t think it will fit.”

Boba’s laugh was rich as it bounced off the metal walls of his chambers. “Don’t worry, ner me'suum'ika. It’ll fit, we just have to take it slow.”

You nodded at his words and scooted up his bed, making room for the bounty hunter. Boba leaned over you, arms on either side of your head. His large frame trapped you beneath him. Boba nudged his nose against yours before he captured your lips in a kiss. “Are you sure about this, mesh’la?”

“Of course,” your hand cradled the back of his head and you pressed your forehead against his. “There’s no one else I’d rather do this with.”

Boba was usually a very composed man- never one to show his emotions. But you pressing your forehead against his, unknowingly giving him a keldabe kiss, and saying those words made him flush visibly. The blush that dusted his tan, scarred cheeks was beautiful. Before he could do something stupid, like confess his feelings for you, Boba pressed his lips tenderly against yours. 

Taking hold of his cock, he pumped his long shaft a few times before he dragged the tip through your wet folds that were dripping with your cum. A shiver ran down his spine at the feeling of his cock rubbing against your wet pussy. Boba notched the tip at your entrance, slowly rolling his hips forward and pushing into your tight cunt.

It was slightly painful, Boba’s cock pushing into you. He took it slow, only giving you an inch of his length at a time, letting you rest inbetween and grow accustomed to him. Soon enough, pain melted into pleasure and Boba bottomed out, the wiry hair at the base of his cock brushing against your clit. Your chest was heaving and you could already feel the pleasure building up inside of you again. Boba pressed another kiss to your lips, groaning at the feeling of your walls tightly clamping down on him. You were so tight around him and you felt absolutely perfect. It was like you were made for him. 

“Can I move, ner me'suum'ika?” Boba panted, trying to restrain himself from pounding into you. Burying your face into his neck, you nodded and pressed a small kiss to his pulse point. Drawing his hips back, Boba grit his teeth at the feeling of your velvet walls dragging over his cock. He paused with just the tip of his cock in you, giving you a moment to adjust before he ground back into you. The sounds that you made were heavenly- breathless moans and whimpers mumbled against his skin. Boba slowly rolled his hips into yours, setting a languid pace. 

Your nails raked down his strong back when the head of his cock brushed against that bundle of nerves. A gasp left your parted lips and you moaned his name, unintentionally clenching around his hard length. Boba’s hips stuttered against yours and he pulled your face back up to his. 

“If you keep doing that, I’m not going to last,” he sheepishly admitted, nudging his nose against yours. A sly smile made its way onto your lips and the sight of you beneath him made Boba drop his forehead to yours. You felt too good.

“Me neither,” you captured his lips in yours and Boba picked up the pace now that you were used to him. The feeling of him grinding his hips into yours, cock pulsing hot inside of you had you seeing stars. He once again found that spot inside of you and you gasped, “there!”

Boba grabbed your leg and brought it up and over his hip, pushing deeper into you at this new angle. His fingers dug into your thigh and he could feel your release approaching with every brush of his cock against that bundle of nerves. Your breathing was picking up and the moans slipped past your lips faster. Boba brought his thumb down to your cunt, rough pad circling your clit. Your back arched and your chest pressed against his. The feeling of him dragging against your walls and his thumb working circles into your clit was becoming too much.

“Boba, I-” your words were cut off by a sob, tears began to form at the corners of your eyes. You could feel your orgasm approaching faster than before.

“I know, I can feel it,” Boba groaned into your mouth, picking up the pace of both his thrusts and thumb. Your walls were clenching around him and he could feel his own release building inside of him. “Come for me, ner me'suum'ika,” his hips snapped against yours and he licked into your mouth. “Cum all over my cock.”

It was too much- his cock, his thumb, his words- and you came crashing down like a meteor. His name fell from your lips repeatedly in sobs and cries of pleasure. Your nails were digging into the skin of his back and you were positive that you were leaving angry red marks on his tan skin. 

The walls of your cunt clamped down around his cock and he could feel the juices of your release coating him. His hips pistoned against yours as he chased his own high. “Where?” Boba moaned against your lips, feeling his balls start to pull up tight with his impending release. 

“In me,” you mumbled into his mouth. You were still reeling from your release, drunk on Boba. You needed to know what it felt like for him to cum inside of you. “Come for me, Boba.”

Your sultry words pushed him over the edge and he grunted and groaned as he spurted his cum inside of you. The warmth of his seed painting your walls was something you’d never forget- you’d cherish this moment forever. 

Boba’s hips stilled and he could feel the need for sleep overcoming him. You were so warm, so soft- Boba wanted this for the rest of his days. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, gingerly placing a kiss at the edge of his mouth. Boba cupped your face and pulled you into a proper kiss, tongue swiping over your bottom lip. 

“For what?” he questioned, pulling out of you with a groan. Your combined releases spilled onto his sheets, soaking them, but he could care less. 

“For this,” you pressed your face into his chest as he pulled you against him, his arms wrapping around your smaller frame. 

“It was an honor, ner me'suum'ika,” Boba placed a tender kiss on your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. You smelled like home.

“What does that mean?” you yawned, nuzzling further into him. “Ner me-me’suu-”

“It means ‘my moon,’“ Boba smiled into your hair. “Is it... is it okay if I call you that?”

“More than okay,” you were glad that he couldn’t see your face because of how flushed it was. You pressed a kiss to his chest. “What can I call you?”

“Whatever you’d like, ner me'suum'ika,” his eyes started to drift close. “I’m yours.”  

______

Mando’a Translations:

Mesh’la = beautiful

Ner me'suum'ika = my moon

[djarinsbeskar]

PREQUEL ARC: PART 3 - THE BOUNTY

A/N: Part 3 of Stitches has arrived! This chapter was difficult to write, I'll be honest. And I'd really appreciate any feedback if it doesn't read as well as the first two chapters or doesn't make sense or is boring etc. etc.

This is the penultimate prologue chapter, with the story very much shifting to surround the dynamic and growth of the readers relationship with Din so if you can hold out for me just a bit longer, I promise, I'll make it worth the wait. You know what I'm talking about friends.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: None

Summary: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

9 ABY, on the Hydian Way.

Din prided himself on the strength of his principles. An unwavering certainty in everything he did that gave him a modicum of peace as he wandered throughout the galaxy amidst wars, rebellions and the chaos that ensued in their aftermath.

He was certain when he took the Creed, when he sacrificed a future for himself in service of the covert; something he had never regretted to this day. He had never regretted any bounty taken; unmoved by pleas, promises or threats. Neither tears nor anger could sway his resolve.

Truly, he could count on one hand the things he regretted in life; the job on Alzoc III, challenging a fully grown Mandalorian to a fight while still a hot blooded, angry teenager, and not trying to pull his parents into the bunker where they had hidden him from Separatist droids as Aq Vertina was invaded.

In his line of work, there was seldom room for self-doubt. Inner conflict led to hesitation, which could be a death sentence for a bounty hunter.

And yet, as he came out of hyperspace, that unfamiliar gnawing presence in the pit of his stomach began to rear its’ head again. The job he had accepted was… dubious, to say the least.

Din snorted in self-deprecation; most of his jobs were dubious in nature.

What brought on this unnatural doubt, however, was that this was a job for Imperial remnants. Din wasn’t a fool; he knew half the jobs he had taken in the past could have been traced to the Imps if he cared enough to look, but taking a job from them personally… well, he didn’t know how to feel about that just yet.

He pondered the feeling in his stomach again and frowned. Was it doubt… or instinct? Instinct was his most trusted companion as he travelled through space alone. A tickle at the back of his neck, a wary step forward, even a flash of electricity down his spine; those were only some of the ways that instinct spoke to him. And he always listened.

An uncomfortable feeling in his stomach though? Never that.

If it was instinct, then he was going against his very nature in ignoring it. If it was doubt, based on some misguided sense of morality in dealing with the empire… that he could deal with. He could smother doubt with control and consistency; going through the motions of a job brought security and familiarity. Sooner or later, that doubt would make way for a stoic acceptance, a state that had gotten Din through some of his roughest years.

His eyes were drawn to his shoulder, where the glint of newly crafted beskar shone in the gentle lights of the cockpit.

A down-payment…

“Makers Helmet…” he groaned, running a gloved thumb and forefinger across his tired eyes to pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on as the pressure at the back of his skull increased due to the loop his thoughts were going in.

A job was a job. He circled back to his original thought that had led him to accept the clients offer. A job with a bounty greater than anything he could have ever hoped to receive in his lifetime, let alone in one go. It was mere sentimentality and conscience getting in the way of good business. That beskar could not only provide him with armor to reaffirm his loyalty to the covert, but assistance and support to the foundlings and those who raised them.

His resolved steeled. He had never regretted putting the covert before himself, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Turning his attention back to the navicomputer, he scanned the co-ordinates that his most recent lead had pointed to. He had hunted the trail of his latest bounty to the general direction of a vast area of space that straddled the outer reaches of the Outer Rim and halted as it reached Wild Space. There was nothing to stop the bounty from being in those unexplored parts of the galaxy, and if the tracking beacon led him that far, he would have to be ready. With no spaceport on any of the planets he had seen dotting the area on the navicomputer, he thought it wise to refuel and gather provisions should he be there for any prolonged period.

As he lazily assessed which planet to land on, his eyes were drawn to a familiar name. A memory brushed against his thoughts. Not necessarily a pleasant one, but not entirely unpleasant either. For the sake of fairness, Din scanned the planets surrounding the one he pondered; some were equally as well equipped for his needs but the majority he had not been on in years if ever. Somewhere he knew, even briefly, gave him more comfort than the unknown.

At least, that was what Din told himself as he punched in the co-ordinates of Dandoran, the flicker of warmth the memory brought him was something equally as unnatural as the doubt coiled in his stomach.

Bantha balls, maybe he had been poisoned again...

Din tossed a few credits to the human female who received the Razor Crest into the hanger she was managing.

“She needs to be refueled.” Was all he said as he made his way out of the hanger and into the not unfamiliar streets of Mynock. It didn’t look like much had changed in the several months since he was here last; the place was still crawling with a mixture of criminals, bounty hunters and people who just didn’t want to be found. All in all, a good example of most Outer Rim cities.

Mynock had two main pedestrian streets that ran for over two klicks and intersected at the middle. From what he could tell, all legitimate business ran from those two streets, the further into the alleyways and twisted lanes that branched off those two streets one ventured, the seedier the business.

From what he knew, the practice you worked at was on one of these main streets. He paused, causing a few disgruntled pedestrians to have to jerk to a halt and make their way around his imposing frame. He was not here socially. He was never anywhere socially. He shook his head; between self-doubt and sentimentality, the tight leash he usually kept himself on was looser than he remembered and he had no idea just when it had started to slack.

That could not continue. But being aware of a problem allowed him to deal with it. So, with a greater sense of fortitude, he mentally choked any distracting feelings beyond the determination to collect this bounty. That included the somewhat interesting possibility of seeing you again.

Thankfully, Din only needed to stick to the main streets. The road was flanked by stall upon stall of foodstuffs, clothing, trinkets, ammunition and what looked to be a husbandry of Massiff dogs. The large, reflective eyes turned to the Mandalorian; all bared fangs and hostile snarls. An understandable response by most non-sentients when a Mandalorian had no real physical cues they could read, being as covered as they were. Until he lifted his hand for the one closest to sniff, they could only assume he was a threat.

A sniff was usually all it took however, before the snarling stopped. Din brushed a hand over the scaly head as he continued on his way to collect what he came here for.

An hour later, and Din was feeling much more at ease as he picked up the last of the supplies he thought he may need; ration packs, bactapads, generic ammunition that he liked to keep well stocked on the ship and so on. He was once more mentally compiling the information he had gathered on the location of the bounty, running through various routes in his mind that would cover the most planets in the parsec in the shortest amount of time.

