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sugurism · 1 month

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FLAGS EVERYWHERE. ୨ৎ are jjk men green, beige or red flags?ㅤheadcanons

featuring ♰ㅤmultiple. (choso, higuruma, megumi, nanami, gojo, geto, sukuna, toge, toji, yuji, yuta)

warning(s)! ♰ㅤNO PRONOUNS AND ANATOMY FOR READER. SFW (?) — toxic behavior ! cheating ! breaking-up mentions ! very much made based on personal opinions + i tried to write the characters off as canon as possible, but my favoritism will probably show ! sukuna is a warning of his own tbh ! violence + blood + death (mentions) ! cannibalism (mentions) ! angst (mostly) ! some are implied yandere ! not really dark content but i will tag as so just to be sure, some of them are dc vibes ! mentions about marriage + having kids (biologically and not) !

୨୧ CHOSO KAMO — beige flag.

not the reddest flag of the list. although, still has some fails. . .

this may come as a surprise to many, but choso is not a green flag. he’s perfectly in the middle, i think. not nearly as bad as others on the list, but his track record isn't perfect, either.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? he's family-centered.

choso is, as is well known, a man completely focused on his family. the joy of his brothers and relatives is his priority, and he will always be more focused on others than on himself (this could also be a red flag, he is quite selfless). he carries the burden and honor of being a big brother. of course because of his love for you, you are as much a part of the family as his siblings are.

however, if you don’t get along with his siblings for any reason, it’s very likely that the relationship won't be able to continue. it would be troublesome if you can’t take his true nature ── as a half-curse ── well, too. it would really upset him, because love is about acceptance and care.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

the answer is: no, but it is preferable that you are. being a sorcerer, you would have a much easier time understanding the abnormal aspects of his life (him and his family). if you’re not a sorcerer, it makes things a little chaotic. choso wouldn't want to lie to you about who he really is, his origins, and obviously, he would be prevented from introducing his (monstrous) brothers to you in that circumstance.

this would make him reflect for a long time, which ends either with a breakup, or with him showing you everything about jujutsu. living under a false identity and with a life built on lies is not how he wants the relationship to be.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

absolutely not. choso is aware of how heartbroken you would feel if he ever did that — besides, it's not like he feels desire or romantic love for anyone else. he has no reasons to cheat on you, and he never will have.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

choso has good intentions, but romantic love is a new and unknown field for him. this makes him inexperienced and often irrational towards romance. the information about relationships is too fresh and unprocessed for him, and it's all from the dead brain of the vessel he inhabits. he is not completely unaware about all of it, but his lack of experience shows.

he is very hasty and believes that the status of “boyfriend” is not bad, just that “husband” would be much better. if you don’t see a future, why would you be with him? he doesn’t understand when you correct him you are just dating and not married (you've been together for barely two months).

choso is not the type to let fights happen without reason, and he tries hard to make things work out, but he’s constantly overprotective and his affection can quickly become suffocating.

choso loves family. he wishes to expand it someday. and who would be better to help him besides you, his true love? besides taking care of his brothers, he would like to be a father himself one day (at least, a better one than his own father was), and there is this underexpectation — not exactly spoken out loud until he is confronted about it. choso wouldn't want to pressure you, and he would understand your choices and respect your decisions perfectly if you don’t want to have children, however, he gets a little sad over it nonetheless and always wonders if you would change your mind if he asked more nicely.

of course, we can’t forget the amount of people he killed (in and out of shibuya). this is a factor that is rarely talked about and choso doesn’t even think about it anymore, honestly. if you can ignore that, good! if not? well. . .

୨୧ HIROMI HIGURUMA — green / beige flag.

objection! he did nothing wrong (except for, at least, 22 murders, i guess).

