#you’re feeling much better today ! i apologize for this post taking so long. i struggle a lot with coming up with things without prompt and

[javierduffy]

I have been having... a very bad day. Any spare fluffy headcanons for the boys? (and maybe some nsfw ones if you're up to it-)

ohh no my dear helena !!! its unfortunate that you’re having a rough day today :( remember that everything is temporary and that this day, like every other hard day before (and all following after), will pass in its own time.

i can absolutely spare some fluff ! that’s all i’ve got !

• javier goes to bed at about the same time that kieran is waking up every morning, right before dawn, and it’s a common occurrence that he will forget to untie his hair before laying down for bed, especially after a long night of guard duty. kieran will notice every time, and knows himself how easily long hair can get matted, so he will beckon javier over so that he can untie his bow. usually, he’ll also take the time to run his fingers through javier’s hair to detangle it as well, so that he’s even less likely to wake up to knots. javier adores it, teetering with the weight of his head and leaning hard into kieran’s legs on each side of his shoulders- sometimes kieran will even indulge himself in giving javier a head massage. javier never sleeps better, and coincidentally, he began forgetting to take his hair down a lot more after moving out to clemen’s point ….

• javier snuck kieran his first bowl of pearson’s stew after ‘making a social call’. john kicked kieran off his horse at the entrance of camp and javier watched as the latter dredged himself through the brush to what would become his usual resting place behind the rock by the horses. he looked miserable, dead on his feet, and javier knew by then he’d been weeks without a meal. he was a dirty, disloyal, unholy traitor of an o’driscoll, but something about his sunken eyes, the shake in his hand as he lit his first cigarette as a free man again- likely to quell off the hunger- it urged javier to act in a way that he’d never felt before. javier could kill a man in cold blood easier than he could stand to watch fear starve a man even after his hands are free to reach for the bowl. the study for learned helplessness in psychology will come years later, but javier understands himself now through watching kieran’s instinctual desire to survive be beat out of him by the gang javier dedicates his life to. with a healthy amount of spite to himself, he scoops a heaping amount of fresh stew into the cleanest bowl he can find, and sets out to add a fresh layer of flesh to kieran’s prominent bones.

• following this, cooking for kieran is one of javier’s favourite things to do when they get together. javier will cook for him traditional mexican dishes from home (as best he can. both with his limited skills and also with his limited accessibility to the proper ingredients. (probably for the best that he can’t get authentic chili peppers from home and has to use a less spicy chili native to this northern climate. kieran does okay with spice but it isn’t in his genetics to truly have a high tolerance.)) and not only will it be an unknown love language from javier, to feed kieran and make sure he is full, but it will also be a love language from kieran, to let javi share a piece of home with him.

• ^ also applies to modern au javieran ! javier loves cooking, and especially for kieran. they would cook together, but kieran struggles to cook with other people in the room, and javier gets so absorbed in it that he’d likely be running into kieran or otherwise being unhelpful in aiding in making sure the dish is being cooked correctly because he’s too Locked In to guide kieran LOL but they’re more happy to simply keep each other company, anyway. kieran on the counter/table/floor, watching javier sing and dance to the music he’s blasting from their speaker. cue dancing in the kitchen when the love songs come on (here’s a good one (rip javier escuella you would have loved dannylux)). the parallel play and quality time with these two is off the charts

• come mid/late clemens point, the way javieran make most of their money for the camp is by going on days-long fishing dates, laughing and laying close to one another in the grass under a tree on the riverbank in the shroud of darkness. they come back to camp flushed as all get out but with stacks of cash in their hands wadded up so thick no one dares to ask where it came from. kieran will get excited at even the smallest of fish, perking up and sharing/asking javier for tidbits on the species. they never miss a bite, either. one time one of the bells on their bobber rods rang once and they both broke out of a very hot and heavy make-out sesh so fast that javier tripped on kieran and nearly broke both of their wrists. they laughed so hard about it, javier was certain that by the time he arrived to his rod, the fish had already successfully ripped the bait off of his hook. he reeled in a boot, at the end of it all. he never lives it down.

• kieran is ambidextrous, and javier is fascinated by it. javier stumbled upon kieran writing on one rare occasion, and noticed immediately that he was writing with his left. “left handed, huh ?” kieran cocks his head at him in thought. javier wonders why on earth he would have to stop and think about a question like that. “uhh, not really ?” well, now javier is simply confused. “right, then ? is something wrong with your dominant hand ?” “um … no, that’s not it either …” and at this point, javier is demanding kieran explain what the hell he’s talking about, and why he’s pulling a prank on him. cue kieran explaining and javier making him do all kinds of silly “tests” like writing, shooting, playing guitar (as if kieran is going to any better with either when neither of them can do it right to begin with) because he finds it so cool.

• modern au kieran gets overstimulated incredibly easily, so he’s got a pair of noise canceling over-ear headphones that he often wears to dampen sensory input and ground himself when there’s a lot going on. when it’s cleaning day, generally no matter what he’s doing, he HAS to wear his headphones. javier is left to dodge him the same way he has to dodge the cats when they’re weaving in and out of between his feet. it also leaves him to dance to his own tunes when kieran suddenly swoops or sways or dips him to the music only he can hear- though just as often, javier will catch kieran dancing by himself and he will simply be unable not to join him, even though he can’t hear what it is he’s dancing to. as overwhelming as they can be, cleaning days for javieran somehow always end up feeling more like a date than anything.

• on a similar note, kieran also wears his headphones to bed, and listens to asmr/white noise to sleep. the pressure helps him feel safe, and the silence of a room makes him anxious. he also has a terrible bedhead and rbf in the morning. both of these things javier finds incredibly charming, and if he ever does wake up when/before kieran does (incredibly rare), this is his pov (right before he tries to kiss kieran’s face off and gets shoved away with a sleepy giggle that only bolsters his aggression);

nsfw under the cut !

and how could i resist a chance to finally talk about this ;3€ ?? i’ll try to keep them fluffy !

(context, i hc both of them as tguys usually (though im content with writing javier as amab too), with both of them being absolute, unabashed switches. they have little preferences anywhere in terms of bottoming/topping, though kieran has a preference for subbing, and javier has no qualms with domming more frequently.)

• as much raunchy, animalistic sex that javieran have, they have double as much slow, loving, tender sex. and most times between, they’re having raunchy, loving, animalistic sex.

• javi loves to turn kieran’s brain off, he loves more than anything to make kieran feel so overwhelmingly pleasured that he forgets everything that ever has, ever could, or ever will happen to him. nothing gets javier off quite like seeing the face of bliss kieran makes when all he can think about is javier’s mouth/hands/cock working overtime just to make him feel good.

• both of them i think are quite vocal when they’re able to be, and kieran tends to be vocal whether he’s supposed to be or not. both of them often dissolve into whimpers and “i love you”s and praise like “you feel/sound/taste so good” by the end. their love for each other has a carnal grasp on every aspect of their sex lives as well <3 so they’re always speaking so sweetly to each other, even if the way they growl it seems violent

• javier LOVES love bites. he loves to mark kieran up and he especially loves to bite and lick and suck on his neck, not only because of the primal aspect of his jugular being so close (as well as the warmth of his pulse thrumming against his mouth), but also because it arouses kieran to the point of making him shiver nearly every time. javier has permission to bite him hard, but it’s pretty rare that he ever does, and it’s only late into their relationship does javier feel like it will be more pleasure for him than it would just be pain. sometimes he can’t help it though, he’ll get so worked up that he just latches on and the way that kieran tightens around him is mind-numbing.

• unironically i think kieran is a GREAT soft dom, and that is something that javier generally had never experienced prior to getting with kieran. javi thinks it’s hot to be man-handled and roughed up, and kieran can do his very best (despite the constant guilt and fear) if javier is really feeling it, but where he really excels is soft domming. once the nerves melt off, he’s so gentle with javier that it makes the latter’s skin hot all over. constantly praising him, cooing at him, asking him nicely, rewarding him for good behavior, all the while touching him oh-so-gently, it all makes javier feel so awkward but so, so good. kieran makes him feel so loved and worshipped that the world in which he has anything to question simply just fades away, and all he has to think about is doing what meager tasks kieran asks of him.

• they find so much peace in each other’s bodies. in every rib and wrinkle and sunspot, these two will spend hours simply exploring and enjoying the body of the other in whatever the closest form of “privacy” they can manage to acquire. turns out, kieran has sunspots all over him. turns out, javier has a keloid scar on the back of his bicep. turns out, kieran has a mole on his scalp right where his part is (this is canon btw i saw it once when i was studying him in photo mode like a specimen in a petri dish), and javier has back dimples, and kieran’s ribs stutter and dance beautifully when he laughs, and the flex of javier’s thighs warps his skin like a marble statue. javier escuella and kieran duffy love like artists, and they spend hours just learning and looking and studying each other, like a painter with his muse, like a writer with his words, like the last things they want to see while they’re dying are all the hours they spent learning the beauty of the other.

i could honestly come up with more but it would never leave my drafts, so i hope u like these that i came up with as quick as i could :’) ! i hope you’re feeling better and have gotten some good rest !! thank you for the ask !!!!!

[numberonetacostan]

TACO'S (POTENTIAL) FRIENDSHIPS TIERLIST

Explanations for my placements! Placements in each row are in no particular order.

Disclaimer: I am a media enjoyer, not a media analyzer. These are just my thoughts, so nothing is objectively wrong, but if one of my takes is OOC or you disagree I’d be happy to hear why as long as you’re nice about it :). 

Tier 1: Tacomic!!! <3

Mic: YURI YURI YURI YURI!!!! Their yuri can be un-toxic’d now and that makes me very happy :). Don’t get me wrong, I love toxic yuri, but I’m really glad to see them work things out!!! Mic can be more assertive, and Taco is trying to be better!! Anyways, I do think that they will start out as just friends as they rebuild their relationship and learn how to interact with each other in a healthier way without the competition in the way, and there will certainly be bumps in the road, but after some time I truly believe that we will have yuri. Taco is going to try calming down on the objectively bad stuff she does and work on apologizing when she does mess up!! And Mic can hold her more accountable while also being someone Taco can rely on to stay by her side. Especially with Soap helping out, making sure Taco apologizes rather than avoiding the issue and/or doubling down, and making sure Mic keeps up her established boundaries in terms of not immediately letting Taco off the hook, as she has a bad habit of doing. I love tacomic so so much, and I am 100000% sure that they can work towards and create a healthy and happy relationship that makes them both better people. If you don’t feel like yuri-ing today, you can see them as besties too, but regardless Mic takes the top spot!!!

Tier 2: Friendship is inevitable

Soap: As mentioned above, I think having Soap around will be really helpful for Taco! Someone who doesn’t hold ill-will towards her but is very willing to hold her accountable! A good balance. We saw Soap throwing away her cleaning supplies and telling Mic to listen to her heart, so she’s clearly got some good thoughts on self-improvement! Also Mic has clearly told her about all the non-competition related stuff that she and Taco did, lesbianing around and such, she’s got a pretty clear idea of who Taco is beyond the competition, which can’t be said for most of the cast. And since Taco will definitely be sticking by Mic’s side for the foreseeable future, she’ll get to know Soap pretty well too!! They can do karaoke together!!! Hooray!!!! :D.

Balloon: This one’s pretty obvious, eh? He had his whole redemption arc from when he was a jerk in season 1, and now he sees someone else who wants to start on that journey? He has the chance to help someone in the way Suitcase helped him? FUCK yeah they’re gonna be friends. He even struggled with giving a proper apology as seen in episode 9!! Just like Taco did!! (I love her, but that was the worst apology I’ve ever heard actually). He’s also quite the sensitive guy, which I think could pair well with Taco and her inability to emotion. [Maybe I should make that long post on why I think Taco is autistic. TLDR we have the same kind of autism.] But anyways! I think he could really help her with breaking out of those negative behavioral patterns and turning yourself around! The advice that OJ gave to him would probably work ever better for Taco. A new chance to meet new people who she didn’t do anything bad to! She hasn’t met most of the s2 or any of the s3 joiners, so she has a pretty clean slate with them, even if they’d heard of her misdeeds. I think she would initially think his poetry was stupid, and then find it really relatable and emotional, and then keep pretending she finds it stupid when anyone she isn’t very close to is around. They can talk about the crushing feeling of guilt, regret, and your sins!! They’ve both fucked up and found out, and now Taco is getting on the path to fixing it that Balloon took. Forgiving yourself is an important step to moving past your mistakes, and he could help her with that. Also, despite s3 going with a final 3 rather than a final 2, he did place second vote-wise, so he and Taco can be in the runner-up club together!!! They both enjoy classical music too, as a fun little bit, so they could parallel play (the best way to spend time with someone) together while listening to it!! 

Suitcase: Our s2 winner!! And never giving up on anyone QUEEN. Can you tell I love Suitcase yet? Beyond Truth or Flare, they haven’t interacted much, but given the fact that Taco broke in front of her, her kindness, and the fact that she NEVER GIVES UP ON ANYONE (Can you tell I love Suitcase yet?) I think she and Taco could become friends! Girlies who can put things in their heads <3 <3. With Suitcase having become more assertive, in a similar vein to Mic there isn’t a risk for Taco to, for a lack of a better term, steamroll over her. And of course Taco is working to be better, so she would be trying to not to do that anyways! Suitcase is also so sweet and empathetic towards others, I think Taco could benefit from that example! Empathy doesn’t seem to come very naturally to Taco (see that one autistic taco post that I really need to make), but Suitcase could be a great person to learn from, in Mepad’s absence! (Rest in Peace King I Love You). And Suitcase could also work in a similar vein to Balloon and Mepad with getting Taco to be kind to herself. She has a lot of self-loathing after everything, and hasn’t experienced a lot of kindness from others having been alone in the woods for years. Suitcase’s resilience in staying kind despite other’s actions (but standing up for herself when necessary, of course), could be really good for Taco, in the evitable moment that she lashes out. Recovery and self-betterment isn’t linear, you know? And someone like Suitcase who can go to her in these moments still offering kindness, acceptance, and help is vital.

Baseball: The fumbler himself!! He would take Lightbulb’s advice about making sure he’s looking to heart!! And she told him where to look!! At Taco, who is drowning!! He was the lowest-ranked in season 1, so aside from three episodes and the Stupid Trailer, he wasn’t really around for her whole s1 act. He can get to know her as herself, which isn’t something that can be said for most of the other season 1 contestants. I’d also wager he feels partially responsible for her and Mic’s little alliance too, Mic’s own feelings of worthlessness and how he had constantly put her down being the core reasons why Taco chose her and was able to convince her to work together. He’d want to try and fix things with Mic too, and since Tacomic, he’d end up hanging out with Taco too. Besides, he already has a best friend who’s a short lil gremlin, he could definitely get along with Taco. And speaking of Baseball’s short lil gremlin…

Nickel: Hoo boy, I have plenty to say about a Taco and Nickel friendship!! Nickel fucked up his relationships with Suitcase and Balloon big time over not trusting that Balloon actually wanted to be better, and assuming that he couldn’t change. But he has learned his lesson!! Not only has he seen and acknowledged that Balloon changed, apologized to and befriended him, but Nickel changed too!! Hooray!! His ass would not want to make that mistake again. As well, we’ve heard from Brian recently that Nickel low-key admires what Taco pulled off in season 1. Not as much so after his character development, but still, he feels more positively about her true personality than her fake one!! That is not the general sentiment among the s1 cast!! They’re standing next to each other during the concert at the end of the finale, and he even sings backup for her during the reprise of “She Forgot”!. They have clearly already become friends, I’m not taking criticism on this one actually. They’re both sarcastic little shits trying to be better people! Nickel could empathize with the automatic-response-being-something-mean thing!! Also, since Suitcase does not want to see him (valid) he and Baseball should probably make some new friends anyways! Might as well chat with another mostly-alone object, yeah? Sigh. Two mean shorties against the world. On their own there might be a risk of them making each other worse but I think the people around them could keep that from happening. I really love Nico(?) friendship. 

Marshmallow: Mepad mourning. They were both the players helped the most by Mepad, they’re mourning his loss the most (other than Toilet, more on him next ;)) and I think they could connect over that, especially with Taco trying to be more open and honest emotionally, just like Mepad was helping her to be, yeah? Her grief over Mepad is a good place to start. They were also some of the first two contestants to realize how bad the game was for those involved and their relationships. Even if it took Taco longer to get there, they end up sharing the same negative view towards the game before the others do! This was even mentioned in the pre-episode 17 stream!! They also both have a complicated relationship with Knife! We don’t get to see too much of how Marsh feels towards Knife after the whole heroic-sacrifice, but I don’t see her immediately being all buddy-buddy with him. And Taco, who is confirmed to care about his well-being don’t argue with me on this one, has the whole thing with him and Mic going, and he might even be more watchful of her as she and Mic continue to patch things up and work towards healthy yuri. Going back to Marsh not totally forgiving Knife, this could help Taco with better understanding how Pickle feels about her. Knife wronged Marsh pretty hard in the past, and even if he’s sorry and has changed, she can still feel hurt and not want to forgive him. And she could vent these feelings to Taco when they’re talking about Knife!! And this is so so similar to how Taco greatly wronged Pickle in the past, and even if she’s sorry and wants to change, he can still feel hurt and not want to forgive her. With lower empathy, it can be really helpful for someone to explain how they feel about something and why, so I think someone more willing to explain a similar situation to her (since Pickle will not be sitting down with her and explaining how he feels) could really help her out in learning to back off and let Pickle live his life even if that life doesn’t include her. Mepad is incredibly proud of both of them frfr Mepad said so in a cameo. 

Toilet: Before I start this one I’d like to clarify I will also not be taking criticism here Toico friendship is so very inevitable you don’t even know. I got a cameo from @justin-chapmanswers right after the finale because I was so very sad about Mepad and they confirmed to me that Toilet and Taco could and would bond over missing Mepad. Toico friendship is “so incredibly important” AND I COULD NOT AGREE MORE. He was the only person that they had to care for them and that believed in them for a period of time each and now, even if Taco has Mic back, they’re both missing that bond they had with him because he’s dead (I am so MeSad). Toilet’s persistence with people would also be really important to their connection! Despite how Mephone constantly yelled at and belittled him, Toilet kept going and stayed kind and dutiful to him! And while that did make their relationship unhealthy, I think it could be beneficial to Toico friendship! Taco is trying to change and do better, but as I believe I said previously that’s not linear. She is going to lash out or fall back on old habits at some point, what matters is that she apologizes and keeps trying to be better. She’s not going to apologize to Toilet after years of this treatment like Mephone did, she will, in her process of growth, apologize to him when she knows she’s hurt him, and she will make sure to treat him better. And her doing this consistently when she messes up is key!!! Because Toilet is Toilet, we love Toilet in this house, and he’ll forgive her. And they will talk about how important Mepad was to them, and it will be healing and beautiful. Again I will be taking 0 criticism on this Toico friendship is everything to me actually. She can sit on his head like where he carried the spaghetti in episode 1. Oh no I’m listening to the cameo again and now I am crying /vpos. 

Pepper: Yeah i ship tacopep too what are you gonna do about it i want taco to be loved. But more seriously, I think these two could make a really solid connection. Pepper is another one of the season 1 contestants that didn’t interact too much with the fake-Taco that competed in season 1, so there wasn’t much of a connection there to be spoiled. She probably jumped on the hate-train thanks to Salt, but maybe she should spend a bit less time with Salt anyways, yeah? Branch out some more. Which she could do with Taco! Take one look at Taco and tell me she doesn’t love to gossip. Taco and Pepper could probably gossip for hours, I mean, Taco has surely missed a lot of gossip having been outside of the hotel for so long. And Pepper gets to lead the conversation and talk!! Taco does try to take control of situations automatically, but hey, she’s trying to change for the better, and maybe not try to scheme and mastermind quite as much, yeah? And Pepper could do well being more assertive having been made to follow whatever Salt is doing. I think this friendship would need to pick up a bit later down the line for Taco to be in a place where she isn’t trying to take over so often and Pepper to be in a place where she’s not keeping herself attached to Salt, but I do think it could be a sweet and healthy friendship! Also I tend to think of them both as lesbians and sometimes you need a lesbian best friend to discuss Women with.

Candle: Would immediately be able to tell that Taco needs some serious therapy/help. And Candle loves to be needed for therapy/help! Perfect match! But really, Candle managed to tame both Yin-Yang and Silver over the course of a season, she could definitely help Taco out!! And it would be pretty difficult for Taco to keep her true feelings hidden from someone who can tell what’s happening just by looking at her! She would hate that at first but it would be helpful for her. I do think she would dislike Candle’s salt rock thingy though, it would probably just rile her up more. BUT really I think Candle could be a good help to Taco as she recovers. Candle will help everyone after all the stuff from the finale I think, which would not at all be a way to cope with everything. Keeping herself busy. Being needed in the way she was made to need. This isn’t a Candle analysis aaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Goo: My #1 and #3 must be friends, it’s mandatory (my #2 is Mepad, of course). Taco’s miserable and messy self could absolutely use a visit from the cheer factory, and I think she’d get one! I think Goo would be able to take the news of being created by Mephone better than you’d think, honestly. His best friend was created by Fan and Test Tube, so what if they’re created by Mephone, y’know? That just makes them more like his best buddy Bot!! Not being able to be recovered might make him anxious, but that’s just an unfortunate truth that they’re all going to need to get used to. (Unless whatever the Shimmers are giving them is a recovery device. Brian said it’s up to interpretation but i do not want to interpret i want answers!!). Okay, back to Gooco friendship. He’s such a positive, genuine, and sweet little fella it’s pretty hard for anyone not to like him, and that includes Taco!! Someone she not only doesn’t have baggage with, but she has never even met coming to cheer her up? She has had very few positive interactions with others over the years, this is meaningful to her!!! Being around a positive little thinker like Goo could be good for her, AND they are at perfect hugging height for one another. I don’t see Taco giving out too much physical affection but I can very much see her enjoying it even if she won’t admit it. AND AND having lived in the woods for so long, Taco would know the best place to find his beloved pinecones.

Tea Kettle: She already has one little gremlin child in Nickel, what’s another one? Seriously!! I’m not sure if it would exactly be a friendship, probably the more motherly dynamic she has with Nickel, Balloon, and quite a few other characters, but new mom acquired is not a category so she goes here. Taco, who has been living in the woods for years needing to scavenge and steal for food, would enjoy some hors d'oeuvres!! And this would immediately endear her to Tea Kettle, since she loves it so much when people eat her food (adorable). She, like Candle, and probably everyone else at this point, would pretty easily be able to tell that Taco needs some extra TLC, and like the other s3 joiners, doesn’t have anything personal against Taco. Her motherly instincts would immediately kick in, and again such casual kindness and affection for Taco after all this time? Everything. Key to Taco’s recovery and self-betterment. Also, Taco loves tea!!! TK would refill her cup without even being asked <3. 

Tier 3: Pleasant Acquaintances 

Lightbulb: OKAY OKAY OKAY I KNOW. Lightbulb would be sweet and friendly and silly and herself and would absolutely 1000% consider herself friends with Taco! Them only being acquaintances is fully on Taco. It’s not because she has a personal problem with Lightbulb though! We have heard from the crew (questionnaire after one of the finale screenings, I believe) that Lightbulb reminds Taco a lot of how she used to act in season 1. The earlier she is in her recovery, the harder that would be for her, yeah? There’s also the fact that Lightbulb would have been her choice to partner up with had Mic been eliminated earlier. I like to interpret this as canon, not just on a meta level, that Taco actually had Lightbulb picked as her second choice. With Taco trying to be better, she’d probably feel guilty about that when interacting with Lightbulb,  and especially seeing how close she is with her allies friends. They might be able to be actual friends in the future, but in general Lightbulb might be a bit much for Taco. Though I’ll reiterate that Lightbulb would consider her a friend!! And include her in activities and be kind to her!! Because Lightbulb is sweet and lovely like that, the silliest goose of them all <3.

Apple: They’d probably interact a bit because of Taco’s friendship with Marsh, but Apple isn’t someone I’d see her seeking out for companionship, due to her being a little dumb <3. It’s okay we still love her, but Taco might not. She would be nice to Apple, because if Apple is upset then Marsh is upset at whatever caused it, yeah? And because it’s the right thing to do and all, but this latter reason might take a bit longer to kick in as Taco changes for the better.^^ Also, whether or not Apple knows that Taco was acting and isn’t just an entirely different person is still a bit muddled, so that would be a bit weird, yeah?

The Floor: Honestly just a nice, chill guy, don’t think he’d have any issues with Taco. She would see his movement as reminiscent of Mepad’s teleporting, which would give her the blues, but that’s not really Floory’s fault. Another teleporting assistant… Ah, well, my conspiracy can wait for another day. I don’t have too much to say for this pair, to be honest. I think they’d get along okay and everything, I just don’t see them seeking each other out as much as they each would with some others. Oh, they would both like to go on picnics, so that’s definitely a setting in which they’d interact! I do think The Floor and Toilet could be good friends, so they might end up hanging out together if they’re both with Toilet.^^ Besides, I can’t imagine him staying on Inanimate Island instead of returning to Paradise, since it is his home, so he’d stay more connected with the other s3 players rather than the other casts. 

Cabby: Honestly Taco would probably be a little jealous that Cabby won. Definitely impressed by her skillful observations of others, though! Taco is observant too, so they could discuss that if they are together, but I don’t think they’d actively seek each other out, like Taco and The Floor. Cabby is also more likely to return to Paradise since that is where her library was, and Taco’s history might make Cabby wary, since she struggled with being seen that way in season 3. I don’t think she’d hold it against Taco in a personal way, but it might dissuade her from really forming a bond with Taco. Overall, I love them both, they could be perfectly friendly with each other, but I don’t really see them forming a strong connection. Earlier season 3 Cabby, though? They could be the power duo of all time. Even post-canon a team up between them would be incredibly skilled and efficient, I just don’t see it as too likely to happen. 

Silver Spoon: We already know what Silver thinks of Taco! He thinks she is a Queen and an Icon and he’s right! He would approach Taco the easiest out of the invitationals, and would very much want her approval. I do not think Taco would like him very much. She’d get annoyed by him pretty easily, I think. They’re both British, so that could be a point of interest for him to try and connect for her, but seeing as neither of them are actually from Britain and were just programmed to have a British accent (and like tea!) that might fizzle out. And again the fact that Taco would not be able to stand him. Silver would try to get on her good side by complimenting her act in season 1, which would Not Sit Well with her at all. She would storm away from him and he would be devastated. It might be easier for them to interact if Candle is around to mediate, but I don’t know if they’d get along too well, at least initially. He remains in pleasant acquaintances because he is very pleasant towards her in his own Silver Spoony way, and considers her a friend, but it is one-sided, he is lying to himself <3. 

Bot: A split between Goo really liking Taco and Fan and Test Tube not being sure about her. She did shoot and kill Test Tube. And electrocuted Fan. In front of their first child. So yeah not sure their second child would be super keen on being friends with Taco, but they would still be amiable. As a part of the Cheer Factory, they’d join Goo in his cheering up quest, and they could strike up a conversation if they happened to be alone together, but this is another relationship I can’t see either party really seeking out. Their VA is British though, so Bot could probably do a fair impression of Taco. Not that Taco would like that, but y’know, it’s neat, yeah?

Blueberry: He doesn’t make many friends in general, and neither does Taco for that matter. I think combined they could be an absolutely killer duo, could dominate a competition together, but outside of that? I’d say more of a mutual sense of respect for being powerful shorties, but not much of an actual bond. He might be a welcome presence if Taco needs to stew in her negative emotions for a while, as one does, but if she wants to feel better she’d need to go to someone else. Honestly, they might be kept apart on purpose, because those little schemers could probably take over the island together if they really wanted to. But, Taco is trying to change and Mic certainly wouldn’t approve, so she wouldn’t want to. Jury’s still out on Blueberry though. Also, he’s another one I’d see returning to Paradise, less people there, yeah? So their interactions would be limited either way. 

Lifering: Nice, friendly guy! He might interact with Taco through Tea Kettle, or through general check-ups. With his medical training, or rather the knowledge he was programmed with, he’d definitely interact with everyone on both islands at one point or another. I wouldn’t imagine Taco being a big fan of such medical check-ups though, with how private of a person she generally is, and that might play into how she views him. He’d definitely do his best not to frighten anyone including Taco, and she would appreciate his work, she just wouldn’t be able to shake the lingering unease surrounding him, and he’d be able to respect that and give her space as long as she needs it. If he found her crying, he’d give her a squeeze and then get someone better equipped to help her, that sort of thing. She might eventually get more comfortable with him, and maybe they could share a plate of hors d'oeuvres, even if I don’t see them forming a super deep connection :) I think they could get along after some time. 

Tissues: I think they could have a sort of understanding in Mephone making things difficult for them. He was made to always be sick (fucked up) and she was made to manipulate and hurt people (fucked up). She might get annoyed with him, definitely, but she’d try not to. With the infinite tea generation I headcanon her having, she could pull out a nice warm cup from her shell and give it to him to soothe his sinuses and sore throat, and I think he’d really appreciate that. There’s also an advantage to the fact that they’re only meeting after the big reveal of all the contestants being made by Mephone and running the red line game, Taco’s never been annoyed, hateful, or mocking towards him about his sickness. Tissues is owed a lot of apologies from quite a few cast members, and Taco is actually not one of them! They can also both pull things out of their heads, which I think is cute. That wouldn’t really contribute to a relationship. I just like little guys who can pull things out of their heads!!!^^

Clover: Like Lightbulb, I think Clover would consider Taco a friend! She’d consider pretty much everyone a friend, the sweetheart she is. As Brian once posted, she would find Taco very funny! Taco is trying to change though, so wouldn’t want to be seeing Clover as useful. She might be interested in the luck stuff, but the happy-go-lucky attitude might be a bit much for Taco. Trying to plan for Clover’s luck would be insanely frustrating, since schemes aren’t the only thing Taco could plan(!), and that might turn Taco away from Clover. She’s yet another one I see returning to Paradise, so they wouldn’t interact much, which is probably for the better on Taco’s end. Taco would probably like the butterflies though, because who doesn’t like butterflies, yeah?

Tier 4: Neutral

Bomb: Didn’t really interact with Taco in the first season, despite having been in an alliance with her for a short time, but he is clearly good friends with Pickle, so he wouldn’t be reaching out to her any time soon. Not that I think Pickle would be explicitly telling anyone or even hinting to them not to be friends with Taco even if he himself doesn’t want to, he’s not that kind of guy, but I think Bomb would stick close to Pickle, which means not interacting with Taco much. Yeah, he wasn’t personally hurt by her betrayal or anything, but he mostly knows her as the person who hurt his bestie Pickle, so not exactly keen on her either. Taco would be pretty neutral on him right back, but would be glad that Pickle has made new friends and is being well taken-care of despite everything that went down between them. 

Knife: Hoo boy, okay, he is in the neutral category, but feel free to read him as “it’s complicated.” He’s also close with Pickle, seeing firsthand and likely the most of how Taco’s betrayal impacted him, and he was watching over Mic during and after her alliance with Taco, so he isn’t exactly happy with her. But as was confirmed by Brian, so you can’t argue with me on this one, he does care for her well-being. He sees some of himself in Taco. As much as he accuses Taco of projecting onto him in Truth or Flare, they’re really both projecting onto each other. Taco also cares about his well-being!!! (this is also confirmed by brian) Whether or not it’s because he’s someone close to Pickle and Mic, she does care, even if she doesn’t show it. Knife is dead now, too. That might complicate things. Taco though she would be dead forever, and hell, she might have been if Knife hadn’t put pressure on Mephone with Mepad, while Knife spent most of his life thinking of death as meaningless and something that barely even applied to him. One of them survived, and one of them didn’t. They’re such an interesting duo, I really really want to know more of the plan for that body swap episode so so so bad!! Anyone wanna venmo me 30 bucks to get another cameo from Justin so I can fish for info? /j Anyways. Knife would be very wary of her reconciling with Mic and would be watchful to make sure she doesn’t bother Pickle, but he would be proud, in a sense, seeing how she improves. I can’t say he’d help much, as I’m not sure if his tough-love sort of help for people would be super beneficial for Taco, and they’re still not super friendly, but I think they could have a moment of getting along-ness every once in a while. Suitcase might rub off on Knife even more with her never-give-up-on-anyone philosophy, which would lead him to back off on keeping an eye on her a bit more. If anything were to happen to Mic, she would be well protected by these two. AAAAAAAA. Taco and Knife are such an interesting duo, I can’t emphasize this enough. Knife who has already changed, and Taco is who is starting to change. This one has gotten way too long, in short, it’s complicated but more positive than negative post-finale. 

Paintbrush: As long as Taco isn’t mean to Lightbulb, I don’t think Painty would feel too strongly either way. Probably unhappy when they find out that Taco shot two of their friends but. They seemed pretty okay with Taco’s presence in act II of the movie, and weren’t incredibly harsh on Taco during the pre-act II stream (if I recall correctly, this one is a bit more blurry tbh) even if they weren’t very pro-Taco either. Didn’t have an extreme reaction to Lightbulb mentioning Taco when they showed up during Truth or Flare either, so that’s another point towards Painty being neutral towards Taco. Might even empathize with how quick-to-anger Taco can be, she could get invited to a painting lesson or something. But really, as long as Taco is civil with Lightbulb (and Baxter), and doesn’t murder Fan or Test Tube again, I think they can coexist without any malice or issues. 

Yin-Yang: Yang would like Taco a lot! Yin would be kind of scared of her. Thus, neutral. Yang would admire her sabotage and trickery, which isn’t exactly what she wants to be liked for, but, well, it’s Yang so he’s gonna do what he wants. Yin would be pretty wary of her, and probably avoid her in fear of whatever mischief she and Yang could create with their powers combined. My partner once drew a cute illustration of Yin-Yang stealing and eating a topping out of her head, which I liked very much, and were that to happen I think Taco would dislike Yin-Yang. It would be very rude to eat one of her toppings, especially without asking first. My partner, who I regard as the resident Yin-Yang expert between us, also mentioned them both having a “that-could-have-been-me” sort of connection with OJ, in the sense of how Taco was so close to getting the win that OJ got, and Yin-Yang was so close to getting eliminated instead of OJ. Had it not been for the immunity votes, Yin-Yang would have been the first Thinker out. Had it not been for Bow and all the other chaos that was going down during season 1’s finale, Taco would have been the first winner of Inanimate Insanity. And we know that Yin-Yang and OJ clashed during their residence in the Hotel, and Taco just hates OJ after everything, so maybe they could have a little anti-OJ club to get their frustrations out, who knows. Suitcase is still a bit miffed about him eliminating her unfairly that one time, so maybe she could join a little complain-about-OJ session once in a while. 