He nodded his thanks at the change the Rhodian merchant returned to him and began to make his way back to the Razor Crest. If it hadn’t been for the long flick of your hair in the tie you kept it up in when you turned your head to look at someone at a stall across the central walkway of the street, Din was certain he’d have walked on none the wiser. But alas, that same higher power that had gifted him with a keep perception of his surroundings cursed him in the same fell swoop as the movement attracted his attention.

He came up short, running a mental check on himself immediately. No, no injuries. His shoulder still ached on occasion from being dislocated six months earlier, but it was a phantom pain at most these days. He was fit as a mythosaur and he wasn’t about to have that good streak ruined by getting injured in your presence… again.

Din wondered if he could escape to his ship without you noticing; he didn’t want to tempt fate anymore than he already had. Plus, awkward interactions that left him feeling frustrated both mentally and physically were not high on the list of things he enjoyed, thank you very much.

As a Mandalorian, Din expected attention wherever he went. It was just something he chalked down to being a necessary evil to live by his Creed but he had never wanted to be more invisible than he did in that moment, thinking that at any moment he would be trip into a sarlacc pit or something equally unpleasant.

But you hadn’t seen him, thankfully; much more invested in the choices at the fishmonger’s stall.

Despite his better judgement however, he paused from slipping back to his ship silently.

He was taken by the slight pink flush that rose to your cheeks at something the woman behind the stall said, intrigued by the color and what caused it. Din tilted his head slightly. He had noticed you getting flushed in frustration or annoyance both times you had treated him. It was fascinating to see your cheeks flush for a reason other than irritation and anger.

That particular thought touched a dangerous part of Din’s mind, a part that made him wander into the realm of curiosity to ponder what else might make you blush like that.

Oh, but it was a delightful color on you, and he watched longer than he ought to, a small quirk lifting the corner of his lips. The image of domesticity as you adjusted the parcels of food already in your arms to accept the fish was so foreign to his eyes and certainly not one he ever associated with you until now. It spoke to a part of him that still slumbered but began to fidget in its sleep, on the verge of consciousness.

That tentative smile that he had unwittingly been giving into as he indulged his senses by watching you, dropped the moment three males approached you. The Twi’lek was standing too close for you to be comfortable and by the rigidity of your spine, he knew you were not.

You had taken a step away from the men easily, your body language read cautious but not fearful and he knew better than to underestimate your abilities to wrangle men into whatever position you wanted them in. He had first-hand experience in that department and honestly, it wasn’t nearly as fun as it sounded in his head.

Din relaxed the grip he had unknowingly tightened on the blaster at his hip when you made to leave the stall, away from the three. He shook his head at himself; you had lived here for years. You knew how to handle yourself perfectly fine.

Letting out a breath, he was about to continue back to the ship when that same cursed perception caught the Twi’leks arm shoot out to grip your upper arm tightly, preventing your exit.

Din was behind you before he even realized he had moved.

You examined the range of fish on offer, eyes skeptically crossing off anything that looked like it had been sitting out too long or anything with more than four eyes. You weren’t squeamish by nature, but the fewer dead eyes that were staring at you while you prepared dinner, the better.

One of the few perks of Mynock, was its proximity to the Great Basin of Dandoran that opened out to one of the many oceans to cover the planet. Fresh seafood was a staple in the city and after years of ration packs between the Rebellion and Klatooine, eating fresh was a luxury you would never take for granted again. Your own home planet was mostly covered in water too; the greater population spread over countless clusters of islands where seafood was also the meal of choice for most. It was a tenuous connection but being able to cook dishes somewhat like the ones your mother made when you and your brothers were younger made it feel like you weren’t so far away.

You smiled to yourself at the thought as you pointed to the light blue colored Berbersian crabs, knowing the trawlers had come in only this morning that carried them. The claws were meaty with the slightest sweetness to their flavor that complimented most dishes. Not to mention that when cooked, they turned the most vibrant blue that their shells alone could be used for decoration and craft.

You chatted aimlessly with the fishmonger as she cleaned and prepared the translucent peachy pink fish you had also chosen for good measure.

“Busy at Biran’s?”

“When are we not busy?”

“It’s all them fights between the gangs. Folk say since the Hutts were chased out that things are better but it’s even more dangerous with the others tryin’ to take their place.”

You only gave a non-committal hum to that; you didn’t get involved in politics of any kind. Gang or otherwise.

The mindless chatter continued on nonetheless to more safe topics.

“Did I tell ye, Drea had her baby not three days ago. Another girl.”

“Poor Nej will have his hands full when they all get older.”

“I’m sure they’re dying for a boy at this point. Great excuse to keep sowin’ the crops though, ain’t it?”

“I’m sure they don’t need any excu—”

“Ever think of havin’ any of yer own? Yer well into that time of yer life, I’d say no?”

You blinked, nearly missing the bag of produce as she handed it across the stall to you. You could feel your face heat up at the direction this conversation had turned, and you definitely never thought you would be discussing your biological clock with a fishmonger over Berbersian crab.

“Well I---”

Movement from the corner of your eye stole your attention from that progressively awkward conversation and the no doubt insufficient answer you would have given as three males came to stand at the same stall, facing you. Your eyes scanned the trio sideways, not prepared to give them your attention unless it became unavoidable. There were two humans and a Twi’lek and given the way the humans flanked the large blue male; you had a fair idea about who was in charge as he sneered at you in what you assumed was meant to be a disarming smile.

The blasters at each of their hips and the emerald green coloring on the right sleeve of their jackets told you they belonged to one of the gangs the fishmonger had been complaining about not a few minutes earlier. This gang in particular, the Quai-Kisu or Emerald Dagger in Basic, were a faction that splintered off from the main Hutt crime syndicate once their influence in Dandoran lessened. Their trademark was spice smuggling but anyone with two braincells knew that they accepted the lesser charge to hide the true wealth of their criminal activity, flesh trafficking.

Suffice to say, you didn’t want anything to do with them and you most certainly didn’t want them to want anything to do with you.

“Can I help you?” You kept your eyes on them as you handed the fishmonger what you owed her when it was clear they weren’t going to leave; the woman wisely remaining quiet as she accepted the credits.

None of them responded immediately, and you wondered if this was a new scare tactic they were employing to make people anxious. The crimson hue of the Twi’leks eyes glinted as he contemplated you, running down your figure lazily before meeting your eyes again when you frowned,

“Ol’ man Biran available for a house call?” He rumbled, the sun catching the points of the filed canines as he spoke.

“I’m afraid Biran doesn’t make house calls anymore. Besides, he’s been under the weather for the last few days unfortunately.”

You reeled the lie off effortlessly, having learned over the years who Biran would tend to and who he would rather see succumb to whatever ailed them. It was a steep and difficult learning curve for you, your initial training taught you that you must do your utmost to save every life. Biran had laughed in derision, saying that that mindset wouldn’t serve you well out here. These were gangs, not the flyboys of Corellia. Saving one of their lives might condemn countless others. So while you struggled, you accepted that it was his practice and he made the rules and after over two years on Dandoran, you had seen enough victims of the gang warfare to not feel any pity when one of them suffered an injury.

“C’mon beautiful. One of our pals was injured in a… terrible, terrible accident.” The taller of the two human males, a lanky man with a neck that looked much too long and eyes that took way too much liberty in running over your body.

“There are other doctors in Mynock.” You replied steadily, “I’m sure one of them can help.”

To humor them any longer would be to encourage trouble, so you cut the conversation short and turned quite deliberately to make the point that the conversation was over, flashing the fishmonger a wan smile before turning back the way you came.

“We weren’t done talkin’ to you.”

Your eyes widened marginally when an iron grip closed around your upper arm, your free hand dropping the items in your arm immediately to click the safety off your blaster and lift it in the time it took for the Twi’lek to yank you into facing him again.

“Did I say you could lay a hand on me?” You hissed, the blaster pointing upward from where you held it close to your body towards the underside of the Twi’lek’s chin.

“Quite the little spitfire, ain’t she lads?” He crowed, amused by your action. His laughter was like shattered glass on your ears, making you want to wince, but you kept your hand steady even as your heart pounded. You received as much training as anyone when they joined the Rebellion, but your experience in actual combat beyond treating people on the front line was limited. You knew your own limitations, and that there was no way you would be able to take on all three of them.

The hand around your arm squeezed painfully and you clocked the blaster, lifting it closer to sit under the Twi’lek’s chin, “Release me. Now.”

And like most men of his ilk, he ignored you in favor of his own voice,

“From what we’ve seen, you work with the good doctor. Shouldn’t be a bother for you to fix him up. Nicer to look at too, eh fellas?” He tossed over his shoulder to the snickers of his lackeys.

“Then you can go back to target practice with your toy gun.” He chuckled darkly, leaning in where the pungent smell of his breath made you turn your head away in distaste, “That is, if we let you go at all.”

You swallowed thickly at the threat, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as your mind scrambled to come up with a solution, a way out, something. You felt the familiar sting of tears at the back of your eyes when each avenue came up blank. You couldn’t think of anything and suddenly, you felt so terribly alone in this shithole of a town on a faraway planet far from anyone who gave a bantha crap who would actually be able to help you.

Their laughter only grated on your already frayed nerves and pissed you off even more. You had fought too hard and suffered too much to let these assholes take the one thing you owned, your freedom. Your eyes flashed with anger and snapped back to the Twi’lek, ready to pull the trigger because if you were going out, it would be on your terms.

Their laughter suddenly ceased then, and you blinked. Had they copped that you planned to take at least one, maybe two of them out with you? Before you could figure it out, your arm was shoved away. You raised your now free hand to steady the blaster as you aimed it at them, but they were backing away, eyes averted.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” You growled, hiding the waver in your voice.

They said nothing in reply as the Twi’lek bared his teeth and made towards you again. One of the humans grabbed his arm and hissed something to him. You couldn’t make it all out, but you swore you heard a name you never thought you’d hear again.

Teff.

With one last growl and glare, the Twi’lek conceded to the advice of the humans and all three of them melted back into the crowds of Mynock leaving you to release a heavy breath as you lowered your weapon, replacing the safety with ease as your eyes continued to scan the street. You wanted to be certain they had really left.

“Huh, maybe they were smart after all.” You muttered to yourself, proud that you had dealt with the situation somewhat and holstered your blaster against your hip again, “Still got it girl.” You commended yourself as you stooped to pick up your dropped groceries.

A snorted, “I beg to differ” had you blinking up over your shoulder at the familiar, cocksure figure of the Mandalorian; a hand only grazing the blaster at his hip as he stood casually behind you, his head tilted down to look at you and a resounding sigh leaving his helmet when you smiled.

“Mando?”

An incline of his head was the only greeting you received before he crossed his arms across the wise expanse of his armored chest.

“One sec.”

You got back to your feet and, as if by instinct, ran your eyes over his body, “You didn’t poison yourself again, did you?” You teased lightly, realizing that you were seeing him uninjured for the first time. Well, the second time. But walking into a cantina to do battle with a Houk didn’t could in your estimation.

It gave you pause to notice things about him that you didn’t usually; the way he stood, leaning his weight back on his left foot that gave him an air of lazy arrogance that wouldn’t be misplaced in a loth-wolf relaxing in the winter sun. The strength of his thighs seems to be accentuated by the posture; one hand placed securely at his blaster. If you didn’t know any better, his stance was like an open challenge to every male around him; submit or suffer. But you did know him somewhat, and you knew that he didn’t need to lay down any challenge. He had already won the second he stepped off his ship. The wide breadth of space given to him by passers-by only highlighted that fact.