BIGGEST RED FLAG? married to his work.

this is a completely personal view, but it’s hard to date someone so busy and married to their work. pre-culling game, the grueling overtime and mountains of paperwork would constantly keep him away from you ── from dates, from nights together, from romantic trips. furthermore, his ideal of justice is always dangerously close to failure in practically every situation hiromi faces, and this is a source of stress for him. he wouldn’t take it out on you, there’s no reason, but of course. it’s difficult to balance so many hours of work and such an important goal with personal relationships.

it’s not that he forgets commemorative dates, he merely doesn’t have time to celebrate them themselves. when he can’t be there for whatever the occasion is, he’ll send some expensive gift and an apology card, or call you and start a conversation for eight minutes to explain why he forgot your second anniversary. it’s common for him to come home, and you’re already asleep. you simply don’t have time.

in the culling game situation, it’s not so much work that keeps you apart, but training, focus and purpose. he focuses more on your protection and his than on romanticism, which can end up creating emotional barriers that are very difficult to break ── on both sides. hiromi is accidentally cold quite often. and that’s if you ignore the number of people he had to kill.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

honestly: yes and no. is a simple question with a difficult answer. hiromi prefers someone who can understand him completely: his feelings, his work, what he wants the justice system to become, and his vision of justice. so when he finally receives this new power that not only matches all of this but can make it possible, it’s very complicated to have a partner who doesn’t understand this new part of your life. he’s another person who wouldn’t lie to you about his nature. he swore to tell the truth, always the truth, and only the truth.

if you are a sorcerer, things get easier and harder. a relationship with hiromi has certain nuances, such as his constant concern for your safety, regardless of what you are (sorcerer or not). he believes in your own strength, but would like to stick around just to make sure you’re going to be okay. his change between coldness and sudden closeness can make feelings very raw and difficult to deal with.

if you’re not a sorcerer, his protection gets even worse. he’s not suffocating because he takes care not to be, but he would genuinely go crazy if something happened to you because he was careless. anyone who touches you won’t come out alive and brag about it. he just wants you to be okay.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

no. hiromi is loyal to all his oaths, whether they are about protecting justice or being by your side even in sickness and in health.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

he is very open and honest. it might be bad in certain situations, but it’s great for the bigger picture. he doesn’t hide his opinions from you and is willing to talk about almost any topic peacefully. fights with him are actually quite rare, because hiromi thinks it’s fair to listen to his side, then speak his own, and think together to see if you can resolve this peacefully. depending on the angle, this is another problem, in a way he tends to rationalize feelings very often.

despite all the negatives, he has a surprisingly good memory. he doesn’t forget special occasions, he simply didn’t have time to be there in person (which is still a con). but he remembers everything else about you. hiromi is the type to look at you with a slight smile on his face, looking like his words are going in one ear and out the other. but when you stop talking, he gets confused. “why did you stop? i want to know what happens next.”

୨୧ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO — green / beige flag.

honestly, a good option. if you’re able to catch up.

megumi is a better boyfriend than people would think, honestly. the issue, with him, is more about himself and his view of himself than you ──, but it still affects the relationship and your experiences together as a couple.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? no respect for his own safety.

as a jujutsu sorcerer, it’s perfectly common for megumi to get into situations that risk his neck. it’s as much a part of the job as anything else. the problem is his willingness to put himself in danger for the sake of a greater good, or greater goal that he needs / wants to achieve. he is bold and reckless, and can be very harmful to both him and you.

other than that, he’ not necessarily a very bad boyfriend. megumi doesn’t have as many communication problems as expected, although he can put up fights — especially on this specific subject, trying to justify his lack of care with “doing what was necessary”.

dying to win is not an idea he is opposed to, until someone (like you or gojo) puts some sense into him.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

not really. megumi would love you regardless of your ability and strength ── and would find qualities to admire anyway. he doesn’t think you’re incapable of protecting yourself, and a part of him is tempted not to introduce you to jujutsu if you’re not a sorcerer. it would be a fully, normal thing in his life, but he wouldn’t want to lie to you in any way.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

definitely not. megumi has way too much respect, admiration, and above all, love for you to do something atrocious like that.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

megumi is reckless, but at the same time he listens to what you say and can slowly learn to take care of himself in a more efficient way through your words and worry. he doesn’t forget precedents or dates, and he takes good care of anything you’ve given him. his shikigami love you, sincerely, so he would be happy if you could see them and interact with them ── because they are a reflection of their owner and end up showing all the affection he feels for you and doesn’t have the courage to show it.

he’s not cold or distant, just more reserved, but he could be more vocal about his feelings instead of dropping hints and hoping you understand what he means. everything about megumi is soft, even when it shouldn't be.

his inclination is indoor dates and having alone time with you that doesn’t involve his friends in any way. he has nothing against any of them ── they are dear people to both him and you, megumi is just inclined towards privacy and doesn’t want your time together to be interrupted. especially if you are a busy person who doesn’t have much opportunity to spend time with him.

despite being quiet, he is a little jealous often. not on a controlling level or anything like that, but he could easily end up making greater gestures to reinforce his dominance over your heart ── a treasure more precious than any cursed jewel. grabbing your waist gently and pulling you closer when he notices someone staring is not an uncommon occurrence.