Box: New to the group, so probably doesn’t even find out about Taco’s past for some time, but at the same time she isn’t the most social tool on the shed. And neither is Taco. So I can’t see either one reaching out to the other for a friendship. Box might like that Taco never pretended their corpse was alive, even if it was possibly because she never had the opportunity to interact with Box in general. I might see Taco taking more of the Trophy stance in that she doesn’t see Box’s corpse as alive, which, since it was a corpse, is objectively correct. Albeit with less violence than Trophy handled Box with. They might talk due to both of them being around Suitcase from time to time, but I’d more view them as two relatively introverted people who simply don’t seek a connection with each other. [Also, putting a Box conspiracy here, but does anyone else think her inclusion specifically is why season 2 had an uneven amount of contestants in-canon. Like, the season 2 cast would have been developed before the whole MeLife twist, but on a non-meta level, it was probably Box being included in the cast that made the numbers wonky. 19 contestants? A prime number? What? 18 would make sense, or 20, but 19? Because Box was added in with the actual living contestants, because Mephone couldn’t bring himself to exclude her, which brought the number of players up to 19. Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.]

Cherries: Probably a bit childish for Taco’s taste in friends. And for Cherries, them always wanting a reaction… Well if Taco was pranked, she would not react well, and they might be hard pressed to get her to laugh especially if she already dislikes them due to being pranked. She is quite the actor, so even if she does find a joke or two funny, she’s not gonna break. And then Cherries would get bored of trying to make her laugh, and move on to someone they can get a better reaction from. Unless they try roping Taco into their little schemes before they prank her, then I can see a more positive relationship forming. Either way, I don’t see them as consistently seeking each other out for companionship. 

Fan: Taco electrocuted him that one time. So, not exactly a great start. Especially since it was while he was talking to the Shimmers. The Shimmers, one of which was his infant child… A really bad start, then. I don’t see Fan as a very hateful guy, honestly. Passionate, sure, but doesn’t strike me as the type to stay angry for very long. He wouldn’t be approaching Taco for friendship any time soon, and would probably tell Bot that they should be wary around her, but I also think he would respect Taco’s effort to change and let bygones be bygones in the end. Taco probably wouldn’t approach him either, other than apologizing for electrocuting him and shooting Test Tube (she should apologize for that, and Mic would make sure she does). Would probably want to know more about Taco’s strategy and experiences during the first season, but also has the self-restraint not to ask. 

Test Tube: Less forgiving than Fan, but would follow his lead in not holding a huge grudge towards her. She wouldn’t trust Taco at all, but she wouldn’t fall into malicious territory like what ended up happening with Cabby. Taco would be wary of Test Tube too, especially after the other apology she gives Test Tube, for breaking into her “secret” lab and stealing things. Testy might actually take that one worse than the apology for murdering her. Despite that, I do see Test Tube letting Taco keep the white invisibow that Mepad was wearing when he was killed. This would probably happen before Taco confesses to murder, assault, breaking and entering, and theft anyways, but I see Test Tube letting her keep it. Random act of kindness while Taco is mourning him, yeah? She is the one who gave him the bow after all. Testy wouldn’t love Taco, and would also warn Bot to be careful around her and come to her right away if she has any problems, but could coexist with Taco. 

Tier 5: No

Mephone: Yeah, this is an obvious one. Beyond the fact that he’s left to give the contestants space, at least for the time being, Taco would be pretty damn mad at him after everything. Whether he made them subconsciously or not, he made her to be manipulative and unpredictable and to betray the people she cares about. Thinking further on that, he also didn’t plan anything good for her, unlike other villainous characters. Balloon and Knife both got redemption arcs, Silver got a girlboss, but Taco? She got another “ally” to inevitably lose, years of homelessness and isolation, and not even a million squats. Not to mention his reaction to her during Truth or Flare. Sure, it is reasonable for him not to want to see her, especially with how she acts in the episode, but not wanting to recover her? That’s really fucked up. Seriously. Thank god for Mepad. I can and would very much argue that Taco is the most mistreated contestant by Mephone4. She would not want to see him ever again, and I think if she did see him and he tried to talk with her it would not go well. So, this one is a definite no. 

OJ: She and OJ did interact relatively frequently in season 1, and while I’m not sure exactly how betrayed he would have felt by her revealing her true nature, he would not like having been fooled and would very much have not liked her trying to steal his prize. I can’t see them ever getting along again. Even if Taco does apologize to him (and out of everyone she probably should apologize to, she would hate this one the most), I don’t see that doing much. OJ is another person that saw how her betrayal affected Pickle pretty closely, and he’d still hold at least a little grudge over that. Although, if you take the “built to win” line seriously like I do, (and Brian said in the 700k stream that it was up to interpretation- hah! Vindication! Kind of! Enough for me!!!) their dynamic can be a lot more interesting. And even though I don’t see them ever being friends again, I do see them at some point having a moment in which they both say something like “these guys are all so weird” and then looking at each other awkwardly and proceeding to ignore each other entirely for the next week or so. They’re both drama queens, yeah, but in comparison to some of the other characters they can be a bit more… reasonable? Doesn’t seem like quite the right word. Grounded? Doesn’t seem right either. Hopefully this is still comprehensible, but regardless, these two would not be friends.

Paper: My guy screeched in terror when she was seen in the hotel. I don’t think it’s gonna happen, especially if OJ isn’t befriending her in any way. He wouldn’t be happy about her trying to steal his boyfriend’s prize and is another who got to see Pickle growing depressed after her betrayal, so he’d keep his negative view on her. I don’t think he’d be as scared of her post-canon, especially seeing her trying to avoid violence by Mic’s demand, so I suppose that’s something. I am so very sorry, menu squad fans, I love them too, but I think that ship has long since sailed. I honestly don’t have very much to say for Paper, I feel like he’s a pretty obvious one, though they don’t actually interact that much. He doesn’t like her, and has a boyfriend who really doesn’t like her, so they’re not going to be connecting any time soon. I do think he would feel more sympathetic to her plights than OJ, as the more emotionally intelligent one between them, but would leave helping her to people closer to her. 

Salt: Taco would find her annoying, mostly. Especially after she and Pepper become friends, and Pepper vents about some of her frustrations with Salt to Taco, Taco wouldn’t be a fan of hers. Salt wouldn’t like Taco because she tried to steal OJ’s prize, and Salt is all gross and very weird about OJ. There’s a reason why she got the least votes in the latest plushie poll. Even Taco, who doesn’t really like Paper or OJ, would want Salt to back off and tell her to do so even if she had to be a tad aggressive about it. It shouldn’t always have to fall on poor Pepper especially when she starts branching out towards new people and relationships. Taco is a payjay hater, but it’s because she dislikes them individually, not because they’re gay. Taco herself is gay. WLW and MLM solidarity. 

Trophy: She would beat him in a bunch of stuff (some by cheating, some fairly) and he would hate her like the sore loser of all time he is. She would probably just find him annoying, like a less-tolerable version of Blueberry, maybe. I can see them both getting banned from game night, Trophy because he can’t take a loss and Taco for cheating, of course, and attempting to hang out together in protest. I suppose they could bond that way, but I’d lean more towards them either arguing or getting annoyed with each other and agreeing to never hang out again. Might casually flip each other off in the hallways, not from hatred but from mutual acknowledgment that the other is kind of an asshole sometimes. I think it’s beautiful <3. 

Dough: She’d only have to see him when she’s in the mansion, which is definitely for the best. They wouldn’t seek each other out, ever. Taco would find him very annoying, and would hate any and all of his Bow imitating or discussion. She never met him, she does not care about him, and he’d probably feel the same way about her. Not much to say about this one, but I. Well. It’s Dough. I’m so sorry Dough fans but I have never had much to say about him. 

Cheesy: Yeah Taco would find him annoying too. He and Mic are on better terms now, so they might sometimes find themselves in the same place, but Taco might soon have to leave that place because she is getting so annoyed with him. He probably wouldn’t dislike her or anything, but he wouldn’t really like her either, seeing as she wouldn’t be the best audience member for him. Poor guy is gonna have to find some new material again, seeing as none of them have mamas and bringing that up is definitely in poor taste at the moment. Yikers. But yeah, another one who will not be friends with Taco because they would be too much for her. 

Bow: Taco’s least favorite person! Bow is the reason that Taco lost season 1, and I don’t think Taco is ever going to get over that. (Especially if you interpret the “built to win” line literally like I do~~~). Taco would avoid her like the plague, and probably regard her as a plague on the world too. Would very much not enjoy having to live in the same building as Bow, for however long it takes until they have another building established, since Taco would probably move out the second she could as long as Mic was down to move with her. Anything to get away from Bow. I can not emphasize enough how much Taco hates Bow. Despises her. Would rather stick her arms into a pothole full of piranhas than be in Bow’s presence. That plastic pink headgear is the absolute worst object on the planet to her. Bow doesn’t really care either way. Unless Taco is openly aggressive to her, she’s neutral. But Taco would probably antagonize her at one point or another, so Bow would probably end up disliking her too, just not as passionately.

Tier 6: Pickle

Pickle: Sigh. My fellow Taco lovers. It’s not gonna happen, guys. Pickle and Taco friendship is not going to happen ever again. I KNOW. Taco wants it!! You want it!! I want it too!!! I have been a fan since season 1 was airing, I of all people would love to see them be friends again. But Pickle doesn’t want that, so I’m going to respect it. Taco would probably try apologizing to him once or twice more before backing off, probably being able to do so and really start to move on with the help of Mic, Nickel, and/or Marsh. She does shake her head and move past things during the red line game! It’s a good start! Even if I think she would give it another shot (because in apologizing more she comes to realize how bad her first apology was. Yeesh. Girl I’m your biggest supporter, I am a certified Taco apologist, but damn). But! Regardless of the fact that they’re not going to be friends again, it’s not as though they’re going to be enemies! Taco wants to be better, especially towards Pickle. And as for Pickle, he just isn’t that sort of guy, yeah? He doesn’t want to be friends with Taco or give her another chance, which is fully fair and valid, but it’s not as though he wants her to suffer either!! If she like, fell and broke her leg or smth, he would willingly carry her to get help, yeah? If they both happen to be in the kitchen and she’s struggling to reach something on the top shelf, he’d grab it for her. He’s chill and especially after a longer period of time when he’s been able to heal further and be okay with seeing her around, they could just be… okay. Not friends, but okay. He would show up to the Tacomic wedding. 

Tier 7: PLEASE COME BACK I MISS YOU SO MUCH

Mepad: PLEASE COME BACK KING I CAN’T DO THIS WITHOUT YOU. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH YOU SUPPORTIVE ICON. HE IS IN TIER 7 BECAUSE HE IS DEAD AND THAT MAKES ME SO VERY SAD. I MISS YOU SO MUCH MEPAD MY BELOVED MEPAD. I MISS THE OLD SEASON 2 UPLOAD SCHEDULE I CAN’T HANDLE TACOPAD GETTING GIVEN TO US AND TAKEN AWAY WITHIN LIKE 4 MONTHS. GIVE US 4 YEARS AS GOD INTENDED /J. ANYWAYS MEPAD WOULD BE ON THE TIPPY TOP TIER IF HE WAS STILL ALIVE MY WONDERFUL MEPAD YOU WILL BE FOREVER IN MY HEART. ONCE I GET MY HANDS ON YOUR PLUSHIE I WILL MAKE YOU AND MY TACO PLUSH HUG IT IS MANDATORY. 

Okay, 13 pages later and that’s everyone! If you’ve read every entry, wow!!! Thanks!!! That’s a lot of reading and a lot of rambles you saw!!! If you skipped to your favorites, that’s also fair!!! Thanks for reading either way!!!^^ I have so very many thoughts about Taco, so it’s nice to get some written out!! :3

[sugxrslushy]

Hey! I ran across your blog earlier today and the wedding nsfw post with Sanji was wonderful,I was wondering if you could maybe do one with Doflamingo or Crocodile,if not that is perfectly ok

Well Aren’t You Lovely?

➪ a/n: hello dear, thank you for your request and elaborating over dms! I hope you’re okay with the pairing, I’m not the best at writing a bimbo reader so my apologies that it rlly isn’t that included in here! I hope you like this! I also feel asleep in the middle of writing this whoops

➪ pairings: Doflamingo x f! reader x Crocodile

➪ warnings: N/SFW under cut, threesome, oral sex (m! receiving), voyeurism, rough sex, kind of corruption kink, fingering, praise, not proofread

You hadn’t expected this to happen out of the extra affection you’d been giving your now husband. There was a lavish wedding occurring at the moment just outside the door yet you were on your hands and knees sucking Doflamingo off. Perhaps your warm touches and sweet smiles on your glossy lips had him thinking otherwise during the ceremony.

You swallowed him down the best you could, but his impressive length had you gagging and struggling to get enough breaths in. The man above you seemed to not care, fucking your mouth and making drool drip from teh corners of your mouth, hitting the floor by your knees.

Your big doe eyes stared up at him, all innocent and cute looking in contrast to the almost sinful deed you were giving your husband. Your core burned feverishly, it hadn’t taken long to even get you worked up.

All you had been doing to him before was clinging to your husband's arm. Maybe it was how close your bust had been pushed up against him, or how those sweet eyes watched him with innocent interest as you both made your way around the guests

Though he soon did make his intentions clear with his lust laced words in your ear and touches that tended to fall a bit too low.

You clueless allowed him to whisk you away in his arms to get rid of the little “problem'' you had caused him. You weren’t exactly complaining, the taste of his sticky precum on your tongue and the rough way he pushed you down on his length had you delirious with lust

“Just like that darling, you’re doing so well.” He cooed and threw his head back, letting out a loud moan and pulling tighter on your hair to steady himself. You hummed in happily from the sweet praise, determined to take more of him into his mouth for more.

Whatever you couldn’t, you wrapped your hands around and stroked in tandem with how you bobbed your head on his cock. A wild smile appeared on his face as he cupped the back of your head and pushed you down, making you gag and choke on his dick.

Tears rolled down your face, staining your face with black streaks from your makeup. You gripped his thighs tightly and your head felt light. Then with a low grunt, he cums down your throat.

He lets go and you pull back, sputtered and gasping for air, You wipe your face of drool and cum and smile up at him sweetly. “You’re so adorable darling, you looked even cuter choking on my cock like that.” He brushes the hair from your flustered face and rubs your cheek.

Someone to the side clears their throat and the both of your heads snap towards the direction of it. Your heart stutters a bit, but Doflamingo’s wild smile splits his face again as he looks amused at who had just found the two of you.

“After all the convincing to even get me to come to your damn wedding, you can’t even stick around for it. I was probably better off staying at home and not wasting my time.” A gruff voice grumbles by the door. Leisurely leaning against the frame, Crocodile stares at you both with a bored look.

Doflamingo pats your head in a comforting way. “We’re just celebrating,” he shots back in an overjoyed tone. “Why wouldn’t I want to show my dear new wife how much I want her, she’s looked absolutely tantalizing all day. Hasn’t she, Crocodile?” His teasing tone is evident in his words.

Crocodile raises an eyebrow, slowly looking you over and the debauched sight you are from blowing your lover. “Are you implying something here?” He stubs out his cigar on one of the ashtrays placed on a table in the room and moves closer, looming over your half naked and kneeling form.

You bat your eyelashes at him and Doflamingo snickers under his breath. “And what if I am?” He kneels behind you, reaching around to grab your chin and make you look at the other Warlord staring you down with a lustful gaze. He doesn’t say a word, only sighs and takes a step forward, showing his agreeance through action.

Doflamingo laughs delightfully and Crocodile undoes his belt, revealing his own manhood to you. You moan at the sigh of it, just as long as your lovely Doffy’s but just the slightest bit thicker. It has you watering at the mouth to get a taste.

Nimble fingers prod at your wetness from behind while Crocodile rubs the tip against your lips, you kitten lick the tip to get a taste of the salty precum on your tongue. “Go ahead,” Doffy teases. “Don’t be shy.”

While you wrap your lips around his impressive length, Doffy slips his fingers into your soaked pussy. You jolt, groaning around the cock in your mouth and your pussy tightens around his fingers. Immediately, he’s brutal with the pace, fucking you agressively with his fingers and smearing your slick on your thighs.

Crocodile is no kinder, fucking into your mouth making your throat feel hoarse while you struggle to keep up. Your eyes are blurry with tears and Doffy seems only interested in drawing out more, overwhelming you with pleasure.

“Her mouth is so good, isn’t it? And she looks so pretty.” Doffy hums against your skin, nipping lightly at your shoulders and you push your hips against his hand. The burning feeling in your stomach is only getting hotter and the pressure in your abdomen is increasing.

The minute you clamp down tighter on the fingers pushing deep into your cunt, Doffy withdraws them from your needy cunt. You whine out a garbled mess around Crocodile’s cock and Doffy just tuts you. “Uh uh uh, guests first sweetheart. You need to make him come before you can.”

Desperate to please, you turn your attention onto the man in front of you and moaning around his cock. He cusses and pushes in deep which makes you gag and drool once again. You pull back and swirl your tongue around the tip, digging your tongue into his slit.

You treat him like he’s the most delicious lollipop you've ever had, licking long stripes along his length and suckling the top while you stroke the base. He laces his fingers in your hair and fucks your pretty face till he comes in your mouth, coating your tongue in his seed.

“Good girl.” He grunts out and Doffy giggles, moving behind you and violently thrusting his fingers back into your pussy. You lie back against him and moan loudly, your juices are coating his hand and dripping onto the floor.

Crocodile swoops in close, kissing your cheek and rubbing quick circles around your clit and his cold rings brush against your skin making you shudder. You draw tight, grasping tightly onto the men encircling you and you come violently with a cry and spasm.

You pant, trying to calm yourself down and collapse bonelessly into your husband's arms. “Yeah, she’s really good at that.” Crocodile says begrudgingly, petting your head.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Ok ok so brainrot time. Tarzan AU. You’ve might have touched on this in previous posts but thought I would send you my take in order to cheer you up a bit.

So you’re a biologist from Sumeru, traveling to different forests across Teyvat to study local fauna etc etc. You are currently in Scheznaya and have greatly underestimated just how cold the nation can get, your jacket doing little to protect you from the harsh winds. The blizzard proved to be a formidable foe, however you continued onward, the promise of new discoveries too tempting to give up.

One day you’re out talking notes on a local boar species, one that you had nearly missed it due to it’s white coat blending perfectly into the snow. However in your excitement you forgot to pay attention to your surroundings, resulting in you being ambushed by some nearby hilichurls. You fought back, however these weirdly powerful hilichurls proved to be too much for you to handle on your own. As you lay on the forest floor, you felt the snow bite at your skin as you dove in and out of conciousness. Surely this will be the end, right?

Lucky for you however a certain mothman who had been observing you from afar for the last few days dive in just in time to defeat the remaining hilichurls. His panicked clicking was the last thing you heard before passing out entirely.

When you wake up you’re in FL’s cave swaddled in countless furs. Your wounds seem to have been treated as well.

When FL notices you’re awake he rushes over clicking and cooing at you as you struggle to process the current situation. Maybe it’s from the blood loss or delirium, but you reach out your hand and FL eagerly presses his head into your palm, nudging into it. You smile before a harsh shiver travels through your body as your arm is once again exposed to the winter air. Concerned, FL picks you up and sets you onto his lap allowing you to bury yourself into him. He exudes warmth you haven’t felt in ages, and you can’t help but be lulled into a deep sleep from his gentle purrs. Questions could wait until the morning, it was time to rest.

Oh god I’ve realized how long this has gotten I apologize… I hope life gets better for you hang in there💞

i'm really glad i saved this until today because i desperately needed it, thank you anon <33

the storm has only worsened overnight, the wind starting to howl and shake the trees- it's actually what wakes you up, and your foggy brain only wants to snuggle closer to the glittery moth monster holding you. he's asleep now, yet still purring lethargically, arms draped around your shoulders. reluctantly, you force yourself to slip out of Foul Legacy's hold, inching across the floor to check the supplies in your bag. even the slightest breeze bites at your skin, and your bandaged wounds ache whenever you move, the motion of rummaging through your bag sending sparks of pain dancing down your fingertips. there's not much in there anyway, but at least your notes are still intact.

a shiver runs through you when a snowflake lands and melts on your arm, and a sleepy rumble sounds from behind you as Foul Legacy blinks awake. he looks at you, half-awake and half-dozing, and ambles over. despite his size, he's very gentle as he covers your icy body with one of the furs, brushing your cheek with his claws and cooing. when you reach out your arms, Foul Legacy is quick to pick up and settle you in his lap, cradling you and pressing his forehead into the crook of your neck. questions burn on your tongue, but you can't manage to get them out amidst the claws carefully massaging your sore muscles and the warmth seeping back into your bones. instinctively you snuggle closer and feel the deep croon emitting from Foul Legacy as he relishes your company in the sea of his loneliness and fogged memories.

it's odd, how you're a stranger but he already cares so deeply for you. perhaps it's because you looked upon him with only awe and wonder, not fear and distrust. from what he knows, very few people liked him in the past, but you seem... different, and he rubs his cheek against yours and purrs softly.

back in Snezhnaya, the Harbinger Il Dottore scribbles something in a notebook before tossing it aside. another dead end. but no matter, it's simply another small setback, he muses through a sharp-toothed smile.

i'll find you soon, Tartaglia. no matter how well you hide.

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Hidden Marks

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Request:  Hii! If you still taking request I want ask for an soulmate au with Elijah, where which one of them have the same mark. He and his soulmate are very good friends for a long time and never have thought about this, but someday he see her mark and find out about this but don't tell her for being afraid of hurting her because of his family -Anon

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: Tad bit of angst, mentions of blood, but that's canon at this point.

Author’s Note: I apologize that this wasn't out earlier today. But there was some things in it that were bugging me and I just couldn't let it post without fixing it! It's still the 7th for me so this is your fic for the day! I hope you guys enjoy it!

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥

“Oh come on,” Y/N said as she turned and faced Elijah as a smile pulled at her lips. “Are you really telling me that you’ve given up on looking?”

Elijah shook his head slightly as he let a huff of air past his lips. “For as many times as you’ve tried to persuade me to find who my soulmate is, my answer has remained the same.”

“Deep down I don’t think you mean it.” Y/N said with a slight tilt of her head. “You give the advice of your best friend ‘needing’ to find who she is ‘destined’ to be with, but you wont take your own advice or mine for that matter.”

When Elijah was younger, he believed that Soulmates finding each other was something magical. He may have lived with his mother who was a witch, and even a few of his brothers, but this was different. Elijah could remember the stories some of the villagers told him about how they found their soulmates. That the marks they were born with would match the person they were meant to be with.

Elijah had hoped that his soulmate would come along and he’d get to experience that kind of magic that he witnessed. He wondered who his soulmate was. How he would meet them and when they would realize who they were to each other. But when Henrik died, Elijah had felt his opportunity to meet his soulmate had been lost the moment he became a vampire.

The magical feeling he once believed in had been diminished over time. As the centuries had passed Elijah had never once met someone who he would ever be his soulmate. That there was no longer someone out there that would share the same mark as he did. As the years passed, the thoughts of a soulmate had all but diminished.

Elijah’s mark had been just below his left clavicle. The mark is a few shades darker than his skin tone. An intricate design of three circles intertwined in a horizontal line. His clothing always covering the mark from everyone around him. So long as it was covered, he wouldn’t be asked about it.

At least that was until Y/N came into his life. The vampire may have been several centuries younger than him, but they had become close friends over the past century. Elijah had met her during his time away from Klaus. The need to be away from his brother for a while had proved to be much needed. And when he met Y/N there didn’t seem to be anyone else better to spend his time with.

But during that time, he never mentioned what his mark looked like, let alone asked her what her mark looked like. Y/N was like Elijah in some ways. She once believed that soulmates were like fairytales. But when she turned, the notion of having her soulmate found had diminished.

“Was it not just a few hours ago that you reminded me that you’d rather not find them?” Elijah asked as he watched her.

The smile she had on her face faded slightly. “I have my reasons.” she shrugged slightly. “I may change my mind if I see you find yours.”

A light chuckle passed Elijah’s lips as he began walking down the pathway they stopped in moments before. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

There were several more conversations similar to that between them. But no matter how many times each of them brought it up, they both believed that they didn’t want to know who their soulmate was. They were content with their lives and it avoided the disappointment if their soulmates were human and lost some time ago. This way, there wouldn’t be heartache.

_____

“Elijah?” Y/N called out as she struggled to keep herself steady as she walked into the compound. She hadn’t ever expected to go to Elijah when she had been injured. But she needed help this time. Someone had attempted to shoot a wooden bullet at her and it was currently lodged in her back.

In a blink of an eye, Elijah was in front of her taking in her appearance. His eyes had widened as he helped her over to a seat in the courtyard. “What happened.” He asked as he took note of the current bullet holes in her shirt.

“Oh you know, failed attempt at making friends.” She tried to brush off the pain that was currently radiating through her. “ I just need you to help take one of them out. The others were easy to do. But this one is lodged in there.”

Elijah moved behind her as came to take note of where she had been speaking about. There had been a tear in her shirt from the attempt to make the bullet hole bigger to get the wooden bullet out. He could see the healed spots from the others that she had been able to take out.

It was as he moved the fabric aside to begin pulling the bullet out that he noticed the mark right above it. He stopped for a moment as he took in the horizontal circles that were intertwined. For as many times as he had seen his own mark, it was replicated on Y/N’s skin.

Y/N could feel how he hesitated; she looked over her shoulder at him. “What is it?”

Elijah shook his head slightly. “I believe that is the first time I’ve seen your mark.” He said before he began to poke and prod at the bullet hole.

She hissed as she felt him digging into her skin and muscle. “There’s a first for everything.”

Y/N knew that while they had joked and pressed the other to go in search of their soulmates, they never once actually saw each other’s mark. For the century and a half that she had known Elijah, she had never once seen Elijah’s mark, just as he hadn’t seen hers until this moment.

Elijah hadn’t said anything in response. If anything he was letting his mind go over everything the last several centuries had shown him. He had been at his lowest, the lowest that he could be as a Vampire, when Y/N had entered his life. They had gotten along so well during that time that Elijah just considered it them having a lot in common.

“I take it now that you’ve seen it, you’re going to go on a mission to find my soulmate for me?” She asked a moment later, hoping to fill the air with voices instead of the sound of blood and muscle being messed with.

“I thought you disagreed with that plan.” Elijah tried to keep his voice normal as he talked with her.

As much as seeing the mark should have made him happy, that he should have stopped right then and there and told her what it was that he realized, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It had nothing to do with the bullet that he was now pulling out from her back. If that had been the case, he’d tell her the moment he watched her skin begin to heal before his eyes.

“Oh, I do.” Said with a nod as rolled her shoulders, stretching out the muscles of her back where the bullet had been moments before. “That doesn’t mean it will stop you from doing it.”

Her words had caused him to chuckle as he pulled out his handkerchief and began cleaning his hands of her blood. She turned towards him in her seat, watching as he tossed the bullet onto the table a moment later.

“I have no intentions of seeking someone out that you do not wish to meet.” He noted with a nod of his head as he looked over at her. Even after getting into some trouble, she still looked as if she could still take on the world.

There was something in her eyes that changed a moment after his words had pierced the air. “Would you tell me if you saw the mark on someone else?”

“Of course.” He said even though it had been a lie. He knew he wasn’t going to speak of the very mark that was on his chest.

As much as Elijah wanted to express every thought he was having at the moment, he couldn’t allow himself too. Not with the past that he had. Not when there were multiple reasons why he didn’t want her to know.

Not to mention the track record he had with the women in his life. While one would argue that it was all meant to lead up to him meeting Y/N, Elijah knew that even she wasn’t immune to the darkest parts of his family or even himself.

He watched as she stood up from her seat. “Thank you for helping me with that.” She gestured to the bullet. “Would I be able to interest you in a little night hunt?”

There was a smirk pulling at her lips, one that Elijah couldn’t stop one from forming on his own. She was offering him a night of catching those that attempted to harm her. Between the two of them, the sport of keeping each other and his family had been a game of keeping score. His head nodded in agreement at the thought of helping her.

He always promised to help keep her safe. And it was as they began leaving the compound that Elijah realized in order to do so, he was going to have to keep his mark hidden from her.

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[plush-rabbit]

Tomura Shigaraki With Chronically Ill S/O

Request: Hey lovely! Your recent Shiga posts are so freaking good.

I was wondering if I could request Shigaraki with a reader that’s chronically ill? Like, how he’d react to certain situations or things he’d do differently? Totally understand if that makes you uncomfortable, but I figure it never hurts to ask!

A/N: Im fine with writing a lot of things, so no worries!! I hope that you like it!!

-

He’s been weak. He’s been sick and broken. He’s bled and been through hell and he’s never really cared for it, but then you come out that you’re sick- that you’re chronically ill- and he doesn’t know how to react. He doesn’t want to treat you any differently, but he fears that he has to in order to make you safe and that makes him confused and frustrated. Tomura tries not to think about your illness, but then it’s you and you’re staring at him and as long as he’s by your side, he’ll stick by you through the thick and thin of it. Through the sickness and lack of hunger, the sensitivity to smells and touch, he’ll help you deal with it.

First and foremost, he has to know what exactly is going on. He’ll research and look at old forums until he’s sure what he has to do. He needs to understand the strain that it will put on the both of you, but it’s you and you’ve been with him through much worse, and an illness isn’t going to stop him. You need a little bit of help? He’ll be there- when he can. He’s incredibly careful around you, trying to learn terminology and make the home a bit more safer for you. He wants to know what he can do to make things just a bit easier for you.

No matter where you stay, he’ll always try to make the bed comfortable for you. He’ll smooth out the sheets and pat at the mattress to make sure any crumbs are off of it. The pillows will be pushed and fluffed in a way that you know was just him smacking it, but he’s trying. Sleep is important, and you might struggle with it- tossing and turning, aches, things not being right, or even just insomnia, but he wants to make things as nice as it can be. He’ll spend the night if you ask him, or if you rather want alone time, he’ll nod and let you know that you can call him whenever to just talk or if you want him to come over.

If you do come back from the doctor, he wants to know what happened during your stay. He’ll be there for you and if you let him, he just wants to know. It’s a whole fear of unknowing.. The word “chronically ill” scares him- there’s a certain factor to it that makes it worse than just being sick and if he knows how your day was, then it feels like he can rest a little easier. He promises he isn’t trying to be invasive, but he has to know.

In the interest of you, he wants to help. He much rather just sit around with you, but he understands that things can be difficult for you. He’ll wave his hand and tell you not to worry about it as he starts to help you fold clothes or wash a few dishes. It might not be done well, but it will be done. No matter what you tell him, he’ll just wave it off. It doesn’t bother him, he just wants to help you out a bit. You aren’t a burden to him, so just let him help for a minute or two while you take a breather. If you’re still annoyed at him, he’ll lay his head down on your lap and you can massage him or something- a form of payment if you will.

There are times where he struggles with what to say. He’s new to the terminology and the medication, and maybe chronic pain is something that he knows, but it’s different. He doesn’t mind being rough with himself or just taking a few painkillers and sleeping medication in order to ignore the pain, but he doesn’t want that for you. He tries to be better and will often just look things up on the internet in order to know what to do or what to say in times where it’s just too much.

Medication is something about- so he’s read and has been told about- so he tries to memorize what each one is for. If you take antidepressants or anti-anxiety medications, then he looks up the side effects and makes sure that you at least have something in your stomach before you take it. It’s important for him that you tell him what you’re feeling. He wants to take care of you and if you start to grow dizzy, he wants you to just lie down with him and listen to him talk. He isn’t sure what to say to make you feel better in the time when you’re feeling nauseous, but he thinks if he’s there for you, then it has to help in some way.

Even if he tries to avoid it, there is strain on the relationship. It’s something new for the both of you to work through and maybe it would have been easier if he were different, or if anything was different, but it's difficult. He always tries to apologize to you, or at least give you some sort of gift that makes for a placeholder of his apology but sometimes it’s tough. Things get heated and he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he has to cool off. He’ll send a text later and ask you how you’re feeling as if changing the conversation could make things better and it might not, but it makes the mood lighter for a second.

Aches and pains are unavoidable so he always makes sure that you have some in your space or that he carries some. You could rub at your joints, complaining with a tired smile how it was harder to do things today and he’ll hold up a heat pack with a teasing grin, keeping the pad just out of reach and asking for a kiss for payment. If you whine enough, he’ll give it to you for free and let you rest on him as he watches television or plays with your hand. If you start to get a slight fever, he’ll bring an ice pack and rest it against your forehead and try to keep anything as still as possible in order to not make you feel sick.

The relationship is perfect for Tomura and he’ll make sure it’s perfect for you. He doesn’t want to come off as if he doesn’t care or if he’s overbearing, but when you only care for a handful of people, his care can come off like that. He’ll tease or make a few mistakes here and there, and you can be stubborn or secretive about things, but he wants you to know that he cares for you. It’s difficult, but you two are together, and as he grows closer to his dream, the idealistic future that he has for the both of you seems clearer and clearer with each passing day. He gives you the support that you need and will validate you. It must be hard, and he’s sorry that he doesn’t know what it feels like, but he’s there for you and for now, him and the heat packs are all that he has and it’s just enough for the relationship.

[let-them-read-fics]

Blackpink HC / One Shots: Enemies to Lovers, College AU (1/2)

Requested: Yes

Warnings / Misc. -- Bickering, Rivalry, Fluff

A/N: Hey everyone! Anon, I assume you wanted to see each individual relationship with the girls and not OT4 x Reader. If not, I apologize, but I hope you enjoy this regardless.

This post includes Jisoo and Jennie. If you would like to see Rosé and Lisa's, click the link below.

Click for Rosé and Lisa

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Jisoo

Kim Jisoo: The girl at the top of her class, breezing through her school years with little competition whatsoever. She was used to winning, and anyone that ever tried to challenge her eventually gave up.

You: Also used to being at the top of your class, you were the first person to actually give Jisoo a run for her money. You didn't shy away when challenged by her, and that took her aback.

Your rivalry was one rooted in academics.

When a new project was assigned and you were allowed to choose your teammates, everyone would flock to the two of you in hopes of getting picked.

Bragging rights were awarded to whoever had the longest line of people.

Impatiently waiting to see who scored higher on tests.

Rubbing it in when you did better, and vice versa.

"Ha! Take that, Jisoo. I got a 98."

"Don't get cocky, Y/N. I beat you by 6 points last week."

"Yeah, yeah," you brush her off. "Look who's on top now." You hold your paper up, smiling when she rolls her eyes.

Other competitions were held, and even the teachers caught on and would adjust their lessons accordingly.

"Class, today we'll be having a set of one on one debates, and an anonymous vote will determine the winner of each. The person who defends their opinion the most effectively will win. Jisoo and Y/N, you're up first."

Although losing was always annoying, it made you respect each other a little more.

You both loathed and revered each other, though you'd never let that secret out.

Fighting for the best scholarships and rankings.

Constant bickering and one liners in class

"Should I go ahead and apologize now, or is it okay to wait?"

"Apoligize for what?"

"Ending your career."

*unintelligible mumbling*

"What was that, Y/N?" Jisoo inquires, cocking her head to the side as she narrows her eyes at you.

"I said: you're going down."