Even with every patch of skin covered, you could feel the raw power rolling off of him, or was it testosterone? Whatever it was, it tugged at a more primal instinct and ignited a slow, steady heat inside of you that made you both embarrassed and intrigued.

Okay, so you were attracted to the way the man stood. That was fine, that was acceptable. You were a warm-blooded woman in her prime who knew her desires and embraced them. Finding how a Mandalorian… stood, was just another interesting thing to add to your list of things you found attractive.

Along with a raspy baritone and penchant for trouble…

You know what, it was probably just a fantastic indication that you hadn’t been laid in a while, so you made a mental note to deal with that particular issue later.

“I never poisoned myself.” That same low, gruff voice rose to your bait so easily and you had to bite your lip not to laugh, his hand fisting at his side before he unclenched it. Probably thinking about strangling you, honestly. Now there was a thought, for later. Nope, it was definitely the recent dry spell that had you like this. And the sun. The sun always had a part to play in these delusions.

Mando seemed to figure out your game of teasing him however, when you couldn’t fully mask your smile and responded in kind,

“You’re welcome, by the way.” His voice rumbled and you were certain that if you were only a few inches closer, you would be able to feel the vibrations brush against you.

“For what?” You laughed in disbelief, “I had everything under control before you decided to strut into the fray.”

You tried to prevent the frown from creasing between your brows when you thought a little more on the situation. You had a blaster literally pointed to the neck of one of those thugs and they didn’t care. It didn’t even seem like Mando had drawn his weapon and all three had scarpered? Was there any fairness in the galaxy? Obviously not.

The unpainted helmet tilted, the impassive T-visor giving away nothing of its wearers feelings beyond the sigh that left him, “What did you plan to do? Shoot the son of a mudscuffer and have an entire gang out for blood in less than an hour? Yeah, that’s smart.” He snorted.

Your mouth fell open in incredulity, “Talk about the Jawa calling the Ewok short, you’d have done the exact same thing!” You cursed your short temper, especially when it came to the stubborn mule of a man in front of you. The fact that his voice never once rose frustrated you. It remained gravelly but soft, like the sound of pebbles and stones being pushed and pulled by the ocean you could hear from your bedroom as a child.

You were a mature person; you were proud of how you dealt with most things. But in this instance, you allowed your immature side to rear her head momentarily as you began to stalk back to the practice. A piss poor option since the Mandalorian scoffed and kept up with you easily, obviously not content with you having the last word.

“But I wouldn’t be so reckless to not think it through before shooting them.” He tipped his helmet back a little, as if he dared to look down his nose at you. Frustration simmered in your blood as your eyes narrowed at him sideways.

“I was wrong, you obviously are injured. A blow to the head this time was it, Mando? Must be hidden under that kettle you call a helmet” You let out an exasperated breath, shaking your head, “I’ve no cure for that unfortunately.”

You could have sworn you heard a soft noise that sounded remarkably like a chuckle, but it was so quiet and the streets so noisy that you were certain you were wrong.

When the door to the practice-come-living quarters for yourself and Biran came into view, you stopped short. How did you get back here so quickly? Looking over your shoulder, you realized you had led the Mandalorian on a merry chase to nowhere he needed to be. He didn’t look particularly fazed, but the small voice of guilt that sounded an awful lot like your mother had you opening your mouth before you could think twice,

“Do you want to come in?”

What possessed you to invite him in?

It was obvious from both the stilted way you asked and the drawn out, deeply awkward silence that followed. You were about to tuck tail and run inside, slam the door, and pretend you weren’t as mortified as you knew you were when he cocked his head. The movement made you pause in your escape, opening your mouth to tell him to forget about it before the words got lodged in your throat.

“Sure.” Was all he said, and that was how you found yourself staring at a fully armed Mandalorian taking up two thirds of the small settee in the living room to the back of the practice, his hands placed on each thigh as they spread a bit when he sat.

Biran, bless him, took up the last third of the same settee, unfazed by the type of man in his living room and chatting merrily about the last Mandalorian he had met over fifteen years ago.

“And that wasn’t you?”

“No.”

“Ah maybe someone you know then!”

“Maybe.”

Mando’s conversation skills were abysmal.

You didn’t have very high expectations in the first place, but watching it without being a participant, was downright comical. You hid your smile behind the glass of water you had fetched for yourself but the slight tilt of his helmet in your direction told you he had caught your amusement. For someone whose face you couldn’t see, you could practically feel his eyes narrow at you. It made the giddiness from being equal parts anxious and entertained from watching Mando try make nice with the elderly Mirialan rise again and you had to physically bite your lip to stop.

Mando wasn’t listening to Biran anymore, that much was obvious. He wasn’t even looking in his direction, more comfortable blatantly glaring at you instead. Biran was unfazed. Truly, the Mirialan didn’t need a response to have a conversation. A listening ear was sometimes all he wanted. It was a characteristic that endeared you to the him in the first place. The elderly were so often overlooked and written off, but when one only cared enough to listen, they would find themselves enriched with experiences no history book could ever compete with.

“…So how do you two know each other?”

Your attention was dragged back into the conversation so fast you might have given yourself whiplash. You blinked a few times as the Mirialan watched Mando with a clueless smile on his face, completely ignorant to the stiff body beside him.

“Coercive medical attention.” You choked a bit on the sip of water you had taken to buy yourself some time to think; coercive? That rotten---

“Ah, you were a difficult patient, were you?” Biran chuckled, knowing your methods well, “Sweet as pie if you do as your told, but the minute you resist she’ll go for you like a sand panther. I can’t imagine there was much room for bedside manners in the Rebellion, but thankfully that attitude works well in cities like Mynock.” You spluttered again, putting the glass down since it was out to get you too apparently.

Of all the treacherous--, why were you so nice to this old sod again? You would show him a sand panther when you ‘forget’ to buy his favorite tea next time you went shopping.

You seethed to yourself, leaning back in the armchair you had perched yourself on earlier, flyaway hairs from the breeze outside falling into your face which you blew away with a frustrated breath.

“Hm, a panther?” Your eyes rose as the low baritone filled the air after Biran had finished having his laugh at your expense. Mando cocked his head pensively to the side as he looked at you briefly, “More like a kitten, I’d say.” And with that, he looked away.

He didn’t bother saying anything else after that, content with letting Biran’s laughter fill the room and smother the tense silence the two of you were sitting in.

You could feel your cheeks heating up once more as you glared daggers at the tin can in front of you. Why did it feel like you were being simultaneously insulted and flirted with? You couldn’t make the distinction, so you didn’t know how to respond.

Instead, you decided to poke at a different part of the conversation.

“For someone who was coerced, you sure do find yourself on my table quick enough when you need treatment.” Your eyes ran up and down the length of his body candidly when he looked back at you, “and when you don’t need treatment, evidently.”

You smirked when the Mandalorian clenched a fist on his thigh, the third occupant in the room seemingly forgotten as Mando hissed,

“I never asked for your help.”

You scoffed and decided not to deign that with a response.

“Besides, I only stopped over for supplies and fuel.” He admitted and a treacherous part of you sunk a bit at the honesty in his voice. Seeing you was just a coincidence, like always. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air and you fought the twinge of sadness that chased you because of them.

Biran looked between the two of you before standing shakily and patting the Mandalorian on the shoulder with no hesitation, “Allow us to provide you with something extra for your travels then.” He turned his wrinkled face towards you with a smile, the deep groves of his crow’s feet increasing as he nodded to the bags of forgotten groceries, “I think our guest should try the crab. Knowing you, you bought too much as usual.”

You flushed at being caught out, were you really that predicable?

“There’s no need. I got what I came for so, I’ll be going now.” Mando stood fluidly despite his armor, and you were once again struck with how different it was seeing him injured as opposed to healthy. You felt you needed to get used to his presence all over again, with how much it filled the room.

“Thank you, for your hospitality.” He tipped his helmet towards Biran, his voice still rather gruff but laced with a polite softness uncharacteristic to him. Biran waved him off and started making his way back out to the practice when he heard the binary from his medi-droid welcoming a new patient.

That left the two of you standing in a room that suddenly felt much too small for the tension that hung around you both like a blanket. You moved into the kitchen to separate the food you would keep and the food you would give to Mando on one of the countertops, tying the bag tightly by the straps so that it stayed clean and fresh when you were done. You couldn’t hear him move, but you could feel the slight disturbance of the air when he leaned his shoulder casually against the doorframe, arms crossed enticingly once more as he watched you.

“So… what did he call you again? A sand… kitten, was it?”

“Oh, shut up.” You growled over your shoulder at him before turning and shoving the bag with two of the Berbersian crabs and some herbs you knew went well with them, into his hands.

“I don’t need these.” He held the bag out, straightening his stance as he pushed himself from the doorframe. You wisely ignored him.

“All you need is a pan. And water. And heat. Boil them and actually give your body some proper nutrients, would you?”

You explained as you began leading him out towards the private entrance of the residence, through the small kitchen and out into an alleyway that gave you an immediate sense of déjà vu the moment Mando stepped outside. The sun was still beating down and it glinted across the helmet that was becoming as recognizable as a face to you.

“In case you didn’t realize, I’m perfectly healthy.” He replied smoothly, getting his bearings as he examined the alleyway and noted the sounds from the nearby street as the direction he needed to go.

“That’d be a first.” You griped at him, but there was no venom in your words, and he knew it.

You knew he was about to leave, and the suddenness of his departure was as jarring as his arrival. You didn’t know why you felt the need to stall, and you pushed that urge down rapidly in the face of the warrior when he looked back at you from assessing the street not a few feet away.

You sighed and let out a chuckle, wondering again how this man constantly came barreling into your life, disrupting the precarious peace you had brokered while here. You might have said it was a nuisance, but deep down, you knew that he brought a breath of life back into yours every time he crossed your path, reinvigorated the aimless routine you found yourself in. It was unsettling, the way this man had wormed his way into being such a… significant presence in your life. Even after only meeting him three times and always under less than pleasant circumstances.

Part of you wanted to tell him he could stay longer if he wanted; but you knew he would refuse.

Part of you wanted to tell him to be safe; but you knew he wouldn’t be.

Part of you wanted to tell him that you would see him around; but you knew that you probably wouldn’t.

So you settled on a lackluster, “good luck on your hunt” with a small smile as a peace offering for the fraught bickering you always seemed to fall into with him. A peace offering, he seemed to accept as he lifted the bag silently and looked inside,

“Pan. Water. Heat. Right?” His own attempt made your smile grow as you chuckled and nodded,

“You got it, sunshine.”

He nodded once in affirmation while you moved around him back towards the door of the practice. For some reason, you didn’t want to watch him walk away this time. It was easier for you to leave instead. A rumble of your name from the Mandalorian had you looking over your shoulder at him questioningly, the blush that had risen to your cheeks at the sound of your name on his lips not lost on Mando. He had turned back towards you when you moved and after a beat, spoke again.

“See you next time.”

And just like that, your chest hollowed, and a warmth filled you. The weight of his words were like an embrace, a reassurance you didn’t know you needed. Had needed, for longer than you probably knew. It was something secure and encouraging in these times of change and uncertainty, and you felt yourself cling to those words like a lifeline.

The placid nod you offered him with a gentle smile was all he stuck around for. Spinning on his heels, he took off towards the streets of Mynock once more, disappearing in a flash of beskar and steel and for once, you didn’t ponder about possibly seeing him again. You knew you would.

Din settled back into the pilots’ chair of the Razor Crest twenty minutes later, running through the familiar process of flying the ship out of the atmosphere and into the comfort of space, eager to escape into hyperdrive as soon as he was clear enough from Dandoran.

See you next time?