୨୧ KENTO NANAMI — green flag.

i have nothing to say besides: you’re lucky — really. this man is a blessing.

nanami is honestly the ideal kind of guy no matter what life you want to lead. He honestly tries to balance his personal life with the work he so fervently hates, and he understands and helps you doing the same.

BIGGEST RED FLAG — emotional walls (eventually lets them down).

one of the few things that are not respectable about this man is that he really takes a long time before showing himself vulnerable in any way, shape, or form. nanami's experience makes him a very cold and harsh guy on the outside, but with well-defined morals and a heart of gold. he's also inclined towards privacy, just like megumi, and would prefer if you didn't get too involved in his circle of friends (more because of gojo than anything else, really).

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

no. not really. nanami appreciates the normality and calmness that can come from a life with you. he genuinely doesn't care if you're a sorcerer or if you're the head of the marketing department.

impressively, he's not as protective as others on the list. of course, he worries about your safety, but he doesn't doubt his own ability to be there to protect you if needed.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

no, never. nanami is very adamant and loyal to you in all situations — he can't be tempted by someone else, because all he desires is you.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

as already mentioned, nanami prefers that you not get involved in his social circle, especially if you are a non-sorcerer. this is due to the fact that his senpai is clueless and could often create very uncomfortable situations. furthermore, he is afraid that you will be interested in more of his acquaintances and end up discovering/getting more involved with jujutsu.

he's very supportive of pretty much every decision you make ── as long as it doesn't hurt you and doesn't seem rushed without thought. he makes a point of looking for you for conversations that he considers necessary and punctuating whatever is needed.

nanami is very analytical too. if the two of you set a goal, agree on its repercussions and after a long time, decide on it ── like, for example, having a family ── he works hard to make it happen. it is not uncommon for him to agree to work overtime to receive a salary bonus to prepare a surprise for you, or support you better. he doesn't doubt your independence in the slightest, but he would like to constantly give you gifts as thanks for your divine presence in his life.

kento is very kind and basically the height of chivalry. for those who say that romanticism is dead, it's because they've never seen your boyfriend tying your shoelaces, carrying you on his lap, taking you to romantic dinners and making dinner for the two of you.

୨୧ SATORU GOJO — beige flag.

strongest sorcerer, a charming man, and good at flirting. although, an actual relationship? oh, boy. . .

satoru isn't necessarily a bad boyfriend per se. he's far from the worst option on the list, but he genuinely has a lot of problems that would make a relationship fall apart.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? emotionally unavailable.

satoru's personal experience has made him carry the burden of being the strongest sorcerer during his entire life. it's his identity to nearly everyone else — the satoru gojo, and not just satoru. it feels set in stone.

he doesn't have close friends or a support group that he feels he can genuinely trust fully since suguru's betrayal. this rubs off on you and makes him avoid really emotional conversations or directly saying what he's feeling — even when it's necessary. it's almost impossible to make his emotional walls come down, and if they do, he'll probably act a little sour for a while ── a kind of reflex, where he's wary of the idea of being betrayed once again.

being vulnerable is not his strong suit.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

no, but it's preferable that you are. not only because you would understand him and his capabilities much better, but because as a sorcerer you would have your own worryingly long workload, and wouldn't make such a big deal about him almost never being home. at least, he thinks so, but he wouldn't avoid a relationship with you if you weren't a sorcerer.

also, he gets worried about you constantly — he has lots of enemies that could try to hurt you to get to him. if you're a sorcerer, at least he can believe more easily that you can defend yourself.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

personally, i don't think he would. as already mentioned, gojo's inability to be with just one woman is, in my view, his inability to be vulnerable and honest.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

personally, i interpret “satoru is the type of man who cannot be faithful to a woman” precisely because of the emotional problem. he can't be vulnerable and that only gets the relationship to a certain point before it stops working completely. it's very, very difficult to get past the defenses he's created for himself, and there's always the chance he'll get scared and decide to leave.