She scoffs at that, unaffected. "Please, I'd like to see you try."

You ended up winning that day, and she was all *surprised pikachu*

School would always be interesting and eventful with her

Pretty much everyone else can tell that you have a thing for one another, but the two of you remain oblivious.

Turning Point

Both of you joined the academic team when you enrolled, which meant that you'd be going toe to toe with other school teams in pursuit of the winning title.

On one of your overnight field trips to face off against another school, you were assigned to the same hotel room.

"Mrs. Wilson, I can't stay with her--" You walk down the hotel hallway behind your instructor, hoping she'll see your point. Her reasoning for putting you together on the roster is beyond you.

"Y/N, it's only for a night. You know we can't afford to give all of you individual rooms; our budget's already small." She reasons, eventually turning towards you when she reaches the elevator.

"Alright," you relent with a sigh, putting your hands up.

What she says next surprises you. "Who knows, you might enjoy it." A knowing look shines in her eye, and a small smirk threatens to tug at her features.

The elevator dings just as you go to question her about it, and she bids you farewell before heading in.

You can do this, Y/N. It's just one night; how bad can it be? You ask yourself, taking your sweet time in going back to the room.

---

An Hour Later

In an attempt to kill some time and recover from the fatigue your long road trip brought on, you've been trying to relax and take a nap. In fashion with your typical luck, though, Jisoo is making that nearly impossible.

"Jisoo, turn it down!" You groan, tossing a pillow at her head. She sits on the loveseat at the foot of your bed, completely fixated on the images flashing before her eyes as she plays her video game.

"Shhh, stop distracting me." She says over her shoulder, making you huff.

You value your pride too much to ask nicely, so you suck it up and stick it out for a little while longer. When she lets out a loud shout a few minutes later, though, you've reached the end of your patience.

Wordlessly, you get out of bed and stomp over to the TV, standing directly in front of it.

"Y/N, move! I'll lose!"

You stay there with your arms crossed, and are soon rewarded by the game's voiceover announcing: "Game over."

She huffs and sets her controller down, clearly upset.

"Sucks when people don't listen, huh?" You challenge, still mad that you've been denied a proper nap for so long. Every time you'd be right on the cusp of being drug under, slipping in and out of glorious slumber, she'd do something to ruin it. You're cranky now, and being petty seems like a just punishment for her.

"I can't believe you did that," she shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "That was the championship match!"

"Oh well," you shrug, a smirk tugging at your lips at that new piece of info. Perhaps justice has been served after all.

With one more warning glance at her to tell her not to do it again, you go back to the bed and get comfy, settling under the warm blankets.

---

30 Minutes Later

"ON YOUR RIGHT, ABOUT TO ROUND THE CORNER!" Jisoo bellows out, smirking when she feels you stir behind her. You scowl, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

"Jisoo, I swear to God," you grumble, feeling the irritation rise in you all over again. You get up again and approach her, but she has a plan this time. In one fluid motion, she sticks her foot out in front of you, making you stumble and fall to the ground.

"What the--" as you prepare to reprimand her, you see something out of your peripheral. Aided by your new perspective, you spot the remote controller on the coffee table right in front of you, just an arm's length away.

When Jisoo notices that you haven't screamed at her yet, she looks down and realizes her mistake. A dramatic moment passes where you both lock eyes, before immediately diving for the remote. You manage to get to it first, quickly hugging it close to your body and rolling away from her. She pounces a second later, reaching her hands around you to pry it from your grip.

"Give it back, Y/N!"

"No!"

You writhe underneath her until she manages to get the upper hand, straddling your hips in an attempt to pin you down. She sits back on her knees, gazing down at you as your chests heave from the effort you've exerted.

"Give it." She commands, holding her hand out expectantly.

You shake your head, amused that she thought that would be enough to sway you. "No."

"Then you leave me no choice." Her hands dart forward to your abdomen, and she begins tickling you mercilessly in order to make you surrender. Calls for her to cease her assault struggle past your lips, but you know it's futile. She's a determined person just like you, and she won't stop until she gets what she wants.

So, after taking a second to think of a way out of your predicament, a brilliant idea pops into your head.

You finally let her pry your arms open, smirking when she cheers and claims victory. In one fluid motion, just as she had done before, you wrap your leg around one of hers and flip her onto her back before leaning down to kiss her. She tenses up at first, but her hands end up working their way to your hips as her lips begin to move against yours.

Your plan is backfiring a bit; you only intended to shock her and buy yourself time to steal the remote back -- you never thought you'd actually enjoy the feeling of her kiss. You tilt your head to the side to get a better angle and slowly skim your hand down to hers, where the device is tightly clutched. Her other hand has come up to your jaw, which she's gently guiding as she steals another kiss from your lips.

Her distracted state made it easy to get what you were after, and soon -- much too soon for Jisoo's liking -- you pull away with a victorious smile. She doesn't know what to say; in all honesty, she's almost forgotten how to breathe with the way you kissed her senseless.

"I win." You grin, hopping off of her and shutting the TV off before crawling back into the bed. She stays in that same position for a couple minutes, laying on the floor as she tries to sort through what the hell just happened. She can't even be upset right now; she brings her fingertips to her lips, skimming them over the heart-shaped pillows as she smiles.

The Fallout

Things were a little tense when you shared the bed that night

Anytime you'd roll over and readjust your head on the pillow in your sleep, unknowingly positioning your lips dangerous close to hers, her heartbeat would pick up and she'd have to roll over again

You pretended to be asleep when she scooted back against you, pressing herself against your front in search of the heat that your body provided. You brought an arm around her, enclosing her in a soft embrace that had her blushing crimson

Subtle flirting at the competition the next day

Sticking up for each other when one of the other teams got a little rude

"Hey, don't talk about her like that!" Jisoo warns, glaring at the student from your rival school. His uniform is mussed and unkempt, leaving it as no surprise that he was the one to say such a thing.

"Why do you care?" He laughs back, spurred on as his friends snicker along.

The question catches her off guard; just days ago, she was the one bantering with you and testing your limits. Now though, when someone else is taking it too far, she can't help but feel angry. "Because she's my teammate. Now knock it off or I'll report you to your dean for unsportsmanlike behavior."

He scoffs, but eventually opts to grumble out another insult and turn away, nursing his bruised ego.

"Thanks, Chu." You quietly say, having witnessed the whole encounter from the row behind her. A small smile tugs at your lips at her actions, warming your heart.

"No problem, Y/N. But you'd better help me beat him; I'm not losing to that idiot." You laugh and agree, shaking her hand to seal your pact. She tries not to get too caught up on the smoothness of your skin or how it reminds her of last night, but her brain doesn't listen.

Needless to say, you beat them.

Your team stopped by a nice restaurant on the way back home for a celebratory dinner

Jisoo sat beside you

Cue the blushing and quiet flirting

It's a new side of her that you're not used to seeing. Now, instead of being all hardcore and witty, a simple look from you can make her blush

It doesn't always, though; sometimes she grows bold and lays a hand on your thigh for a moment, laughing at something you said

It's giving very much so gay panic™️, but you wouldn't trade it for the world

After the dinner, you go back to the bus and sit in your seats (which aren't together, surprisingly).

As you scroll through your phone, you get a text from Jisoo. Attached to the message is an invitation to one of her favorite mobile games.

"Hey, Y/N. Will you be my player 2? 🎮"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Jennie

Jennie Kim: The girl who practically ran the school, always getting her way and never having to lift a finger. She was royalty: the queen bee sat atop her throne, giving orders to the masses that they followed blindly. The whole situation seemed straight out of a poorly-written teenage movie, and it always annoyed you.

You: The girl who stuck to herself, only having a close group of friends that she talked to. You weren't popular, per se, but you weren't cursed to exist at the bottom of the food chain, either. Many people knew you, but you only associated with a select few.

You avoid the "popular" crowd a majority of the time, opting to spend spare time in between classes in the library or outside, doing homework

Jennie is the type of person that has people lined up, waiting for her to ask them to do hers for her. She gets to skip class and do whatever she wants, and she usually takes advantage of that.

She's never been mean to you directly, but you've seen her and her posse pick on people in typical mean girl fashion

You've never noticed the way that she usually targets people who've said bad things about you. She sticks up for you without you even knowing.

So, as you would expect, when your best friend called you and begged you to accompany her to one of the biggest parties of the year (hosted by none other than Jennie's brother), you were definitely surprised. Neither of you are the type to go to anything like that, but you know that she secretly wants to peek into that world of luxury.

"Pleaaaaase, Y/N? I'll do your laundry for a month."

"Fine."

The Turning Point

Your stylish boots crunch lightly against the concrete as you stand outside of the frat house, grimacing when you notice a boy stumble to the side of the house and get sick.

"We might have to bump that offer up to two months," you say to your friend, leaning onto her car as she checks her makeup in the side mirror.

"If it keeps you here for an hour or so, then fine." She smiles, taking your hand and leading you towards the building. Upon opening the door you're immediately greeted by waves of the strong bass of whatever song is playing. Their rhythmic thumps reverberate around the house, and you choose to seek some semblance of peace and quiet by heading to the kitchen. Your friend comes with, and the two of you push your way to the drink bar for refreshments.

"Thanks again for coming along, Y/N/N. You're the best." She leans into you, saying the phrase loud enough for you to hear over the music.

"I know," you hold your head up higher, self-assured. "You'd better go find Benji before things get too wild," you tell her, taking note of how the crowd is quickly growing in size. Benji, her longtime crush, is the only reason you really agreed to tag along; she's been head over heels for him for as long as you've known her, and you see this as the perfect opportunity for her to finally tell him. She needed some backup, and you always come through for your friends.

"Alright, I'll come find you later," she says, nervously smiling as she kisses your cheek as a farewell. You shout encouragement to her retreating figure, grinning wildly when you see her throw her hand up in the air.

Considering you made a drink for her just then before sending her off, you take the time now to make one for yourself. Your hands skim through the air overtop of the different bottles, searching for your favorite flavors and types to mix. As you go to reach across the table for one of them, disaster strikes.

You gasp as cold liquid lands on your shoulder, following gravity's command and rushing down your back and chest. A flurry of apologies follows suit, and you feel a soft hand on the small of your back as you go to turn around.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Jennie says, covering her mouth in shock. For a moment you're worried that she was dared to do this -- that perhaps her friends sent her off to ruin your outfit and embarrass you. When you find sincere regret in her deep brown eyes, though, all of those worries melt away.

"It's alright," you assure her, shaking your arms to get rid of some of the sticky drink that's trailed its way down. You set your half-filled cup on the table, no longer interested in getting anymore now.

"At least let me wash the shirt for you. I have a coat you can wear while its getting clean."

You furrow your brows at the offer, not expecting that from her. Not only has she apologized, which is practically unheard of from the prima donna, but she's willing to do something for another person?

"Uh, okay." You do your best to mask the confusion in your tone, but it's still plain to see.

"Follow me," she politely instructs, leading you down the hall towards what you assume is the laundry room.

She flips the light on and shuts the door behind you, walking into the closet to search for the spare set of close she keeps here.

When she emerges again, fluffy coat in hand, she begins stumbling over the words she was about about to say. Her eyes land on you, taking in the expanse of exposed skin now that you've stripped off the shirt you were wearing. She can't help but admire the sight; she subconsciously bites her lip, only being brought back to reality when you wave your hand in front of her face.

"Hello? Earth to Jennie?"

"What?" She eventually asks, shaking her head to rid herself of the thoughts swarming in it. She's always had a sort of thing for you, but she never imagined you could look that good. It should be a crime.

"I asked if you have a bathroom around here, so I can, ya know... wash up a bit. Whatever you had to drink is pretty sticky." You chuckle, moving your arm to show her how far it's spread.

"This room over here," she says, approaching a door on the wall opposite you, "is actually a bathroom. Convenient, right?" She asks, flipping the light on for you.

"Absolutely," you perk up, glad to know that you won't have to strut down the hall in your sports bra to get to a bathroom.

She steps to the side and pushes the door open for you, nearly melting when you give her a little wave and shut it behind yourself. She's got it bad.

She takes your shirt and throws it in the washer before setting the knobs correctly, knowing the best combos by heart. She and her brother are close, so it's not uncommon for her to come by and help him with chores when he gets swamped.

A few minutes later you come out of the bathroom clean and dry, nervously fidgeting with your hands as she turns to look at you again. Having the Jennie Kim looking at you in such a way and having her so close is a bit overwhelming, and you're not exactly sure how to deal with it.

"Here," she says, reaching around you to slide her jacket onto your arms. Her face hovers dangerously close to yours as she does, making you hold your breath in anticipation. She pulls the jacket closed, adjusting it so that it lays right, and you look into her eyes.

"Thanks, Jen."

Her heart speeds up at the nickname, though she tries not to show it.

"No problem, sweet thing." She flirts, taking you aback.

Just as you go to say something more, the door blasts open and a couple of her friends pop in. "There you are Jennie! What are you-- oh," they say, watching as the two of you spring apart.

When they realize who you are, they laugh among themselves. "What're you doing in here with her?" They ask, looking you up and down before ultimately appearing unimpressed. Jennie glances at you again, and you can see her going through some sort of inner turmoil.

"Thank God you guys showed up; she won't quit talking. I was just about to leave." She laughs, regaining the bitchy aura that she's known for. You set your jaw and nod, remembering why you choose to stay away from people like them.

"Wow, Jennie. You really had me fooled," you bite back, a bit shocked, but not surprised. You keep your eyes on hers as you take her jacket off and let it drop to the floor in front of her, grabbing a spare towel from the hamper on your way out the door. Her friends scoff at you, wondering what such a nobody like you thinks they're doing treating Jennie like that. You brush past them and send her one last look, conveying all the emotions you feel with a mere glance.

She's disappointed in herself, and she hangs her head as the girls scoop the designer material up and hand it to her.

----

45 Minutes Later

Just 15 more minutes, Y/N; totally doable. You reason with yourself. Jennie left the laundry room soon after you, leaving it vacant for you to put your shirt in the dryer and retrieve it when it was done. Now, clad in the warm material, you sit outside by the fire. Stars are shining brightly in the night sky, illuminating it so beautifully that your mind is taken off of what happened. They twinkle for you, and the sight puts you at ease.

What has that pleasant feeling dissipating in a second, however, is the sound of Jennie's voice as she exits the patio door.

She's talking to her friends about some boy that's in love with her, as the whole school seems to be, and you roll your eyes. With the moment officially ruined, you decide to head back into the house and spend the rest of your sentence there.

Once you stand up from your seat and turn around to take your leave, her friends notice you. "Jesus, you're really obsessed, aren't you? Are you following her or something?" One of them, a snarky blonde from earlier, asks.

You laugh at that. "Hardly," you glance at Jennie, though she avoids eye contact. "I'm sure you'd like that, though. Give you something to talk about other than your split ends." She reels back at your boldness, prepared to start a fight.

"You bitc--"

"Stop," Jennie finally steps in, cutting the girl off. She moves between the two of you, putting a hand on your chest and looking into your eyes.

"Jennie, I don't know what her problem is," the blonde squeaks out, trying to defend her actions.

"The problem doesn't lie with her," she tells her, leaving her puzzled. Jennie continues, "I lied earlier; I'm the one who invited her to the laundry room because I spilled my drink on her." You narrow your eyes at her following her statement, wondering where she's going with this.

"We probably would've kissed, too, if you hadn't walked in."

Your heart speeds up a little at that, but you're still hurt by what she did earlier. Having her be one way with you in private and another in public is never a good sign.

"I'm done with you guys. You turn me into something I'm not," she looks between the small following that's accrued, letting them know how she's been feeling for the past bit. The majority of them are stuck up and entitled, and seeing the hurt in your eyes put things into perspective for her. She likes you, and she wants to be better because of that.

"I don't understand, Jennie," one of them asks, sounding like she's on the brink of tears. Are these people really that invested? You know the hierarchy of popularity is confusing, but they make it seem like she's breaking up with them.

"We're not friends anymore. Not until you get your heads out of your asses and start being nicer."

The crowd clearly doesn't know how to react at her sudden change in attitude, but they mutter out various responses before some of them break away.

You look down at her and glance to the house, wordlessly telling her to follow you so that you can have a moment alone to talk. You lead her over to the patio and stand against the wall.

"I'm sorry," she says, sounding relieved to finally get the words out. Her previous actions have been weighing heavily on her, and she's been doing some introspection. It's not entirely all of a sudden, though; she's been questioning why she still hangs out with them for a while now. This encounter just confirmed her desire to leave them.

"I shouldn't have lied like that. I know it hurt you." She looks away, feeling disappointed again.

"Yeah, it definitely wasn't fun to have my crush talk about me like that." You nod, shoving your hands into your pockets.

"Crush?" Her head raises up, doing a terrible job of concealing the hopefulness she feels blossoming.

"Crush." You lightly smile at the way she blushes at your simple confirmation. She's too adorable for her own good; it's really no wonder than she has everyone on their knees for her.

"Thank you for apologizing," you say after a moment, nudging her shoulder gently. "It's more than your posse usually gives, so I appreciate it. You'd better mean it, though." You cock your head at her expectantly, a hint of warning in your tone.

"You have my word," she smiles, determined to make sure the opportunity you're giving her doesn't go to waste.

The Fallout

In the following weeks, she cut ties with more and more toxic people, causing a bit more drama to stir up, but she didn't care. You were by her side through all of it, as were your friends, and she saw what true community looks like. She had so many people at her beck and call back then, but none of them cared as much as your close knit group. They were in it because of her status, not because of her.

Walking her to class

Both of you sticking up for each other if people try to start stuff

Helping her correct her bad habits if she starts to get judgemental with someone or slips back into her old ways

Being patient with her

Her spoiling you randomly to show how thankful she is for you

"Miss L/N, we have a Candy Gram for you. Sent by Jennie Kim." A staff member says upon entering the classroom, walking the package over to you. You grin widely as you open the note attached to it.

"Come see me after class, Y/N/N. I have something for you."

You were excited for the rest of class

You rode your bike back to her dorm, parking it outside before knocking on the door.

"Hey, Jendeukie. What do you have for--"

You're abruptly cut off by her lips pressing against yours as her hands pull you in, turning you to mush. You sink into her arms and kiss back, reveling in the feeling of finally having this moment with her. You've been waiting for it ever since the party.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," she softly admits, resting her forehead against yours. "I hope I didn't overstep." You can hear the nervousness in her voice, and you smile at how cute she is.

"Quite the opposite, actually. Come here," you pull her in again, lifting her up into your arms as you walk into her dorm. She squeals at the sudden move, but the sound is quickly muffled as you lean in to kiss her again.

[oonajaeadira]

LOSING MY RELIGION: CHAPTER 4: RESONANCE

(Photo: Pedro Pascal, The Mandalorian, Star Wars/Disney+)

Pairing: Post Season 2 Din Djarin / force sensitive reader. Soft. Super soft slow burn on both sides, internal struggles. Alternating POV.

Warnings: Angst and fluff. A lot of it.

A/N: Poor, touch-starved Din. Angst and fluff, angst and fluff, I make no apologies for angst and fluff.  Thanks again for reading my silly story of yearning and abstinence. Hopefully someday it will still be full of yearning, but not so much abstinence.

Summary: Mealtimes become a source of bonding for you and Din in more ways than one.

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←-Previous Chapter 3: The Admirer

_________________

PART 1: DIN DJARIN

Din isn’t really any kind of a connoisseur when it comes to food--most of it is fine as long as he can eat it. But the mechanics of eating--the how and when--are the main focus. He’s spent most of his life avoiding communal meals, learning how to conserve his energy until the time is right and finding scattered, solitary moments to lift the helmet and take in some nutrients now and then. If he absolutely has to eat while others are around--sharing food with the Tusken Raiders, spending days on end in close quarters with other Mandalorians--there are ways he can keep the bucket low, raising it slightly, just high enough to get something in his mouth. But it’s a pain in the ass. It’s easier just to eat alone so he can take it off completely and enjoy his food. 

For the first couple of days you’re around, he retreats to the cockpit when it’s chow time, vaguely aware of you frowning after him as he climbs the ladder, balancing a bowl in one hand. 

But on the third day, you change the game on him.

Din sits on one of the cargo crates in the hull, tinkering with the mechanics of one of his vambraces. One of the remote buttons stopped working a while back and in the moments when he’s got nothing better to do he’s been trying to fix it. No luck yet. Something to do with the magnetics--it’s being tripped up by a cross-signal, most likely. 

It’s your turn to prep and you’ve been adding spices and fresh veg to a couple bowls of soup, taking more care with it than he usually would. Soup is soup. It doesn’t have to be this complicated. But you weren’t kidding when you said you had a lot of food in your cooler you needed to get eaten; there’s enough to get you both through to the destination and then some. Whether it’s been good or not, he doesn’t really have an opinion--all of it is hot and edible, and that’s all he cares about. It’s a nice break from fast and ready provisions. And it’s probably comforting and familiar for you, so bonus. 

Although, you don’t really seem to be that uncomfortable here. You’re a pleasant companion and these last couple of days have been more enjoyable than he could have expected. You don’t require too much from him. You talk when there’s something to talk about and employ yourself with your research or training when there isn’t. But he doesn’t mind the talking, what amount there’s been. You seem to have a mutual curiosity in each other’s cultures and in each other’s creeds and in each other’s….well, in each other. “Just about ready.” Your voice is just audible enough to bring him out of his tinkering, but almost drowned out by the beeping of the nanowave as you hit the warming button. You’re more subdued than usual today, just staring at the machine. Something’s on your mind. Distracted. He doesn’t spend this much downtime with people generally, but it’s not hard to tell when something’s about to come up. He might have a bad feeling about this. You clear your throat. “Just so you know...you don’t have to run away during mealtimes. It would be nice to sit and talk.” 

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Nothing specific, but y’know. Break bread. Sit down over a meal. Don’t you find it lonely to eat by yourself all the time?”

“I’m used to it. It’s...easier if I eat alone.”

Your fingers reach to fidget idly with a beaded string on your wrist, something he’s noticed you do in the quieter moments when you’re lost in thought. “Sure. And it’s fine if that’s the case. It’s your ship, after all. Still. I’d like it if you’d stay.”  

He likes you. He really does. And the last thing he wants to do is make you feel abandoned in his ship. “Okay. But...” How does he say this civilly? Dank ferrik, it’s so much easier to just eat somewhere else than to ask someone to negotiate positioning and careful maneuvering. How does he tell you how this is going to work without sounding like he’s laying out the strategy to some children’s game? 

Surprisingly, he doesn’t have to. You push a bowl of soup into his hands and circle around to the other side of the crate with your own. “I understand the rules.” When you sit down, you push toward him until your back is up against his. 

His first instinct is to jolt up straighter, which just causes his back to connect more flush with yours. “What are you doing?” Even though there’s a backplate between you, he can still feel you pressed up against him, still feel your warmth beginning to radiate through the beskar.

“You know where I am, where I’m facing, and you’d be able to feel it if I tried to turn around.”

What are you...how...that’s....huh. It’s actually clever. You must have given this some thought...trying to find some foolproof way for him to trust you. Wait. Do you think he doesn't trust you? “This isn’t necessary. You can just sit anywhere.”

“What’s to keep me from taking a peek over my shoulder if I do? This way you’d at least have warning.”

Sometimes the futility exhausts him. Would it really be so terrible? He took his helmet off in a control room full of people not long ago. Why is this different? Was it really worth all this trouble all the time? Maybe he should just rip the bacta patch off and allow you to see.

But he can’t do it. The creed is his foundation. He’s broken it a couple of times, but only to do what needed to be done. 

And only that one time out of love. 

“I don’t think you would.”

Your short laugh rocks him a bit. “There’s an awful lot of faith in that statement, Captain, thanks. I’m happy to go sit facing the wall if it’s what you prefer. Whatever means you’ll stay and eat with me for once.” Every time you speak, your voice travels through him, resonating in his own chest, sending shockwaves.

A couple of days hasn’t exactly tempered how diverting you are, but it’s certainly multiplied when you’re touching. It’s...it would be smarter to say he preferred that you didn’t, but that would be a lie. You are so warm against him right where you are.  “No. This is fine. It’s good.” He relaxes into you a little, shows you he’s really okay with it, releasing the stiffness in his shoulders and allowing you to mold into him. 

There’s a tactical beauty in this plan he deeply appreciates. On many levels. As he pops the air pressure and lifts the helmet, he’s aware of how unbothered he really is by it. The feeling of being exposed when there’s someone so nearby is starting to become familiar--in ways both good and bad. Well. Good and guilty, more like. But there are perks to having the helmet off. Like being able to rely on his sense of smell. He blinks down at the soup. What is this? It smells amazing, but oddly, not in a savory way. In a way that’s sweet and light and--

--but it’s not the soup. It's the first time he’s taken off the helmet around you and had no idea that you...that you were so…. Damn it.  

There’s an awkward quiet at first. Din has no awareness of drinking the soup, all that work you put in doesn’t register at all. Soup he’s had. All this other stuff is new. He’s soothed by the sensory cocktail of your warmth, the weight of you pressing into him, the subtle shift as you lift your bowl, the soft scent of you. Now that he isn’t wearing an audio filter, he can hear the whispered sound of your breathing. 

And then you start to speak again. 

You say something about the ship or the destination, he can’t recall. But your voice is...different when it’s not coming through the mic. Has more...resonance in it. And for once, it’s not what you’re saying as much as...the feeling of it vibrating from his back straight through to his chest....  He closes his eyes; it’s the one sense he doesn’t need right now while all the others are so engaged, inside and out. When you stop speaking, he asks a question, and then another, any question, just to get you to speak again so he can not only hear your voice, but feel it profoundly within him, ripping him to pieces.

All of this brings him more anguish than joy though, and he’s not sure why. Well, he does. He just doesn’t want to go there. He’s only known you a few days and the novelty is bound to wear off. He’ll just have to ride it out.

Even so. After this, mealtimes become his favorite moments of the trip. Without ever suggesting it again, this is your mutual way; back to back, questions and answers, shared time, filling all of his senses at once.

_______________

PART 2: YOU

The last thing you expected from a Mandalorian warrior was loneliness. 

It was hard to pinpoint at first. Fear, grief, anger, joy, love...these were easy, pure feelings, and if they were strong enough, you didn’t even have to try, they just rolled off people like waves. No force-sensitivity needed; anyone with eyes and ears could tell the same. If the feelings weren’t so strong though, you’d have to apply yourself a little harder, reach out with your senses, get through tough barriers. It’s not an ability that comes automatically to you, it takes effort, and even then, some people are completely impossible to read. Nowadays, you mostly reserve this ability for the kids at the clinic, trying to discern exactly where they hurt or how much. But emotions are never quite straight on, they're messy, all mixed up together and influenced by each other. Pain can be betrayal made up of anger and fear or it can be jealousy coated with corrupted joy and hatred. Every once in a while, pain takes on a lighter shade, a sorrow wrapped around a bright, shining core of love…. 

The Captain is not an emotional fountain by any means. He’s pretty steady, keeps himself in check--although you do get the occasional flare of hot frustration every time you own his ass at a hand of sabacc--and of course, you can’t see his face, so there’s not much to read. But there are quiet moments during the trip when you get a twinge off him, something you weren’t able to place until...you noticed it also came around any time he mentioned the youngling he’d harbored. The little one must have cracked him wide open.

Laying in your hammock, playing with the string on your wrist, you stare off into the hold, your eyes landing on the built-in carbon-freezing system and the empty frames nearby. You’ve used mobile units like this in the past, though not one so large. Carbonite freezing was developed for scientific explorers; it allowed field researchers to collect and transport biological samples and specimens for study. It was never meant for imprisoning people, because it’s not a perfect system; it’s lethal sixty percent of the time if used on a living organism. At best, it causes severe hibernation sickness. Clearly the bounty hunter was not above ruthless measures to get his job done. And you’ve peeked around his shoulder when that weapons locker was open, you’ve seen his religion. This man is durasteel and does not mess around.

So if you were going to get anything off of him, loneliness would not have been your first guess. But then again, he’s been nothing but amiable to you. Welcoming. Gruff and short with his speech a lot of the time, sure, but hey, warrior/loner type. You don’t take that personally. Although it creates a mischievous spark in you to poke at him just a little bit. In moderation. You can’t resist cracking a good Lothnut when you know it has a perfectly fluffy center. There’s a tipping point where he opens up and lets loose with the well-meaning sarcasm sometimes, and you live for those moments. But crumbling his walls will take more than a handful of days.

Not that you haven’t had conversations here and there during the journey, but it wasn’t until you convinced him to chat through meals with you that he began to warm up quite a bit. You’ve actually made him laugh a couple of times--a soft, low laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. (Note to self, stories centered around embarrassing miscommunications in Huttese are winners.) And there are moments you get the faintest breeze of affection from the guy...you’re growing on him.

That’s for the best. Because you feel the same. No need to get carried away though, right? After years of repressing attachment--or trying to, anyway--now you overcompensate and lean in hard when it comes to friends and acquaintances. That’s all. And after all, you don’t even know what he looks like under there, so why should you even--

The cockpit hatch opens. You hear the telltale sounds of boots on ladder, and sit up to watch him materialize as he descends into the hold. “Hey, Captain.”

“Good, You’re awake.”

“Are we there yet?”

“We’re landing in a little over an hour. It’ll be morning on the ground.” 

“Great. You hungry?”

“I could eat.”

________________

“How’s the fish?” You’re actually kind of glad there aren’t any chairs down here. The Mandalorian makes a good seat back for you. Sturdy. Warm.

And comes with a rumble setting. “It’s fine.” His naked voice has a mellowed tone to it, pleasant and low. It would be nice to fall asleep to. 

“It’s overcooked.”

“Yep.”

The comically-dry honesty is one of your favorite things about him. “I make no apologies, Captain. I never promised I was the galaxy’s best cook. I figured it might be overdone though. That’s why I left you the extra sauce. Go nuts.”

The clatter of his utensil stops and he goes still. You’re just about to tell him he’s not obligated to finish it, but then you have a feeling that’s not why he’s gone quiet. Patience. 

“Why ‘Captain’?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you call me that. I don’t hold rank.”

Ah. “Well, you’re the captain of this ship. You’re piloting me, so you’re my captain. And...you never told me what else to call you.”

“You never asked.”

He has a point. “I figured you’d find it rude. In my experience, first thing a Mandalorian tells you is their name, clan, birthplace, major achievements, color of their underwear.... I figured if you didn’t start with that, you just didn’t want me to know.”

There’s another small silence, and again, you let it sit. You can guess another question is brewing. “You’ve dealt with a lot of Mandalorians.” 

“A few. During the Clone Wars. There was some issue happening around a Jedi artifact on Mandalore at the time and I went in to do research on its lineage because I was an extremely nerdy kid and of course I was going to do research during a war while others were actually doing something useful.”

“There was a Jedi artifact on Mandalore?” 

“Yeah. A lightsaber--actually, it was called the Darksaber. Made by Tarre Vizsla, the first Mandalorian Jedi. The only lightsaber of its kind. It was in the Temple archives for a while, but his clan took it back, oh, generations and generations ago. But then it went missing for a while during the pacifist regime--”

His voice comes through the modulator again. “Hang on a minute.”  When he rises without warning, you start to fall backward with a little yelp. He catches you with his hand against your back, quick and steady, gently righting you. “Sorry.” Something’s got him in a hurry.

Now that he has the helmet on, you swivel around on the crate, chewing the fish, watching as he goes to the weapons locker, digs around, and brings out a chunky black sword hilt.

And then he lights it up.

And you completely lose it.

You stop chewing. You swallow. It catches in your throat a little and you cough, but you’re on the move now, fumbling to your feet, wiping the crumbs away from your mouth with the back of one hand and putting down the plate with the other, but you only have eyes for the weapon and the plate misses its mark and crashes to the floor. Blast. Whatever. Kriff the kriffing fish, you are looking at the Darksaber itself! One of the most famous Jedi artifacts of all history and one you’ve never seen with your own eyes until now! Here! The whole time! You can feel your eyes welling up, not only from a rush of admiration and adrenaline, but because you’re still slightly choking on the fish and you’d better get some water before you puke.

He watches you fumble for the cup and drink, waits while you come back to center. “You okay?”

You nod, gasping. “Where did you get that?”

“I defeated a Moff.”

“Oh. Just like that. What do you mean ‘defeated’? Like, in combat?”

“No. In sabacc.”

Your nervous laughter comes less from the sarcasm and more from what’s dawning on you. “I can’t believe it. You’re the Mand’alor!?” This couldn’t be more bizarre. And you beam like a happy fool, reveling in stupid delight as you gracefully lower yourself to a kneel.

This rankles him. “No I’m not. Don’t do that.”

“Yes you are! You won the Darksaber in battle. That makes you its rightful owner and claim to the thr--how do I know more about your traditions than you do??”

“Because you were a nerdy kid and I wasn’t raised on Mandalore. This lore wasn’t part of the--get up.”

You can’t stop giggling. You really don’t mean to, but it’s out of your control. It’s not funny at all and at the same time somehow completely hilarious. “I’ve never met a Mand’alor. Just let me have this once.”

“No.” He strides over and grips your arm, firmly but gently lifting you to your feet as you utterly fail to contain your laughter. “Here.” He pushes the hilt in your hand. “Now you’re the Mand’alor. Congratulations.”

The giggles die out as they’re slowly replaced by wonder and reverence, and in a moment, everything falls away as you hold the ancient lightsaber and extend the blade. There is nothing like this in the whole galaxy and you’re immediately in love. The weapon purrs softly in your hands, and as you wipe the tears out of your eyes, you can see the detail in the blade, the veins of light that run through the dark void. The hilt is thick and heavy, definitely made for larger hands than yours. Stepping past your Captain and into the middle of the hold, you give it a gentle swing--careful in the cramped space to keep distance. And you listen. Its hum is almost silent; the Force thrums through it deep and sub-level, visceral, like a heart pulling blood through a vein. 

You still can’t really believe it’s right here and you get to examine it personally. Even if it had still been in the archives during the Republic, there’s little chance you would have been permitted to see it, much less hold it.  “It’s crude, but also wholly unique. The way the blade shaft is formed...for its time, it’s extremely masterful.” When you finally tear your eyes away, you find your companion leaning against the hull, watching you, presumably enjoying your delight. “How did a Moff come to have it? Last I heard, it was in the hands of the Kryze clan.”

“I don’t know. But Bo Katan wants it back. Although, I tried to give it to her and she wouldn’t take it.”

“Huh. I bet she wouldn’t.”

“You know her?”

“By reputation, not personally.” You give it another slow swing before retracting the blade. “If you don’t want this, you shouldn’t have it. People will come after you. You’re going to have to throw a fight to get rid of it.”

“I offered to. She wouldn’t let me. She wanted a real battle. I won’t do that. I have no quarrel with her.”

“Then she’ll have to send someone to be an intermediary.”

“Not sure what more talking will do.”