He groaned leaned his head back against the chair, staring up at the ceiling of the cockpit, his brows drawn low over his eyes as he frowned. What possessed him to offer that promise, he didn’t know. Maybe it was the way your eyes had dimmed slightly when he was about to leave, or when you had wished him luck on a job he was still so uncertain about. Maybe it was the way you blushed when he said your name.

Or maybe it was just because he wanted to see you again too.

And that was the most troubling reason of all.

Din didn’t do friends, he had acquaintances and colleagues even if the term was tenuous. He had the covert and the foundlings, but he didn’t have people he actually wished to see. Never trusted anyone beyond what they could each offer one another. You hadn’t looked for anything from him, and it was unsettling. He didn’t know if he could trust you, years of training and experience told him otherwise. But from the old memories of you pressing Raquor’daan poison from his wound to the teasing friendship you displayed with the old Mirialan, his resolve softened a little.

His eyes flicked to the rapidly shrinking planet he was leaving.

Trust was too strong a word right now, but respect… he could admit that he respected you. And that alone put you on a very short list of people, one he was sure you would never truly understand the importance of.

And he was right.

You would never know the significance of being on that very short list of people, but in that moment, Din’s grudging respect for you set both of your lives on a very different course than either of you ever anticipated; one that revolved around a very special, very small, green child.

Once Dandoran had faded sufficiently behind the Razor Crest, he keyed in the co-ordinates to the far reaches of the Outer Rim and entered hyperspace and after several days of travel, he finally struck beskar when the tracking fob starting beeping as he coasted through space. He smirked behind his helmet as he changed direction and noted the closest planet on his navicomputer where his bounty was hidden.

Arvala-7.

Gotcha.

Stitches Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel​ @sarahjkl82-blog @gracie7209​ @nova646 @pychedelic-rainbow

[mystic-sky]

You stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. You could barely hear yourself think. You’d been attempting to sober up for some odd 20 minutes, whilst the pumping music faded through the tiled walls.

You’d drank plenty of water, and finally felt everything coming back to you. Once the writing on the walls started making sense again, you exited the room. The music finally filtered clear and you walked outside. 

You ran a hand through your hair, seeing your friends dancing in the distance. You were having a lot of fun actually. The only thing that slowed you down was the urge to pee a while ago. And once you felt yourself stumbling towards the bathroom, you realized it was time to chill for a bit.

You walked through a sea of people towards the bar on the terrace again, feeling like a new woman. You ordered a non-alcoholic drink with a sprite substitute for your base, sitting on the stool closest to the end against the wall.

You threw your head back, taking the deepest breath and looking at the sky. 

“Whew...” You sighed. “I almost got shit faced again.”

You heard a laugh from two stools away. You snapped your head towards the only other person on the terrace bar with you. He’d surely been sitting there when you walked past just now. But you were in your own world, and you were thirsty so you hadn’t noticed him.

“Did you just laugh at me?” You quizzed at the white haired gentleman just a few feet from you. 

He turned towards you, giving you a toothy grin. “Yeah, cause it was funny.”

You stared at him, wondering why he had the blindfold on. It dawned upon you that he was probably blind, and you didn’t want to be rude.

“Yeah, I guess it was.” You giggled in the most non-confrontational way possible.

“Good for you, though. Knowing your limits.” He said, taking a sip of his own drink. “Ugh. Yo,  bar tender, could make this a little sweeter?”

You didn’t know many guys that liked their drinks brimming with sugar like that. Then it dawned upon you about how unconventional and unsafe it was for a blind man to be at a club. He could get roofied and kidnapped and he wouldn’t know a thing. You looked down at his legs. He doesn’t even have a cane.

“Are you here alone?” You asked, almost worried for the guy. 

“Are you?” He asked smugly. Was he... hitting on you?

You instinctively adjusted your bodycon dress. It barely covered your butt when you sat down like that, making you place your purse above your lap. But then you remembered, he’s blind.

“No. My friends and I planned this party.” You asked. “Who invited you?” 

“A friend of a friend who knew my friend’s cousin, who told my friend and I that we should definitely come to this party in Shibuya City.” He explained whilst shooting you another cheeky smile. 

“Uh huh...” you slurred. You plopped your head down on the table, staring at him while you leaned on your arm. He was kind of cute, for a blind guy, you thought. You felt a little insensitive for putting it that way in your head. He had this mysterious vibe about him. 

The bar tender set your syrupy drink beside you, but you just continued to look at him.

“I hope that’s just soda.” The white haired male quizzed, picking up a skewered piece of fruit from his drink as the bar tender placed his cup back beside him.

You rolled your eyes, “Yup, just sprite and high fructose corn syrup.” 

“You’re cute.” He said, chuckling deeply. You felt your face heating up. His voice was buttery smooth. You wanted to make more conversation with him but you just shyly sat up and hugged your straw with your mouth. 

Your eyes caught on his jawline. God damn, you thought. You felt like you could ogle as long as you wanted, what was he gonna do about it?

His face is pretty proportionate. He could model if he wanted. His legs looked long on the stool, and he had broad shoulders. He probably could model, you thought. He surely had the height for it.

It wasn’t til he turned towards you and stuck his tongue out that you jumped a little. Just as he was about to say something, you heard a cellphone notification sound, and you frantically reached towards your purse. 

“Ah, that’s me.” He said, fishing his phone out his pocket. You watched him unlock his phone, and send a text.

“Wait, you’re not blind?!” You said, somehow feeling a little violated. You were the one staring through his soul this entire time.

“Is that what you thought?” He chuckled. “I was just about to ask you if you were checking me out, or possibly still feeling tipsy.”

You were at lost for words, feeling stupid. It was normal for you to assume he couldn’t see.

“Who the hell wears a blindfold to a party?”

“Hmmmm, maybe the birthday person? If it’s a surprise party. And then there’s me. I do that.” He grins.

You have a mortified look on your face, earning another laugh from him.

“If it makes you feel better, I think you’re attractive too.” He cocked his head to the side, holding his cheek in his palm.

“Thank you...” You said, head feeling hotter than it did when you were drunk in the bathroom earlier.

“I was just about to leave too. I wasn’t having that good of a time. Not to sound rude though, you and your friends planned a good party. I just finished playing wingman earlier and I was bored as hell.”

“It’s okay.. I get it.” You said, sheepishly bringing your straw to your lips again.

“Was...” He spoke again. “I was bored. Til this sweet baby girl sat beside me. Now, I’m intrigued.”

“You’re the intriguing one. I can’t even see half of your face.” You blurted out through red cheeks. He talked with such finesse. You crossed you legs, and he bit his lip playfully at you. 

“Ahh, I suppose I could show you. You wanna see that bad?” He licked his lips, leaning forward a bit. Though there were two seats between you, you still pressed your back against the wall. 

You slowly swallowed. “I mean... I wouldn’t mind it.”

“Honey, it’s yes or no. Are you as curious about me as I am about you?”

You couldn’t lie. You knew he was attractive even with the blindfold. But the eyes are the window to the soul right? What kind of man were you sitting with right now?

“Let’s bargain a little, yeah? When was the last time you did something crazy, hmm?” He hummed.

You didn’t know, you were so concentrated on the idea of seeing his face. And he’s changing the subject, but he’s still looking right at you, putting you on the spot.

“Define crazy.” You said.

“Skinny dipping, going home with a stranger, robbing a convenience store, you know- crazy shit.”

You burst out laughing at how he smoothly threw that in there. He chuckled along with you. 

“It’s been a few hours.” You say, crossing your legs in the opposite direction. 

“I like that answer.” He says. “So, if I show you what’s under this blindfold of mine, would you consider coming home with me?”

You were crazy for even considering it when he casually mentioned it the first time. You had no idea who he was, and he could murder you as soon as you both left. 

But your gut hadn’t been doing it’s usual thing for the first time in a while. You were nervous, but not because you were scared. He was simply a smooth guy. 

“Alright. Let’s see that mug of yours.” You cross your arms.

He lets out a throaty laugh. “Okay, 

sweetheart.” 

He moves one stool closer towards you and leans on the counter. No one else but you could see his face from this angle. He slowly reached his finger up to pull down the fabric.

He definitely knew how to drag on the moment.

“Or better yet, let’s let the lady of the evening do it, shall we?” He said, bringing his large hands to cover yours. They were hot, and your heart was racing. He lifted both of your hands towards his face.

“Go on, sweets.” You nervously put your fingers  into the fabric, sliding it down over his nose and mouth.

****🌏👄🌏 〰️👄〰️ 🌊👄🌊****

You were star struck. The words were dry on your tongue. He was stupendously beautiful. So beautiful you thought it was unfair. His eyes coaxed you further towards him. You could somehow see everything in them, and nothing but blue at the same time. 

He brought you back to reality when he stuck his tongue out at you. 

“Like what you see?” 

“You’re... gorgeous..” You managed to say through blushing cheeks, sitting back up straight.

“Thank you~” 

“Alright. That’s enough for now. Don’t want you passing out on me.” He slid the blindfold back up, earning a slight dissatisfied whine from you. 

“So, are you down?” He asked, putting his face right back in his palm, grinning from ear to ear. He was honest, and normally you thought you’d be offended by someone blatantly asking you to sleep with them.

Your legs stood up, pulling down what you could of your black bodycon dress.

“You better show me a good time, or I’ll give you the worst review of your life.” You adjusted your purse strap on your shoulder, swaying your hips and offering him a playful smile. The alcohol that wasn’t digested yet gave you a boost of confidence, you passed some hair behind your ears, looking down at him.

“My sex speaks for itself.” He stood up, towering above you and putting out his arm for you to hold. You blushed before loosely wrapping your hand around it. It’s like he had a response for everything, you thought.

“Lucky for you I don’t live too far from here. So you’ll get everything you’re fantasizing about real soon.” He bent down, whispering to you.

How could he be so sure he was going to pleasure you? A stranger he was, he didn’t even know your name, nonetheless how and where you liked to be touched the most.

What a cocky little-

“By the way, my name is Gojo Satoru.” He lifted  his blindfold on one side and peered down at you. You’d heard of the name before, but it could be pure coincidence.

“(Name).” You looked away, blushing yet again under his gaze. 

“Cute as hell.” He bent down towards your face. “Why don’t we tell your friends that you’re leaving with me, hmmm?”

He walked through the bar with you on his arm, finding your friends. They were in awe at the snack you’d found, realizing who he was far before you did. They coaxed you to go for it. 

You turned on your location, and he assured them he’d bring you home. 

Then you were in his car, which was incredibly spick and span. You anxiously pressed your thighs together. It smelled of new car and pine scent. Such a guy thing, you thought.

“Are you nervous?” He asked. He turned on the radio, attempting to lighten the mood. 

“No, your car is just nice.” You pouted, looking out the tinted windows.

“I know right?” He grinned. “Man I love this song.”

Cocky was an understatement.

You realized that one of your favorite songs had been playing. You watched him confidently sing the lyrics.

“You don’t know it?” He asked, turning towards you.

“Of course I do. It’s my favorite.” You say proudly. 

“I knew there was something I liked about you.” He said, humming soon after.

“Ditto. You have decent music taste.” You said. 

You both vibed, and eventually he pulled into a parking garage of a fancy apartment building you surely knew you couldn’t afford to rent.

“You live here?” You asked, as he opened the door for you. He gently took hold of your hand before speaking.

“Yup. Feel free to come visit me whenever after tonight.”

“What makes you so sure I’ll be coming back?” You stood up, looking up at him as you pulled your dress down once more.

“You will. I just know.” He chuckled. 

“You get around a lot, don’t you Satoru?” You quiz, watching him close the car door and click the button on his keys. 

“Here and there. I work more than I’d like to.” He said motioning you to hook yourself onto his arm again.

You wanted to ask him more about his line of work, but he quickly spoke again.