the gojo clan isn't really a hindrance ── what are they actually going to do, argue with their only relevant member? ── but they can be quite uncomfortable. the person with the strongest sorcerer needs, in their view, to be “proper.” this includes: being a sorcerer and having many strong children for a new generation.

if you do not meet these requirements for any reason (not wanting or not being able to have children), the clan is unfriendly towards you. this doesn't stop the relationship in any way, or it doesn't stop you and satoru from getting married one day, however, it is quite awkward.

regardless of whether you are a sorcerer or not, there is a gulf of difference between satoru's lifestyle and yours. while he doesn't have difficulties with money or power ── and maybe you do ── this means he can't quite understand what it's like to be in your shoes. he's not unfriendly, but his arrogant and defensive nature can really lead to a silly fight or two that escalates depending on the situation.

୨୧ SUGURU GETO — red flag.

i love suguru, but he’s undeniably not an ideal partner.

i don't think there's much doubt about whether geto would be a red flag. he is. even if you consider his nature in the relationship more than his personality itself, it's still the case.

BIGGEST RED FLAG (besides the genocide nature)? — manipulative.

as a very skilled cult leader and orator, suguru has an indescribable charisma and a well-directed charm ── be it to convert those he calls monkeys or to enlist sorcerers to his cause. however, this charm can also be used on you and your relationship.

intentionally or not, he ends up trying to convince you of the same things he does. either his own distorted belief ── or his apologies become attempts at manipulation. he's not beyond gaslighting you, either. he learns what type of action provokes a specific reaction from you and ends up acting very artificially sometimes.

the benevolent cult leader persona he uses on non-sorcerers mixes with the real suguru geto, and that's definitely something scary to have in a relationship.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

yes. there's just no other way. sorry, it's geto.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

not really. capturing geto's attention isn't really an easy thing, and maintaining your position as his partner is just as hard a task. i don't see him having eyes for anyone else, because i feel that if you were in a relationship, he would need to have some kind of attachment to you and wouldn't want to hurt you on purpose.

despite this, in those ridiculously impossible situations — if he could achieve the world he wants by sleeping with someone else, would he do it? then the answer is yes. but i don't know if that counts.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

he is more married to his cause than he would ever be to you. he will not change for you, nor he will abandon his dream. that's a thought you can't let go of your mind when you're with him. no matter your own actions and beliefs, the new world must be created using any and all means necessary. no price is too high, no one is too innocent to be sacrificed.

being around someone like that would not only be exhausting but terrifying. there is always the uncertainty of what he would do if you left him. on the one hand, suguru doesn't want to hurt you. on the other hand, as his partner, you would know too many valuable things to just leave. he would never let you go like that.

it's very important not to forget that suguru definitely suffers from delusions of grandeur and high expectations of himself and everything around him. whether it's about the new world, his role in it, or about you. he faces some frustration when this expectations are not met, but he does his best not to take it out on you.

he might even "forgive" the fact that you don't actively fight to kill non-sorcerers, like he does, but he wouldn't want you to interact with them other than when it's absolutely necessary. furthermore, suguru would require absolute hygiene. don't touch him if you've been too close to a non-sorcerer. in cases where you have shaken someone's hand or hugged someone, he will refuse to talk to you until you wash your hands or take a shower.

and if you see non-sorcerers as people, as lives who matter, it will be absolutely worse. it would certainly be a very frequent topic of discussion between the two of you, so opposing views would make the relationship unsustainable. but staying silently by his side makes you accomplice — the blood of all these people will be on your hands, because you knew.

you knew and you did nothing to stop him, nonetheless.