“Not a negotiating intermediary. If you won’t fight he, she needs someone who you will fight and who will win. Someone she can best in turn. But it has to be someone who doesn’t want it for themselves.” You turn the hilt over in your hand, contemplating this puzzle. One you don’t really care to solve right now. It’s still incredible that he just happened to stumble into it. “Do you...want me to teach you how to use it?”

Now this makes him chuckle. “I might have more experience with it than you, little bird.”

“Oh, I’m sure. There are some tricks to it, though. I’d love to see it in action.” You hand it back over to him, just a little unwilling to let it go. “Maybe if we have some downtime on the ground, we spar. ‘Saber to ‘saber.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to try it? I probably don’t wield it like a Jedi.”

“No. I’m sure you swing it like a Mandalorian...which is what Tarre Vizsla was.” The sudden thought of him in armor and coming at you with that amazing weapon sends a warm rush through your chest. Y’know. Because history. Probably. Your voice catches in your throat, “I’d really like to see that.”

The following moment between you is....quiet. And heavy. And still. Stars, you understand how powerful he must be just to have gotten that thing. There’s a shift in you somewhere deep down. You might have said something else--something stupid--if an alert hadn’t gone off to signal the upcoming shift out of hyperspace. 

He moves to stow the weapon and head up to the cockpit while you clean up the spilled and abandoned remnants of your breakfast.

Little bird. 

Maybe you’ve crumbled more walls than you thought. 

His voice comes over the com. “We’re dropping out in a couple of minutes. You should get up here and strap in.” “Copy. On my way, your highness.”

“Don’t make me regret showing you that thing.”

You can’t help but grin. “Oh, I’m sure I will.”

________________

The morning air on Chalacta smells of the grain farm where the Crest II is parked, just outside of town. There aren’t any major ports or hangars, but the people seem friendly; the owner of this farm was willing to take a few credits to set the ship there--but no more than a few--even offered to let you use her sanisteam shed if you needed it. You took her up on it immediately, because five days of sonics was just about your limit.

It’s good to breathe fresh air again. Good to feel a breeze and sunshine and hear birdsong. Good to follow a big, silver man who’s making a path for you through the tangled, waist-high pasture grass. Thank you, sir.

Once you make it into town, the Mandalorian pulls up holodata on his vambrace, double-checking location, and heads off south toward a collection of homes built in a circle around a massive three-season tree. 

You pass a number of low, brown buildings, one of them obviously a school--you hear children singing inside. Many of the modest houses have older folks sitting outside who curiously nod and smile as you pass. A few of them actually get up from their morning sit-ins and follow a distance behind on the dirt road, transfixed by the off-worlders, especially the one in the shiny suit. You can hear them chattering behind you, half in Basic, half in some colloquial tongue, and you pick up most of it: they wonder where the infantry man is going with his servant girl. You’re hardly offended by this. Looking down at your dusty tunic, leggings, and boots in comparison with the beskar...in their place, you might assume the same thing. 

When you turn to smile back at them, you pass the Mandalorian who’s stopped on the path, nearly knocking into him. “This one, here.” He nods to a small, well-kept cottage. “You ready?”

Without answering, you step up to the door, take a deep breath, and knock.

A beautiful elderly woman with grey-brown hair and golden eyes opens the door, a healthy, fat baby balanced on her hip. She blinks wide at the sight of your companion, but when her eyes come to rest on yours, her shoulders soften and she gives you a small, heartbroken smile. “You’ve come.”

_______________

The kitchen is small, but bright, and you’re completely at home, cooing baby on your lap as the woman takes advantage of your willingness to entertain him in order to get some cooking done. The Mandalorian looks completely out of place here, arms crossed, tucked up against a wall. Like an appliance. He wasn’t going to come inside at first, but you deemed it necessary that the child meet both of you in a familiar setting.

“Shiari’s still at school, and my son--her father--is a teacher there. They’ll be back for their mid-day meal soon. You’re welcome to stay.”

“Thank you.” The baby in your lap looks up at you and babbles with you when you speak, a happy child. “I thought that this one might be her. How old is Shiari?”

“She’s six. But sometimes I swear she’s 60.” She cackles a little. “The other day she held my hands and explained that the days just go by too fast and I need to slow down and appreciate what I’ve been given. My son seems to think she’s picked it up from me, but I’d never say anything so sentimental.”

“Six is older than most initiates.”

“I know.” The woman keeps competently rolling out doughy patties with a little stick, concentrating her gaze on them more than her hands need her to. “I used to work for the Temple on Coruscant, you know. I was a mechanic in the hangar. I must have seen hundreds of babies come through there in my time.” Every now and then she dusts her patties and keeps rolling, forming them into thinner and thinner disks. “I understand that it’s harder when a bond is formed. But it’s better this way.”

“You worked at the Temple….Were you a member of the Church of the Force?”

She nods. “Still am.”

“I see. Then you have what you need to help her if you want to. She’s old enough that her abilities will fade over time if she’s trained not to--”

“She doesn’t want that. She wants to learn.”

“Even if it means leaving home?”

Finished with the dough, the woman pours oil onto the cooktop and stokes the fire in the low stove. “It’s better if she does. They know she’s here.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the Mandalorian’s visor turn to the older woman. “You’ve been approached?” he asks, carefully choosing his words. “Someone knows about her powers?”

“Oh, the whole town knows. That girl won’t stop floating things around. It’s a fun trick for her, and the town sees her as a gift from the stars. She’s no secret. Her father thought there’d be no harm in it once the Empire fell. But I’m the one who gets to tell him ‘I told you so,’ because the Empire is never truly gone.”

You share a look with him as he stands up from the wall, concerned, continuing his questioning but trying not to alarm her. “Does she have a chain code on register?”

“A what? No. No, I don’t think so.”

“Can she be traced.”

“Oh, stars, no. She was born here, same as her mother--may the Force bring her peace. All that bureaucracy works very slowly around here, young man. But some very intimidating men in official looking gear came asking around one day not too long ago. Of course nobody here’s going to entertain strangers if they look like that. Everyone here hated the Empire.” She turns around and waves her rolling stick at him. “When I saw you at the door I figured you were one of them, but then I saw this one,” pointing now at you, and winking, “and I knew exactly why you’d come and from where.”

You absently untangle the baby’s hand from your ear. “You were expecting us.”

“I was.” Turning back to flip her patties, she sighs. “I’ve still got some contacts out there who were able to whisper around. Same contacts that told me to keep her safe, just in case. She is one of your kind, not ours. She’ll be safer with a Jedi. And she’ll learn to do what’s right and help your lot restore order to the Galaxy again. This I believe. Now. How about some lunch?”

________________

It was kind of her, but you turned down the offer. You weren’t here to eat, and, well, your partner wasn’t going to partake in a crowd. As the morning turned into afternoon and the kitchen grew hot from the heat of the fire, you offered to wait out back in the garden while she fed the baby and put him down for a nap.

The garden is pleasantly overgrown, shared with the other houses built in a circle around this ancient tree. It’s cooler out here in its shade. You count at least five different bird calls above you as you walk around the trunk, pacing, waiting, a little less stoic than your companion who watches you pass a dozen times without turning the visor.

“Were you a baby?” he asks.

“I mean, once, yes, weren’t you? Or did the stars birth you fully formed, beskar and all?”

The reluctant king of all Mandalorians is sitting against the tree on a child’s bench that looks even smaller with him on it. Legs kicked out and crossed in front, leaning back into his hands behind his head. It’d be adorable if you were in different circumstances. “When they took you.”

“I was. I never knew my parents, if that’s what you mean. That’s the optimal condition. Younglings are initiated before there’s too much of a bond with their families.”

“And then you took children away from their parents.”

Hearing him say it that way…. You look up into the tree, watch the birds hopping around up there.  You should flare at his judgment. But. After spending so many years among real citizens and their families, you’ve thought about that old life a lot. About the privilege of the Order. Their beliefs. Your beliefs.The old ways of doing things, and the Republic way of doing things. He’s not wrong to judge. History was messy. There was a time when force-sensitives were celebrated and sought training by their own volition. Somehow things changed and it gradually became accepted that these beings almost belonged to the Order. That the Council had a claim to them. Clearly the old woman inside the house still held to this belief. And to be trained properly, younglings must be scrubbed of too much emotion, to keep them pure meant cutting off attachment at the root. This was just the way it was done. For the child’s own good, for the good of the galaxy. To form a population of peace-keeping monks. To train them the right way and keep them from falling to the Dark Side. It was noble.

And it was barbaric.

And it used to be your calling. “When the Order fell, and my squad went underground to find safe places for the younglings we’d harbored, we started by taking them back to their original families. Some were welcomed back with open arms and loving homes. But many of them were taken begrudgingly or turned away. Families that never wanted them in the first place. Who had been afraid or prejudiced against the child and what they were capable of, or because the Force held a particular stigma they felt was more important to avoid than to care for their own.”

“What did you do with them?”

“We found new homes for most of them, kind surrogate families that were sympathetic to the Order and the Republic. We made sure to scatter them to keep them safe, trying to match them to their own species so they could blend in a little better, be dismissed as biological offspring, and disappear from the Empire.” 

“Most of them.”

Here it comes. “There was one….” A flash of fear. Of great sorrow. You can still see the little dear in your arms. “There was one who was with us much longer than the others, a powerful little youngling. But untrained. We thought it would be best if he was placed with someone specific--one of our old Masters who could raise him properly. But after the purge, anyone left alive was just too well-hidden. We didn’t know who had escaped, much less where any of them were. We tried to help him, but…” Every time, it’s just an image of that little boy falling away from you, the image that’s made you most nervous about this mission. What if you let another youngling down?

You close your eyes and just listen to the birds for a moment. Focus. There is only now. You cannot undo what has happened, how those children continued with their lives, what happened to the lost one. You are no longer hunted. The Force is with you. The past is gone and it is you in the garden with the birds and your Mandalorian. You are safe here.

A warm, heavy hand settles on your shoulder, and you flinch when you open your eyes to a stormtrooper staring down at you. But it’s just a flash second...and then...then it was never a stormtrooper. It’s a more familiar helmet, a shiny one you can see your own startled face in. And somehow you know the eyes behind it are concerned; it’s an instant balm. His hand squeezes your shoulder softly in way of apology--didn’t mean to startle you. Then he tips his helmet at a spot past you.

Behind you is a little girl who’s just come into the garden. Shiari is her grandmother in  miniature, dark curls and big, golden eyes. She glances back and forth between the two of you, taking your measure, completely unafraid. You show her respect with a nod.

“Hello. You must be Shiari.”

“What kind of droid is that?” She asks the question with a total lack of precociousness.

“This?” you point at the Mandalorian with amusement. “This is the Captain. I know he looks like a droid--and sometimes he acts like one--but he’s just a good person like you and me hiding behind big, shiny armor.” The visor tilts to you in possible exasperation. You don’t care.

“Why is he in armor?”

Looking up at him, you let the man speak for himself. 

“This is what my people wear.”

“All the time?”

“All the time.”

Shiari thinks about this for a comic beat before total acceptance. “Okay.” Then she sets her shining golden eyes to you. “Nanni says you’re going to be my new Master and train me in the Force.”

“Well, I’m not really--”

“She says that Jedi Masters are the most devoted and skilled users of the Force in the galaxy.”

It’s like someone’s just squeezed you in a mechvice. During your time in the Order, you were one of the furthest away from ever being any kind of Master. At best, you may have risen to group leader in the Corps, maybe taken a position in the archives, but you were not on the inner path by any means. But now… there were so few Jedi left…. In this moment,  by way of comparison--by default--you are what passes for Master as the galaxy knows it now. It hits you hard and you need to examine this later, but not now. Do not falter. Not here. Balance your feelings. Do not confuse this little one. Smile. Bring your warmth. This is what she needs.

“I’m here to see how the Force speaks to you. And then the Captain and I might bring you to a school for other force-sensitive kids like you. How does that sound?”

She thinks about this. “Where is the school?”

“I’m afraid it’s on another world, far from here.”

You expect her to screw up her face, to cry or scream, to say no, but Shiari does none of these. Instead, her calm breaks and she displays the first sign to you of being an actual child...and dances. Well. She bounces and twirls and pumps her hands in the air, anyway. “Yeah! Yeah yeah yeah! Does that mean I get to fly in a ship and see the stars up close?”

“Maybe,” you entice, taking a seat in the grass and patting the ground beside you. “But let’s see what you can do first. You want to take a Jedi test?”

All-business Shiari is back and she goes from mid-twirl to avid wannabe padawan in record time, plopping herself cross-legged in front of you, sitting up straight and serious. “Yes, Master. I’m ready.”

This is what you came for. This is the face that breaks your heart and warms you with pride. It resonates deeply in your mind. The yearning to learn, to carry the tradition, to be a part of something bigger than herself. By her own volition. And if guiding her towards a deeper understanding--even just initially--is your destiny, then you will gladly take on the mantle she is giving you.

“Okay,” you nod. “Let’s begin.”

________________

PART 3: DIN

Retiring again to the small bench by the tree, Din watches lazily as you assess the child’s abilities.

He hasn’t been this relaxed in a while. It’s very rare that he is witness to something so idyllic. A quiet garden haven, dappled sunlight, the sounds of breeze and birds, you and a child sitting in the grass, murmuring and laughing quietly together from time to time. He watches the soft, controlled way you raise your hand, lifting a stone without touching it. The pleasant curl at the corner of your mouth when Shiari is able to do the same and more. How your fingers delicately touch Shiari on her forehead and then her heart as you instruct her how to concentrate. The curve of your neck as you bow your head and speak to her without your words. Enough time passes in this quiet state that he just watches the shadows of tree leaves dance along the light in your hair. 

He’s decided to allow himself this time for speculation. For entertaining possibilities. Something this morning in the way you said you’d like to see him in action with the Darksaber. How you looked at him. He’s been so focused on his own reaction to you that he never stopped to consider that you might have your own conflict going on. That you might want something from him too. Another thing you might have in common. Does that make things better or worse? He’s not sure.

He thinks of another woman like this, a mother with a child he knew for a short time not so long ago in an equally peaceful setting. Omera was beautiful and kind, and she could shoot a blaster effortlessly, in a way that put a small glow in him. She was more transparent about her intentions toward him and he’d been tempted by her. But in the end, she was too delicate, too committed to her life as it was, a little too slow-blooded for him. He’d weighed the option to take off the helmet, give up, settle down and farm krill for the rest of his life….but it was never really a viable choice. He’d already been restless after a few weeks being on the ground. He knew he couldn’t truly be happy in one place, leading a life without using his skills, his weapons. And even though he’d felt drawn to Omera, he couldn’t say she was able to capture his interest as much as you’ve been able to do in a third of the time. What did she say? Something about putting the armor away? Just in case it was needed? After he’d finally attained the full, new beskar gear he’d always wanted? Not possible. Getting this honor was his whole life’s goal and he was far from ready to retire right when he’d achieved it. It wasn’t a question if it was needed. It was the Way.

Maybe that was the difference, more so than your willingness to shake it up and get off-world. Omera saw the beskar as something that was covering him, pitying that it cut him off from everything and herself. She gave him privacy in a way that was humoring rather than accommodating him. But even though you have more reason to dislike the helmet, you find clever ways to make it work. You accept the beskar as part of him. Just like you and your Force. It isn’t just a tool for you. It’s inseparable from you. And from what he can tell, you wield it effortlessly. 

In a way that sets him quietly on fire.

After an hour or so, the assessment is done. Shiari runs back into the house and you saunter over to him, relaxed and revitalized, glowing as if you’ve had a good workout, and lean down close to his earpiece. “Psst. Are you awake?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” Unfazed, you kneel down in front of him. “You’ve been so still that I thought you’d nodded off.”

“No. Just been thinking. Looks like it went well.”

“Yeah. She’s bright and willing. And the Force is strong in her. We’re definitely taking her to Luke. I’m going to go in and speak to her family for a bit. I’d ask if you want to come in, but you look so comfortable here that I’d be angry with you if you did.”

“It’s fine. Go on in. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

“I’m sure you will. It won’t be long.”

_________________

The atmosphere here lets in an extraordinary amount of starlight.

It’s been quiet for a few minutes until your voice vibrates through him, “I think I’m going to sleep outside tonight.”

The evening came on fast after returning to the Crest and Din turned on an exterior running light so you could have your dinner together in the open air.  On your way back in from town, the resident farmer ran out to meet you both with an apron full of vegetables straight from her garden. The people here were kind. Shame to take that little girl away from all of this into the hard galaxy. If only the galaxy hadn’t come looking for her, she might have stayed where the sun shines and the birds sing and people look out for one another.

“I’ll join you.”

“Really? What if it rains? Won’t you rust?”

“I’m here to protect you. I can’t do that if you’re out here and I’m locked up in the bunk.”

“Yes, if there’s an attack from Empire rats. Not from well-meaning folks bearing budroot. It’s safe here.”

“For now. The old woman said something about people nosing around. I don’t like it. What’s our timeline here?”

He feels your body rise and fall as you sigh against him. “Two nights. Tonight and tomorrow. They want time to say their goodbyes. And she’s a great kid, she deserves it. They...asked us to come back and have supper with them tomorrow, one big meal together to make the transition easier. It’s important that we go. How do you want to navigate that?”

Din looks up to the stars as he eats, irritated that he has to navigate anything, but begrudgingly grateful that you asked. “I don’t have to eat. Or I can take it outside.”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s a pain. I’ll make it up to you somehow, Captain, promise.”

There must have been something in his voice to warrant your apology. He didn’t mean it that way. But it’s fine. He’ll take it and let it sit. He'd rather not talk about it.

“Do you...not want me to call you ‘Captain’?”

 “What?”

“When we were talking earlier. You asked me why I call you that. Does it bother you?”

 “No. I was just curious. Most people just start with ‘Mando.’”

You have a silent moment with this, looking up at the stars probably--he can feel the back of your head brush against his. “But that’s what you are, not who you are.”

“What I am is who I am.”

“Mmmm I don’t think that’s entirely true. I mean, you are one hundred percent Mandalorian, yes. It’s that you’re not just any Mandalorian. You’re...” Your body shakes against him.

“What’s so funny.”

“I almost said ‘You’re my Mandalorian’ because I’m apparently very dramatic. But you know what I mean. You’re just...you’re--” you let your head fall against the back of his neck, whispering the word in mock exasperation at not being able to express it better, “--you.”

He’s glad you can’t see his flushed face.

It’s good he had that time in the garden to think earlier. It clarified a lot for him and prepared him for this. The way Din sees it, he has two strategies to choose from right now. He can retreat, put the helmet on, get up and walk away, preserve the camaraderie you’ve already established. Or he can surrender, be quiet and let you stay molded to him. Whatever that means to you. Let you lay siege if you choose.

Correction. There’s a third choice. Meet you on the field. Strike first.

“Din. Din Djarin. It’s the name I was born with.”

You’re still for so long, you’re either holding your breath or you’ve fallen asleep. 

He’s about to shift to see if that will move you to respond. But you slowly raise your head and come back to center. “‘Din.’ It’s a good name. It suits you.”

He has the high ground.

“It’s not something I’m known by. I don’t have a clan or lineage to attach to it. But if you need to know the color of my underwear, it’s grey.”

Your laugh spreads through him. “That is the opposite of surprising.” You lay your head back down where it was before.  “But thank you for the introduction.” 

One breath. 

Two. 

A dozen.

“I’ve got so many names to choose from now.”

“‘Captain’ works fine, if it’s what you want.”

“I was thinking ‘King Djarin the Grey.’”

“No.”

Maybe it’s easier to just surrender.

You were both done eating some time ago.

But it’s okay if you stay like this a little longer.

________________

Next Chapter 5: The Attack --->

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[txbbo]

I've been debating making this because this is definitely not what my blog is known for and I was worried that people wouldn't want to see it, but with the amount of shit im seeing on twitter it's compelled me to make this because I'm so frustrated.

I feel like I could make 100 posts about 'Cancel Culture' and it wouldn't be enough, so I'm just going to focus on what caused me to write this tonight - the Tommy situation. *Warning for a VERY long post below*

To be clear, Tommy has been in 'hot water' on twitter for the past couple weeks, roughly starting with the KSI collaboration where he made a joke about dream stans.

Last week, when the SBI 'exposing account' got made and twitter hyped it up, someone made a Tommy account and made a thread of things he needed to be '''educated''' on: https://twitter.com/idktommyinnit/status/1379158964148002821?s=20

I'll let you read it for yourself (and come to your own conclusion) but to me.... half of this stuff does not require a twitter thread? Breaking it down accusation by accusation:

1) 'The Mexican accent' - the clips show he is clearly only doing it when copying big Q (who famously exaggerates his own accent) and there is zero malicious intent (Big Q is also IN the 3 clips mentioned in the thread, and obviously didn't tell Tommy it was offensive). There's debates in the comments from people who think it is offensive and people who don't, so I'm not trying to pick a side. To avoid accidentally offending anyone, maybe it is best for him to stop, but the way twitter acts as if he was purposefully doing this to offend people is just not true.

2- 'Making a slave joke' - Even saying that feels wrong, because it suggests Tommy is doing something awful. Instead, they are referring to the 'bit' that Tommy, Techno, Tubbo and Ant were involved in, when Tommy and Techno took Tubbo and Ant as their slave. People are taking this vod and using it to accuse Tommy of being insensitive to Black people, but I think people are just assuming the worst. Slavery existed long before the transatlantic slave trade and still exists today. This is a role-play server - Tommy 'forced' Ant to work for him and used the word slave, which to me is exactly what was happening? People 'murder' others on the SMP, people 'kidnap' on the SMP, people are 'terrorists' on the SMP, and all happen without issue. To add, Ant is a WHITE man. Tommy taking a WHITE man as a slave is not something uber problematic.

3- 'His reply to Techno's 'murder is bad' tweet'. - I get people saying that Techno's initial tweet was insensitive, but saying Tommy's agreement to this from almost over a year ago is something notable and worth addressing is just super nitpicky and is clearly only in there to pad out the thread. It also makes me wonder what other CC's interacted with it and if THEY should be cancelled too (according to twitter).

4 - 'The saying slurs' tweet / jokes about 'whats the worst word you know' - This one I can kinda see how people might not like it. However, it's clearly a 'poke' at his friends, making them seem like bad people. To me, its in the same vein as 'Tubbo is a Tory' or when Tubbo shoots back that 'Tommy is a Nigel Farage fan'. They're obviously not, but its making fun of your friends by saying they are, and mockingly making them out out to be bad people.

5- 'Covid jokes' - People are taking jokes he made about him 'having covid' and saying he shouldn't joke about this, even going as far to linking it to asian hate crimes. I don't even know how to explain that that this is just? not a 'cancellable offence'? I'm sorry but if I hear anyone in my family coughing I make a little joke that 'they better not have covid' and I know other people do. I have someone in my family who is extremely vulnerable to Covid and if they caught it, would quite literally die, but I can understand that jokes like these are harmless. The whole internet had a running joke that we were in a 'panoramic' or 'Panera' or 'insert any word that sounds like pandemic.

This thread got a lot of attention and anything he tweeted afterwards was spammed with the link and there were so many people upset that he hadn't addressed it. I saw so many people say how 'upset' and 'disappointed' they were in him.

Going on to today, this happened: https://twitter.com/khasiid/status/1380611890104139776?s=20

I get it, it looks bad. But for context (which the tweet doesn't give), the reply was only up for less than a minute. It was obvious to me, even BEFORE Tommy addressed it in his stream (clip here: https://twitter.com/cowrpse/status/1380640046202593283?s=20 ) that it was a mistake. In the clip, he clearly acknowledges his mistake and seems embarrassed. To me, this situation should just be laid to rest because a mistake does not need this much attention, but twitter disagrees.

In case it wasn't obvious by now, the tide is turning against Tommy and people are less willing to ignore genuine mistakes and assume the worst.

Today, during his birthday stream people were clearly already waiting for him to mess up. Around half way through, he started saying 'finna' out of context and Tubbo joined in. This led to tons of tweets telling him he was misusing AAVE, and while there were plenty of people willing to be patient and educate, there were also people seeing this as an example of him being a 'bad person' and someone who should be 'without a platform'. I think people forget that not everyone has the same internet upbringing as they do. In general, I think its noted that the misuse of AAVE is something that has just recently been brought to attention. I learned about it through tiktok and stan twitter, and I don't think it's unimaginable that a British 17 year old boy (who is not active on either) has never heard of 'African American Vernacular English'.

Just for a fuller picture, today has also brought about another 'criticism' that I just had to address.

1) 'Tommy made a KKK joke' - Like the 'slavery' point, saying this is extremely misleading. It makes people think the worst. Here's the clip: https://twitter.com/ghostburz/status/1380673589612011522?s=20

Here, Tommy and Tubbo are both joking about Tubbo's 'bit' of naming his alt streams 'aaaaaaaaaa', 'bbbbbbb', 'cccccc', etc and how it would've been bad if it was 'kkkkkkkk' (for obvious reasons). That is literally it. It is a less than 20 second clip. Acknowledging that people woulda thought about the 'KKK' is not him 'not understanding Black issues', its a throwaway joke about the obvious.

Lastly, someone on twitter has made a tommyinnit (address asap) doc - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1tZEZtBzikS-EYYkssfFtwVOoFqOwCK0zhStLe6H1wCc/edit

I've basically already covered everything in this document, but I wanted to mention how extremely 'guilt trippy' the whole thing is. I struggled to come up with the perfect word for the situation, and I am open to hearing other peoples opinion, but as I have mentioned none of these things Tommy has been accused of were done with malicious intent, and some I believe don't even need addressed at all.

'slavery is a source of astronomical trauma for black people, and isn’t something to be taken lightly if you’re to look into the horrors of the slave trade."

and "Oftentimes they are the last words we hear before we die and it really is not Tommy’s place to joke about words that affect us so negatively."

Are extremely emotional words for a 17-year-old boy to hear on his birthday, for stuff that I believe has been taken out of context and blown out of proportion.

I really feel bad for him, because such a large proportion of twitter (which ofc is the loudest side of the fanbase) is angry at him and is demanding (as the document says) ''either a stream or twitter thread/twitlonger to addressing this' and 'a long and serious apology instead of a short statement pre-stream'.

We all know how twitter works, and unless his apology is perfect (which to me means apologising for stuff that he should't have to, as explained in the thread), twitter will continue with this weird hyper focus on everything he does, and it's not going to end well.

Twitter's mentality of 'putting everything this person has done that could ever be considered problematic' into one neat little thread is so unhelpful and counter intuitive. I got overwhelmed reading some of the stuff people were saying about him, I can't imagine how he feels.

I feel like I have more to say but at risk of writing an essay longer than my actual work I have to do, I'm going to end here.

[skellebonez]

Who Do I Go To? (Monkie Kid Fanfic)

I totally did not accidentally post this early before I edited it or added everything from my wip file... no... but anon, you gave me so much FREEDOM with this that I just went absolutely off the rails. This is not only set in a post S3 scenario where everyone survives and most of the villains have some kind of at least semi-redemption (except LBD, rip), this does feature a crackship or two of mine (you can read the tags to see the ships before you read)! Sun Wukong also has all of his immortality and some of his powers, I am writing this with the idea that he transferred most of them to MK and some of that was permanent once LBD was defeated and MK got his own back.

So... what if Sun Wukong did start communicating with the others in S3... but still has been bottling up his emotions about the past for so long he doesn’t feel he can talk to anyone because of their shared experiences? And what happens when that guilt and grief finally has someone willing to listen?

“What are you doing here, Si-SUN Wukong?” The Demon Bull King asked slowly, stumbling over his usual insult for the one once so close to him. They still weren’t close, and it was doubtful they would ever be as long as the sworn brothers they once were, but they were no longer at each other’s throats anymore.

That didn’t change how bizarre it was to see The Great Sage Equal To Heaven just... sitting outside his new home with no warning.

“DBK!” Wukong exclaimed, more startled than the larger demon was expecting as he jumped up and turned and if he didn’t look like he’d been hit with a truck metaphorically DBK didn’t know how to describe the way his fur stood on end and the redness in the other’s eyes. “I. UH. Was. Just stopping by to say hi!”

“No you weren’t,” DBK said, face falling into a deadpan glower. “You don’t do that. Even after 500 years I know you don’t.”

“I can start!” Wukong defended, crossing his arms and looking away with a wide teeth showing smile.

Too wide.

Even after everything that happened between them, from Red Boy to what happened when he needed his wife’s fan to sealing him in the mountain and everything that transpired with the Little Thief, he recognized that unhappy nervous smile.

“You can,” DBK said with a nod, gesturing to the smaller being. “You can also be here for a reason. Like what I heard you muttering to yourself behind the door.”

“And that’s my cue to leave!” The Monkey King announced as he turned to walk away before a large hand, with shocking gentleness for the one attached to it, wrapped around his shoulders.

“If you need to talk-”

“No, haha, I most certainly have no need for that!”

“-you know we’ve already made peace. I-”

“You don’t need to do anything,” Wukong insisted, struggling only a little before freeing himself from the other’s grip with an even wider nervous smile.

“-am willing to listen.”

“Don’t have to!”

“Are you at least talking to anyone?”

Neither of them said anything, The Demon Bull King staring down at The Monkey King with both frustrated annoyance and genuine concern in his expression.

The former he could deal with, but the later was so new again that...

Sun Wukong panicked.

“.... OKEY BYE!” He yelled, jumping and allowing his cloud to catch him and take him off.

"YOU CAN'T HIDE FROM YOUR FEELINGS FOREVER SUN WUKONG!"

"I HID FROM THE WORLD FOR 500 YEARS AND I TURNED OUT JUST FINE, I THINK I'LL MANAGE!"

“He turned out fine, he says,” Princess Iron Fan called from behind her husband as she emerged from their home. “So fine that it took him losing his invincibility and his successor nearly being killed for him to admit he needed help.”

DBK grunted, nodding in agreement at her words.

“He needs more, still, my dear. Even I can see that.”

“Let’s call in some reinforcements then, darling. I think there are two people who may be able to get through to him.”

~

Sun Wukong sat on the beach of Mount Huaguo’s island home, clearly trying not to think about what had just transpired.

“Hey.”

“How did you even know to look for me here?” Sun Wukong asked, not nearly as startled this time. He’d heard the footsteps coming for a long time, the other apparently wanting to make his presence known.

“Bull King called Pigsy’s asking for MK. MK called me since he’s working. I remembered where you like to sulk. Hence: I’m here.”

Wukong groaned, wrapping his arms around his knees and burying his face in them. “I shouldn’t have even left the house today.”

“But you left,” Macaque said with a shrug, watching the other stew in his frustration at himself. “And you went to see DBK... and I guess Princess Iron Fan too? But you ran off. Why?”

“I can’t check up on an old friend turned enemy turned less enemy to ‘not exactly friend but we’re not trying to kill each other’ without being questioned?” Wukong grumbled into his arms.

“Not when you make him sound as worried as he did when he talked to MK,” Macaque continued, voice becoming more tense. “You didn’t go to apologize or explain anything, I was there when all that went down. So... did you finally go to talk about everything e-”

“No.” The word was said with such coldness that Macaque knew it was put on. It wasn’t out of malice but something else, something more worried and fearful. “No. I can’t talk to him about... I told him everything that explained what happened. I apologized. I don’t need to talk more.”

"I don't understand why you're so opposed to to just talking about, you know... how you’re doing," Macaque said with a concerned frown. It almost felt odd on his face. Almost. He was still getting used to the whole "not being mortal eternal enemies and now being friends and kinda sorta caring about each other again" thing. "I know it's been centuries and all and you're out of practice but like... it's been centuries."

"I just... can't, Macaque," Wukong rebutted as he refused to lift his head from his arms. "I just can't."

"Why?"

"Don't."

The single word stayed in their air between them, heavy and hard and meaning more than the immortal would ever admit to.

"Come on, there has to be a reason," Macaque insisted as he sat down beside the other immortal. When no response came he sighed, tail flicking absently and flipping over some of the rocks on the beach as they sat in silence for few minutes. "You know... I started talking to someone."

"What?" Wukong turned his head, just enough to look at the other monkey from the corner of his eye.

“Sandy’s a good listener,” Macaque continued, falling back down to lay flat on his back and gaze up at the clouds. He remembered that Wukong felt better, sometimes, when you looked away when talked to. Didn’t know why, but he remembered. “Not exactly the kind of therapy he thinks I need, but he lends me his cats and he lets me talk and sometimes asks if I want advice. Sometimes I say yes, but when I say no he understands. Sometimes I just want to rant at that one little one eyed cat he has and she listened to... I think. She’s a cat so I wouldn’t know. He thinks I should see someone more experienced, an expert. Maybe he’s right, I dunno, but this helps enough for now.

“... who are you and what have you done with the Six-Eared Macaque?” Wukong asked with a soft glower, one that was clearly in jest from the tiny smile the other could see.

“Same Macaque,” the other said with a laugh, sitting back up with a theatrical flourish. “Just realized that talking to someone isn’t as dumb or useless as I made it out to be in my head. A lot of the stuff I thought about alone wasn’t exactly the best. Or healthiest. But now I can get that out there and sometimes it makes Sandy look like he ate a whole lime which probably means it’s good it’s not in my head anymore.”

“You ramble a lot,” Wukong said with a chuckle, tail swishing softly beside him before nudging against Macaque’s. He tensed before it slowly wrapped around the other’s. “It feels odd, having you try to cheer me up again after... everything.”

“Bad odd or good odd?”

“Good.”

“That’s.... good,” Macaque said, squeezing Wukong’s tail with his own. “Feels odd for me too. Like I’m out of practice too. But it’s good odd...” The two sat in silence for a moment, just enjoying each other’s company before he continued. “I do think you should talk to someone. Anyone.”

“I don’t know who, though. Every time I try I just... clam up and run away. I’ve put so much on MK already,” Wukong said, tail squeezing around Macaque’s loosely in return. “And Pigsy and Sandy... After all that came out, that Sandy is Sha Wujing and Pigsy is Zhu Bajie’s reincarnation... I just... I can’t talk to them either, even though Pigsy doesn’t remember anything at all. And you... DBK... everyone... who do I go to that knows enough about me to know what they’re in for but I won’t have those memories floating around in the back of my head toward making me run away?”

“Well, you could have Sandy help you get a therapist. Prepare them in advance. Or, if you’re not ready for that, you could talk to Tang?” Macaque suggested with a shrug. “He listens to me when I’m not talking to Sandy... but that’s probably because we’re dating, that’s what it is now instead of courting, right? So he kinda has to I think? Pigsy and MK talk to him too but with me I think it’s different.”

"I don't think that's how it works," Wukong said with a half hearted chuckle as he finally raised his head all the way. "Besides, I've known Tang longer."

"By like 3 months."

"3 months more is still enough to know that if he doesn't want to listen to you he won't. The man knows how to make a speedy exit."

"Guess that's one more thing that sets him apart from his great-great-great-great-great-whatever uncle," Macaque admitted with a shrug and a chuckle of his own. He squeezed his tail around Wukong's, smile softening when he felt it being returned.