“I just realized you called me by my first name. What a cutie~” He teased.

“What did you want me to call you?” You asked, heels clicking as you both walked towards the elevator. 

“If you were my lover, a plethora of things. For now, you can call me whatever you want.”

You poked your cheek with your tongue. “Then I choose your first name.”

“A classic.” He said, pressing the button on the top floor. 

“What do your other mistresses call you?” You peered up at him.

“Charming, sometimes cocky.” He looked down at you. This guy was something else.

“You know what I meant.” You said, gripping his arm a bit. 

“Lighten up, honey. It’s all about you right now.” 

“Do you think you’ll ever get married?” You realized it wasn’t a tasteful question to ask in this moment, but you hoped to get some insight about him depending on his answer.

“Most definitely. My family expects me to have the strongest offspring.” He said, cocking his head back in frustration. 

“You don’t want to get married?” You ask.

“I do. But not for reasons like that.” He said, exiting the elevator with you. You caught on to what he meant. 

“So what would it take for you to fall in love?” 

“You make it sound like you want to be a contender.” He smugly smiled at you. 

“I get sappy when I’m tipsy.” You blurt out, ears hot and looking in the opposite direction.

He let out a hearty laugh. “As for your question, someone who understands me, which is kind of hard for most people. Oh, and a good sense of humor.”

You hummed, wondering if you fit the bill. You were just here for the sex, but his whole vibe piqued your interest. The blindfold, money, and the name you heard rumors about. He was handsome too, gracing you by allowing you to see his eyes. He seemed to have it all. And all this talk eluding to how he was about to rock your world made you a little nervous.

Could you deliver anything for him besides your body? 

You watched him fish out his keys and slide them into the door knob. A blast of cool air hit your skin and the scent of suede and leather furniture found your nose. You stepped inside, leaving your heels at the door. 

“What did you say you do for a living again?” You peered back at him, watching him hang his jacket and shutting the door.

“I’m an accountant.” He says slyly. You let out a laugh, and he knows you didn’t believe him, nor did he expect you to.

You left it at that, watching him approach the kitchen. He washes his hands, and motioned you to do the same. “Can I get you anything? I can make you something if you’re hungry.”

You shook your head. “You can cook?”

“In the midst of my survival, it became a necessity, alas’ I learned.” He said sarcastically, taking out two bottles of water. He set one in front of you anyway and took some gulps from his own.

“Couldn’t you have said ‘yes, my parents taught me’ like a normal person?” You said, sitting on the stool by the island.

“I could have. But I’m far from normal, if you couldn’t tell.” He pulled down his blind fold and set it on the island countertop, exposing his face again.

“Why do you wear it... if you don’t mind me asking...” 

“I’m sensitive to light. Sometimes I wear glasses. It’s a mood.” He was lying, and you knew. You didn’t actually expect him to tell you the truth. You weren’t particularly bothered either. There were plenty of things he didn’t know about you.

“Is there anything you want to ask me?” You say, tapping your fingers on the bottled water. 

He placed a hand on his chin. 

“Are you allergic to latex?” He leaned directly across from you.

“No...” You smirked. “That was thoughtful.”

“That’s just the kind of guy I am.” He chuckled lightly. He slid around the table, closer towards you.

“Mhmmm.” You say, looking up at him. It was hard to stay focused. Why did he have to be so good looking? You could see the skin of his chest through his white t-shirt when he leaned over you like that. You tugged at your bottom lip.

“Actually, there’s one other thing.” He was so close his hair nearly touched your forehead. You could smell faint remnants of fruity alcohol and mint. You never even saw him pop one into his mouth. 

And to guess what it could be, you had no clue. How could someone be so open but so hard to unveil at the same time? 

“And what might that be?” The response is barely audible, made for only him to hear it.

“What would it take for you to fall in love?” 

You were taken aback. All this time you honestly couldn’t tell how genuinely interested he was in you other than how you looked.

“You really wanna know?” You said, leaning towards him a little. His lashes were so long, he was so pretty he put your looks to shame- at least you felt that way.

“I asked you, didn’t I?” He said, cocking his to the side in the most kiddish, yet charming way ever.

“Someone who could make me feel safe. A good listener, a good communicator, and someone whose funny. And then I cross my fingers and hope for the sex to be good.”  You explain. He laughs a bit before speaking.

“And I just happen to be here right in front of you. Quite the coincidence, don’t you think?” He curls his lips into a sly smile.

“You’ve yet to show me a few things. The sex may or may not be a dealbreaker.” You roll your eyes. 

He brought a hand to your chin, touching noses with you now. “Alright, let me show you why I’m the best.”

He pulled your lips in for a soft kiss. His lips were smooth and slightly slick from whatever chapstick he was using. You had wanted him to kiss you so badly, growing anxious of the sexual tension between the conversations you were having. His teeth pulled against your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. The pressure from the suction sent messages to the nerves in the pit of your stomach. It wasn’t often someone could give you pleasure in your core from a kiss.

You let out delicate whine, making him let go and press his forehead against yours. 

“How was that?” He asked. The tone behind it clearly displayed that he knew he had gotten to you but he had asked you anyway, just because.

“Terrible.” You say, adverting your gaze from his eyes and towards his rosy lips.

“Guess I have to try again.” He says, taking hold of your mouth with his once again. He’s closer to your body now, touching and swirling his fingers down your back. He sent chills down your spine, sucking and pulling firmly at your lips. 

His tongue fell into your mouth somehow, and you welcomed it. You found yourself trying to stick your tongue in his mouth, oddly invested in making him see you had been a decent kisser yourself. Your hands were living in his hair, around his neck. You weren’t shy to touch him at all. 

“Look whose all over me.”  He smirked.

“You’re supposed to be showing me something, right?” You tugged at his shirt, earning a laugh from him.

He dipped his head down towards your lips again, continuing his tongue work for you. He snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You slipped out the stool, on your top toes. Your chest pressing against his, you could feel his heart beat. You could smell his shampoo, his cologne. All of it filled your brain. Your body felt like some sort of electric current connecting with his as soon as skin touched skin. You draped your arms around his neck, realizing just how touch starved you actually were. 

He had been pumping life into you and sucking it out at the same time. His large hot hands began running up and down the exposed back skin of your dress. 

"Jump." He barely broke the kiss whilst ordering you.

You hopped best you could, and his hands found the back of your knees. You wrapped your legs around his torso before feeling large hot hands cup your ass cheeks. Your dress riding up this far was inevitable, but you couldn’t help but let out a small yelp when he clutched your butt like that. 

He pulled away from the kiss for a moment, “Are you gonna make cute sounds like that the whole time?” 

“Are you gonna keep making commentary about it?” You mulled.

He squeezed your butt again, this time smacking the left side. “Only if you want me to.”

“You’ve been making these cute little noises the whole night. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, it’s driving me nuts.” He adds, spinning you away from where you both had been standing. 

You couldn’t say anything, and with him being so close you could only pan your glance else where. 

“And blushing so hard just like that. It’s precious.” He cocked his head in the direction you looked away from him in.

“Can you go back to kissing me?” You requested, a feeble attempt to get him to stop talking about your flushed cheeks. 

“So cute.” He cooed.

“It’s actually more unfair how good looking you are, you know that?” You managed to say.

He stuck his tongue out, shooting a wink at you. 

You eagerly kissed him, taking his tongue into your mouth. He let out a low moan against your lips. You were suddenly eager to please him, you tightened you legs around him, grinding almost. You felt him walking through the condo space. His tongue took control again, swirling around yours. You were lost in his kiss when your back connected with cool fabric. He laid you down on the bed, your small body sinking into the fluff.

“I’m about to spoil you rotten.” He sat up above you, removing his shirt and tossing it to the floor. He was fitter than you expected. Pale skin with hues of pink here and there. You wondered what his skin routine was. Or maybe it was genetics? It was a bit nerve-racking. He seemed to be this perfect human being, physically speaking.

He lowered himself to your neck, putting his hot mouth against your skin. He sucked at the soft skin, nipping it with his teeth. He cupped one of your breasts, squeezing and massaging firmly. You were ecstatic he was finally touching you. As you rubbed your hand against his smooth chest his tongue found your sweet spot. You whined again, earning a hum from him.

You felt him drag his mouth down your neck resting sweet kisses between your mounds. 

“May I?” He asked, tugging the bottom of your dress. You nodded. You sat up, pulling the thing off yourself. 

“Getting impatient I see.” He said, passing his thumb over your chin.

“Hurry it up.” You roll your eyes again.

“Maybe I want our first time to be special.” He teased. 

“I didn’t pin you as the sentimental type.” You say.

“I’m a man of mysteries, but you know that already.” He said, pressing his lips to yours again. 

Your hands gently held the sides of his head, kissing him back. His hair was undeniably soft as silk. He broke away from your mouth, kissing your collarbone instead. His large hands took to your breasts again, exposing one of your nipples to the cool air. They were already hard and swelling to be touched.

He placed his wet mouth onto it, sucking and flicking his tongue against the thing. You were squirming beneath him. Aching to be stimulated else where, your underwear was damp from your core, pooling between your legs.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting you slightly while he sucked. Your placed your hands on the back of his head, almost patting him for doing so well. You whimpered softly, attempting to grind against him to give yourself some sort of stimulation down there. 

“I’ve got you, baby. You’ll get all of it. Be a good girl and hold out for me.” He said, looking up at you. You wish you could’ve watched the slick words fall from his lips, but you couldn’t see them under your breasts. 

You gave him a bashful nod. You were beginning to melt under his touch. You didn’t know what came over you, but you were ready to submit to him. Your needy and throbbing pussy was draining the bratty energy right out of you. He hadn’t done much, but you were ready to do whatever he asked of you.

You felt him unhook your bra whilst he sucked and massaged your mounds. The fabric slid off your body as he mumbled against your skin. “So sexy.” 

“You’re the sexy one.” You told him, knowingly feeding his ego.

“Thank you.” He said proudly, setting you down flat again. You watched him trail his lips down your stomach, leaving kisses in some places” He was feathering and brushing his lips on the skin more than actually kissing it, just to tease you.

He placed his fingers under the hem of your underwear, pulling them down and exposing your sweet sex. Your wetness dribbled onto the bed as he slid the fabric down your thighs and past your ankles.

“Are you this wet all the time?” You watched him cock an eyebrow through his bangs. You bit your lip. 

“You talk too much.” You turned your head. 

“You think so?” He said, spreading your legs and dipping his head towards your sex. He split your sticky, wet folds with two fingers, exposing your clit and pressing the flat of his tongue against it in an upward flick. 

“Mmm.. nnh...” You moan, showing him that you liked it. 

He hummed back at you before pressing a kiss to your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue over it. He pulled you down towards the edge of the bed, mouth still buried onto you. One arm wrapped around your body, hand cradling your rib cage. His other hand pinning one of your legs as far back as he thought you could manage. 

“Ahh... fuck.. ah...” You cursed. You wondered where he learned to eat pussy like that. You were trembling in his arms, raking your hands through his hair and undercut. 

He slipped a finger into you, curling against the roof of your sex, causing your spine to curl in response. You let out a cracked and broken moan, much to his liking.

He inserted another finger into you, allowing more slick to collect onto his hand and into the bed. He was so good, you sat up with the bit of strength you had just to watch him eat it. His deep, azure ocean eyes were resting on your frame the whole time, waiting for you to cum.

“Just like that...” Your eyes rolled back, you were reaching your end. You started clenching around his fingers and throbbing against his tongue. 

“G’head. Cum for me.” He parted his lips from your sex for only a second, flicking and sliding his fingers in and out of you.

Your body obeyed, releasing onto his hands and tongue. He kept at it, overstimulating you as he watched you ride out your orgasm.