୨୧ SUKUNA RYOMEN — red flag.

do i have to say anything? nevermind. i’ll pray for your soul instead. lord have mercy on you — because sukuna won’t.

if you were so unfortunate as to capture the king of curses' attention in this way, i can only be so sorry.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? he's sukuna.

it's hard to know where to start when naming his worst red flag. would it be his violent nature? his overall behavior? the sadistic desire for death and the total lack of morals? sukuna knows nothing but power, and has no respect for anything other than himself or equivalent strength. it makes your relationship with him less of a romantic thing — and more like an owner-pet relationship.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

i'm inclined to say yes, because it's difficult to see where sukuna would be interested in a non-sorcerer. regardless, i guess it doesn't really matter as long as you fit his twisted and bizarre criteria, somehow.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

no, but not for the reasons you think. love is an unknown and irrelevant concept to him, so what really stops him from cheating on you is not moral. it's desire, or rather, the lack of it. no one is as interesting as you in that sense.

he wouldn't cheat on you simply because there is no one else he wants like that. but not in a romantic sense, like nanami. it's like someone who is so engrossed in one thing in particular that in comparison, everything is gray and rotten.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

there's very little i can describe without being extremely dark compared to other reviews. sukuna would play with you until he got tired, and when he did, he would send you to the pot and enjoy a nice dinner.

i think the closest thing that can be called showing affection from him is when he asks uraume to be extra careful with the meat this time. he had, somehow, a strange feeling for you that he didn't understand. even tired, he wouldn't forget a human who fascinated him so deeply. furthermore, it would be agonizing for other sorcerers and humans. sukuna would not be actively looking for replacements, but sincerely. if he was, he would be disappointed. sometimes he turns to bark a mean comment, just to not see you there, and murmur oh, right, knowing very well he is the reason.

despite this, he may feel some kind of affection for you. sort of. the kind of pity you would feel for a beggar on the street, or the feeling you have for a pet, in some way. he would never see you as an equal. an interesting creature, but beneath him, as it is your place.

none of this would ever stop him from killing you if you became a nuisance, though.

୨୧ TOGE INUMAKI — green flag.

few words, but a lot of action and gentleness.

after a horror show committed by our favorite cannibal, a good look at our favorite ingredient talker should cool us down nicely. toge is actually the type to act instead of talk, because, well. . . salmon?

BIGGEST RED FLAG? bad communication.

even if you are a great sign language interpreter, there will be communication problems in your relationship. sometimes you may not understand what he is saying, or the other way around.

this is not a fatal defect, but it certainly exists, and needs to be addressed accordingly. furthermore, it is difficult to have serious conversations or argue. it's very annoying not being able to have a serious dialogue without hearing an onigiri ingredient in response. but it becomes a bit habitual for you and it doesn't make that much of a difference — it's the way he needs to communicate and you understand. toge understands how difficult it can be to communicate with him and does his best to help the process.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

i'm tempted to say absolutely not, but if you're not a sorcerer there's no chance of you having a relationship without you at least knowing about jujutsu. in any case, you will be inserted into this world and this context, but honestly it doesn't matter to him. as long as it is you.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

no, not at all. man can barely speak to his friends, how could he even chat with someone else and cheat behind your back? despite all the jokes, it's not really toge's thing.

sure, he can't directly tell someone else he's rejecting them — again, communication —, but he just needs to show his ring and they'll leave him alone. usually. he does not entertain flirtation from anyone who's not you, though.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

loving toge is as calming an experience as it is chaotic. he wants to do everything that “more normal people” would do too. for example, going on dates in big, crowded places — even if a part of him screams internally when not being able to talk to you like these people do. and honestly, even when he merely wishes for the simple, he just wants you to be happy and enjoy. your relationship is something very important to him, and there would certainly be a doubt if he can be a sorcerer and be your boyfriend at the same time. inumaki's lifestyle is not really something anyone wishes for their significant other, after all, but he was willing to try.

despite not being able to speak, he always has a cell phone and a notepad at hand. it's common for you to find small notes and loving notes, or his messages. love messages, messages asking how your day was, messages telling you that you forgot your lunch — giving him the perfect opportunity to just slip away and personally hand it over to you. he turns down the collar of his coat to return your smile when doing so.

toge also has a habit of sending you pictures like cute cats and a small love poem. he never wants you to feel appreciated — and everytime his friends tease him for smiling like a fool to the phone, he murmurs an affectionate “okaka”.