“Feels... weird though,” Wukong said with a shrug. “The two of them looking so much alike.”

“Yeah, but that’s it,” Macaque rebutted. “He’s Tang Sanzang’s great-whatever nephew 5 times removed or whatever and he looks like him. Other than that? He knows pretty much all of your history. He’s mostly out of the hero worship zone but he still respects you a lot. Aside from everything that happened with LBD and MK you two have the least history out of everyone so maybe whatever’s in your head making you clam up might not stop you. And it couldn't hurt to try. It’s not therapy, it’s just talking about something that’s bothering you. Worst that can happen is you get nervous and fumble and he takes the opportunity to ask you 40 questions about the times you were almost incinerated by a baby."

"That was one time!"

~

“Uh,” Tang started, staring out the open door with wide eyes at the being before him. “Hi. I didn’t exactly expect to you see today.”

“I didn’t exactly expect to be here today,” Wukong said awkwardly, nervous smile taking over his face as his tone became far too jovial for what he was about to ask. “Macaque sent me to... talk to you. About me?” His smile drooped bit by bit as he said these words, slowly starting to lose his determination to go through with this. “Oh second thought, maybe I should-”

"No," Tang said, reaching out to put a hand on the immortal's shoulder. It was nothing, really, not to someone as strong as he was. Not when he could brush it off and walk away. Go home. Just sit on his couch and watch Monkey King The Animated Series again and just think about how no one deserved to be saddled with his problems anymore. But Wukong didn't. "Whatever it is, we’re going to talk about this now. I know I’m not trained like Sandy is, but I know how to listen. And if you need someone to listen to you, I can. You wouldn't have come here to talk if you didn't."

“... ok...” Sun Wukong said, letting Tang wrap his arm around his back and guide him inside his shared home with Pigsy and Macaque.

It was... odd. Being inside this place for the first time. He’d been outside of the door more than once, invited in as well. But never inside.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Tang said, stopping his guidance once they reached the sofa. “I’m no Sandy, but I was making myself some tea and it is a batch of his own anyway. I’ll grab us some snacks too.”

“Snacks would be great,” Wukong admitted, watching the other disappear into the house’s kitchen before he sighed and gripped his thrashing tail and muttered to himself. “What am I doing..? I shouldn’t put all this on Tang... I should have gone with Macaque’s first suggestion, I’m-”

“Do you prefer lychee or persimmon?” Tang asked suddenly, startling the immortal for the second time that day. “We’re out of peach bao, but MK’s been making them out of lots of fruits and we have so many that I was planning on eating them myself.”

The scholar returned, faster than expected, with a full tray in hand. Teapot, two tea cups, and a steamer box that presumably held the buns he was asking about.

“Uh... persimmon,” Wukong answered, and he watched as Tang poured each of them a cup of tea and removed some clearly fresh (or at least made some time earlier in the day and freshly steamed), pieces of fruit laden bao to put on a plate for his guest before taking a seat in a chair across from him. “You were... getting lunch?”

Tang shrugged, laughing as he took a bite of one of his own. “Just wanted a snack. But,” He smiled, gesturing to the Monkey King. “We’re not here to talk about snacks. What’s on your mind?”

“Awfully forward start.”

“I try to be forward with the people I consider my friends.”

“... You consider me... a friend?” Wukong asked slowly, turning the bao over in his hands. It was well made, perfect he would say. You’d think MK would have been making them all his life, not that he’d learned how to on the drone ship while on the run from an evil super demon bent on erasing his mentor from the world.

“After everything we went through, how could I not?” Tang said, putting his food down to sip his tea and then putting that down as well and looking at him seriously. “You’re here because it’s the anniversary of the day you sealed away the Demon Bull King, aren’t you?”

The bao in his hands wasn’t perfect anymore. Instead the red lychee inside dripped from his claws from where they punctured it in surprise.

“How did you-?”

“My specialty study is your history after all,” Tang said, smile returning with a sad tint. “I’ve known the date for years but I felt it was something to keep to myself. For some reason. Now with you and DBK back I think that was a good choice. It feels too personal to have out in the open for everyone to make a spectacle of.”

“Is it selfish of me to be thankful for that?” Wukong muttered, gently placing the bao on the plate to lick his claws clean.

“I don’t think so,” Tang answered.

“I feel selfish though,” he continued, not managing to take note of how Tang sat up straighter and turned more toward him. “I went to DBK’s to... I don’t know. I wanted to apologize again? But I already did and he accepted it and it feels selfish to want to again. Then I just. I froze.”

“Why?” Tang asked, scooting closer.

“It felt wrong.”

“Because you would make him feel awkward?”

“NO!” Wukong groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I just. I feel...” He took in a shaky breath, claws digging into his skin slightly.

“Don’t,” Tang’s voice came soft and closer than Wukong expected, as did the hands on his own slowly pulling his claws away from his face. “Don’t hurt yourself. And don’t bottle it up. I’ll listen to you. No matter what it is. It’s not selfish, feeling things isn’t selfish.”

“I miss it,” Wukong breathed out, shaky and choppy as his throat tightened as the words started to pour out of him. “I miss him. How things used to be between us and Iron Fan. I miss that I never got to meet Red Son when he was Red Boy. I miss Beng and Ba and Ma and Liu and how things used to be. I miss Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing even though they’re here. I miss my Tang Sanzang. I’d been alone for 500 years and I missed so much and I did that to myself and it’s selfish to miss like that...”

He didn’t realize his cheeks were wet until his hands had been let go and one of Tang’s rubbed a cloth against them. Tang cupped his cheeks softly before wrapping his arms around him and tucking the Monkey King’s head into the space between his neck and shoulder.

“No... no it’s not. You’re allowed to miss things, Sun Wukong. Just like anyone else.”

Sun Wukong started to feel better.

He didn’t know why that was what did it, but the dam broke. It broke and his tears came pouring out as he hugged the man who reminded him so much of his Master. He didn’t know if anything he said in the mean time made any sense, if he was just blubbering and finally letting himself mourn what he’d lost and never had, but Tang didn’t ever chastise him. He let him weep and hold him and for the first time in years...

~

“Oh!” Princess Iron Fan startled as she opened the door to see who had knocked, finding herself face to face at sunset with one Great Sage. “You’ve returned.”

“Are you and DBK free?” Sun Wukong asked, smile no longer too wide. “I... kinda just wanna talk with you for a bit.”

“Well... I think that would be lovely.”

[jincherie]

four’s company | rapline [m]

✘ — pairing: boxer!rapline x male!reader ✘ — genre: smut!, boxer au, poly au ✘ — wc: 6.4k ✘ — rating: 18+ ✘ — warnings: minor injuries (occupational hazard kind), smut: mxm, light (accidental) voyeurism, light hand kink, baby boy reader, sub/bottom reader, dom/top members, foursome, anal sex, protected sex (don’t forget to wrap ‘em, lads and ladies!), fellatio ✘ — notes: part of a fic exchange within the ghostie network, i’m sorry it’s late!!!!! please accept my humblest apologies!!! @bangtanloverboys​ here you go!! i hope it’s not too shitty!!!

If accidentally walking in on your three crushes in a heated moment, not once, not twice, but thrice isn’t enough to capture their attention, then you don’t know what is. You’re about to find out that you’ve had their attention for a while, though.

— posted; 02.01.2021 || masterlist

For what is far from the first time tonight, you feel the weight of a certain gaze.

Well, to be more specific, it hasn’t just been one gaze you’ve felt on you tonight. More like… three. 

You know who they belong to, unfortunately. It’s the same three people that you found in an… interesting situation earlier. On that was, no doubt, not meant for outside eyes. 

Well, you say that, but you feel like that’s just because you, yourself, are mortified. To be honest, the three boxers you found locking lips and making out in the locker room didn’t seem to be all that ashamed about it.

In fact, when they caught you in the motion of fleeing, they’d had the audacity to grin about it! 

Utterly humiliating. You haven’t been able to bring your gaze anywhere near them all day. To make matters worse, you couldn’t even flee to the safety of your home or anywhere similar, because there is a match tonight and you’re needed as a qualified first aid officer. 

Which brings you to the current predicament; sitting ringside and attempting to avoid the gazes of the three boxers seated on the side adjacent. Try as you might, it’s actually a struggle to keep your eyes on the current match. It’s a rookie night, and you feel extra bad since one of the people in the ring is actually a close friend. 

Though, perhaps you should demote Jungkook from ‘close friend’ status considering he is the reason you started working here and subsequently, had the opportunity to stumble upon a certain scenario this morning. Were it not for him and his stupid, pleading puppy eyes, you wouldn’t have a particular embarrassing image burned into the back of your eyelids.

You know that despite his rookie status, Jungkook is quite a naturally talented boxer. Perhaps that is part of the reason that your brain thinks it’s okay to let your eyes stray from the match instead of watching attentively as you’re expected to. The subconscious certainty that Jungkook can handle himself seems to be your undoing, because in a moment of inattentiveness your eyes manage to reach the area you’d been trying so hard for them to avoid. 

As you’d both feared and expected, they are in fact already looking at you. Well, one of the three. It is the piercing gaze of the club's current lightweight champion, Min Yoongi, that bores a hole into you right now. The two accomplices to his side aren't joining him in drilling their eyes into you across the room for now, instead leaning into each other as though they're whispering amongst themselves. 

There's something about Yoongi's eyes, dark and piercing, that seem to always root you in place no matter where you are. His expression, as it usually tends to be, is unreadable. It's a certain kind of neutrality that graces his features, thin enough that you can tell there is something behind it but too opaque for you to be able to discern exactly what. 

You don't even realise you're trapped in his gaze until the sounding of the bell snaps you out of the spell that seemed to be cast over you. Your head whips back around and you see the referee signalling the end of the bout, and just beyond him Jungkook is standing slightly bent over as he offers a hand to his opponent on the canvas. To your alarm, it is only now that you notice the blood dribbling down the man’s face. The reasonable crowd that has gathered is still cheering (Jungkook was quick to rise as one of the fan favourites) and it’s a wonder you can hear the referee’s call above the ruckus.

“Medic!”

That’s your cue. 

x – x – x 

 “You look kind of on edge, man. Are you alright?”

You’re almost too busy staring into your coffee in a borderline dissociative state to hear Jungkook as he calls for your attention. It has to be about the thirteenth time in the past half hour, but you can’t find the energy to be ashamed about it. Mostly because all of your shame and embarrassment are focused on other areas right now.

It had happened again. 

Is it just your luck? You don’t know whether to dub it as rotten luck, because you feel it would be a bit of an insult to the boxers you’d once more found in a suggestive situation.  But considering it good luck feels kind of sleazy, because although you’re embarrassed as hell, all things considered what you walked in on wasn’t a bad view—

No, that thought is stopping there. Any further and you’ll only incriminate yourself and you’ll have to dose yourself with another fresh shot of shame. 

Realising that you still haven’t answered the concerned-looking boy sprawled in the chair to your side, you offer him a non-committal grunt. It’s the best you can do while you take another moment to form actual coherent thought. 

“I’ve never been better,” you say, and immediately Jungkook lets loose an abrupt snort.

“You look like shit, so don’t bother trying to lie. Are you having trouble sleeping again or something?”

You survey him for a moment, touched that he remembers the insomnia that had ailed you for a few months a while back. “Actually, I’ve been sleeping pretty good the past few months.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, making you squint at him in question. “Oh, I’ll bet you have, considering the things you were saying in your sleep last time I stayed over.”

You simply look at him, wondering whether he’s going to be an ass and continue.  You don’t have to wait long for an answer.

“You were all like, ‘nngh, Namjoon,’ and ‘oh, Yoongi’, and then you said something about Hoseok too but I can’t quite remember, probably because it was so x-rated that my poor baby brain banished it from my memory—”

“Jungkook,” you cut him off, gripping the plastic spoon that came with your drink painfully tight. “Shut up.”

This is most definitely not the conversation to be having in the café barely a block away from the boxing gym where the two of you frequent, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to get the hint. Actually, you’re pretty sure he got the hint and he just doesn’t care enough to heed it.

“You really ought to do something about that crush of yours, bro. There’s three of them, so there’s three times the misery if you sit on your ass instead of—”

“Jungkook,” you attempt to warn him again, glaring slightly this time. You’ve scooped some of the whipped cream off of his plate of pancakes and hold the tip of the spoon back, threatening to fling it at him should he keep talking. 

“—doing something, you know? I’ve seen them practically undress you with their eyes enough times by now that I could fill out a diary with all the incidents I’ve witnessed. Plus, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how often they ‘hurt’ themselves as an excuse to see you? I really don’t think you have much to lose, especially with an ass like yours—well, it’s nothing like the cake I’m serving, but still, it deserves some praise—ACK!”

Ah, so he has chosen death.

You discard the now-empty spoon onto a napkin, taking a long sip of your drink. It seems Jungkook has engaged his ape brain more today than usual as instead of wiping the cream off his face like any normal human would, he’s attempting to reach it with his tongue. His chances aren’t good, to be honest; though you reckon your mutual friend Jimin would be able to get it from that distance. Dude has a tongue like a lizard. 

“You have Seven Days,” you tell him, struggling not to let a smile through as the amateur boxer whines, unable to reach the cream.

“You have seven days,” he grumbles sulkily, reaching with a begrudging hand for a napkin. “Do something or I’ll expose your ass.”

You roll your eyes, ninety-nine percent sure that he’s kidding.

… 

That other one percent worries you a bit though.

x – x – x 

You take back what you decided earlier— something is definitely wrong with your luck.

“And how did you hurt your knee again?”

“I tripped on the stairs.”

Jung Hoseok, the club’s current star welterweight boxer, sits before you in your little medical office. There aren’t any matches on today, but you’re on shift because the club members are doing some of the more rigorous training; there is an important few matches coming up for a few members, and they all want to be as prepared as possible. As tends to be the occupational hazard, training can often lead to injuries that need to be immediately attended to. 

You can’t say, though, that this is the type you were expecting when you rocked up today.

Hoseok is beaming at you, all sincerity and sparkles. There’s a slight bit of dark regrowth in his hair that catches your eye as you survey him, the crimson ends sticking to his forehead lightly from sweat. He looks every bit earnest and honest as he sits in front of you, but you can’t help but suspect him just slightly.

Because you’re not sure any of the club members have ever made their way to your office for a graze that wouldn’t even phase a kindergartener.

“Well,” you say, trying to ignore what Jungkook had said barely a day or two ago that floats back into your head now. “The good news is, it’s not fatal.”

Hoseok lets out a great, dramatic huff in relief. “Oh, thank god. I was so scared this might have been the end.”

‘Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how often they ‘hurt’ themselves as an excuse to see you?’

Is that what this is? An excuse to see you? A look spared for the man before you leads you to conclude: probably not. He’s a little too radiant to be seeking out lil’ ol’ you.

“Not this time,” you say, rummaging through your small box of mismatched bandages. Finding what you’re looking for, you turn back around and begin preparing it to place it on Hoseok’s knee. “You live to see another day.”

Hoseok shifts like he’s about to say something in response, but cuts himself off with a surprised laugh when he sees the band-aid you put on him. “Wh—you have Minions band-aids?!”

“I reserve them for special patients,” you say before you can stop yourself, promptly clamping your mouth shut a little too late. Your cheeks… you just hope the heat gathering there isn’t obvious.

Something shifts in Hoseok’s gaze as he surveys you for a moment, before hopping from the bed, testing his knee out like he’d sprained it instead of scratching it. The look is gone before you can fully decipher it and he’s back to grinning brightly once more. 

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll have to come back often. Wouldn’t want them to go to waste.” Hoseok’s smile adopts a slightly cheeky edge as he makes his way to the door, lifting two fingers to his temple in a lazy salute. “See you later, doc!”

Then he’s gone before you can return the farewell, door closing definitively behind him and leaving the room in silence. 

Are you going crazy, or did Hoseok— one of the three boxers you’ve happened to walk in on twice now—just return your light flirting?

… God, you hope it wasn’t because of the minion band-aid.

x – x – x 

You wish that visit had been an isolated incident, but you had a repeat of it at least twice a week. Each time Hoseok would rock up grinning at your door with some other minor injury, all but demanding a minion band-aid for his troubles. You gave it to him, of course, but you still hope he doesn’t remember you as the minion band-aids guy. 

Surprisingly enough, it isn’t only Hoseok that has been cropping up more often in your day-to-day. You’ve had a few surprise encounters with Yoongi, who lately has taken to giving you a sly, unreadable look before turning away, leaving you in your own confusion. Sometimes you’ll get carried away watching him or one of the other boxers practice, and before you know it he has caught you staring red-handed and you’re forced to flee the room to escape the smug, intrigued look that slips into his eyes. 

It’s after such an occasion that you find yourself in the main locker room, attempting to multitask by looking for a box of first aid supplies hidden in the top shelves and giving your face a chance to cool down. It’s taken you so long to even find the damn box that your embarrassment has all but evaporated by now. By the time your eyes lock onto the scuffed white box peeking over the edge of the highest shelf in the corner of the room, you’re more than ready to snatch it down and escape back to the comfort of your dingy little office. 

Of course, it couldn’t ever be so easy for you. Not given your recent string of poor luck. 

You don’t consider your height to be remarkably anything, and normally you don’t have that much trouble reaching the cookie jar on the top shelf in your apartment but for some reason the shelves in this building are built to cater to giants, and try as you might you simply cannot reach. You’re literally about to abandon the last of your dignity and attempt jumping for it, when there is a light scuff on the floor from behind you and then a firm warmth pressing into your back. 

In all honesty, your brain short-circuits. For a second you think you might have even blacked out, because it takes at least three seconds for you to realise what is happening, and by that time the figure has already retreated back from your form. 

Somewhat dazed, you turn around to see one Kim Namjoon, the clubs leading middleweight champion and the third and final member of those racy scenarios you happened to walk in on oh-so long ago. In his hands is the box you’d been struggling so much to reach, and on his face is a look that somehow blends sheepishness and amusement into one attractive cocktail on his features. 

“Here you go,” he says, and for a shamefully long moment all you can do is stand and soak in the lovely timbre of his voice. By the time you snap out of it, a small smile has begun to curl on his lips. You pointedly avoid looking at the dimples that are beginning to show as a result. 

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you say, trying to make it as natural as possible as you reach and take the box from his hold. “Whoever put it up there seems to have a vendetta against me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he says, and there’s suddenly something a little secretive about the way he’s smiling. It makes you suspicious, and once more the words Jungkook prattled into your ear a week or so ago come rattling back into your brain. 

Is this something similar to what Hoseok had done? Did Namjoon put the box on a higher shelf?

“Are you calling me short?” For some reason, that’s what comes out of your mouth. There is a slight disconnect from what you said and what Namjoon had said previously, but he seems to make the connection. He tilts his head back and a rich laugh tumbles forth. It sounds nicer than you wish to admit to yourself. 

“Never,” he finally answers, grinning. “Though, feel free to come get me next time you lose against a shelf.”

Your mouth drops open in affront, but he makes a departure too quick for you to respond. His laughter echoes down the halls and you’re left reeling in your spot.

This isn’t what you expected to happen after walking in on a few intimate situations. In fact, this is quite the opposite.

What is happening?

x – x – x 

As the weeks go by, there are several big nights and several big matches. Hoseok and Yoongi, among a few others from the gym, emerge victorious. At this point you’re not too ashamed to say that you spent the entirety of their matches watching the way their muscles rippled as they dodged, swung and wove around the ring. If the last shred of dignity still clinging to you had disappeared, then you probably would have drooled like a dog. 

 The nights tend to go by weight classes, and the next upcoming night is to showcase the middleweight boxers. While Jungkook classifies for the class, as one of the newer recruits he isn’t the first choice for the match—much to his dismay.

It is approximately a week before this big match, in which Namjoon, one of the three men who live in your head rent-free these days, is participating, that you’re woken from your sleep and called into the gym.

It’s your night off, actually, so for you to be called in there must have been a pretty serious injury. You’re proven right when you enter the building and walk into the main room.

Before you can even assess the scene, Yoongi spots you and darts on over. He has a look on his face that you don’t think he’s ever sported before, and it fills you with a feeling of dread. It seems an appropriate feeling, considering what you see when you advance further into the room, towed by the frantic blonde who’d fetched you.

“Holy shit, what the hell happened?!” You dart forward, Yoongi’s grip slipping from your wrist as you move out of his reach. 

Namjoon is seated on the floor in a squat, cradling his left hand to his chest. A grimace twists his features, eyes glistening but face clear of tears. 

To your complete and utter surprise, the familiar tenor of Jungkook’s voice reaches your ears. You didn’t know he had stayed behind to practice tonight.

“We were leaving after practicing a bit later than normal, and some assholes drove past and picked a fight. I think—I think they were members from one of the rival clubs on the other side of the city but it was kind of dark and I didn’t get a good look.”

Your brows shoot up—that’s risky behaviour on their part, if it was actually members of a rival club that did this. Judges of this particular tournament don’t look kindly on foul play.

It would make sense if it’s true, though; a lot of local clubs tend to have boxers in the middleweight range, and Namjoon has emerged from enough matches victorious that he’s actually quite a threat. 

“Let me see,” you say, holding your hands out to Namjoon for him to rest his injured one in your hold. “Jungkook, go get the big tin box with the red cross from my office. Make sure it’s the one with antiseptic and bandages.”

You don’t even need to check he’s listened, because you can hear the frantic, obedient pattering of his feet fading away in the distance as you unwrap the blood-drenched towel from the hand in your hold. Namjoon’s busted up limb takes all of your attention the second you lay eyes on it properly, your stomach filling with an unpleasant, nameless cocktail of sensations. 

“Holy shit,” you say, unable to contain your wince.  “Tell me you didn’t get this from fighting them bare-knuckle.”

Namjoon has enough capacity for humour right now that he lets out a little huff. Yoongi fills you in before Namjoon has a chance. 

“No, though I almost did.” His expression is dark, the heat of his anger reaching you even when it’s not directed your way. “They were probably drinking before coming here, since they had a few bottles they threw into the mix.”

That explains the gashes you’re seeing on Namjoon’s palm— it seems he caught one of the bottles, though you’re not sure whether it was already broken or whether it broke on impact. Thankfully, from what you can see, the gashes and lacerations aren’t too deep and shouldn’t cause lasting damage, but they’ll definitely take a while to heal, and one or two of them look like they will need stitches. 

“Alright,” you begin, sighing softly. “I’ll do what I can to fix this up for now, but you’re going to have to go to the ER, because some of these will need stitches…”

You look up, reading the expressions of everyone in attendance and knowing that they have all reached the same conclusion regarding Namjoon’s immediate fate as a boxer.

“Sorry, Namjoon,” you start, watching his features crumble ever so slightly into a look of resignation. “This isn’t going to heal in time for next week, and you definitely won’t be able to train for a while.”

It’s just as you announce that, that Jungkook returns with your box of first-aid goodies. Hoseok, who has remained surprisingly silent the whole time this conversation has gone on, takes the box from his hold and delivers it next to you. Surprising all of you, Namjoon is quick to look up and pin Jungkook with a grin.

“Well, since I can’t participate—how do you feel about making your Big Boy Boxing Debut, Jungkookie?”

Your friend is rooted to the spot in shock for a solid few moments, before he snaps out of it and an excited if slightly nervous expression filters onto his face. 

“I will defend your honour, Namjoon!” he declares, saluting stupidly. “Count on me!”

Cheesy of him, but you can’t help the smile that tugs your lips. You just hope it’s not too late-notice for him, and that Namjoon’s injuries really aren’t that serious, as you surmise.

x – x – x 

 The week passes quicker than you anticipate, and before you know it, it’s the night of the big match—Jungkook’s first big match, that is. Namjoon had done his best over the days to coach Jungkook on the particular fighting styles of the opponents he normally faces, and to everyone’s pleasant surprise, Jungkook has picked it all up with ease. 

You’re more surprised to say that you’re not even that nervous, as you sit waiting for the match to begin. Jungkook stands in one corner, his opponent from one of the more renowned rival gyms in the other. You prepare to be on standby in case either boxer is injured enough to need aid, but cross your fingers that if anything at least Jungkook will be alright. 

In the blink of an eye, the match begins and the first bout kicks off. Jungkook’s opponent is slightly stockier, likely pushing the upper limits of the weight class, and is the first to make an offensive move. The familiar sound of cushioned gloves making impact rings in the air and you find yourself tensing in your seat as you watch the two interchange blows. 

It’s pretty much neck-and-neck for a majority of the bouts. Some of them go quick, and others seem to consist of the longest three minutes of your life. Still, the match goes on, and the night is filled with the siren song of the crowd and the ring of the bell.

After a night of close-call bouts and baited breath, Jungkook finally emerges victorious. 

Ever the fan favourite, the crowd that has amassed erupt into cheers as the referee declares the end of the final bout and Jungkook is held up as the victor. With the match decided, the club members that had been watching ringside burst up and swarm around the young boxer who brought pride to the gym on his very first big match. The three boxers that usually occupy your thoughts wriggle their way up there too, and it’s Hoseok’s bright tone that pierces the ruckus of the crowd.

“Drinks at ours to celebrate our victor, Jungkookie!” he caws, rubbing Jungkook on the back in something akin to pride. “Members of King Hit Gym, we better see you all there!”

You mightn’t be a technical member, but the way you suddenly feel three sets of eyes on you tells you that you’re still more than invited. 

x – x – x

It’s three hours since the end of the match, and you’re more than a little tipsy.

You can safely say that you haven’t ever been to the house where Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi live, but you’re nothing short of impressed. It’s a three-storey townhouse, with three rooms— presumably one for each of them, though from what you’d glimpsed on the way to the bathroom earlier only one of them appears regularly lived in.

It didn’t take you long to ponder exactly why, considering the things you’ve accidentally witnessed in the past month.

Most of your time tonight was spent celebrating with Jungkook as he made the rounds and received congratulations from the rest of the club members. Music thrums through the building, bass vibrating pleasantly through your chest every time you pass the expensive speakers in the living room.

You’ve paced yourself well, all things considered. All you had to do to avoid an early night ending in blackout drunkenness was steer clear of Jungkook whenever he made his way by the kitchen to refill— he’d learnt his mixing skills from Jimin, a verified alcoholic back in the day who spent his time in university trying to throw together his own signature cocktail with the same alcohol percentage as absinthe.

So you’re relatively proud of yourself to only be a little over tipsy at this point in the night. You can’t really say the same for the rest of the club members, though— even Jungkook has reached a point where he is stumbling and giggling. Which, of course, led to the event that splattered drink all over your shirt. 

You’re wandering up the stairs now, mind occupied with everything but what you’re doing as you absentmindedly seek the bathroom to clean your shirt. You haven’t seen any of the homeowners in a while, actually, which is kind of disappointing because you’re really longing for some eye candy right about now. They disappeared about ten minutes ago, and you figured it was just to socialise or maybe grab more snacks but you haven’t paid it much thought since then, and now you’re realising they hadn’t returned to the party yet. 

Reaching the top of the stairs, you pause for a moment to try and recall which room is the bathroom. There’s two of them, you remember being told, one ensuite and a main bathroom. There was also a third one on the first floor, but that was too far for you to attempt reaching it. Unable to remember which door is which, you simply decide to wing it and march on forward towards the first door to enter your line of sight. You’re pretty stable, but your head is kind of fuzzy, so your hand hovers by the wall as you walk just in case you stumble. 

Upon reaching the door in question, it takes you about a second and a half to realise the room you have reached is not the one you want, and another second for the shock to reach you.

Because, for the third time in a month, you have walked in on something you shouldn’t have. 

Except this time, you can’t seem to pull yourself away as fast as you should. 

It’s Hoseok and Namjoon tangled before you this time, in a position much more intimate than the last you’d seen. Their lips are locked, Hoseok straddling one of Namjoon’s thighs with one hand tangled in inky locks and the other rubbing over his crotch, where a prominent bulge makes itself known even to your eyes. Just when you remember that you should really be on your way, their lips break apart and Namjoon’s head tilts back, a sinful, velvet moan climbing from his throat as Hoseok leans to pepper it with kisses. It’s mesmerising, and you forget you’re even there as you watch the red-haired man’s hand climb up Namjoon’s stomach and then slip beneath the waistband of his jeans. 

You come back to yourself when you feel a familiar tightness in your own pants and a throb between your legs— of course, you’re hard. You’re too hazy-brained to even be ashamed of it right now. It does pierce through the fog, though, that you’re intruding on something you’re not meant to see. Like you’re trying to move limbs filled with lead, you start to drag your feet and turn around. 

You barely get a step in before you’re face to face with someone strikingly familiar, and your heart drops in your chest before kicking back into motion at double speed. 

“You always seem to enjoy watching, don’t you?” Yoongi’s question catches you off guard and puts you on the spot— before you can panic, though, his lips curl in a kittenish smile. “It’s alright, we already know you do, baby boy.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, stomach flipping giddily. Your eyes track it with surprising clarity as Yoongi’s hand— strong and sculpted and deliciously vascular, as you’d admired many times before— rises to caress your cheek, and he leans forward until his lips brush the sensitive skin of your earlobe.

“Why don’t you join us, this time?”

You find yourself nodding before you even realise it, but it’s definitely a decision you would make again any other day. 

You feel Yoongi smile against your ear, and then he is pressing a soft kiss to your cheek and pulling back. That same strong hand winds around your wrist and you’re tugged into the room, the door shutting behind you. The two on the bed barely bat an eye at the arrival of their third lover and an extra figure, merely smiling dazedly at the two of you. 

“Baby boy is finally gonna join us?” Hoseok asks, eyes lidded and dark to match the tousled look of his hair and clothes. His words are slightly slurred but the keenness to his gaze tells you he is still very much aware of everything he does. 

Yoongi hums in confirmation, coming up behind you to wind his arms lazily around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder. “Mhmm. Don’t stop on our account— why don’t you give him a bit of a show to start, hm?”

Hoseok needs no further prompting, a grin all you glimpse before he is diving back to crash his lips into Namjoon’s, hand moving inside his pants and eliciting a deep, throaty groan. It makes your own cock throb in need, and almost as though he reads your mind, Yoongi's voice sounds in your ear once more. 

“You already hard, baby boy? Like what you see?”

Something about the husky quality of the boxer’s voice makes a shudder roll down your spine, a light whine slipping from your throat. Yoongi presses soft kisses to the skin of your neck as you watch the two on the bed undress each other between heated kisses. 

“Want me to touch you, baby boy?”

As though possessed, your head begins nodding before you even think to act on the urge. Yoongi requires no further prompting; he begins to kiss and suckle along the column of your neck while his hands move— one creeps up beneath your shirt to flick a thumb over your nipple, and the other slips down, down, down beneath the waistband of your pants and boxers, until that hand you admire so much is slipping around your cock and squeezing just enough to make you gasp out a moan. 

Pleasure and desire wind together to mix with the tipsy haze in your mind, and you’re more than happy to surrender yourself to the current situation. Slowly, you’re urged over to the bed, eyes still locked on the pair occupied there as Yoongi’s hand works magic on your length. You don’t even bother attempting to stem the gasps and moans tumbling forth because you know at this point it would probably be futile. 

Hoseok has now stripped Namjoon entirely and is making his way down his body with his mouth, pressing a kiss against every inch of golden skin he can reach. Namjoon is quite generously endowed, and you can’t tear your eyes away as Hoseok finally reaches the apex of his thighs and begins to lavish attention to Namjoon’s flushed cock. 

You can feel Yoongi grinding lightly against you as he strokes your own aching member, the two of you observing the show before you with rapt attention. At some point you’re rid of your shirt and the air feels cool against your flushed skin, your upper body leaning back against Yoongi contentedly. The noises spilling from Namjoon’s throat are downright sinful as Hoseok’s mouth sinks down on him with practiced ease.

It’s almost too much for you, really. Almost sensory overload. You’re urged ever so slowly to the bed, and as you sit on the plush mattress you happily oblige as Yoongi begins to undo and remove the jeans that are now uncomfortably tight. Your boxers follow soon after and then you’re joining the other two in their nudity. As though sensing the change in plans, Hoseok pulls off of Namjoon’s cock with a ‘pop’, licking his lips and ignoring the whine in protest that Namjoon lets out. “In a minute, bubs.”

Yoongi leans over to the bedside table to retrieve lube and something else you soon realise to be condoms as he tosses them on the bed between him and Hoseok. 

“Are you alright with this?”

You turn at the sound of Yoongi’s voice, eyes meeting his own— though heady and full of desire, they’re also determined. You don’t doubt that if you say no, he will stop things here.

“Yes,” you confirm, and you watch as a smile pulls over Yoongi’s face.

“Excellent. Now, lean forward, baby boy. This might be a little cold.”

Without question, you allow him to shift and bend your body as needed, knees digging into the plush bedding. Tilting your head up, you manage to meet the eyes of Namjoon, who is in a similar position to yourself, just in time for you to gasp at the sudden cold sensation at your ass. 

You’d think by now you would be used to the feeling of lube— you’re immediately distracted from that though at the sensation of Yoongi’s finger beginning to toy around your asshole. You allow yourself to relax as much as possible, turning your attention to Namjoon and Hoseok and simply enjoying the sensations Yoongi is eliciting. 

Namjoon’s hand raises, cupping your cheek and dragging down ever so gently. Hoseok catches the movement and lets out a coo, eyes boring into your own. 

“Wanna kiss him, baby boy? Go ahead, he’s good at it.”

You don’t need to be told twice, and neither does Namjoon. You find Hoseok definitely isn’t wrong as Namjoon’s lips meet your own, the kiss quickly turning heated as his mouth moves against your own. He swallows down your moans as Yoongi’s fingers begin to stretch you slowly, one by one.

You lose so much time in the hypnotic motion of bodies against your own that before you know it there is a gentle yet firm hand against your shoulder pulling you back from the man before you. 

“Ready, baby?”

You nod, and soon after hear the familiar tear of foil before the head of Yoongi’s cock is pressing against your hole. You take a deep breath in, allowing your eyes to flutter closed as he begins to press himself in and stretch you open bit by bit. The burn isn’t particularly painful tonight, and to be honest sometimes you’re partial to the sensation. 

By the time Yoongi is fully seated within you, you’re almost panting, soft moans escaping unwittingly. Through the fog of pleasure currently addling your brain, you hear similar noises in front of you and realise Namjoon must be in a similar state. Unconsciously, your hand stretches out, seeking contact, and manages to entwine with the large, warm one you identify as Namjoon’s good hand. 

As soon as Yoongi receives the green light from you, he begins to move. The sensations of him dragging against your walls are enough to almost drive you mad, especially at the slow pace he’s set. It isn’t long before he picks up though, and soon rough the slap of his hips against your ass is one of the many sinful noises echoing in the room, muffled by the loud music still booming beyond the bedroom walls. 

“O-oh, fuck,” you moan, barely coherent enough to respond to Namjoon’s seeking lips. Absently, you hear Yoongi’s soft groans and low murmured praises, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Good boy,” he all but purrs, hand caressing down your spine before finding purchase at your hips. 