When he finally ripped his fingers and tongue from you, you were a panting mess. 

“I’ve got a lot more for you.” You watched him lick the slick from his fingers. He towered above your body, tilting his to the side before speaking again.

“But do you need to rest?” He seemed genuinely concerned for your weak body. He almost thought he should’ve held back a little. Maybe just the tongue would’ve been fine, he thought.

“I’m fine.” You say, partially dazed. He’s definitely something else, you think.

“We can keep going.” You sit up, pushing him backwards. 

“Pants. Take them off.” You demand. 

“Anything you say.” He’s delighted, unbuckling and stripping the rest of his clothes for you. Your eyes twitch at his size. He was part animal without question- he had to be. You’d seen your share of sizes, but you couldn’t humble this guy even if you tried. 

“Are you kidding me,” you mutter. “Is there anything you don’t have?” 

“I hate to break it to you, but no.” He complacently smiled. You found yourself laughing a little before he spoke again.

“Actually, a wife and kids,” he said, turning towards one of his dressers, digging inside. 

“And frankly, I’d like to keep it that way.” He said, ripping the condom wrapper with his teeth. You watched him slide the rubber over and down his shaft. 

“That’s a little disappointing...” the words fell from your lips without you realizing. 

“Again, eventually. I’d like to start off with a girlfriend first, obviously.” His response triggered a mental face palm on your part, making you realize you’d said what you said out loud.

You felt like a teenage girl. Why did a little part of you decide he was husband material just from him eating you out? He’s still a stranger. A naked one, but a stranger. 

“You’re adorable.” He said, climbing above you. “You’ve got a crush on me now?” 

“Get to fucking.” You tugged at his ear, clearly agitated. He dipped his head towards your ear and whispered, 

“That’s okay. I’ve got a crush on you, too.”

The urge to cover your face in embarrassment was strong. He chuckled, “it definitely should be crime for anyone to be this precious.”

“You’re making my heart squeeze, looking all cute like that.” He took hold of his member in his hand, pressing and sliding it through your wet folds. 

“Alright, I’ve made you wait long enough.” He said, penetrating himself into you. Your hot sex slowly wrapped around his length, you wrapped your arms around him bracing yourself for the sharp pain that followed. You let out painful squeak.

“Oh shit- I’m so sorry sweetheart.” He shushed you. He pressed soft kisses to your cheeks and neck. You were surprised at how tender he was  being. His delicate side was seeping out at the seams.

“I’m okay... Just give me a moment.” You say, your heart skipped a beat as you adjusted to his size. He caressed you ears and kept giving you soft kisses on your face and neck.

“If you keep that up I might fall in love with you.” You tease, but apart of you meant it.

“You might.” He said, earning yet another bashful look from you.

“You can move now.” You assured him, nuzzling more into the bed. He braced his hips back before pumping in again, and again, and again. 

He kept poking parts of your vaginal canal that you never even thought possible, like he was scratching this insatiable itch you had for years now. You never knew you could feel this full. 

His lips connected to the skin underneath your ear, sucking and kissing you gently as he thrusted into your hot sex. 

“..so... d-deep... it’s so... deep.” You stuttered through every jab at your core. The heat radiating off of your body felt hot enough to start a fire. If you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought you had a fever. You raked your fingers through the smooth of his undercut and combed through his hair as he fucked you.

“Why the fuck is it so wet?” He groaned into the crook of you neck. Your other arm wrapped around his back, trying so hard not to scratch his delicate skin. You didn’t want to hurt him, nonetheless you couldn’t tell if he’d be okay with it.

Your sweet moans filled the room, which took nicely to his ears. His hips bucked into you quicker, causing ripples of bliss throughout your body. Somehow, your toes were tingling, curling even, and you could feel pleasure in more places than just the center of your sex. You barely knew what to do with your hands, gripping the sheets and pillows around you. 

“You can pull my hair if you want,” he said, lifting himself from the warm space he created between your neck and shoulder. 

You gladly accepted, pulling some hair on the back of his head as he continued to thrust into you. You realized he sort of lead you on, giving you the match to start a fire in him. He shot you the most seductive blue glare as his head jerked back in delight. He bit his lip into a smile, thrusting faster into you.

Your moans went from sweet song to broken and incoherent mess. “T-That’s not f-fair.” 

“When did I ever say I was fair?” 

You felt like he was winning again somehow, not really registering when it became a competition. You wanted to fight back, pulling his hair again, exposing his neck to your mouth. You pressed your mouth to the skin, sucking and biting against it.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, you know that, sweetie?”

He slipped both arms around your body pulling both your bodies up straight. He was still inside you, rocking your body onto his length. He brought his lips back to your neck, sucking and biting against it.

“Ahh...” you panted. “F-fuck, put me down!”

“You’re gonna cum just like this.” He said, bouncing your body up and down his shaft. You didn’t think he could go any deeper, but gravity brought you down onto his length, forcing heavy moans from your lips.

You were lost in his sex, finding yourself bucking your hips back onto his length and grinding forward against him. 

“What a sweet girl, you like that, right? Of course you do.”

You felt yourself reaching another orgasm, and your grinding became erratic against him. 

“Yeah that’s right, grind on it baby.”

You released yourself onto him, leaning forward over his shoulders, panting heavily. 

You were surprised when he laid you back down for a moment, watching him pin both your legs back and over his shoulders. 

“Let’s see if you can take it like this.”

He pumped himself into yet again, earning a ragged moan from your frail self. You could feel him so deep in your guts, you were getting light headed from the overwhelming pleasure. You braced yourself for each thrust as he pounded into you. You juices were splashing with every plunge he made. He sat up, before speaking.

“Hold the back of your legs for me, baby.” He said, watching himself pump into your sopping cunt.

“Such a pretty pussy.” If there was anything Satoru adored most, it had to be watching his partner from an angle like that. He took his thumb and held it to your mouth.

“Suck,” he pressed it to your lips; waiting for you to open your mouth while he fucked you. You let him put his thumb in your mouth while he held your jaw with his large hand. You swirled your tongue around it before he pulled it away and mouthed a ‘thank you’ at you. He placed the slick thumb against your clit for you and rubbed in circles while he pumped. 

You squealed in delight, finding yourself starting to beg him to make you cum again.

“I will honey,” he grinned, “I will.”

Your arms and legs were weak from being pinned back, falling to his sides. You had just enough strength to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down towards you again, connecting his mouth with yours. You begged for his tongue, moaning against his lips. 

“Fuck..” he mumbled into your mouth. You clenched yourself around him. He could feel himself nearing his orgasm but he had promised to spoil you first. It was getting harder for him to fight back the urge to release. 

Your clit was throbbing, and you were dribbling a bit at the mouth. He pulled your bottom lip into his, sucking hard. You couldn’t hold it any longer. 

“You’re cumming again, aren’t you? Moan my name for me, pretty please?”

The pace of his thrusts didn’t falter, giving you the final orgasm you so desperately deserved. You screamed his name, voice cracking whilst he battered your pussy.

Your voice was hoarse, riding your orgasm out as he approached his. It was enough to send him over the edge, satiating his ego and so much more. You’re throbbing erratically, and all he could feel was his cock being gulped swallowed by you. He shuddered against your lips, releasing himself into the rubber he wore inside you. 

He collapsed beside you. Your brain was cloudy from pleasure. You watched his chest rise and fall as he peered and panted back at you, holding his member in his hand. He slid the condom off and tossed it to the floor.

You were alarmed he was still hard. You could barely move, hips gyrating and insides throbbing a muck. Trying your best to gather your thoughts, you turned your body towards him. 

“Will I be getting my review now or later?” He snickered, damp bangs sticking to his forehead. You took hold of the nearest pillow, and slammed it onto his face. 

“Later I presume?” He laughs. “I’ll give you time to think it over.”

You would be thinking about it for while. It wasn’t often you’d meet someone who delivered on everything they said they’d do. It was uncanny how perfect he was. Could you fall for him because of it? Or should you keep your qualms to yourself and try to forget everything about tonight? And now that you remembered, he told you he had a crush on you, or was he egging you on in the spur of the moment?

“Do you want a t-shirt?” He asked, breaking you out of your thoughts. He had already managed to get some underwear on while you laid there lost in thought.

“A t-shirt?” You say, puzzled. Your arms go to cover your bare chest as you sit up, hair completely messy. 

“I’m kind of tired. I thought I could drive you home in the morning instead.” He yawned, pulling on some sweat pants. 

“You’re not kicking me out?” You say, catching the shirt he tossed you as he tied the strings to his pants. 

“Just what do you take me for?” He said, cocking his head to the side. You were starting to wonder if his neck hurt. You watched him bend down and pull out what seemed like a hot towel from an incubator and hand it to you. 

“I can wipe you up if you’d like. Front to back!”

“I’ve got it.” You say nervously, wiping the insides of your damp thighs. 

You slid the gray t-shirt over your head, “And I dunno, I just thought this is where the night would end for me.”

“Sweetie, I literally just told you that I like you. Did you forget?”

“Y-You were serious?” You stutter. 

“Did you not want me to be?” He casually walks towards a mini fridge sitting in the corner. He pulled out two more bottles of water and handed one to you whilst drinking his own.

“It’s not that at all, it’s just we hardly know each other and-

“So you do like me?” He quizzed.

“I mean I wouldn’t say that I don’t but-

“So we can work out the details later.” He grinned. 

You facepalmed. He looked down at you as you sat there on the edge of the bed before letting out a sigh.

“Why don’t you drink some water and then we can get ready for bed? Unless you really want to go home. I’ll drive you. Tell me what you want, it’s no problem at all.”  He kneeled in front of you, showing you that he did have compassionate side. 

You couldn’t lie, you did want to lay in bed with him. It wasn’t a matter of trust anymore. You felt confident that he wouldn’t hurt you. You were more concerned that he decided he liked you on the spot like that. Actually, you were more concerned that you decided you liked him on the spot like that.

“I’m staying. I’m tired too.” You smiled. “I wasn’t trying to fuss. I do like you a lot.” A little more than you should, but you decided to leave that part out. 

“Then that settles it.” He smiles back, holding your chin. “Now, it’s important to stay hydrated! Especially after a work out!” 

He held the water up to your mouth.

“I can do it myself.” You say, grabbing the water out of his hands, taking a few swigs. He holds up his hands in defense.

“Well, the bathroom is down the hall to the left. You can also use my personal bathroom, which is through that door right there. I also have spare tooth brushes too!” He assured you.

“So you do do this often. Hmph.” You say, laying back on the bed. 

“Girls have it rough. I try my best to have the necessities.” He shrugged, laying beside you. Your eyes drag down towards his bare chest skin before looking right back up towards his eyes.

“I can also go sleep in the other room if you need more security.” He suggests.

“I was looking forward to sleeping with you in here.” You say quietly.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

You glared at him, acknowledging that you know that he heard you and you wouldn’t repeat yourself. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” He laughed. He tucked himself underneath the covers before lifting the other side and patting the empty space for you. 

You crawled up and slid underneath the cool fabric. He reached over your body to turn the lights off. 

He snuggled himself down to your height and you could still faintly see his face.

“Comfy?” You nodded shyly. His bed was undeniably firm yet fluffy. 

“Good.” He smiled.

He’d been so kind yet so arrogant at the same time. Just how were you going to figure him out? He said there was time to work out the details, but your head still spun a thousand miles a minute. For someone who had it all, and clearly many secrets, he was seemingly cheery. You had no idea what bothered this guy. But he’d taken a liking to you somehow. And you couldn’t stop blushing at the fact that he literally just fucked you senseless and now he’s smiling at you in his bed like nothing happened. 

You inhaled and exhaled deeply, earning a confused look from him.