୨୧ TOJI FUSHIGURO — beige / red flag.

already experienced with love, a hurt heart can literally end everything.

the experience of being in a relationship with toji can be the happiest thing in your life or the most toxic addiction possible. it really depends on a single factor: is he able to love you truly, even after mamaguro? he'll be the only character in this list with two “separated” versions.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? emotionally distant / inconsiderate.

in a world where he can love you just like he loved megumi's mother, toji has a lot of emotional baggage that is difficult to deal with. his job is dangerous, he had an extensive past with another woman and an abandoned son, it's a lot for both him and you. it's very difficult to get close to him at first, but he slowly opens up and is willing to change and improve his life, getting a new start with you. one he won't lose.

in a world where he can't love you, he just doesn't care. you're just another partner he hooks up with occasionally, and he makes that clear. he's not interested in anything serious, not marriage, not anything. you are not the love of his life and you will not be. and if you feel bad about these words? well. you're out of luck.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

definitely not. he couldn't care less in any case.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

again, that depends. if he loves you truly, hell no. anyone who comes to flirt with him while he is in a relationship with you will be ignored and likely humiliated if he persists. if you managed to capture this man's heart, congratulations, he's all yours.

if he doesn't love you — yeah. pretty much. then it's more about if he wants someone else than your feelings.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

there's not much to say about toji's part and his role in a relationship, except that it won't be easy in any case. the past is the ghost that haunts every man, conscious or not. and his is full of blood, guts, tears and lost love. being willing to deal with this is not only necessary but something he won't forget. it's very difficult to win his loyalty permanently, but if you do, you simply have to worry about it anymore.

if he does not love you, it's very likely that he will eventually leave you for someone richer. money is mainly what would keep him in a relationship — sex is just a bonus. when some of those ends up being too difficult to get (or when these things are missing), his lack of emotional attachment makes him easily turn around and leave, to never returning again.

୨୧ YUJI ITADORI — green flag.

a very good option! the problem is that it is not long-lasting.

yuji is a sweetheart, really. definitely not a bad choice (one of the best ones in this list!). although, he has a very unfortunate destiny in front of him.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? he's way too selfless.

being selfless is a great quality, but in cases like yuji's, things go overboard very easily. he doesn't have as much respect or admiration for himself as he does for other people, and this can definitely be very damaging to his mental health and, consequently, your relationship.

he takes risks for his friends and strangers, he swallows cursed objects, he does his best to save lives — and he blames himself under fail, despite it not being his fault. he's the kind of man who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, and doesn't want you to exhaust yourself trying to share it with him.

DO YOU HAVE TO BE A SORCERER?

not really, but if you're not, the relationship ends very quickly and suddenly. yuji wouldn't allow himself to tell you about jujutsu, being the vessel of sukuna, and anything that puts you under risk. this includes staying close to him.

he wouldn't break up with you just because you're not a sorcerer, he just values your safety too much and is afraid of what could happen. if you are one, he feels slightly relieved you won't separate, but still tense. you can still die.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

he would never. never, ever. you're his love and he could never betray your trust like that. in one occasion, he said he wouldn't cheat on you even if it were with jennifer lawrence.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

the most important point to make is that yuji will undeniably die. he would be executed, and he thinks he should be, and that was the order given since he made a mistake that day. one day, and his life changed forever. having a relationship with you is one of the few lasting joys in his life, but when it ends for whatever reason, it will hurt more. maybe he'll try to break up with you sooner and move away so you don't feel so upset about losing him.

yuji is also the guy who was thrown into the context of the jujutsu world in a very unfortunate situation — he can be very slow to understand some things and, if you are a sorcerer, fearful. he understands that many sorcerers have important reputations to maintain. maybe you have too. in that case, wouldn't it be better not to have a relationship with sukuna's vessel in your past? what if the higher-ups antagonize you for that, and your career can't succeed? he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable about the topic, and he often doesn't say what he's feeling directly. yuji doesn't lie, but he omits.

he is very anxious despite his constant positive attitude. sukuna likes to mess with yuji's mental health, and he knows how much you mean to him. yuji would purposely turn away from you very often, terrified that somehow, the king of curses would kill you simply to laugh at his expense. he can't lose you — the ironic thing is that maybe he would lose, distancing himself so much.

୨୧ YUTA OKKOTSU — green / beige flag.

not bad, but. . . very questionable, nonetheless.

last, but not least! the implicitly yandere yuta okkotsu — not by far the worst option we have out of all of them here, but. he has almost unforgivable habits.