Time blurs and you’re wound so tight that it isn’t long before you feel yourself approaching that edge, your hand lowering to begin stroking your own cock again in an effort to reach your high faster. It’s one deep stroke that hits you in all the right places that is your undoing, and with a cry you’re cumming hard, spots appearing behind your eyes. 

The sudden tightness around his cock has Yoongi stilling, a low, drawn out groan sounding from his throat as he joins you in your high, throbbing inside you. Your arms are a little too weak to continue holding you, but he seems to be in tune enough that he notices and his own slip around you, easing you into his embrace as he adjusts on the mattress and hums into your skin. 

Namjoon and Hoseok aren’t far behind you, the two of them reaching their own end not long after. Namjoon flops against the bed, spent and Hoseok hops up to retrieve a bin and some wipes to clean up a bit before he too flops across the mattress, smacking Namjoon’s ass as he does and eliciting a brief whine in protest. 

“Well fuck,” you hum, staring absently at the ceiling. Yoongi snorts, pulling you closer, and like they all share a hive mind you’re very suddenly in the middle of a cuddle pile as the other two join in. 

“Beats just watching, doesn’t it?” One of them queries, probably Hoseok— you’re too tired to really discern it. 

“Mhm,” you respond, basking in content. “Four’s company, I suppose.”

There are a few hums of agreement, and then comfortable silence falls over the room. You find yourself smiling as you sink into the most content sleep you’ve had in a while, in the arms of the three boxers who have nestled their way into your heart one by one 

[multiplefandomsblog]

request; Shuichi and his fem!s/o take each other virginity?

pairing(s); shuichi x AFAB! reader

warnings; post-game saihara, saihara has some PTSD from the killing game but it is not heavily mentioned, cussing AFAB! reader, soft dom! Shuichi, vanilla-ish, intense kissing, mention of marriage, hurt/comfort-ish?, angst-ish?, petty arguments, sexual frustration, they both losing their v-card, shuichi picks you up, shuichi reads porn mags but not elaborated here, established relationship, they've been dating 6 months btw, they're living together, cyring, begging, accidental overstimulation, self-indulgent, irresponsible and unprotected sex(always wrap it before you tap it you fucking idiots), unedited but used spellcheck. OKAY I KNOW 6 MONTHS IS REALLY SHORT AND I HAD A DIFFERENT IDEA IN MIND BUT I JUST DBHSBJHSBD IM SORRY THIS IS JUST SUPER MESSY

note; i rushed the end and this is kind of garbage(god please don't read this), but here's a few songs that i listened to while writing this;

505 - Arctic Monkeys & Cute Panties Soaked In Arizona Iced Tea - Sewer//Slvt & a bunch others idk

wc; 5.8k+

You both dabbled in the idea of having sex, having shared mutual trust and desire for each other within the early stages of your love-filled relationship.

Even so, the obvious statements were left unsaid, and the obvious desire you both have for each other’s bodies had been left alone, never to be picked up again.

Now don’t underestimate yourself, there would be some not-so-rare make-out sessions when you both got into the mood and made sure to give each other ‘the look’, but they’d always end in Shuichi stiffening up and asking if you’d like to stop.

And like an idiot, you had always said the same goddamn thing, the opposite of what you wanted to say. “Sure, y- yeah.” Always praying he wouldn’t hear the disappointment in your voice. You didn’t want him to be upset that you wanted to continue, because wouldn’t that just be selfish of you?

Your prayers always seemed to be answered anyway, though mostly carried by Shuichi’s helplessly obvious nature; he ate it all up.

But maybe you should’ve been praying for the opposite because otherwise, you wouldn’t be here right now.

Maybe it was the stress from the fact that Shuichi’s boss yelled at him today, maybe it was from the fact that he had one of his colleagues accidentally file one of the most important cases, improperly, maybe it was because you both hadn’t fucked in 6 months.

Well, whatever it was, it had Shuichi fuming.

“This? Again?” Shuichi sighed in an attempt to calm himself, his face lacking the patience it usually held.

“What do you mean ‘again’!? I’ve told you this, tons of times before!” To be fair, you had no idea why you had been so angry either, but before you could even think or hold yourself back, random arguments you truly never cared about had been brought up.

What the hell were you two even fighting about?

Despite your mind screaming at you to stop, your mouth continued to act first. “God, why don’t you ever listen to me? You know, sometimes it seriously just feels like I’m talking to a brick wall when I talk to you.” That wasn’t true.

“Is that right?” He didn’t know what came over him. “Well, if we’re talking about our talking habits, I think you sometimes talk too much; it’s hard to keep track of what you’re saying sometimes, and it just- it brings me a headache…!” That wasn’t true either; he was a detective, he listened to every single detail you spoke out from those beautiful lips. Shuichi would listen as intently as he would during an investigation as he gathered information from perps.

But you didn’t know that. You had been too busy reeling from his previous statement to remember all the nice moments you had before this. His words felt like acid on your palpitating heart. Did you talk that much?

You gulped, lip trembling without your consent. “Y- yeah?”

No, I didn’t mean any of it. Please don’t look at me like that. “... Yeah.” Shuichi averted his eyes as he lied for no good reason.

You nodded in feigned indifference, chewing the inside of your cheek as you attempted to walk past him and outside the kitchen — to which he immediately stopped you, an urgency laced within his actions. Sudden anxiety wracked his body, and images of the previous executions flashed in his mind.

You couldn’t go.

With his eyes wide in a slight panic, they narrowed back to their normal width as he took a deep breath, pulling you towards him and suddenly pushing his lips on yours. “Shu-” he blanketed any open space for noise to escape through with his lips, kissing you with desperation you’ve never witnessed firsthand.

Despite your internal concern for him, your hands slipped up his shoulders to the back of his neck, pushing him closer to you than he already was on instinct.

Okay… This was okay. It was better than fighting, that was for sure.

You were confused by the sudden display of physician affection, but you could only get a little of you to care; you missed him. It had only been 5 minutes into the fight, yet you had been pulling him close like you hadn’t seen him in a year. Luckily for both you and him, he missed you too. He didn’t like fights. Especially not meaningless ones like these.

You both didn’t know how, nor when, but before you knew it, you had been sitting atop the kitchen counter, legs wrapped tightly around Shuichi’s waist as his hands gripped yours. A familiar, heavy feeling of arousal pooled up at your stomach, remaining there like an itch you knew only Shuichi could scratch. Shuichi was comfortably close for you to somewhat feel his phone poke at your thigh, but even so, not close enough. Clothes started to feel restricting, and you both shared the same need to just tear them off, but

—

“S/o,” he muffled on your lips, trying his best to try and pull away from your captivating lips on his, though it was incredibly hard with those velvety lips of yours.

“S/o!” The bad feeling in his stomach grew, and he suddenly realized it had been because he didn’t want such a special moment for the two of you, to be spoiled by a petty fight neither of you would remember in a few days. He didn’t want your shared story to be an argument that leads to sex. Call him a hopeless romantic but, that simply didn’t sit right with him.

Shuichi pulled away abruptly, apologizing under his breath as he avoided eye contact with a slightly puzzled you. “I…” He started nervously, gently nestling his forehead atop your beating heart in an attempt to self-soothe himself.

"I don’t want us to finally, um, do... This out of- of anger and- S/o, you have to know that I love you so much and that I-” That wasn’t what he meant to say, it didn’t come out right, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t think of what he had originally planned to say. His mind was jumbled, words weren’t good enough for him anymore. Shuichi began to prick small unwanted tears at the corner of his eyes as he rambled with sincere intention.

“I don’t want to look back at this day and- Or what if you regr-”

You shook your head frantically before he could finish his sentence, gentle fingertips tapping the underside of his head as you urged him to look into your eyes. You sighed fondly as you swam in those pools of liquid gold, a small, assuring smile contorting onto your face.

“It’s okay, I know, I know you didn’t mean it.” You took another breath as you continued, a deeper inhale. “And I know what you mean but, Shuichi I… No matter what, I could never regret a single thing with you,” His hands tightened around you.

“And frankly, it doesn’t matter how we ended up… Doing this with each other.” It was kind of funny how you both couldn't say the word 'sex'. A three-letter word that may have seemed terrifying to the two of you back then, started to gradually lose its intimidation factor.

“Because as long as you love me, and I love you, that’s all that will matter.” You lightly laughed at how sappy you sounded; wondering if you’d be this romantic when reciting your vows.

You two weren't even married.

But Shuichi would be lying through his teeth if he said he hadn't visualized you in a veil; and wow, did you look amazing.

Shuichi paused, gazing up at you with intense affection, and love for you. You could feel your cheeks heat up from how intently he gazed at you, you couldn't help but slightly shrink underneath his gaze.

Without missing another beat, Shuichi suddenly broke the gaze, and wrapped his arms underneath your bottom, picking you up with a concealed struggle. He'd have thought spending most of his time typing in that office, would give him some sort of arm strength.

Well, you'd find out later, wouldn't you?

Making his way to the bedroom carefully, Shuichi gently set you down on your back, trapping you in between his arms and locking his lips back onto yours soft and slowly, unlike his last pecks.

You could feel your heart rate speed up as he started to run his hand underneath the thin material of your top, and despite the rising anxiousness itching at you, the feeling of love and anticipation easily overpowered the feeling — though not completely.

For a split second, Shuichi pulled away to pull your shirt up and over your head, and the moment his loving, eager golden eyes found their way back to you, he swore he almost suffered a cardiac arrest on the spot.

With your hands resting beside your head, lips swollen and exposed chest heaving; he thought you looked like the most stunning human being that had ever graced this earth.

And he wasted no time showing you how he felt.

Quickly stripping himself of his shirt, you watched in slight amusement as he struggled to throw the material across his room, his eagerness becoming his enemy. He felt the mattress slightly dip and inflate, though he couldn't see anything as his vision was obstructed. Shuichi — despite having a feeling you had sat up and was probably going to help — didn't want to submit into his embarrassment just yet. He could take off his shirts, and he was going to prove it-

His eyes clenched shut in frustration, suddenly shot open as he felt a cool breeze hit his warm face, as well as the sound of quiet laughter.

"C- come on, don't laugh...!" Shuichi complained half-heartedly.

You grinned. "Sorry, sorry," You raised your hands in defence, taken by surprise as

Shuichi pinned the same hands back onto the bed, playfully pecking your face all over before moving down the valley of your neck and collarbone.

You did your absolute best to not laugh as Shuichi had told you to, but you couldn't prevent the huge, goofy smile that broke out on your face. The euphoria of having someone you truly love and trust, showering you with affection, combined with the ticklish feeling of his slightly chapped lips on your neck, had caused you to giggle.

"Is it- Is it really that funny?" Shuichi grumbled, kisses turning into gentle bites as he wanted to get you to make noises that weren't giggles; not that he didn't adore the sound.

Just not in this situation, nor position.

"It's not, I-" You snorted, "I promise! I just, I feel really, really happy right now." You admitted in between laughter.

You felt Shuichi pause against your neck, and your laughter died down as you wondered if you did something wrong.

"Shuichi-?" You squeaked as you felt his warm breath and kisses travel quickly towards your stomach, right above where you wanted it most. You could feel your face heat up, as well as your core, from the mere puff of air.

Your excitement slowly turned to dread as you felt his hands slowly slide down to the waistband of your pants, and without realizing it, you stiffened up. You felt slightly guilty of your reaction; you wanted this, right? You were so excited a moment ago, where did it go? The logical part of you didn't seem to want to chime in and say, 'It's a natural reaction!'

So you settled for chewing your lip in an attempt to distract yourself from the heart-wrenching guilt.

The action hadn't gone unnoticed by Shuichi; he knew that habit all too well. It was a nervous habit, quite often in many people, but it always seemed to drive Shuichi crazy when you did it. He never noticed when others did, as he was constantly too busy staring straight at you like a boy with a hopeless crush.

But look at him now.

Shuichi from 6 months ago probably wouldn't believe the Post-Shuichi, that he had got the chance to be your boyfriend, let alone share such an intimate moment with someone as special as you.

"Hey, look at me," He grinned gently as he caught your attention.

"It's... It's just me here. You don't have to worry, or be nervous because I'm right here, and I... I'll love you no matter what." It was hypocritical to say, as his hands had practically been quivering beyond his control, but he spoke the sincere truth for you.

He watched in slight anxiousness as you stayed in silent, stunned shock. Shuichi started wondering if he should've said something else-

"O- Okay, yeah, you can- You can, um." You didn't mean to sound so awkward, but you hoped the slight eagerness laced in your voice made the message clear enough for him.

Shuichi slipped his thumbs underneath the waistband of your pants, golden eyes focused entirely on your face as to detect any discomfort.

Seeing none, he slipped the rest of it off, growing excited yet also nervous as he saw you for the first time. "You're soaked..." He uttered underneath his breath in stunned awe, unwillingly causing you to jerk your legs shut.

And who's fault is that!? You wanted to say that, but in the condition and position you were in right now, it didn't seem very possible nor ideal.

You let out a small whimper as you felt Shuichi gently encourage your legs back open, a small pout on his face as you hadn't given him enough time to savour the visual.

No words were said, and no words were needed as Shuichi communicated his wanton need for your pussy with nothing but his eyes. Captivated and persuaded by his puppy-dog eyes, you hesitantly opened your legs back up, silently gasping as you felt the cold air hit your glossy folds yet again.

Your momentary shock faltered into embarrassed confusion as you caught Shuichi staring at it with a thoughtful gaze. It was strange; you felt like an animal at the zoo up for display to just... Stare at.

But perhaps the most embarrassing thing about the whole thing was the stars in his eyes as he watched you twitch and shudder. “Sh- Shuichi.” You tried to snap him out of his gaze, face growing hotter and hotter as time passed by with him continuing to stare at your impatient pussy.

“I’m just going to… Put one in.”

If there was anything Shuichi had learned from the numerous articles on how to please your partner during sex, is to always prep them.

“Wait, huh-?"

His finger sunk in easily, prodding finger slipping into a pillowy bundle of nerves; it was like heaven on earth for Shuichi, and he wanted to make sure it felt the same for you.

"Hah- Nnnn!”

Your loud moan snapped him out of his trance, and unfortunately, he had reacted a moment too late as his finger had already been knuckle deep.

Experiencing a mini panic attack, guilt overwhelmed his body, and he moved to pull out, only to be caught by surprise as you caught his wrist right before he could.

"N- No...! It's- It's okay, mmngh- Just- just feels good, is all." You were glad you hadn't lost the complete ability to speak yet; because that'd surely be humiliating, wouldn't it?

Shuichi tensed his hand unintentionally, causing you to jolt slightly as you could feel every single movement. Shuichi's eyes widened in realization and guilt at your sudden reaction.

"A-Ah, sorry! I didn't mean to-" He cut himself off, head tilting as you moaned a little too loud for your taste — but not loud enough for his.

Shuichi shifted himself, so his face was hovering over your blissed-out one, slight confusion taking over your features as he seemed to be watching you carefully, almost as if he was expecting something —

With a sharp inhale, you felt your hole swallow in another finger, the pleasure now doubled up. If this is what fingering felt like... Then you'd have to assume the main course felt 5x as good as this, right?

Your hands shot up to his shoulders to dig your nails into, the pleasure finally becoming too much as he started experimentally moving in and out slowly.

Shuichi would've asked, 'Is this okay?' but judging by your moans and pleas for more, he concludes he has his answer.

Running his thumb down your folds, Shuichi decided he would explore your pussy as he continued his slow thrusts in your clenching hole — and what better way to do that than to accidentally brush his fingers against your clit?

You nearly sobbed, climax rising alarmingly close, before dropping as Shuichi continued with his exploration.

"Shuichi! T- There! Right there! Please!" You repeated like a mad man, nearly jolting up if it wasn't for Shuichi's body that loomed over you.

With a confused, but obedient nod of his head, Shuichi tested the waters yet again, eyebrows furrowing as he pressed around in random spots. "Ah!" His eyes widened in slight achievement as he watched you start to violently spazz out the moment he pressed onto a button-like nerve.

"C- Coming, I'm- I'm comin- Ahnn!" Shuichi began roughly circling his thumb over the bundle of nerves, unknown of how sensitive the nerve was, and unknowingly forcing you into overstimulation.

"Sh- Ah- W- Wait!" You stammered, squirming away from his unrelenting hand, unsure as to why it had felt as strong as it felt. "Wait, please!" Shuichi suddenly pulled away from your clit, panic taking over his body yet again as he carefully picked you up and slipped you onto his lap.

"I- I'm sorry...! I didn't... Are you- Are you okay?" He stuttered, eyes wide with concern.

Had he gone too far? Was he missing something? Maybe there was a spot you didn't like?

You shook your head, doing little to assure the rising storm of worry you knew Shuichi would accumulate.

"I- I'm okay, it felt good. I think you just overstimulated me a bit but," You brought your arms around his neck, scooching your partially numb ass over his erection.

"... Not like I didn't like it." You grinned lopsidedly, leaning up to capture his lips into a passionate kiss, one filled to the brim with ever-lasting passion. He wasted no time to reciprocate, face slightly reddening as he groaned from the slightest pressure of your thigh pressing down against his erection.

"Sorry...-" Shuichi slipped in an apology, before quickly being sent back into the depths of your touch.

"Don't be-" You countered, letting one of your hands run down the crevices and nooks of his scrawny chest and stomach, down to trace his faint V-line.

"Mm-" An unplanned moan slipped out, and the blush on his cheeks worsened. He was sensitive, and that was to be expected for a first-timer. Though Shuichi refused to believe it was his sensitivity, but your soft touch.

Jolts of pleasure shot up his spine, and his pants only grew tighter, to the point where his brain was screaming at him to take them off.

Lucky for him, you complied without another thought.

You broke the kiss, resting your forehead against his chest as you hunched over to unbuckle his pants. The breathy and beautiful sounds of Shuichi panting like a dog-in-heat above you only made your fingers work faster. The sound of his zipper being pulled down hit his ears, and his eyes clenched tight shut as he felt a curious hand fiddle with his boxers.

"Can I...?"

He nodded frantically, an adorable eagerness overtaking control of his actions.

As you slipped your hand into the binds of his grey-scale boxers, you weren't sure what you were going to see, or how he would feel once you got your hands on his stiff length.

Shuichi wasn't sure what he was expecting either, but expectations didn't matter when you were with each other, right?

"H- Hnnnn...!"

Well, even so, he sure as hell wasn't expecting his strained whine he let out the moment your hand coiled around the base of his cock. With his whine unintentionally egging you on, you decided to pull it out all the way, curious to see him.

God, if you were to laugh now, he'd probably die.

The truth was, you weren’t sure if you could physically laugh, nor breathe…. Or even speak for that matter. He rendered you speechless, and as he tried to read your expression, he found himself praying the silence was a good thing. Though before the thick, lust-filled air could suffocate you both, you decided to voice your thoughts.

“W- Will that fit…?” Your face was probably as hot as a pizza pocket fresh out of the oven.

Now, you weren’t sure what a real dick looked like; you hadn’t seen one in real life before, so maybe it was average in dick sizes, but you couldn’t help but shudder from uncontrollable excitement combined with the fear of that thing tearing into you.

Shuichi noticed the look of fear on your face, and his instinct kicked in; nervosity and anxiety went as he focused on your needs instead, something he’d always done, to an almost unhealthy point.

You let yourself fall back onto the mattress yet again, your head that had been lost in its own thoughts, hitting the plush pillows as Shuichi softly guided you comfortably down. It seemed only now did you realize you were completely bare to Shuichi, head to toe, naked. What a convenient time.

Shuichi’s T-Shirt struggles couldn’t distract you now, and so there you sat, avoiding eye contact with the worried boy as you shrunk further into yourself. You were ready, you repeated to yourself. But perhaps your true fear had been, was he ready for you?

His voice broke the upsetting silence, and out came the words you didn’t want to hear. “If you’re having doubts, we don’t have to do this today, or ever, for that matter.” Shuichi was so close to you, you could practically hear the sound of his little heart beating unevenly. Your hand subconsciously lifted and set itself on his chest to try and feel the small hum and vibration of his heart, and for a second you almost forgot what he had asked.

“I… Shuichi, I want this but,” You weren’t sure how to explain, and a part of you wished he could just read your mind and tell you exactly what you wanted to hear. But relationships weren’t that easy.

“I… What if I dissatisfy you? Like, what if I’m too small, or too loose, or- or what if how I look impacts the experience; are you sure you want to have your very first time with someone like me? Like-” Shuichi cut you off with his lips, the desire for you to stop talking about things that would never happen, as well as the desire to kiss you, combining into this moment.

The man wore an expression of pure earnestness; the confidence he had almost scared you. “I love you so much, and none of that matters to me. I promise you, none of that will ever happen.” His voice was heartbreakingly sincere, to the point where you felt guilty for doubting him.

He, honest to god, understood how you felt completely. Shuichi was afraid he would cum too early, or if he wasn’t long enough, or girthy enough- He was terrified of ruining your first experience with him, he just didn’t want to look the emotion because he was afraid diffidence wasn’t sexy.

Maybe it was ridiculous, but to be fair, your assumption of yourself dissatisfying him was even more so.

Not trusting your own voice to speak, you simply averted your eyes and nodded, exhaling slowly as you tried to push your doubts away. Shuichi followed your gaze, using a gentle hand to tilt your head back to face him, wanting you to look at him as he finally puts it in.

“I’ll go… really slow, okay? Tell me if you want me to stop, okay baby?” You went beet red at the new pet name, but before you could counter his sneaky remark, your voice and breath were stolen from you as you felt something warm throb at your entrance. Was that his —

“Sh- Shit...!” You hissed, eyes clenching tightly shut to conceal the small tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You were right, it was going to hurt.

Shuichi had only slipped in the tip of his cock, marvelling at how easily it sunk in at fault to your slick. He bit back several low moans that threatened to spill out of his mouth, God, you felt so warm inside. Perhaps it was a gross thought, but Shuichi hadn’t exactly been thinking anymore, eyes clouded and nearly crossed from the intense, foreign but pleasing feeling.

“H- How does It feel this good…?” He slipped quietly to himself, eyes lidded as he lost himself in your embrace.

Gulping harshly, he stilled his hips and tore his eyes away from your walls that hugged him so snugly, shifting his attention instead to your pained expression. With a hushed and strained voice, Shuichi voiced several shy but sincere praises and assurances.

His bony hands travelled up from your hips, to lace your hands, fingers shakily lacing your fingers together. Shuichi found himself sighing in relief as he could feel your stiffness slipping away, squeezing your hand as a reminder that he was proud of you for it.

“Do you want me to move?” Shuichi asked, worried eyes darting to your concealed ones.

You pursed your lips, hesitating to shake your head no. You knew they couldn’t stay like that forever — Well, Shuichi probably would’ve if you told him to, but you couldn’t do that to him. Then again, you were still trying to get used to the painful yet filling intrusion in between your legs.

You were on a mental crossroad, unsure of what to say in response to such a simple question. And great, now you left him too long without a reply; the poor guy was just laying there. You could hear your brain screaming at you to just say something! Just fucking say something-!

Shuichi noticed your slight discomforted expression, as well as feeling you tense underneath him. A light bulb went off in his head as he thought of a way to make it all better, and he opened his mouth to speak once again.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, just um… Just trust me, okay?” You felt him squeeze your hands again, to which you squeezed back, voice caught in your throat.

You trusted him, of course, you did. What if he didn't know how much you trusted him? You would put your entire life in his hands, you would jump off a cliff if he told you it was safe.

Your lifeline spoke up again, "Take a deep breath and then exhale at three. R- Ready?"

You nodded, taking the deepest breath you could.

"One," Shuichi whispered.

"Two," You felt your shoulders relaxing.

"Three." As soon as your entire body sunk into the sheets, relaxing completely, he sunk the rest of his length inside you, pushing harshly against your hands pinned on the bed for leverage. Shuichi had been holding his breath as to not moan too loud, despite the foreign feeling, it almost felt like it was meant to be like this. Would it be cheesy if he thought fucking you was his destiny?

You gasped sharply, eyes shooting open as your jaw dropped, silent screams escaping your mouth as your back arched into him.

"Ah- Ah!" Your strained moans grew louder as the stretch finally registered within you. A bead of sweat formed on your forehead as you squeezed his hands tightly, wanting to pull him closer.

Shuichi didn't say anything, biting down on his lip and nearly drawing blood as he bottomed out, his balls clapping gently on the tender skin of your ass.

You couldn't help but whine uncontrollably the feeling being too much. You could feel everything. The small curve of his perfect cock, the feeling of his tip pulsating into your walls and every goddamn accidental shift of his Shuichi’s hips.

With his hips pressed as close as they could be against yours, you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his waist, heels bumping against his tail bone as you did such.

Everything seemed to slow after a couple of seconds filled with breathy silence, your heart rate slowing down as well. The stretch remained, but the pain slowly melted away with every exhale you took, pleasure and need overtaking it instead. “Sh- Shuichi.” After hearing your voice so brittle, Shuichi lifted his head from your shoulder in urgency and concern. “Y- Yeah? D- Don’t worry, I won’t move until y-”

“N- No, you can- You can move, it- I want it.” You stammered over your words, suddenly shy as you pleaded for him. It was embarrassing to be begging for something so lewd, but you’d soon learn that embarrassment wasn’t valid when you were screaming your lungs out.

You’d wonder why you were both suddenly so timid with each other, treating each other like fragile glass that could break if you arose your voice too high.

Nodding uncertainly at your words, Shuichi gave your hands one last reassuring squeeze unsure if he had done that to assure you or him.

With a shaky inhale, Shuichi tested the waters by rolling his hips against yours gently. Worrying whether he was doing it right, as well as worrying if he hurt you. Though he’d be lying if the worry didn’t somewhat slip his mind the moment he felt that nearly irresistible wave of bliss wash over his body. Not wanting the feeling to stop, Shuichi decided he’d do it again, causing you to moan louder than the first time.

He couldn’t help but feel something strike his heart, and before he knew it, he was thrusting harder, more, aiming in different directions to get you to moan louder.

“Hah!” It was a foreign feeling, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was a bad thing. You could feel your heart pulsating, a thin layer of sweat cultivating on your skin and his, and most of all you could feel Shuichi moving inside you. Every inch of him rubbed against your walls, and all of it just felt so fucking addicting.

“S/o!” His call for your name had lost itself in the sea of your moans as well as his own.

You could only reply in rickety moans, body bouncing as each thrust he granted upon you pushed your head closer to the headboard; the only thing keeping you as close as you were to Shuichi, being your connected hands.

“Sh- Shuichi, fuck!” You couldn’t even remember your name anymore, the name of your lover rolling off your tongue a couple of hundred times as your eyes rolled into the back of your skull, his hard pace driving you to insanity. You couldn’t even recognize yourself anymore, moans that escaped your lips sounded so pornographic you couldn’t possibly assume those were yours.

Shuichi on the other hand had been moaning and grunting like he was in pain; the way your walls clenched around him had brought him closer and closer to his high, but he didn’t want to cum just yet. He wanted to get that sweet spot.

It was so incredibly gratifying every time you called out his name; maybe not-so for the neighbours, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly smug as his neighbours would’ve known that it was — “Shuichi!” — who had been making you wail and moan like that.

Your uncertainty and discomfort from earlier disappeared into thin air, forgotten forever as you lost yourself in this new feeling of being plowed like a cornfield.

Finally finding the energy and courage to pry open your tear-filled eyes, your jaw remained slack, mouth blubbering out nonsense and ‘I love you’s as you made eye contact with Shuichi.

You felt your heart stutter and stop a moment as you saw how pretty he looked at that moment. With his facial expression contorting into one of pure pleasure, and a thin layer of sweat making his skin almost seem like it was glowing, combined with the loving look in his eyes; it was all too much, and before you knew it, you made your own lewd expression as you felt a foreign knot suddenly build up and untie in your stomach just as quick.

With stuttered, pathetic attempts at pleading his name, you attempted to get his attention as you had been slightly afraid of what was building up inside you. “Sh- Shu- Some- Something’s- Mmnhah!” You sobbed out, jaw going slack as screams poured out from your throat.

Shuichi’s eyes widened just a fraction as he realized what was happening, slowing his hips before suddenly going faster than before, grunting as he brought himself back to his high. “It’s- It’s okay baby, just let go- Urk—!” Shuichi wheezed as he felt your trembling vaginal walls clamp onto his throbbing length, feeling as if he had just gotten the air punched out of him. Well, you were only following his order.

Hunching over you, he squeezed your hands as he rolled his hips one last time, slow and deep, causing you to elicit a louder scream from the spot he hit. He had to suppress a thankful smile; there it was. He began to dig his glans especially hard into that spot, causing you to sob and squirm from the intense pleasure he had been putting onto you. “S- So good- I- I can’t-” You stammered, mind fuzzy and misfunctioning as your orgasm had been concentrated by Shuichi’s bold action.

You wondered if this was his first time; he seemed so experience like he knew all the right spots to press and prod at.

When really, he just read way too many porn mags.

Shuichi’s breath hitched as he felt his cock twitch, not long after the mini action, he had finally released inside you, going slack over your body as he nearly cried into your shoulder from how good it felt. Desperate and shaky moans and groans spilled from the binds of his thin lips, and no matter how hard he tried to dig himself into your neck, the moans remained loud.

Time seemed to slow down, Shuichi had gone flaccid inside you and quiet as he tried to catch his breath. Despite the lower half of your body still incredibly sensitive and numb, you managed to switch your positions, shifting him, so he was laying on his side instead of you.

He let himself be cradled by you, sweaty skin sticking together in an uncomfortably comfortable way. It was warm.

“... God, we should’ve done that months ago.” You half-joked, voice gravelly.

Shuichi groaned in response, wincing as he pulled out slowly.

“I don’t think I.. regret waiting.” Shuichi truthfully spoke, smiling a lopsided grin.

“Because it made this moment more special… right?” He hoped he wasn’t the only one to think so.

You nodded, eyes eventually drifting shut. “Yeah… You’re right, you’re.. always right.”

[wheezyandchesterwrite]

"Please don't leave me" ~ Peter Parker

Summary: When you are injured in battle Peter begs you to stay

Word Count: 3.4k

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Speedster!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of violence, death, injuries, and blood. Just overall sad. (If we missed something that you feel should be tagged and/or mentioned let us now and we'll include it)

A/N: Hey, so as you can see we are not dead! :) (I don't know why I did that it hurt me too ok?) Since there was no post in March we are going to try our best to post two other one shots this month, but we'll see how that goes. Hope you all enjoy this and have a great morning/afternoon/night! -W&C :)

Also major thanks to @apotatoinabigfield and @too-attached-to-fiction for proofreading and beta-reading this!

*GIF IS NOT OURS* (We got it off of Google, but if anyone knows who the credits for it belong to let us know so we can rightfully tag them)

5 years ago:

“Something’s happening,” said the girl with the antennae, Mantis. At least, that’s what she had said her name was. Suddenly after, she turned to dust. She just disappeared. In shock, you got closer to Peter, looking for some kind of safety or comfort. Everyone was shocked; no one could understand what had just occurred before your very eyes. Before anyone could say something or even gather their thoughts, it happened again.

“Quill?” was the last thing Drax said before suffering the same fate as Mantis. We lost. That was the only explanation you could fathom. The Avengers had lost and Thanos won. You tightened your grip around Peter, fully embracing him now. You were all desperately trying to decipher who would be next, fearing it being yourselves or your loved ones, but it was pointless. Whatever was causing this came and left without a warning.

“Steady, Quill,” said Tony, but it was to no avail.

“Oh, man,” sighed the man who had introduced himself as Starlord, dusting away defeatedly. You looked up at Peter, who had wrapped his arms around you in a protective manner. He was scared, that much you could tell, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes, determined to conceal the unsettling fear of not being able to hold you for much longer. You tried to convince yourself it was done—that no one else would be taken—but it was pointless. Deep down, you knew this was far from over.

“Tony,” the man turned to look at Strange, “there was no other way.” Stephen Strange took a couple more breaths before dusting away like the others had. Although Strange had said he saw over sixty-three billion outcomes, you couldn’t see how this could be the one you won in. It definitely didn’t feel like it.

Suddenly, breathing became hard. You saw dust particles floating from your hand and the reality of what was going to happen hit you. “No,” you whispered anguishly.

“(Y/N)?” Peter brought your attention to him instead of the particles which declared your fate.

“Pete, I—” you started as you reached up to stroke his cheek, but before you could come in contact with his skin or finish your declaration, you faded away in his arms.

“I know,” the boy said softly as he watched the wind carry what was once his lover.

Tony was at loss for words. He felt like the universe was playing a sick, twisted prank on him. As Tony sulked, Peter felt it. He felt his spidey sense warn him that something was going to happen. He could feel his body struggle to keep him in one piece, to keep him together, to keep him alive. No matter how quickly his body fought, it was destined to lose. “Mr. Stark,” the boy called out to the man who was more than his mentor, the man who had become like a father to him.. “I don’t feel so good,” he painfully admitted. Peter started stumbling around, his legs struggling to keep him up.

“You’re alright,” defied Stark. More than an attempt to console the boy, Tony Stark was trying to reassure himself that the universe, as cruel as it had always been to him, wouldn't do this—that it would not take his boy away. But alas, the genius man was to be proven wrong.

“I— I don’t know what’s happening. I— I don’t understand,” countered the Spiderboy hurriedly. His feet gave out, and he would’ve fallen forward if it hadn’t been for Tony catching him and holding him up. More and more particles could be seen emerging from the boy, and in that moment, the only thing Tony could do was hold on to Peter for as long as he had left.

“I don’t wanna go,” Peter pleaded. “I don’t wanna go, Mr. Stark, please.” His voice was cracking and his legs couldn’t support him any longer as more particles escaped him. Peter’s pleas wouldn’t cease much like the cracks in his voice every time he spoke. Tony lowered him to the ground not daring to say a word. Peter, with teary, bloodshot eyes, looked at the man and whispered an apology before finally letting his body dissipate.

Tony couldn’t speak; he couldn’t even think. “He did it,” said Nebula. Yet the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist didn’t respond. He just looked at his hand, which was covered in dirt—dirt that had once been Peter Parker. Tony let himself cry, allowing grief and shock to take over him. After all there was nothing else he could do.

***

Present day:

“Love you—wait, what happened?” You find yourself reaching up, but the person you had been trying to touch no longer stood in front of you. Your body was slowly regaining feeling, but your mind felt as numb as ever. You had so many thoughts running through your brain at such a speed that you couldn’t focus on any of them.

“I love you too, Speedy.” You heard a voice answer from behind you. You felt some of the anxiety subside once you put a name to the voice, which was easy since only one person in the entire world called you Speedy.

“Peter,” you exhaled in relief. Turning around in an instant, you ran into the arms you had chosen to call home. Peter embraced you tightly, not wanting to release the other in fear of permanently losing one another this time. You didn’t know how much time had passed from when you lost your consciousness, but that didn’t matter for Peter. Seeing the person he had deemed to be his soulmate dissipate in front him had been more than enough for him to feel like the amount of time that had passed between then and now had been an eternity. Suddenly, Strange spoke up, answering the question plaguing everyone’s minds.