“10/10 oral experience. 10/10 sexual experience. 10/10 aftercare experience. 8.5/10 for not giving me pants. Overall rating is 9.6/10. Would come again.” 

“You could’ve asked for pants,” He smirked getting up. You tugged his arm, shaking your head.

“You’re gonna let all the heat out. Stay.” 

“But my score? I deserve a 10/10.” He argued playfully. 

You wrapped your arm around him, pulling him back down underneath the blanket with you.

“Here’s your extra credit. Cuddle with me until the morning. It might change your grade.

Results may vary.”

He laughed lightly, wrapping his arms around your body. 

“About that ‘would come again’ part. When will that be?” He said, looking down at you. 

“Soon.” You said, burying your head into his chest.

Part 2

[kallulovesu]

Heyooo :) can you do headcannons for a platonic yandere allies ?? Am aroace so that's the kind that floats my boat, also do you ever feel tired of writing ?? Like .. ur so productive, it's awsome but like .. I hope ur doing it cuz u have energy not cuz you have followers waiting 😬 take care Plz ❤❤🥺

For the anon that asked that yandere reader ask, thx u inspired this ask ur idea is rad :3

(A/N:) ahh thank you for the worry anon, but it’s no problem really!💞 I wouldn’t be making as much content if I wasn’t having any fun, since it’ll probably end up feeling more like chore...and I hate doing chores 😭

That one protective friend that makes sure to check up on you every second (but it’s turned up to the extreme and downright becomes unhealthy in some cases)™

It was ironic to him. Out everyone that he had gotten to know over all these years— hell, perhaps even Arthur; you were the only one he felt like understood him the most. Not many seemed to notice what was going on beneath the surface of his facade, which was why he appreciated you being there. You still liked him despite the many flaws that he had, and tried your best being with him even if it became downright tiring. Alfred would be heavily dependent on you because of this, often going to you to cheer him up— or before he was going to make a rash choice.

So it was only natural that he couldn’t see himself being without you.

You were like a best friend to him; Alfred would even go as far as to say that he felt a familial connection between the two of you. So the deep desire to protect you was normal, wasn’t it? Even when he felt himself worrying for your well-being at even the slightest approach of a stranger, it was just his instinct telling him that there was something wrong. It wasn’t anything unhealthy. Thus, would usually drag you away from anyone that he found to be suspicious; even those he was already familiar with. This would probably result in a lot of arguments, with him trying to say what was ‘best for you’ and with you denying that you needed this much...protection. You swore that it almost felt like he was just isolating you from the others, to have you purely depend on him for whatever reason you couldn’t make up.

Alfred can’t handle being apart from you— nonetheless the idea of you being angry with him, or even hating him . It truly didn’t matter if the reason was rather ridiculous or not, the idea of you hating him just...made his stomach churn uncomfortably. You were his best buddy, and basically one of the only ones he could trust with his inner worries; and the risk of it all being taken away from him because of a silly, childish mistake was all it took to send the poor boy into a state of panic. Please don’t leave him, he’d do anything to keep you there with him. Begging, gifting— you name it.

Arthur didn’t completely seem to realize his feelings at first, confusing it with romantic attraction for a little while— before quickly seeming to realize that it was all purely platonic. He did feel a bit protective of you, maybe even possessive...but it had nothing to do with romance, nor lust. It was just him wanting to have someone beside him, someone that he could call a friend. And someone that would never leave his side.

It won’t be hard to notice how...bad his communication skills were; with him often saying things that he didn’t really mean and slightly setting you off. Arthur is stubborn, so it may take some time (and slight teasing at how much he hesitated) for him to actually apologize. You’ll probably get used to it after a while, since he’s one big tsundere.

Saying this out loud was an absolute no-no for this man— but you being around Arthur was often enough to make him the slightest bit happier. It felt a bit lonely at times, especially with less and less people being around him these past few years. So having you as a friend almost felt like a breath of fresh air.

He’s very critical of those you choose to be around with, often analyzing even the smallest of things so he can determine if they’re actually worth being around you. Which more often than not ends up... not being the case. Arthur will tell you to stay away from them; saying that they were suspicious, and probably had something bad in mind. He’ll resort to isolating you if you were to disobey him, trying to take as much of your attention— and perhaps even kidnapping you if the extreme were to happen. You were his one and only best friend, and he had to make sure you were safe. Always.

Totally the big brother type...well, he usually proclaims himself as being one, so it isn’t that much of a surprise.

Francis will make sure to absolutely pamper you with his attention; hanging out with you, sending letters whenever he was too busy...and simply sending gifts from France. He simply couldn’t let you go off feeling unloved!

He adores talking about you; usually going off on a mindless ramble whenever someone even mentions your name, like a proud father showing off his child. Others will usually compare him to one due to how much he adores talking about you— or simply the way that he treats you. Which would quickly be disregarded with a: “oh, I’m no father! They’re just such a nice little friend to have around, who wouldn’t want to praise such a delicate person?”

On a second note....he actually did feel like a father figure to you. Huh.

Francis will often suggest helping you out with your love life, perhaps even gushing over cute guys together that you found on a random dating app— before quickly realizing that he didn’t really want this. Those silly moments were fun and all, but having you talk with someone that could just be out to use you made him a bit angry...and paranoid, mainly the latter. He will make sure that anyone that even so much dares to get close you first gets his approval first. The feeling of a broken heart was all too familiar to him, and he didn’t want you to experience such a thing.

This may result in him checking up on you...an awful lot, making sure that those around you were only the best of the best and wouldn’t end up being bad influence to you. Yes, he truly was like a father.

A sibling-like person in his life that he didn’t feel insecure against and acknowledged him as his own person? Fuck yes!!

Jokes aside— Matthew really does care deeply for you. Perhaps it was due to the Canadian barely having those that he could...truly call close friends, so having you around almost felt like a blessing. Unlike Francis, he won’t really show you off or talk about you much, especially around his brother. The American had already stolen enough from him, so why would he let something like that happen again?

He’s extremely wary of anyone that even so much tries to make a move on you. It’s just...you were someone that he held extremely dear; and having you potentially getting hurt due to some lowlife that managed to slip into your life would absolutely break his heart. Matthew didn’t want to fail in protecting you, he would never forgive himself if something like that were to happen.

Losing you is something that he wishes to avoid completely. He’ll even go as far as kidnapping you if it came down to it, Matthew just couldn’t see himself living happily without you by his side.

Yao likes cute things...and you’re a cute friend, so it’s a perfect match!

But seriously, he thinks that you’re absolutely adorable. Whether it be because of your personality— or your appearance, it really doesn’t end up mattering in the end. You’re his cute little friend, and that’s all that matters!

He’ll often treat you with more, yet gentler care than most of the others around him. He knew that you were well capable of taking care of yourself; but he just couldn’t help but see you as something fragile, something that he had to protect. So you can already imagine how frustrated he gets when someone treats you with even the slightest bit of disrespect— Yao will often confront them immediately, while you awkwardly have to sit back and watch it all. Almost feeling pity for the person that had to endure your friend’s seemingly never-ending complaints.

Oh, he probably doesn’t quite realize how he comes off as a father at times; seeing how much he’ll scold you for the smallest mistakes (while making sure to correct you of course!) and how he usually made decisions for you, making it hard to refuse his gestures due to his pushy nature. But it’ll probably become a normal thing for the two of you as time progresses, since it’s just...how Yao was, you assumed.

His controlling behavior will also reflect on how he treats your personal life. Yao is very selective of who he lets you be around with, so he’ll often look at your acquaintances and friends with a very critical eye, immediately expressing his distaste in them if they were even to do the smallest thing wrong. “Such a brute isn’t worth being around, (y/n).” Yao will warn you to stay away from them, but won’t bring it up any further if you decide to do what he says. If you don’t then...well, he had special friends to help him out with his dirtier work.

Yao might consider kidnapping you if this behavior keeps on repeating, but won’t feel compelled to actually do it unless something bad were to happen.

Ivan will always try his best to be there for you! While it most likely won’t quite work with him being a rather busy person; a country, nonetheless, but he’ll do his upmost best. It was extremely hard for Ivan to make friends that...weren’t scared of him or secretly disliked him, so having you was such a relief!

Being his only friend, he’ll make sure to be absolutely devoted to you— perhaps in a way that wasn’t too healthy in a friendship, and would often be looked down upon by those looking at your relationship from an outsider’s perspective. But could one truly blame him? Ever since he was born it felt like everyone around him were either toying with him, or were utterly terrified of the boy expect for his two sisters. It was lonely...so it isn’t hard to imagine how overjoyed he was once having you in his life; someone that didn’t display the usual fright whenever he approached them, nor did you look like you were out to hurt him.

Ivan appreciated you a lot.

It wasn’t hard to imagine that you’d most likely become the target of a few other countries, your connection with Ivan wasn’t extremely hidden from the outside world... (from how much he’d senselessly mutter things about you when daydreaming, and the many times he stuck by your side) and so, others would take it to their advantage. Those like Alfred will probably try convince you to leave Ivan’s side, spewing terrifying stories of the man to try and stir up something inside of you so you could leave him. It was mainly for your own safety, yes. But it was also to make the Russian weaker. It was obvious that he was depending on you heavily, and losing you would...god forbid if that would ever happen. Ivan would completely lose himself, perhaps even snapping completely.

So don’t hesitate to tell Ivan if someone was bothering you! Ivan will make sure to get rid of the little parasite from your life in an instant, giving them a short warning whenever the two come across each other...and making sure that he got his point across! It’s better to ignore their sudden disappearance after that day, since someone like them wasn’t worth lingering in your mind.

[blackwidow-bby]

A Case of You -Alcina Dimitrescu x Maiden!Reader

I’ve been wanting to write something based on the song ‘A Case of You’ by Joni Mitchell. Alternatively the K.D. Lang version is also very good and meaningful to me. Also who better to write with than really tall vampire mommy 😭

As always feedback is appreciated highly! Thank you for reading 💙

Warnings: blood, and smut (18+) little babies

🩸🩸

You had been polishing the silverware reflecting on the years that you had been in Castle Dimitrescu. 3 short but eventful years. At the beginning it was hectic, bouncing between all of the orders from the daughters and those of the Lady herself. Cleaning up countless messes left around as if they were guests in their own home. Clothes here, blood stains there, broken plates and cups everywhere. It had been as if your birth in the village was a curse, born to feel ashamed of poor class. A majority of the women that lived in the village knew that the only fate of their futures was to be sent to work for Castle Dimitrescu until the end of their days. Once the fair young women reached 18 that was where they were sent. Of course not all of them were so “lucky”. The rest of the women and all of the men were left to the struggles of the small village left to the devices of the surrounding lycans of the other lords. Or worse, kidnapped never to be seen again.

Most of the villagers rumored that those that disappeared were taken by the holy Mother herself and experimented on. Everyone knew what she could do, but for all of the bad sometimes holy Mother Miranda brought some good. One time before sweet Imelda lost her leg to a lycan attack, she saw the fainted mark on the side of its face. The same mark her husband had upon his face on the same side, before his disappearance traveling back to town. As she was dragged back safely by a couple farmers who managed to kill the sickly beast, the only sounds that all of the inhabitants could hear were her screams of her husbands name. Utterly distraught that she could become so unrecognizable enough to his dead eyes that in his transformation could still cause her deadly harm. He never had an angry bone in his body, but if that rumor was true, the experiment had created a monster of a once calm man.

All of your years weren’t as hectic as the first year. Eventually the lady of the house had taken a liking to your work. Always quick to come and cater to any mundane request her and her daughters had demanded of you. Actually now that you think, you can’t remember the last time any of your orders came from the daughters. They only came from the head maid or Lady Dimitrescu herself. A small quirk of your lips found it’s way thinking of your Lady.

Shortly into your second year she began to request you privately into her bed chamber. The first time she asked for you, you had been scared that your end had found it’s way sooner than you would have liked. Your heart was racing in your chest, begging your feet to be just as erratic on the way to her room. Somehow you managed to compose your pace but your heart insisted on faltering you. You knocked three times on her door upon arrival. You were unsure if she had heard, the doors of the castle were solid wood and although your hands were not soft due to the amount of work you were asked to do, your knuckles certainly weren’t hard enough to evade a slight throb from the hefty door.

Her voice crooned from with in, “Come in, my dear.” You opened the door to her chambers carefully as to not slam the wood open and not damage whatever might be on the other side of its radius. She smiled down on you very sweetly. There was something in here eyes. It felt almost like an admiration. You wiped that thought from your mind as quickly as it came. Why on earth would she ever admire you.

She sauntered toward where you stood and slowly lifted her hand. The fear you harbored for the Lady caused you to flinch at her movement. She had never laid a hand upon your person but that did not mean your time would not come.

Your flinching halted her movements. Her expression changed but only slightly. “My dear, I am not going to harm you in such a way.” She had lowered her voice in the close proximity of your bodies. You opened your eyes once more to see her gently place her soft gloved hand upon your head. Gently she moved it down by your ear and caressed the side. “Come to me little one.”

You followed her to her vanity. The space was tidy with neatly placed powders and lipsticks and other make up you had never seen any of the women of the village actually own. She sat down on her chair in front of the vanity. All of the furniture you noticed was made to her size in this dim room. None of the maids were ever called to clean this space, it made you wonder if she even used it at all. Maybe the Lady chose to take care of her own space in a way she knew no one could ever recreate or perfect to her liking. She hummed and pulled your hand to her. In her glorious size, she picked you up and placed you on her lap facing the large mirror. Your eyes shifted between her and your own height. Even perched on her Lady’s lap, your height was still shorter than her own.

Her eyes never met yours even as she slightly moved about to gather a soft brush and place it closer within reach. Your heart was still bounding in your chest trying to make sense of what was perspiring at this moment. The Lady removed her gloves by pulling one finger at a time until they could slip off smoothly. She then reached up and began to undo the clean French braid your hair was done in. She was being so kind and so soft with you, you were baffled. She started to unwork the three strands until she reached your scalp. You moved in tandem with the Lady as she reached again to grab the brush and began at the bottom of where your hair reached. Her ministrations were so soft it allowed your heart to calm. You kept your hands in your own lap, not daring to speak before being spoken to or move before being asked to move. Your Lady focusing solely on brushing the tangles from your hair allowed your own eyes to look about the space you sat. Her only task to groom your tresses, allowed you to get a good look at her face. Her lips and cheeks looked so soft. Her face wasn’t stoic but content in the space. She certainly didn’t look as nervous to have you here as you did to be here. Occasionally her hand would come around the underside and her knuckles would gently brush against your clothes back.

Everything she did was so calm and planned and relaxing. You took the rest of the opportunity to admire her further. Her raven dark locks meticulously curled in their places. Her hat always cocked to the side on her head, you wondered if it ever got in the way. She certainly never let it bother her if it did. The sudden speaking of her voice caused you to jump due to how silent it was seconds before, “I had been admiring you from afar for a while now. I’m sure you have an idea of why you had been called to my chambers after not being asked to before.”

Your voice betrayed you, you had been silent for too long. “Y-yes my Lady. I think I know why I’m here.” She hummed again. You felt the brush finally make its way to your scalp. The bristles were so soft and comforting they made your eye lids heavy. Seeing that she was done with her work on your hair, she placed the brush back in its spot and made eye contact with you through the mirror. She looked at you for a couple minutes more until she spoke again. “You’re always so quiet and kind around everyone here. My daughters can have a way with making the maids end up with either tougher skin or breaking their calm façade.” She was now running her fingers down the length of your back over your uniform. “But not you. You are still the same as you were when you showed up. Quiet and composed.” You weren’t sure if you should thank her for the compliment or be offended by being told that you haven’t changed. You felt like you could handle anything after the tortures her daughters could put maids through.

You could feel her hands moving back up your back and over your shoulders. Her cold slender fingers found your collar while the other hand swayed your hair over your left shoulder no doubt to expose your neck to her. This is it. This is how you end. What a lovely way to die. Her faced inched closer to your exposed neck and you could feel her breath inches away from the space. Your eyes couldn’t seem to move away from her though. You watched the whole thing and how her face never changed emotion. Everything she had done with you was in admiration. Like she longed for what you could offer her as if she didn’t have everything she could want in this castle.

Her face inched closer until you felt her lips press against the spot she was just eyeing. She lightly kissed you and reveled in the sounds you let escape. A chill ran down your body and found purchase in your stomach. You could feel the butterflies going crazy. Yes truly what a lovely way to die. You braced yourself when you saw her go to bite. Braced yourself for the white hot pain to shoot across your whole body but it never came. Instead the only thing you felt was pleasure. She continued to suck in the same spot for moments more. It all made you feel a growing knot down lower. Her strong arms encircled around your waist to hold you tightly as if you could slip away at any moment. You felt them hugging you tightly. The embrace soothed every part of you. You had never felt so cared for.

Unconsciously you noticed that your hands found purchase upon her own. Her face lifted from the crook of your neck, not a smudge to be seen or hair out of place. You could feel her lips by your ear. “I could drink a case of you, and still I would be on my feet.” She whispered and it made you visibly shudder in need. What kind of affect was she having on you?

“You must never speak of this with anyone”

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She requested you many more times and each one was just as delicate and sweet as the last one.

“You’ve been polishing that spoon for an awfully long time, dear.”

Your head whipped around at the Lady’s sultry voice. Your Lady, you thought. “What is it that has your mind occupied?” She questioned.

“Nothing my Lady. I was simply thinking of you.”

She smiled a genuine smile at you and reached her hand toward you. You walked up to her and laced your fingers with hers. Every moment you spent with her you cherished since the first. She reserved so much kindness for you. Internally she ached for the next time she would request you again. Thinking of the way your blood tasted on her lips. So bitter and so sweet. She couldn’t help but want something slightly different this time.

You both made your way to her private chambers once more like clockwork. She allowed you to enter before bending her way inside. You immediately walked over to her vanity as that was where she always fed from you right after brushing out your hair. You turned to her and smiled but she stopped next to her own bed. “Come here to me, my little love.” You walked up slight confusion on your face. “If any of this makes you uncomfortable, I want you to stop me. Can you do that for me, draga mea?” You nodded slightly. She sat down on the edge of her bed and reached her hand to wipe the wrinkle that etched on your forehead in your confusion.

“My little doe, you mean more to me than you could ever know.” She pulled your hand to her and moved both of you to the head of the bed. Gently she cupped your chin in her large hand. You closed your eyes and suddenly you felt her lips press against yours. Gods they were so soft but so cold. You reciprocated her kiss. Alcina had craved this for too long but she needed to pace herself. She has the rest of the afternoon until the night to indulge in anything your freely gave to her. You didn’t move to stop her and she took this as invitation to continue further. Keeping your lips pressed to hers, her hands roamed your body lower than just your back. She relished in the soft skin of your thighs and the way you felt under material that had softened from years of wear and wash. She couldn’t help but think of how your bare skin would feel under her own hands.

Your own arms snaked their way to her face as you cupped the sides with both hands. Your lips continued to move in tandem with her own letting soft whimpers escape here and there. Her hands grabbed the hem of your dress and slowly made her way up to removing the garment. You whined when she separated the kiss to completely remove the dress. “Are you still okay, little doe?” You answered with a small yes and moved to undo the buttons behind her own dress. Once the buttons were undone enough to slide her dress down you moved the sleeves down her muscular arms. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of looking how small your body was compared to hers. How soft and unblemished your skin was. All she wanted was to kiss every soft inch. Even the one side of your neck that she fed from ceased a single indent. She always made sure to feed carefully as to not rise suspicions.

She pulled you back into her slightly laying over you and began to kiss you once more as her hands roamed to your chest. She wrapped her hand around to undo your bra carefully to free your soft tissue from their confines. She separated once more to look at all of you that was exposed. The gods certainly took their time in creating such a spectacular woman she had thought. Her whole hand moved down to palm your breast lightly. She could feel the bumps raise and your nipple harder under her touch. You let out a little moan under her touch. She could spend eternity doing anything to hear your little sounds. Little sounds only she could make you release. She looked into your eyes creating the distraction for her hand to move to your underwear. You stared deep into her golden orbs never breaking as she sought out your core with her finger. Your breath hitched when you felt her slide down your soft folds and move back up to your clit. You were warm and wet and all for her. Alcina’s sweet little doe. She pressed a small peck to your lips then moved her mouth down to your breast that her hand had just been. She began to suck as she teased the entrance to your tight hole. She relished in the feeling of your most intimate parts and the sounds she could draw out from your delicious mouth. You were arching your back into her wanting nothing more than to be so close to her.

Your hands gripped anywhere the could. Her arms, shoulders, neck, hair. Everything she was doing made your brain go crazy. You did everything you could to find where your hands fit best. Her soft tongue swirled around your nipple while the tip of her finger pressed deeper into you. She was losing patience in having more of you and it was taking everything in her body not to devour before she was content you felt as good as she did all those times she tasted your blood. But damn did she want all of it. He finger pressed deeper until she was down to her knuckle. Your soft panting didn’t give any indication that you were in pain. She started to move her finger in and out at a slow pace to get your body use to the intrusion. Your panting grew louder and so did your moans. You wish you could feel this way everyday from this moment on. So cared for, so deeply wanted. Alcina kissed her way up from your breast to your neck. Leaving light nips and soft kisses near where she could feel your pulse quicken. He finger moved faster inside of you, pressing at your soft walls until she found that spongey spot that would surely get more sounds out. She had to take her time though.

‘Ohs’ and ‘ahs’ were all you could really get out along with all of your sickeningly sweet moans. Alcina never expressed out loud but she wanted you to say her name. Moan her name out from your lips, cry to the gods or whoever would listen that she could make you feel bliss like you’ve never felt before. No one ever got this much want out of her. She never wanted anyone the way she wants you right now. The way she’s been wanting you since you came to the castle. Her little doe unraveling under her half naked body. You were finding it harder to contain any noises and began to moan louder the faster her finger moved. All of a sudden curled her fingers, hitting that one spot. “My Lady!” It made Alcina hummm. “Tell me little doe, do you know my true name?” It took every fiber of your being to come up with an answer for your Lady. “N-no my Lady. T-the maids, they d-don’t talk.”

It was amazing you could come up with that through your haze. The Lady was sucking on your neck while she curled her finger more to get you to come undone the way she wanted. “It’s Alcina little one. I want to hear my name fall from your lips.” The knot in your stomach grew. You were getting very close from her sinful fingers buried inside your tight hole. Alcina could feel your Wales tightening around her. As she felt you get closer she bit down on your neck to drink from you the way she had truly craved. The knot broke and you came hard on her fingers, screaming her name to the high heavens. She continued to feed through your orgasm and once she felt your walls stop pulsing she lid her finger out and detached away from your neck.

You were sweating at this point. Utterly spent wrapped up with your Lady holding you tight. She wiped the little droplets that formed on your neck and pulled you onto her as close as she could get you. Your head rested there on her chest still panting. She would go to the farthest parts of the world for you. Hopefully she would have all of the time to prove it to you now.

��I could drink a case of you.” She whispered into your hair before placing a kiss to your crown. You mumbled a little getting more comfortable and sinking into Alcina’s chest.

Sleep began to take over you. “I would still be on my feet.” Was the last thing you said before slumbering in your Lady’s arms.

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