“It’s been five years. Come on, they need us.” He stated commandingly. You all shared looks of dumbfoundment and bewilderment. Five years? How could that have been possible? The only one on the planet you stood on who looked at ease was Stephen, his calm demeanor never faltering. You looked up at Peter confused, but he simply shrugged, not wanting to believe such time had passed yet knowing better than to contradict Dr. Strange.

“Okay, everyone, this is it. Activate your badass stances!” exclaimed Quill.

“What did you say about my ass, Quill?” Drax started charging towards him, visibly offended. You raced to wedge yourself between the two men, struggling to keep them apart.

“Hey, no time for that. Look!” You called over their attention to the portal Strange was opening in front of you. Peter swung his way to the front, landing elegantly. After making sure Quill and Drax would not try to go at each other's throats, you swiftly made your way to the front and stood beside Peter.

Glancing around what was going to serve as your battlefield for today, you grimly recognized the location. What was once known as the Avenger’s Headquarters was now no more than a field of scattered debris. Clouds of dust littered the air, the remains of mass destruction visible wherever you looked. You gave yourself a chase to take in the sight of Thanos’ army, and as you did so, fear and worry tried to etch their way into your brain as you realized what you were facing. This was an enemy that had already defeated you once, and when you had fought him, he hadn't even had an army backing him up. Your determination and will to fight and live to tell the tale overpowered those negative feelings. The sight of the spaceship filled you with spitefulness instead of dread, and you knew in that moment that you would do whatever it took to win. The Avengers would not lose again; you were going to make sure of that, even if you had to lay down your life for it to become a reality.

“Is that everyone?” Strange asked Wong.

“What, you wanted more?” Wong yelled back in disbelief, and Strange shrugged nonchalantly in response.

As everyone settled into position, Cap’s voice was loudly heard, like thunder rumbling through the field, “AVENGERS.” This was the moment of truth—your last chance to save humanity. You could feel the seconds pass before Steve gave the signal, “Assemble.” And with that, everyone was off.

A beautiful and empowering mess of battle cries could be heard around you. You, on the other hand, were silent as you ran, calculating your every move. Using all the knowledge you’d gained over the years about hand-in-hand combat, you started to hastily assassinate those monsters. You would jump at one, taking them down, and godspeed to your next target, sending each one you came in contact with on a one way trip to meet their maker. Near you, Peter was also taking out some of the Chitauri, at times propelling you onto your next target or eliminating some of them when you got surrounded. After clearing out most of the aliens near you, Peter tapped you on the shoulder and pointed to Tony. Understanding his intentions, you nodded and made your way towards the infamous Iron Man.

As you slid into the crater where Tony lay, Peter landed from his swinging. Tony stared at the two of you in disbelief, doubting whether or not to believe you were actually there. When his expression softened, and tender affection spread across his factions, Peter began rambling, and you shook off some of the concrete dust from your suit. “Hey, holy cow! You will not believe what’s going on,” Peter exclaimed as he helped Tony stand up.

“No?” Tony asked sarcastically, but it only encouraged you.

“Do you remember when we were in space? And we got all dusty? I guess we must’ve passed out because when we woke up, you were gone.” You now stood beside Peter as you spoke, your hands increasing their pace as you rambled on, making them impossible to follow with the human eye.

“But Doctor Strange was there right? He was like ‘It’s been five years. Come on they need us,’” Peter said as he tried to make an impression of Strange, mimicking the way the man had moved his hands when opening the portals.

“Yeah, and then he started doing the yellow sparkly thing he does all the time.” You took over from Pete when he gave you the chance.

“He did? Oh, God!” Tony exclaimed with feigned incredulity. He started walking toward you and grabbed you both by the shoulder, pushing you into him.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked, bewildered.

“Huh, what’s this?” You questioned, confused as Tony engulfed you both simultaneously. He held you tightly, and when the shock passed, you and Peter hugged the man back even tighter.

“Oh, this is nice.” Peter sighed, earning a light chuckle from Stark.

“Listen, kids, we don’t have a lot of time right now, but I’ll catch you up on the latest trends once we take this bitch down. Okay?” Tony assured as he released you, holding on to your forearm to look the both of you in the eyes as he spoke.

“Yes, sir.” Peter saluted.

“See you on the other side of the war.” You smirked, knowing Tony and Peter must have caught that reference. Tony shook his head as he took off, the ghost of a grin barely noticeable on his lips.

Peter nudged you. “Be careful, okay?” His eyes showed genuine concern.

“Alright, I solemnly swear—” Peter gave you a warning look. “Okay, fine. I’ll try my best to be as careful as possible in the middle of a battle.” You finished, your tone a weird mixture between sarcasm and affection.

“Good.” He pressed a quick kiss to your temple before taking off.

“Alright, Chitauri, give me your best shot.” You smirked at the unsuspecting figure that was currently fighting off T’challa. Having speed and regeneration to your advantage, you zig-zagged around Thanos’ army, ducking and killing as you went. You moved with precision, only stopping when you were sure to have a clear shot at the enemy you were targeting.

You went on that way until you weren’t able to dodge a body that dropped in front of you, making you trip over it. The collision made you roll down a mountain of debris, hitting your head dangerously hard several times, as well as getting a couple of cuts along the way from the exposed, sharp metal.

“That’s sure to give me a concussion,” you grunted to yourself. The throbbing of your head distracted you from the burn of the cuts that now littered your abdomen, some deeper than others. It wasn’t until you brought a hand to your head, that you noticed the crimson liquid that coated it. “Oh, shit,” you exhaled. The pain was starting to catch up to you as the adrenaline subsided. You tried to use your powers to find yourself a safe spot until you recovered, but your attempts were futile seeing as the pain coursing through your body rendered you immobile.

“Is that Peter falling?” The figure you saw was indeed Peter and the sharp spiderlegs of his suits were still out for blood. You managed to move just enough that you were barely graced, another gash prompting blood out of your system. Peter tumbled in the opposite direction, clutching what you assumed to be the gauntlet you were supposed to keep out of Thanos’ hands. The sudden movements to dodge Peter hadn’t come without consequences. You felt like your surroundings were spiralling around you, dizziness overtaking you as you started to cough up blood. You managed to stubbornly sit up and when you looked to your side, you saw Peter giving the gauntlet to a glowing woman.

“I don’t know how you’re gonna get it through all that,” you heard him admit to her out of breath.

“Don’t worry,” Wanda stepped in.

“She’s got help,” Okoye finished, her hands wrapped tightly around her spear. Soon the rest of the women joined and took off together. It was a powerful moment to witness and one you would’ve loved to be a part of, if it weren’t for your current situation. You closed your eyes in a somewhat successful effort to ease off the pain pulsating in your head.

“Man, those are some badass women,” Peter muttered as he sat down. “Wait—” He quickly looked around, but missed you completely. “Where’s my badass woman?” Peter frantically shuffled to his feet, hoping to see a flash of yellow zoom by, but no such luck. You tried to call out to him, wanting to let him know you were there, but your voice got caught in your throat, replaced by a cough that was followed by blood. The sound caught Peter’s attention, his gaze trying to find where it came from. His heart constricted in his chest when he finally caught sight of you and the state you were in.

In a flash, he was hovering over you, putting your own abilities to shame given the speed at which he got to you. Your eyes were still closed, as you relished the relief it gave you, but you were drifting off at this point and didn’t have the energy nor strength to open them again. That was until Peter started shaking you awake. “(Y/N)? Oh God, come on, please be okay.” You could hear the panic and desperation in his voice. Your eyes felt so heavy, it was almost impossible to open them, but you managed to do so, just enough to see Peter exhale in relief after seeing you respond.

Tucked away behind blood and dryness, you managed to find your voice and you raspily told him, “I’m okay, Peter. It’ll heal. Go help the others.” You took ragged breaths between each sentence, your lungs struggling to keep up. Peter could very much tell you weren’t okay and knew that with the amount of injuries you had suffered it was almost impossible for your regenerative abilities to save you.

“(Y/N), we both know that’s not happening; it’s too much. I mean, it might heal, but there are too many things to heal for you to survive waiting and—” He abruptly stopped his own rambling after he noticed you had closed your eyes again. “(Y/N)? (Y/N), please, stay with me.”

His voice was breaking and his eyes were starting to swell up with tears. It broke your heart to hear him like this. You fought to stay conscious, for his sake, but the blood loss and pain was becoming too great to bear and you felt yourself falling into a deep slumber once more.

Peter was getting desperate, tears freely flowing down his cheeks now. “Please, (Y/N/N), please don’t leave me.” He held your body close to his, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Sobs rocked his body as he kept begging for you to stay. His voice and your tear stained neck was the last thing you registered before you let go and fell into the dark abyss of unconsciousness.

***

“Everybody wants a happy ending, right? But it doesn’t always roll that way. Maybe this time, I’m hoping if you play this back, it’s in celebration. I hope families are reunited, I hope we get it back, and something like a normal version of the planet has been restored. If there was ever such a thing. God, what a world! Universe, now. If you told me ten years ago that we weren’t alone, let alone, you know, to this extent, I mean I wouldn’t have been surprised. But come on, you know? The epic forces of darkness and light that have come into play. And for better or for worse, that’s the reality Morgan’s gonna have to find a way to grow up in. So, I thought I’d probably better record a little greeting... In case of an untimely death on my part. I mean, not that death at any time isn’t untimely. This time travel thing that we’re gonna try and pull off tomorrow, it’s—it's got me scratching my head about the survivability of it all—that’s the thing. Then again, that’s the hero gig. Part of the journey is the end. What am I even trippin’ for? Everything’s gonna work out exactly the way it’s supposed to. I love you 3,000.”

Pepper walked out of the cabin she and Tony had called home, holding a wreath that in its middle held Tony’s first arc reactor. Everyone stood out in front of the lake, waiting as she gently placed it on the water. She took her place beside Peter, who was silently crying as he held your emotionally devastated self in his arms. Having passed out when you did had ultimately saved your life, your body using its remaining energy in healing you rather than keeping you awake, but that meant you missed the events that led up to your victory and were therefore unable to say a proper farewell to the man who served as your mentor for years.

Waking up to the news that the man who had taken better care of you and had looked out for you more than your own parents was dead didn’t settle in easily. It took a while before you were able to accept he was gone.

Peter had been there for you every step of the way, holding you during all the sleepless nights you had spent crying and shaking you awake when your dreams became plagued with nightmares from the battle. Guilt had made a home in your heart, the feeling never leaving as you thought of ways you could have avoided getting injured, ways you could have fought better, ways that could have resulted in being able to say goodbye to Tony Stark, the man who sacrificed himself for the universe.

Everyone stood silently as you all watched the wreath float out of sight, before turning to share your condolences with each other. You held on to Peter tightly, as if he too were to slip from your fingers at any moment. You stood there mindlessly listening in on the nostalgic conversations between the people who cared for Tony. Looking around at everyone gathered, it became clear that the arc reactor which was now floating off in the lake was not the only proof that Tony Stark had a heart. All his friends, colleagues, family and adopted students were walking proof that not only did Tony Stark have a heart, but that he had the biggest heart a human could possibly have.

Taglist: @steveisherdaddy @apotatoinabigfield @xlostinobsessionsx @izjustafaze @yourlocalwhitemanwhore

[bonny-kookoo]

Good Girl [J.JK x Reader]🔞🌼

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, a lil angst

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics, dom!jungkook, sub!Reader, size kink, oral (f & m rec.), mild dd/lg themes, praise kink, cumplay, reader is a virgin, jungkook is lowkey a hoe, a lil heartbreak, Taehyung makes an appearance, long haired jungkook, mentions of harrassment, jungkook punches a guy, strength kink

Jeon Jungkook was known to have a specific type when it came to his partners; tall, gorgeous, dominant and older. It's not like he's a true blood baby boy; he's just too lazy to put any effort into his flings. When a new girl answers to his ad online searching for a roommate for his apartment to share rent and space however, he didn't quite expect such an innocent being to turn up at his doorstep with a box full of pastel colored belongings, ready to move in. And what he definitely didn't expect was his growing interest in her and the feeling of having her under him, all submissive and ready to be ruined.

Good Girl || Sweet Girl || Smart Girl || Brave Girl || Pretty Girl || Charming Girl || Enticing Girl || Bad Girl || ???

A wink was all he got from the woman who'd occupied his bed together with him last night as she walked out his bedroom door, seemingly knowing how to get out of his apartment. Jungkook ran his hand through his still sweaty hair, groaning after stretching his arms above his head, his mood seemingly sunkissed. He just finished an almost three hour sex-session after all; all without him providing any actual effort. His dick had seemed to be enough for her anyways, her face when she rode him happy, although he could really care less.

Reaching for his laptop near his bed, he didn't bother to put on any clothes for now, just wanting to check if he'd gotten any new E-Mails or messages, clicking through the casual nudes that constantly seemed to slip into his postbox. He cocked his head to the side however when he noticed that a website has notified him of an answer to his ad online; he'd put it up some time ago now after Taehyung, his former roommate, had to move out simply because Jungkook himself couldn't survive the older one's sleep shedule. Tae seemed to never sleep, waking the younger one up on a daily (and nightly) basis. He really tried to get along with him, both of them sharing a deep friendship, but god no, as a roommate he couldn't stand that guy. His rent however was something he struggled as well, so as much as he really wanted to live alone, he couldn't. He clicked the message on the website, his interest peaked.

"Hello. Is this AD still up to date? My name is Y/N, and I'm searching for a place because I'm starting to work close by soon, and its too expensive to take the bus for hours on end every day.. so uh, I don't know? I'm really good at cooking, and I promise I'll be so quiet and organized you won't even notice I'm there! I work at a restaurant nearby as a waitress- I mean, I'm going to, haha. Ugh, I hope you're okay sharing your apartment with a girl as well, I for my part don't have a problem with that! So, I guess, I'll wait for your reply?

Have a nice day!"

He scoffed a little, hovering over the delete button, but instead, he clicked her profile icon, opening the details. Her profile picture showed a white big dog, being hugged by what he assumed was her. He couldn't see her face however, half of her face above her nose cropped out to fit the entire dog instead. He could spot her clothes however; a top and skirt, flat shoes and sheer tights with white spots on them. His brows furrowed, how old was she? Her profile said she was about a year younger than him, every post she'd made up to this date about pet stuff, clothes who all seemed to follow a pastel-color scheme, and artwork you seemed to be selling. You were basically the definition of cute.

Fan-fucking-tastic. Hopefully you wouldn't be too upset when he denied your request, but somehow he thought it over. You said you could cook and you did seem like an organized person. Knowing what kind of effect he could have on people, he could probably scare the shit out of you and keep you around without really having to interact much; and rent was also due this month, so the sooner he found a roommate the better. "Fuck it." He said, and began to type his reply.

When his doorbell rang, he almost burned his hand with the hot water he currently used to make himself a cup of ramen, cursing loudly. Who the fuck wasn't home again so he had to take their package in? One day the old lady across the hall would find a dead rat or something in front of her door, he swore to himself. Ripping the door open with so much force he could feel a bit of wind gushing by, his eyes widened when he saw a similar face in front of him- well, a little below actually. He remembered your lips instantly for some awkward reason, having tried to maybe paint a picture of what you looked like entirely over the last few days. He would've never expected something like this however- you looked like a literal doll in his opinion, your eyes wide open and mouth a little parted, shiny lipgloss making him swallow. Wait, did he really forget that you said you wanted to move in today?!

"I uh.. I'm- I'm Y/N, we- I- the ad..?" You said, your voice sounding nothing like the woman he usually was around. He smirked a little, moving so you could step inside, food now definitely forgotten on the kitchen counter. He really should've at least cleaned up a little he thought. Whatever.

"Yeah, figured. There you go, thats your room. The keys and shit are on the matress, make sure you don't loose 'em." He simply said, before leaving you alone in your new home to settle down.

"What I'm trying to say is, Y/N, you and I, this could really be something!" Taehyung slurred into your ear, loud enough for Jungkook to hear. For some reason it pissed him off to no ends how close the older one seemed to be, constantly hitting on you like he was a starving man, even know half of town knew very well that he wasn't. He could see why; you were innocent, and Tae known to fool around a lot. You were a challenge, something new for him, and he would lie if he said that he wasn't interested as well. Oh he was; but he also had at least some manners left inside of him, contrary to popular belief not only thinking with his dick. Taehyung however was only out for fun, making Jungkook question if he should really let this continue.

He decided no.

"Alright you fucking whore, it's bedtime isn't it? I'll call you a cab." Taehyung groaned at the younger one's words, nodded his head however before looking at you with a smirk.

"Ah, what a shame. But if you wanna have some fun you know my number!" He said, as if he didn't just offer you sex. You blushed at this, not answering, making Jungkook watch you a bit. You really were something else. "Jungkookie, you're so nicee... If I was gay I would definitely suck your dick-" The younger in question made a disgusted yet amused face, putting a hand over the blue haired one's mouth.

"Yeah yeah, you pay me back though you fucker." He said, before going into the kitchen to make the call. Taehyung, being left alone with you again started with his questioning, as he had done the entire night.

"So, Y/N.." He said, dragging out the last syllable of your name playfully, making you shuffle around where you were sitting a bit. He certainly was a pretty attractive guy, but he also seemed to be very straightforward- something you always had struggled with, being more on the shy side. You looked at him, silently urging him to continue before taking a sip of your own beer- cherry flavored, simply because the regular was too bitter in your opinion. "What kind of toys do you use, heh?" He questioned, and you coughed suddenly. Taehyung laughed loudly at that, cooing when you calmed down slowly.

"Taehyung, stop harassing my roommate you fucking idiot. I need her to pay half of the rent-" He said, before sitting down next to you, raising one of his eyebrows at you. "And she also makes some killer lasagna. Kinda wanna keep that." He said, before laughing a bit. Even though Jungkook seemed to be pretty intimidating to you, he was actually a pretty good guy to have around. You both barely ever fought, and overall you could almost see yourself falling for him too- he had the looks after all. But his habit of bringing people over just to satisfy himself was something that made you keep some distance between you both. He wasn't someone to settle down- let alone with someone like you. You were pretty much the exact opposite of what he seemed to like.

Sending Tae home was easier than you both thought. Not being able to go to bed you both decided to watch some late night shows while casually talking- something that wasn't uncommon between you two. Just when you seemed to have gotten comfortable again, Jungkook couldn't help but tease you again.

"So, what Toys do you use, heh?" He said, laughing with his head thrown back afterwards at your red face. This would certainly never get old in his opinion. Just as he was about to apologize and tell you you didn't have to answer, your voice was heard, however.

"None." You said, and his eyes widened at that. "What? Do I look like I do these things to you?" You asked, and he cocked his head to the side a bit, scanning you obviously. He shrugged, and you began to pout, moving to wrap your pastel pink blanket around yourself. "I don't even know how to buy one. That stuff is just.. don't know. Gross." You said, and Jungkook turned on the couch, body facing you now, his interest sparked.

"Gross? So you never had sex before?" He said, and you went silent. Were you serious right now? You were an angel in his eyes, body proportions almost perfect, hell, even your slight imperfections were adorable in his eyes. Up until now he had been sure that you at least have had your fair share of experience, but a virgin? His world was suddenly turned upside down. "Well.. that's something I didn't expect." He said, making you raise your eyebrows at him. "You're hot. Thats why. Oh well." He said, missing the way your eyes widened at that. "I'm gonna go to bed now. Goodnight." He simply said, and you answered with a short 'goodnight' as well- still a bit surprised by his statement. Jungkook thought.. you were attractive?

He'd somehow gotten used to you, how you would leave your pastel pink but admittedly really soft blanket in a pile on one edge of the couch in the living room, how you sometimes left your toothbrush in the sink when you'd been in a hurry, or how you would hum to a song, not knowing he could hear you very clearly. Maybe he really did go soft after living with you for a while. He still didn't know himself why he got so upset with Taehyung the day prior; was he really being selfish? He was protecting you, nothing more. Taehyung was everything but a gentle lover, jungkook just knew he'd break you for sure, not to mention that you already stated how much you despised one night stands, which were practically Taehyungs speciality. He was just looking after you, nothing more.

The more he thought about it however, the more problematic the entire plan became.

But even now, while the young woman whose name he had already forgotten was giving it her all sucking his dick, all that seemed to swim around in his head were the events of the previous evening; how innocent and embarrassed you looked at him when you told him you'd never bought, let alone use a toy before. Surely you'd be someone to enjoy a good vibrator he thought, maybe as a gag he could buy you one? Oh how enchanting you'd look, spread out on his mattress while he would edge you over and over until you'd be crying, begging for his mercy. He would praise you for taking it so well, for being so good for him and only him, and he just knew you would blush. Instead of rushing to his own satisfaction, he would go slow, agonizingly slow, just to see how far he could push you. He would feast on you like a predator on his prey, pull you close so you had no chance of escaping him, he would trace every curve of your skin, gently, as if to make up for the bruises and Mark's he would surely leave all over you to feed his inner need to claim you, even though he would never let anyone see you like this while he was alive and breathing anyways. He just knew you would fit perfectly underneath him, his body covering you and shielding you away from the world around. Would you be able to take all of him? He probably would have to stretch you real good before even thinking about pushing his dick inside you, yet he just knows you would somehow make him proud and take it all, and he would continue his praises, telling you what a good girl you are.

He almost laughed at the situation, he really was in deep, wasn't he? Frustrated and confused he started to picture someone else entirely kneeled between his legs on the floor, how you'd bat your eyelashes at him like the fucking angel you were instead of the girl currently there, and that thought alone gave him the final push to shoot his load down the strangers throat, who moaned obscenely at the feeling. Usually he would be aroused, ready for more, but the sound of someone who wasn't his little roommate ripped him out of his daydream. This couldn't go on like that. Sending the lady out without many words, he decided that he just needed to fuck you, and all would be good again. He was just curious. Nothing else. He just needed to satiate his hunger and he could go back to normal.

How would he be able to do this without ending up hurting you? No matter how big his hunger for you was, he also considered you somewhat of a friend. He remembered when you came home crying one time after a bad day at work, and how he wanted to hold you, shielding you from any harm, making you feel safe. Because that's what he, and only he could do in his opinion. No matter what, he'd protect you, as weird as that sounded. Shit.

He really had a crush on you.

Unknowing to him you always held your hands over your ears whenever he brought home a different girl, not being able to listen to his moans mixed with someone else's. You were slowly beginning to regret moving in, already starting to think about maybe searching for a different apartment. But the rent was cheap, your room big, and his company relaxing when he wasn't busy being buried in someone he couldn't even remember after a day or two. Somehow tears were leaking out of your eyes, and you took your hands down from the sides of your head to wipe them away, careful to be as silent as possible as to not alert him that you were awake, well aware of the shower turning on. You did notice however how his sessions became shorter and shorter, always seeming to end sudden instead of usual. But the more you thought of it, the more angry at yourself for falling for this manwhore you became. You really should hate him- but you couldn't.

Tonight was definetely the prime example of why you didn't go into clubs. The sheer amount of people around you, the smell of sweat and cheap cologne and perfume all around made you feel like a headache was inevitable. Why were you here again? Oh yes. You followed Taehyungs advice and 'tried to make friends' instad of looming around your apartment all day. But right now you just really wished you stayed home instead of going here.

Sure, you liked your coworkers, and they seemed nice and everything, but if you were being honest, they're definition of fun was entirely not yours. You began to feel cramped up in the large club, making you desperately pull your phone out of your pocket, texting Jungkook in hopes he could save you from this god forsaken torment they called a club.

  Minutes later, after Jungkook oh so gentlemanly told you to pick you up, you stood in front of that said location, waiting for his cheap but admittedly nice car to pull up. Sadly, someone else seemed to be way more intent on bringing you home- a young man your age, attractive, yes, but also heavily intoxicated. He had already eyed you up inside the building you noticed, yet hadn't made a move towards you. Now however, he seemed more determined than ever.

"Lets go home baby, I swear you won't regret-" He started, but you moved away from him, clenching onto your little handbag in order to at least keep your belongings safe if he tried anything else. Suddenly both your figures were drowned in the warm light of Jungkook's car lights- you immediately recognized them simply by the fact that one was brighter than the other, something you always told him, yet he always waved you off, telling you that both were doing just fine, even though his left light was clearly almost dead. Typical him, you thought. Yet right now, you couldn't be happier to see him.

He however, did not seem happy at all. His face was serious, his wavy hair hanging a little over his eyes, steps fast and strong enough that you could hear his black boots almost crush the slight gravel of the parking lot. "Fuck off sunnyboy and go back inside." He simply yelled out, having already seen how uncomfortable you were with the stranger so close to you. Jungkook wasn't someone to blindly punch someone, that said however, he couldn't contain himself once he saw the guy reaching out for your arm, your figure instinctively scrambling to get behind Jungkooks way larger body. He didn't even notice his fist connecting with the strangers face, simply leading you by the small of your back inside his car, driving home without any more words.

You were not to be touched by someone so dirty like this young man who didn't even knew his own limits it seemed.

Yet you were completely confused now. Maybe, if you were now the reason he got into physical fights, you should make a decision.

The next morning, sitting down at the kitchen table, you watched Jungkook filling your bowl with cereal as well- lucky charms for you, and chocolate chips for him. It became somewhat of a routine since you both woke up roughly around the same time, sharing breakfast was common. The best moment in your opinion to pop the bomb.

"I'm moving out." You said softly, fiddling with your fingers in your lap, leg nervously bouncing up and down. Why did this feel like you were breaking up with him? You both would've ended up going separate ways sooner or later anyways- so he would probably just nod, ask when, and that would be it. He was someone who didn't bother much. But the second you said it, he turned around completely shocked, suddenly very much awake.

"Why? Did I do something?" He asked, sounding genuinely offended for some reason you couldn't come up with. In his mind, scenario over scenario started to play, as if he wanted to search for something he may have said or done to make you so upset that you didn't want to live with him anymore. He knew he shouldn't be so upset over it, since you and him were merely roommates, friends who shared an apartment, nothing more, but he never really expected you to come up with it so sudden. Or maybe you had a boyfriend? What if it was Taehyung, and you just didn't tell him? He would rip that fucker's stupid blue hair out, he knew-

"No. I- not reall-" You sighed, setting your elbows on the kitchen table before letting your head fall into your hands. "Actually yes, you did." You started, looking at him, but unable to hold eye contact with the now completely confused curly haired boy in front of you. "You.. uh.. I cant sleep. Your, 'guests', the walls aren't really soundproof and like, I really- and just.. ugh this is so awkward, please don't make me say it-" You said, groaning the rest of your sentence before stubbornly shoving your back against the chair, throwing your legs back and forth viciously, reminding Jungkook of a kid who was close to throwing a tantrum. Even though this was definitely not the time to think about you laid out over his leg, his hand hitting your perfectly shaped butt until it was red just to punish you for being such a brat, exactly this picture began to form in the back of his head. He hated himself somehow, really. But somehow instead of accepting your decision, he moved to stand at the table, hands on top of it, eyes searching yours.

"Say it Y/N. You know I hate when I have to pull thing out your throat sweetheart." He didn't intend on using the nickname, but somehow he threw his hesitation out the window. If you really were fooling around with someone, someone who wasn't him he wanted to know- and even if you didn't share that information with him, you would move out anyways, so why hold back anymore? You shook your head at him, avoiding his gaze, and he clicked his tongue, patience slowly thinning out. "Spit it out." He said again, but he still got no reaction. His hand seemed to move without his consent when he suddenly found his fingers on your chin, moving your head to force your attention towards him. "Speak the fuck up, I swear to god." He said, voice dropping down lower, and somehow you seemed as if bewitched.

Maybe it was the way he stood there, how he still held your chin, or how intensely he looked at you, but words dropped out of your mouth as if you drank harry potters truth potion. "I cant stand that you let these girls touch you, that they can get you so easily and you just look past me a- and I really tried you know, because Taehyung said you liked mature girls more so I tried to do that, but he lied to me, you don't notice me at all, you're so mean you-" He shut your mouth with his mouth, trying to process the information he just received, yet it seemed like it was too much at once. You were.. jealous? And what kind of stupid advice was Taehyung giving away, that fucker? It was true that he liked his women to be confident and mature, but that was just so they knew what they were doing, and he didn't need to put so much effort into something he could get so easily.

"So you were jealous?" He said, a small smirk creeping up on him, cooing at you internally when you shook your head, face red. "If you wanted me to fuck you, you could've just asked. Geez." He said, but instead of being relieved, your shoulders sagged down. "What?" He asked, and you mumbled to him.

"Because I don't want just that one time stuff you do." Jungkook looked at you, eyes softening at your somehow-confession. He just put together the pieces in his head, and it did make sense. You were practically attached to him wherever he took you, always seemingly glowing whenever his attention was on you. He was as much as a dense head than you were, and he couldn't help but pull out a chair and sitting down, patting his legs as an invitation.

"Good, because I don't want that either. And I don't share either." He said, and looked at you gently, but with a deep darkness behind his eyes. "Trust me baby, you can sit down now and I promise you'll be the only one to have me- or you can move out and go on with your life." He almost laughed at the way it suddenly clicked in your head on what he was offering, suddenly jumping up and sitting on his thighs, legs on either side of his body. He looked down at you, a divine picture coming to life. His hands were placed on the exposed skin under your skirt, slowly sliding over the soft skin until his fingers felt the seam of your tights- those goddamn things he'd wanted to rip off of you so badly these past days. "You can touch me, you know?" He said lowly, and you noticed how awkward you must've looked for a second, seated on his lap with your hands in front of you, unsure where to put them. Just to ground yourself, your fingers began to play with his shirt, and he had to swallow the laugh that wanted to break free. "You don't have to do this, you know? I'm fine with waiting-" He began, but you immediately shook your head, however, at loss for words. He smiled again, dangerously so you noticed. His head dipped down, finally touching your skin on your neck with his lips, leaving open mouthed kisses under your earlobe down to the crook, hands moving over your clothes already mapping out your body in his mind, one hand pulling down one side of your soft fleece jacket you wore, pulling down your shirt as well, so he could softly nip at your shoulder, making you gasp oh so cutely at his actions. His hands didn't stop however, moving over your chest, kneading both of your breasts softly, as if he would hurt you if he used too much strength- which was probably the case. He already loved how bis his hands looked running over your body, how your hands held his shirt in fists, eyes closed, yet not because of fear; you looked serene to him, face showing him the soft pleasure you felt. He suddenly moved you a little, making you straddle one of his leg, core pushed against his thigh. "Let's start slow, yeah?" He asked, whispering words into your ear, lips never parting from you. He slowly began to move your hips, urging you to simply follow what you thought felt best to you. "Use me baby. Get off on my thigh." You whined at that, slowly starting to move more and more boldly, and he decided that he was officially a goner. Even if you didn't want him after whatever may be happening, he knew he could never go back. The way you squeezed your eyes shut every now and then, moving back and forth yet always a bit helpless, showing how inexperienced you were. He could feel the wet patch forming on his jeans, his hands moving you a bit faster, before you let your head fall onto his shoulder, making him chuckle. "What is it baby? Do you need help, hm?" He said, a bit mockingly even, and you nodded into his shoulder. "Tell me what you need then. What do you want, princess?" He said, running his hands over your back, feeling your bodyheat through your clothes.

"wanna get the same.. as the others.." You mumbled, unsure what you were even asking for. Jungkook however simply smiled, suddenly lifting you up, hands under your behind carrying you to his room, before finally letting you fall onto his mattress, laughing when your body jumped a little, making you squeak so cutely. He smiled, crawling over you, his fantasy finally coming to life- you looked so lost under him, so utterly defenseless he could swear he could feel something primal awake inside him- and that was not his dick, which already strained against his jeans, impatient.

"Ah but Baby.." He began, taking off your soft jacket before his hands traced your bare arms until he moved them under your shirt, feeling your skin underneath his fingers. "You're my special girl.." He began to lift your shirt up, helping you out of it before he got rid of your skirt as well, chuckling at your cute lacey underwear, which was so typically you. So innocent, yet so arousing, how you squirmed underneath him in nothing but those pastel colored undergarments. "And special girls get special treatments.." His words were low, soft spoken yet with a rough edge to his tone, a natural feature of his voice that you've come to love. You couldn't even begin to paint out a picture of what he was talking about- sure, you have seen your fair share of adult films, you weren't a kid after all- but up until this moment, up until you met Jungkook, you've never really thought about what you could like when it came to these things. Even in your thoughts you felt shy saying any profanities out loud, how could you expect to know about kinks? "But only if you can behave for me, but you can do that right?" He said, unhooking your bra behind your back with ease and interrupting your inner talk with yourself. "You'll be my good girl, yeah?" He said, and you just viciously nodded, already growing frustrated, and oh how he loved it. This was how he had pictured you. If he had known before that this was what it felt like to have control over someone, he would've never done anything else if he was honest; but then again, you really were a special girl to him. The way you suddenly mewled when his hand cupped your heat, giving you a little pressure just to tease you even further almost caught him off guard. God have mercy on his soul, you were so sensitive to him, and it dawned on him again that he was making you this way. He was the first to- and he would make sure he'd be the only one as well. All those noises tumbling out of between your lips were only his to hear. His breathing peaked up at the view he had, how you began to impatiently rut into his hand, needy for more than he was giving you. He leaned back, finally getting rid of his own clothes as well to your satisfaction, lazily throwing his opened flannel as well as his white shirt somewhere on the floor in his room, and you couldn't help but stare. Truth be told, you didn't really know what to expect of him if you were honest, his constant gym visits giving you the impression that he had to be extremely fit, yet his habit of consuming more than two cups of ramen easily spoke differently. He was, in your eyes, the perfect in-between- he definetely was fit, his abs visible to your eyes, yet he didn't look like those over-achievers you sometimes saw walking around the same gym whenever you met him there to go home together. The way his muscles flexed at every move when he loomed over you again made you want to touch him, yet your shy side forbade you. He chuckled again. "You can touch what's yours all you want, you know?" He said, before he began to place his hand back onto your chest, his breath hot on your collarbone where he placed his kisses again, already hooked on your taste. His other, tattooed hand found its way back to your core, feeling the dampness there with amusement. You were more than what he'd imagined. Slowly he got rid of that barrier however, leaving your tights on for his own pleasure and maybe also for the aesthetic of it, his digits circling around your sensitive bud, making you squeal again, putting your hands over your mouth to keep your voice down. He clicked his tongue at this, moving them to lay right under the small of your back. "Be good and keep them there, yeah?" He said, and you looked away.

"But its- thats emb-" You couldn't even finish the beginning of your rant before he went back to his task at hand, sitting back before moving your legs to spread obscenely over his thighs simply to catch a glimpse of your glistening center, before he placed his body over yours again, hand now roughly circling in delicious eights around your clit, making you gasp out.

"Nothing you do is embarrassing, you hear me. If anything its fucking hot how you can be so fucking adorable even with my hand between your legs, doll." He said, before dipping a finger into you, making you move a bit at the foreign feeling. "Gotta stretch you out babygirl.." He said lowly, careful not to get too fast. His second finger joined in, and he could feel how tight you were around them, already clenching a bit as well, making his mouth water, but also growing a bit of worry in the back of his mind. Usually he was quite cocky about his overly average qualities down in his pants, but now he was genuinely concerned to hurt you with it. This was definitely a first for him. "Baby you're so small.. I don't think you can take it.." He said, a bit of a teasing undertone to his words as well. "See? You're already squeezing my fingers so hard princess, how could my dick ever fit inside huh?" He said, contrary to his otherwise rough nature keeping his movements gentle and slow enough for you to adjust without causing much pain. He could see the slight discomfort in your eyes, yet you suddenly shook your head, voice whiny.

"Uh-uh.." You mumbled, and he laughed a bit at that. "can take it.." You said bratty as ever, feeding his ego to no ends. "Wanna have it- you.. you gon' give it right? 'm good.." You said, having troubles keeping your hands under your back just like he told you to, grabbing the sheets underneath you instead to have something to keep yourself grounded.

Jungkook couldn't stop smiling. You didn't even know what you were asking for, yet you seemed so drowned in trust with him, that you simply gave him the right to do anything he wanted with you. "You sure?" He said, and smiled at the way you nodded again with your eyes closed. He moved away after that, shedding his pants before he walked over to his bedside table, fishing out a condom, before moving back to you, your eyes now on him, or more than that, on his very apparent bulge his boxers failed to conceal. Maybe you really did ask for more than you could take. Quite literally. Sensing your growing uneasiness he simply discarded his underwear, cock finally springing free, slapping soundlessly against his abdomen before he sat between your legs again. You made grabby hands for the foil package in his hands, somehow wanting to slip it onto him, yet he shook his head amused. "Nuh-uh baby. I'm afraid if you touch me right now I'll just embarrass myself and come straight away." He said, and you giggled at that. The sound of it brought him back at ease, his little joke having helped to calm you down at least a little bit. He knew this was a big thing, especially for someone like you- and it made him feel even a bit pressured if he was honest. He was slow when he dipped his head inside, your body instinctively trying to move away a bit, but you forced yourself to stay still, eyes now pressed close. Moving around a bit he kept one hand around the base of himself, the other steadying himself next to your shoulder, kissing you on your lips for the first time since you both started, surprising you enough to not notice how he somehow began to glide into you with the help of your arousal and the lubricant of the condom around him. He groaned, the first actual noise he'd made you could tie to his pleasure, and your breathing picked up once you noticed how full you felt. Gasping several times he suddenly started to laugh, making you giggle as well, even though you didn't knew what was so funny in that situation. "God- ugh.. your- fuck you're tight.." He pressed out, fighting hard against his hips' own mind yelling at him to move, to wreck you, to utterly ruin you. But he couldn't allow himself to do that- reassuring himself that he would have time for that at a later date. He slowly started to move around after he calmed down enough, keeping his speed down to keep it gentle for you. "I- fuck.." He started, having to talk to stretch his patience out, and to also ease your mild pain a little bit. "Let's- ugh.. Let's go on a date tomorrow, yeah? I.. god-" He said, and you nodded, moaning in your delicate pitch he oh so loved. "Gonna be all romantic and shit- fuck- gonna treat you like- for Mcdonald's or some shit." He said, making you both laugh between gasps of pleasure, your hands suddenly frantically moving around the sheets, legs shaking as he began to speed up his pace. You didn't knew what an orgasm would feel like, or how you knew you would have one, but you gasped, chocking on unshed tears in frustration as you noticed that you couldn't tumble over that delicious edge, and Jungkook noticed, cooing at you. "Ah, my baby can't come without her little clit being touched?" He said, kissing the side of your neck, biting the skin teasingly before sucking a hickey on your collarbone, his hands now grabbing yours, fingers intertwining with his, before moving them around his neck, sensing how you wanted to be closer to him, even though that hardly seemed possible. "Come for me baby, you can do it." He said, kissing your shoulder as if to make up for his mark he'd left, his hand now reaching between your bodies, only needing to put a bit of pressure on your little nub to send you flying. You moaned out loud, uncaring on how you sounded, clinging onto him for dear life, his own release making him groan out as well.

He could feel your body trembling, your breathing still fast. He waited for a moment or two for himself to soften up so he could pull out gently- your still slightly clenching hole almost pushing his dick out of yourself. You whined at the empty feeling, and he hushed you gently, moving around so he was sitting up against his headboard, your body on his lap, head on his shoulder. His hand moved back and forth over your spine, the other keeping your body steadily against him. "You did so, so good baby." He gently whispered between your breaths still coming out a little faster than they should. "To be honest I actually was kind of worried you wouldn't be able to take it. I'm impressed princess." He said, making you giggle. You still weren't quite back yet, still bathing in your own afterglow, and he simply waited for you to calm down- slowly becoming aware of your surroundings again.

"Hey, Jungkookie.." You started with that nickname Taehyung always teased him with, yet you would get away with it anytime on his watch. He simply moved his head to look at you, even if you weren't at him. "Did you.. like, mean it? Are we.. a couple now, or?" You started a bit too softly, yet you didn't have to be scared of his answer to that.

He took a deep breath, before yawning a bit. "If you want us to be. I know I want to." He started, brushing some hair away from your eyes. You looked at him, big eyes so innocent like he didn't just fuck you into his mattress literally minutes ago.

"I want to!" You immediately said, making him chuckle and place a kiss on your nose, receiving a giggle at that, before you tensed up. He raised his eyebrows at that, before you looked at him surprised. "My legs are all- tingly.. Jungkook did you break me- HEY don't laugh!" You said, but he couldn't help himself.

He threw his head back, laughing his admittedly cute open laugh, before wrapping his arms around your body. "God I love you." He simply said, making you smile.

"Hey Jungkookie?" You said after a bit.

"Yeah Princess?" He answered.

"That McDonald's date still stands, right?" You said with a small voice, making him snort.

"Anything you want princess. Anything you want."

Taglist:

@mrcleanheichou @sugasbratz @sassysaxsolo @bananagukkie @wh3resangel @urmomgee

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 51

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,279

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

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Author’s Note: Holy crap, can y’all believe I dove back into writing this fic after almost two years with no updates?! I’m still shook over it haha. I will say that this fic has gone way off canon at this point (I haven’t watched the last few seasons of the show and also didn’t finish the last few issues of the comics). However, I’ve had a vision for certain characters and events for the last how many years, so I don’t plan to change them just to try and fit canon. I also now realize that while I tried to make “you” as nondescript as possible, there are physical traits and actions of her character that haven’t been as inclusive of all potential readers as I had thought when first starting the fic 5 years ago. I apologize for that, and plan to be more aware of those things with any reader characters I write in future fics. My plan is to post a chapter update every Friday from here on out, until it’s over, so fingers crossed I can accomplish that. Enjoy! :D

Cloud Nine

You surfaced from the depths of sleep slowly, rather than the more abrupt jolt to consciousness that usually started off your days. Feeling cozy and relaxed, a slight smile tipped your lips in contentment. It didn’t take long to realize that the reason for your positive mood was the large, warm body with which you were currently sharing the tiny, twin-sized bed.

Eyes blinking open, you took in the delightful sight of masculine bare skin. You were curled up against Negan’s side, cheek cushioned on his chest and both legs were wrapped around his nearest thigh. The bedsheet was pulled up over your back and ended teasingly right above his hips. One of your hands lay palm-down on his stomach, fingers twitching slightly in delight at the feel of the hard muscles beneath the soft skin. You could tell from the curve of his body that he was sitting with his back reclined against the rickety headboard. You might’ve found his positioning odd, but you were still a little hazy from sleep and so could only feel happiness at not waking up to an empty bed, like last time. 

You were on cloud nine after talking things out with him last night. Being able to work through a conflict together had been major progress, and you had been proud of yourself for laying down your boundaries regarding your here-to-stay friendship with Ben, as well as standing your ground regarding the situation with Trixie and the pregnancy test. It was important that Negan learn to trust you when it came to situations such as those, and it seemed as though that message had finally gotten through to him last night. 

The fact that he had even come to your room and taken the huge step of apologizing for his hasty reaction still had you a bit in shock. The evening had panned out much differently than your original plan of going to bed angry. Instead, you had gone to bed very satisfied, and then woken up next to the man who was very quickly becoming essential to your daily happiness.

He must’ve felt you shift against him, one hand coming down to rub your bare shoulder as he gave a soft, “Mornin’, doll.” 

His raspy morning voice sent tingles down your spine, even as your brain fought to stay awake. It still felt way too early to be sitting up and conversing, so instead of returning the greeting, you buried closer into his side and grumbled, “What time is it?” The words were muffled against his skin, nose pressed into his chest hair as you inhaled the glorious male scent of him. 

You felt him lean over towards the side table. He must’ve been checking your watch, because he replied, “‘Bout 6:50.”

“Jesus Christ.” 

“Language.” 

“Hmph. Do you always get up so early?”

“It’s more productive than sleeping half the day away and being late to everything.” 

That got more of a response, as you finally lifted your head to glare up at him for the jab. However, he didn’t notice, as he was too focused on the book held in front of him. It was then that you realized why he was sitting up in bed, a smirk crossing your face at the novel he had open and was intensely reading. You felt a spark of desire low in your belly, the sight of a sleep-tousled and naked Negan lounging in your bed while reading Harry Potter an unexpected, but welcomed, aphrodisiac.

“Thought you didn’t read ‘fucking kid books’?” you sarcastically asked, quoting back his initial description of the series. 

You received only a low grunt in response, his eyes not leaving the page. You weren’t offended, since you’d probably react the same way to someone trying to interrupt a reading of Harry Potter. In fact, you were a bit jealous that he got to experience the magical world for the first time. His curiosity must’ve gotten the better of him when he saw it lying on your bedside table, and it appeared as if he had already read a small chunk of it. 

He didn’t seem to notice you staring, his attention still focused on the book. In fact, he held the page a scant few inches from his face, eyes squinted into slits. The sight was a tad humorous, though you wondered how long he had been struggling to see the words. 

“I thought you needed glasses to read?” you asked. 

“Fuck, you always so full of questions this early in the morning, doll?”

You pinched his side hard enough to make him jump and growl out another expletive, before giving him a saccharine smile and lifting a brow expectantly when he glared down at you.

Attention finally taken off the book, he reached over and plopped it down on the side table before rubbing his eyes with both palms. “I do. Felt like it took me a fucking hour to get through that last page.”

The fact that he had continued trying to read and hadn’t easily given up, despite his struggle to see the words, told you more than anything how much he must’ve been enjoying the novel. A warm thrill settled in your chest at the thought of him taking an interest in something he usually wouldn't bother with simply because you enjoyed it. 

The warm thrill morphed into more of a low heat and traveled down your body as your gaze refocused on his bare skin. Moving the hand on his stomach upward over his chest, your fingertips traced the outline of the tattoo on his left pec.

“What prompted you to get this?” you asked, curious if there was a meaning behind the skull and criss-crossed rifles.

Giving a low chuckle, he replied, “Youth and stupidity.” 

Giving a huffed laugh in return, you trailed curious fingers over to the other tattoos on his arms, inquiring about each one as you went. Some had a story behind them, others not so much (you had tried not to roll your eyes when he explained that the revolver on his right forearm was the same one he had handled once and thought was ‘fucking cool as shit’). He also had a few scars on his upper body, some from before the apocalypse but most from after. You listened intently as he opened up about each one, drinking in as much personal information about the man beside you as possible.

Not wanting to stop the exploration just yet, you pushed up on your other elbow and journeyed over his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple before running your fingers delicately through the surprisingly soft beard framing his gorgeous mouth. 

Capturing the questing hand in his own, he brought your fingers to his lips. The breath caught in your chest when he kissed the mostly-healed scar from the knife injury you had acquired a few weeks prior. Heart beating frantically at the gentle gesture, you smiled up at him when he released your hand and allowed it to resume exploring.

“So,” you tried for calm and casual, fingers moving up to lightly trace his ear before diving into his thick hair and mapping the streaks of salt within the pepper. “What are your plans for today?”

It took him a few seconds to answer, his eyes having fluttered closed as your nails gently massaged his scalp. You smiled at his obvious enjoyment of your touch, at how he had lowered his walls in this moment and was allowing himself to be both physically and emotionally vulnerable. 

“I wish they were to stay here and enjoy this fucking delightful body of yours all day, but I have a meeting with my Saviors at eight.” 

The thought of spending an entire day frolicking in bed with Negan caused a dreamy sigh to leave your lips. His eyes opened and zeroed in on your mouth at the sound, that magical tongue of his coming out to lick his bottom lip as he added, “Though, that’s still about an hour away…”

At that, he quickly rolled over so his lean body was pinning you into the mattress, his lips cutting off your squeal of surprise before it even left your throat. The hand still in his hair tightened, causing him to give a low groan and grind his hips down into yours. You tried to make a mental note of his reaction to the touch, but seeing as how there were no barriers keeping his quickly-hardening erection from pressing into your thigh, all higher levels of brain function quickly flew out of the room. 

Bracing above you, he leaned down and started kissing your neck, a move guaranteed to make you melt. When his mouth descended over the curve of your breasts, you tried to lift your head to watch his downward progress but a sharp pang of discomfort at your scalp made you wince and try to jerk away, which only succeeded in making the pain even worse. 

“Ow, wait!” you blurted, causing Negan to instantly freeze and look up at you in alarm. 

“Doll, what-”

“You’re on my hair! Move your hand!”

Quickly realizing his mistake, Negan moved the hand that had accidentally been pinning a large chunk of your hair, and by proxy your head, to the mattress. 

“Fucking hell, I’m sorry, doll,” he cursed, making as if to lift his body off you entirely. 

Now wanting his faux pas to ruin the moment, you pushed his shoulders sideways and hooked a leg up over his hip before commanding, “Roll over.”

He hesitated for a moment before relenting, the two of you somehow able to switch places on the narrow, twin-sized bed without falling off. Once the semi-awkward resituating was done, he was on his back and you were straddling his hips. The move caused the sheet to fall off, exposing your entire body to his gaze. Based on the way his eyes grew hazy with lust as they took in your bared curves, not to mention his obvious erection, it was safe to say that he didn’t mind this change in position one bit. 

Warm, calloused palms drifted up over your thighs, hips, and the sides of your waist, before cupping breasts that were begging for his touch. Leaning down, your already-hardened nipples pressed into his palms as you kissed him hungrily. Shifting your hips, you started rubbing forwards and backwards over the erection pressed between both your lower stomachs. You moaned into each other’s mouths at the sensation, pussy lips parting around his girth so that your wetness coated his cock, the fat head bumping against your clit with each slide. 

“I think I like being in charge,” you purred. 

Giving a dark chuckle that sent shivers down your spine, he replied, “Enjoy it while it fucking lasts.”

Planning to do just that, you reached over to pluck a condom off the side table, incredibly grateful to whatever deity helped you successfully open the foil packet and smoothly roll the latex down over him on the first try. Tossing the empty packet over the side of the bed, you wrapped slightly trembling fingers around his swollen cock and lifted your hips, lining him up with your entrance. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly slid down his length, mouth falling open on a whimper at the feel of him parting overly-sensitive flesh that was still a bit sore from the activities of the previous night. Despite Negan’s initial threat over you stealing both coconut oil from the kitchen and condoms from his room, his only “punishment” last night had been fucking you relentlessly into the mattress until you had multiple orgasms and could barely even remember your own name.

In spite of the slight burn as sore muscles again stretched around his thickness, you didn’t stop until he was fully seated inside. His cock felt so big in this position that it was almost overwhelming, but you sat up so that your hands were braced on his chest and used your thigh muscles to start a slow up and down rhythm. 

His fingers reached up and pinched your nipples, causing you to clench around him. He groaned at the sensation, gaze becoming more intense when you slightly picked up the pace. It felt magnificent, but at the same time you craved more of the hard, rough friction that he had given you the night before. Body trying to find that friction on its own, your hips swiveled in a circle as you sank back down, which must’ve felt just as amazing for him as it did you, since he gave a strangled moan at the same moment his hands immobilized your hips in a bruising grip. 

“Alright, doll. My turn.”

That was the only warning you got before he braced his feet against the mattress and moved up in you, hard. Falling forward onto your palms with a gasp, fingers curled into the bedsheet and hips writhed in pleasure when he repeated the move. He continued the sharp, deep thrusts, watching your face closely before wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pulling your mouth down to his own. His tongue thrust into your mouth possessively, as if trying to claim as much of you at once as he could. The pace was brutal yet unhurried, each thrust feeling like a deliberate attack on your sanity as his movements drew fire over your skin and consumed you, body and soul. 

Pressing down into him while leaning forward caused your clit to grind against his lower abdomen in the perfect way with each thrust, building up the orgasm that had previously hovered just out of reach. Breaking the kiss with a cry, you saw the expression of intense concentration on his face as he continued to move your bodies together in perfect rhythm. Breasts pressed into his chest and mouth panting at his ear, your body gave into his, letting him drive you up and over the edge, into the abyss of pleasure. 

“Negan,” you moaned, muscles tightening then releasing as the orgasm washed through you. His answering grunt and curse signaled his own release, though he continued his driving rhythm through it all, wringing each drop of pleasure from your body until it collapsed limply on top of his.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you again traced over the tattoo on his chest, waiting for your heartbeat and breathing to slow back down to normal. Glancing up his body, you found him already looking back down at you, a relaxed and satisfied grin on his lips that was only witnessed behind closed doors, when the two of you were alone. His hand idly stroked over a piece of hair laying on your shoulder, the gesture making you think back to earlier when he had accidentally pinned you to the mattress, and the resulting ungraceful maneuvering to switch positions in a bed that was entirely too small for two adult bodies. A light laugh escaped you that caused Negan to raise an eyebrow in question. 

“Just remembering your super smooth move from earlier,” you teased. You wouldn’t admit this out loud, but it was actually a bit of a relief to know that even Mr. Harem-of-Wives, Sex-God Negan wasn’t always flawless in the sack. 

“Making fun of me, doll?” he growled. 

“Maybe.”

Whack. The loud crack, accompanied by the slight sting of sensation against your left asscheek, caused you to jump and look at him in wide-eyed shock. 

“Did you just spank me?!” you exclaimed.

“Maybe.”

Before you could form an appropriate reply, he silenced any retort with his lips. Shallow creature that you apparently were, the move worked, and when he pulled away a long minute later, your brain conveniently forgot why you were supposed to be coming up with a retort in the first place. 

Negan glanced over at the side table, where your watch sat. Also looking over, you saw that it was now almost 7:30am, which meant he had half an hour to go back to his room and become presentable for his 8am Savior meeting. You were curious what the meeting was about, but didn’t want to ruin the perfection of the morning by bringing up a potentially serious topic. 

“Much as I hate to say it, doll, duty fucking calls.”

Your expression must’ve showcased more than you thought, since he gave a chuckle and said, “How about I make it up to you by finishing our fucking chess bet?”

Interest instantly piqued, you sat up on his chest and replied, “The third outing?! Can we go today?”

He looked at you consideringly, before giving a slight nod and agreeing. “We fucking could, but I won’t be free until the dinner hour.” 

Much as you didn’t want to skip out on your duties, even if it was with the leader of the establishment, you also weren’t about to turn down more alone time with Negan, especially outside of the Sanctuary. 

“I could meet you at the front gate at 5?” you suggested. That would give you just enough time to make sure dinner was fully prepped and almost ready to serve, since the community ate their meal from 5 to 7pm. It lessened the guilt, since you wouldn’t be completely leaving Ben and the staff short-handed. 

“Works for me, doll,” he said, gently rolling you off his body and to the narrow strip of mattress free beside him.

Biting your lower lip to keep from gasping at the empty sensation when he pulled out his now-flaccid dick, you watched him rise slowly from the bed. You took possessive pleasure in viewing his naked body, thighs clenching at the sight of him stretching muscular arms up towards the ceiling with his head tipped back. The pop of his back and resulting grunt made you comment, “I think from now on we might be better off in your bed. I have no clue how we even managed to fit in mine all night.” 

“Thank fucking god. If I have to spend any more nights in that fucking thing, I’ll be stiffer than a cock in a brothel.” 

Rolling your eyes at his that’s-so-Negan one-liner, you pulled the sheet up over your chest and settled in to watch him get dressed. You felt a bit like a voyeur when he removed the condom, tied off the end, and tossed it into the little garbage can. You felt a lot like a voyeur when he leaned down to pick up his boxer briefs and the sight of his bent-over ass almost made you whimper out loud. 

“You sure you can’t skip the meeting and stay here?” The words left your lips before your brain could even stop them. 

Turning to look at you, the desire must have been written all over your face because that muscle in his jaw ticked and he ran a hand down over his beard in obvious frustration. You swore he started to take a step back towards the bed, but he caught himself and instead returned to the task of getting dressed. 

When he was done putting on the navy tee and dark grey pants, complete with his signature black boots, he did finally come back over to the bed. Leaning down, he cupped a warm hand possessively around the side of your neck and placed a heated kiss on your lips before slightly pulling back and saying in that sinful, husky voice, “5 o’clock, doll. You better be ready for me.” 

With that, he straightened, crossed the room, and let himself out. As the door clicked softly shut behind him, you replied with a dazed, “Yes, sir.”

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

[thegremlincrowsnest]

At your service Sir~

Originally posted on AO3 Aizawa/Reader/Hizashi Smut

CW: Aphrodisiacs used, lots of dirty talk, semi plot if you squint, AFAB language to describe reader bits

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Hizashi led you to a new room. One you weren’t familiar with. Hizashi would pleasure you in several rooms in the mansion, sometimes with an audience even. But so far, he was the only one to touch you. Yet as he led you to a new luxurious room, you knew this was different. He gave you a new wine, one in which you enjoyed the taste. Without knowing the aphrodisiac, he slipped in. As you laid down on the silk and pillows, you could feel yourself getting hotter and begging for his touch. But he denied you and sat there watching, saying the longer you wait, the better it will be. So while you moaned and begged, Aizawa watched from behind a curtain, waiting and wanting you. Your hair disheveled, on your knees, playing with yourself to try and tempt him. You hear someone behind the curtain, but too far gone to be scared. Besides, Hizashi wouldn’t put you in danger. You continue to “sing” for Hizashi as you edge yourself, wanting to cum only by him. “P-please, Hizashi, I can’t take it anymore~ I feel like I’m burning up.”

“Hey, boss....” He teases as he sips his own wine. “Are you going to leave the dessert I prepared for you to spoil?~” he teases. Which has Aizawa finally step out from the curtain, his robe already looking disheveled as his face is flushed and his breathing struggles to stay steady. “I do like my dishes sweet....and this looks like it qualifies,” he assesses as he walks closer to you in the light. Making eye contact full of desire for you. “Will they take me over you tonight?” He asks. Hizashi chuckles and replies, “Songbird....tell the big boss man how much you’ve wanted him”. Your confused look turns into desire as you sit up, looking into his eyes. “Fuck..” the last of your usual composed and respectful demeanor dissolved as you see the tent in his robe. Slowly crawling towards him, you say, “so bad, sir~ you always look so beautiful in the morning. I just can never decide if I want to lay in the sun with you or beg to suck your cock.”

Kneeling at his feet, you were almost salivating at the small throbbing of his cock. “May I see it, sir? Oh please, I’ll do a good job!” Aizawa enjoys the view; he’s had so many countless sleepless nights over how much he wanted you. This was beautiful, seeing you such a mess kneeling in front of him for his cock. Even if the words were just superficial flattery, your intention went straight to his cock, making him throb even more for you. “Undress me yourself if that’s what you desire...” he says. Although the words may sound cold, the fingers he uses to caress your face lightly and push a strand of your hair back felt boiling hot against your skin. Your eyes flutter close for a minute as you lean into his touch. “Yes, sir~,” you say as you gently pull the ribbon holding together his robe. It falls open, revealing his throbbing cock. Your blush deepens as your eyelids droop. Looking back up at him, you stand, pulling the fabric down his arms, tracing your fingers over his muscles and scars. “You’re built like a god Aizawa-Sama~,” you say, gazing up at him again.

“Please touch me, sir~ My body is on fire, and my cunt throbs for your thick cock”  

You look over to Hizashi quickly for a sign of approval, not wanting to push your luck and insult either of the two. The gods would be envious of your beauty, melting so quickly under his touch. He lets his shoulders relax, the robe falling into a pool around his feet. He grins and gives an appreciative growl as you call him Aizawa sama. He might just get addicted to that. He grabs your chin, tilting your face up to look at him, his cock nearly dripping with anticipation right above those sinful lips. “Are you going to savor them, boss?” Hizashi teases, massaging his erection through his gown as he thoroughly enjoys the show. Making sure to give you a supportive nod as you look his way. “Well...if they prepare my cock thoroughly, I might consider it...” Aizawa teases, pressing his cock against your lips. “Show me the skill that Hizashi has been bragging about Y/N.” Keeping your hands on your thighs, you part your lips slowly, suckling the tip before taking more. He tastes sweet, and it makes you moan softly. Moving your hands to gently glide up his thighs to hold onto his hips, looking up at him, you bob your head on his cock before slamming the rest down your throat, gagging softly as drool drips down your chin. Swallowing around it gently, you pull back to breathe for a second before going back. Completely lost in it all.

Feeling both of their eyes on you as you suck his cock. Stopping to breathe, you rub his cock gently. “Aizawa -sama, your cock is so big if I’m not careful, you could choke me with it~,” you say before doing just that, choking on his cock as you move his hips gently to face fuck you.  

“Fuck, Hizashi has been holding out on him. He’ll punish him later for that. Cause god, why does their throat feel so good? Amplified by the beauty of the tears sliding down their cheeks. What a good girl.” Aizawa thinks to himself. “Then don’t be careful,” he teases before roughly grabbing your hair as leverage to slide his whole cock down your throat and to stay there. He enjoys the soft sounds of you gagging on his cock, and his eyes roll back before sliding out. Still hard and now dripping, it doesn’t compare to the puddle of juices underneath them. He’ll Apologize to the maids tomorrow. “Get to the bed. Now.” He commands. Hizashi moans softly at how stern Aizawa is. He knows right now is all about you, but he can’t help but fantasize about Shouta-sama being rough with him as he jerks his cock. You nod and climb onto the bed, laying back on the pile of pillows and silks, spreading your legs for him. Glistening and soaking wet, you present your entrance for him. “Please, Sir~ touch me~” you whimper. Looking over and making eye contact with Hizashi makes your body shiver. Watching him jerk his cock as you rub their sensitive clit edges you closer to orgasm. But you stop, taking a deep breath and gripping some of the silks at your sides.

“Am I acceptable for you, sir~ Hizashi always guessed you would be greedy with me,” You say.

He saunters over. What a beautiful sight you are. Spread open for him across the silk, already such a mess begging for his touch. And his touch you will get. He leans down and grabs your throat, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “You dare to speak of another man while you lie in my bed?” He grips a bit tighter to choke you a bit. “Apologize and beg properly; you slut. Otherwise, you’ll stay here for days aroused off drugs and tied up until I decide to forgive you” he can’t give in too quickly. He wants to break you to become his. Hizashi understands what’s going on, and he knows he’ll always get his share. Fuck he can’t wait for the day he gets to be Aizawas second bitch in heat. You squeal with glee and clench your thighs together to prevent yourself from squirting immediately at his grasp. “I’m sorry, Aizawa-sama, please forgive me and use my body how you see fit~” you whimper, grip the pillow they lay on. Looking up at him with the most endearing eyes. “Ravish me, please~ I live to serve you, sir,” you say as you spread your legs again, pulling your knees to your chest. You hear Hizashis’s breath gets caught in his throat, and it spurs you to continue. “Oh please, Aizawa-sama, fill me up with so much cum I get pregnant” “Look at you, squirm like a pathetic slut,” he growls, looking into those doe eyes. “Giving yourself to me so easily because of your whorish desires,” He says. He lets go of your throat and moves to fiercely grab your thighs, pulling you close to the edge of the bed and right up against him. He lets his cock rub against your wet slit, putting you on full display for him, teasing you with what is yet to come. “Are you sacrificing your body to me? For whatever I desire?” He asks. In response, you lift your hips so he could rub against your clit. “Y-yes, sir god, your cock is so big,” you say as you rub your breast. “I live to serve~ anything you desire is my command,” you say as you pinch your nipples. You loved the attention you were getting watching Hizashi pumping his cock to you while their boss stood above you. Moaning softly as you feel his cock grind against your lips. Growing restless with his teasing, you whimper softly, “Please, Aizawa-sama~” He grabs your jaw with one hand, keeping your focus on him and him alone. “I desire you. So now...you shall be mine,” he commands as he starts to push inside of you. Enjoying your expression change as you melt from the pleasure of his cock filling you up. Placing feather-light kisses on your lips, he says, “On this bed, I shall ruin you and use you as a sow to breed my heirs. As of today, you are nothing more than a tool for me to use for pleasure Lady Y/N.” You grip his forearm and only whimper softly at his words. You can feel just how thick and long his cock is. “G-gods above anything you wish Aizawa-sama~ I’m just a breeding tool~” you moan as you feel him bottom out inside of you. “I’m so grateful you chose me, sir ~ your cock is amazing. I’d be jealous if anyone else ever got your attention,” you say as you stare up at him, admiring the strong man above you. He smirks at your submission to him. “They’re going to be an excellent addition to his bed chambers,” he thinks to himself. He begins to thrust slowly in and out, teasing your insides with his cock. Gently he kisses down your neck and says, “If you want to claim my attention so badly, you need to show me what you can do slut. Ensnare me in your lustful trap.” You bite your lip with a groan as you run your hands over his shoulders, grazing your nails across his back. Tracing every scar with gentle fingers, you finally cupped his face in your hands, looking him in the eye, you wrap your legs around his waist, flipping them over, so you were on top. Bouncing slowly, you grind against his pelvis as you keep both hands firmly on his chest. “All you had to do was ask~,” you say as you begin to bounce faster, placing his hands on your hips. You lean back, moaning softly at the stretch of his cock. “Look at that Aizawa-sama~ your cock is stretching me so good. I had no doubts a man as handsome and experienced as you could make me feel so full,” you say as you move one of his hands over your womb, you could feel his cock.

“What a fiesty one.” He thinks to himself. Never has someone putting him on his back been so enjoyable. He chuckles and admires the view, watching how they desperately move their body up and down his cock. His hands stay on their thighs, his fingers savoring how soft and succulent they are. He leans up a bit to reach for their clit, teasing it gently with his fingers because they look so pretty as they cry out for him. “What a magnificent view you give me....” he looks up to their brilliant eyes “if you make me feel any better than this, I might reward you with whatever you please,” he says.

You would never deny the small glint of greed in your eyes as you leaned over, stopping and gyrating your hips gently as his cock pressed against your womb entrance. “Now now, Aizawa-sama~ I can be very greedy~,” you say softly as you slow your movements to a stop. Purring softly as you feel his cock pulse, you were able to skillfully pin his hands above his head. Kissing up his neck, you moan softly in his ear as you feel his hips start to buck up into you. “Your cock feels so good, Aizawa-sama~,” you say with a groan as you begin to slowly ride his cock.

This is a first, being pinned down with his hands above his head like this. He knows he has the power to overcome it, but there is a new thrill to letting them take control like this. It allows him to melt from lust so much easier. He gives them the moans they’re looking for. But their slow bouncing is too much torment for him. He leans in to softly bite their neck “either you pick up the pace, sweetheart, or I’ll make you,” he says with a growl. Letting go of his hands, you threaded your fingers in his hair. “Make me Aizawa-sama~” you whisper into his ear as you continue to grind against him slowly to a complete stop again. Looking over to Hizashi with a smirk as you kiss down his neck and jaw. “Unless you’re powerless against me,” you say. He chuckles at that challenge, his hands massaging down their sides to fiercely grab onto their hips. “You have a wonderful skill set....but not enough to make me powerless against you yet, my dear,” he says as he pulls out to slam his full-length inside of you. “Let’s see how long you hold out until you’re craving only my cock.” He teases as he grips his arms around her, thrusting at a faster pace, looking for the angle to make you go crazy. Squealing at his fast pace, you dig your nails into his shoulders as you felt him hit your sweet spot. Trying not to melt was a challenge as the aphrodisiac made everything 100% more sensitive. Your thighs twitch, and you feel your orgasm reach its crescendo.

“A-Aizawa- sama fuck, I’m so close fuck~” you moan out as you feel yourself coming undone. However, you decided to try and get under his skin one more time. Sitting up as Aizawa abused your sweet spot, you looked to Hizashi. “Hizashi~ his cock feels so good~ I’m not sure who will be my favorite!” Hizashi has been trying to keep himself respectfully in line, biting his hand to mute his moans as he comes. Yet his hand never off his dick as he goes from one orgasm to the next, watching his lovers fuck so intimately for the first time. But when you call out to him, he can’t help but moan loudly, even getting the boss’s attention.

That flipped a switch inside Aizawa, he sits up and turns them over, so his whore is underneath him. He pins your ankles towards your head and now pounds into you, kissing all of their sweet spots with his throbbing cock. “You dare to call out to another man again?” He digs his nails into your soft flesh “you both need to prepare for your punishment after this, you whores” he speaks to the two of them, your eyes glimmer with mischief as they take their pounding. Moaning and whimpering loudly as they look to the man over her, “Y-you’re not jealous, are you A-Aizawa-sama~” you purr out as you feel yourself squirt again. Your back arches, and your thighs shake as you cum around his cock, your mind breaks as you feel his cock kiss your womb. Quickly becoming a mess, babble, and whimpers for his cock, you hold onto his arms and look into his eyes as you slip further into bliss. More than happy to take any punishment that’s coming your way.

“Jealousy isn’t the game I play. You know now who owns this puss of yours.” He growls in your ear, gripping harder on your hips as he slaps against you again and again. From your moans and hearing Hizashi make a mess of himself, Aizawa knows he’s close. Kissing you passionately, he commands, “Beg for my cum whore. Tell me who you belong to now.” You can’t help but moan loudly as you arch your back for him. “Please cum in me, Aizawa-sama~ I’ll be a good whore, I promise just, please fill me up!” Strong, toned body thrust into you was intoxicating, and the thought of now serving two strong, beautiful men made a shiver rack through your spine. He smirks and continues to thrust into you faster, enjoying the way you unravel. As you get tighter around him, he knows it’s time. With another moan, he thrusts fully into you, filling you up. As he catches his breath, he pulls back, his cock sliding out, making quite the view as his cum dribbles out of your messy pussy. “Mmmm...good job whore” You whimper and sigh happily as you keep your legs up to show off your pussy. “Thank you, Aizawa-Sama~,” you say as you rub your clit softly. “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir~?” You say softly as you watch him. He stands next to the edge of the bed, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, pushing it back. “Such an eager slut looking for more already, aren’t you?” He rests his hands on your hips, “if you want more, then work for it”