BIGGEST RED FLAG — rika (?)

everyone agrees that seeing your boyfriend's first love as a bloody, inhuman ghost is a pretty uncomfortable experience. in your case, it is an uncomfortable and constant experience, happening practically on a daily basis. although rika is much more controlled nowadays, and she is more a manifestation of technique than a soul in itself — it's not the kind of thing that anyone just finds normal. even sorcerers.

unfortunately, your boyfriend's late first love is kind of always there anyway. he still wears the ring he needs to connect with her, even if he gave you a different one. it's strange and sometimes it gives the impression that either you are a replacement, or that you will never reach that level of affection. you're the other woman in your own relationship.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

again, no. but it's preferable that you are. all the difficult issues of being a sorcerer would be better understood if you were one yourself. it would also avoid him lying to you / hiding jujutsu from you. furthermore, yuta is a paranoid mess.

he always imagines that the second he's not around, you're going to get hurt. he cannot stand even the weakest curses near you, crushing them like repulsive insects.

WOULD HE CHEAT ON YOU?

no, unless you consider rika and his “relationship” with her.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

honestly, the time you have with yuta always seems to be under the influence of an hourglass, limited. ready to end at any second, where his work will be a constant interruption. he tries and tries very hard not to let this undermine his relationship, but it can become an occasional problem. he had to spend long periods of time in other countries, and it hurts for him to be so far away.

yuta is strangely clingy. you can't expect anything less. he's the kind of boyfriend who can easily become overprotective in a way that's not cute. always guiding you to one side on the sidewalk, one hand around your waist, staring deathly at any man who gets too close. it doesn't matter if it's his friend or a mutual friend of yours, there is a certain distance that everyone must respect when it comes to you. except him.

besides being like a cat (very skittish with some people, invades your personal space very frequently), yuta is very demanding in some aspects. he really hates it if someone flirts with you, even though he wouldn't take that frustration out on you. after all, it's not your fault and it would be unfair. but he's very adamant about not having any secrets or personal things he doesn't know about. secrets kill people, and he can't bear to lose you.

despite all the lessons he learned with rika, sometimes you end up wondering if he will curse you too, if you end up dying. you ask him about it. if he would. yuta doesn't answer.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGIZE FOR ANY MISTAKES. thank you for reading! <3

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songmingisthighs · 7 months

Text

Kitty Baby Princess

group : ateez

pairing : bf!mingi × reader

genre : smut, relationship

wc : 6.4 k

warning : possessive!mingi, unprotected sex (wrap it up to prevent an oopsie), slight voyeurism, panty giving, sniffing, and licking (literally one scene), sleazy-ish san making an appearance, switch!mingi, kinda rough sex ??, freaky shit, nasty language, cumming untouched, slight degradation ? (m receiving) I truly blame @byuntrash101 for turning me into this kind of a person. idk what to tag here anymore this fic is debauchery. lmk if i should add anymore warnings thanxx

a/n : THANK YOU @byuntrash101 FOR GIVING ME THIS IDEA FROM THIS >:D and ofc for letting me run with it <3 i hope you suffer as bad as me thanxx and i admit i kinda went overboard with this? but like... it's mingi ?? and i wanna do the original hc justice

a/n/n : i spent 7.5 hours on this mostly because i procrastinated bc it was 12.30 fucking am and it's 8.06 am rn i hath nawt slept yet. I hope this fic make sense tho, i hate to see this as a fail so pls lmk where i messed up

buy me coffee ?

Mingi was starting to think that inviting you to dinner was a bad idea.

It's not that he doesn't love having you around because God, he wished you'd just move in with him. It's not that you don't fit in with his friends because WooSan has made you an honorary dumbass trio which caused Seonghwa to pop a vein. And it's not because you didn't know how to dress up because you absolutely do. Which was the main reason anyways because Mingi kept eyeing you from the couch like a lion preparing to pounce on his prey but as much as he wanted to fuck you in the middle of the room, he didn't know if you'd be open to that.

So he sat by himself, biting his bottom lip while his eyes devoured your whole being. You, who were not even doing anything but stand near the dining area talking to San and Seonghwa with your short skirt and frilly sleeves. On one side, Mingi would like to do nothing but rip every bit of stupid fabric off of you in one tear because how dare they cover you up from his sight? But on the other side, he wanted to appreciate how pretty and delicate and absolutely ethereal you look in mundane clothing. When Mingi's tongue darted across his lips, he could almost imagine how you would taste and the sounds you would make. He had made you sit on his face so many times that the taste of you will forever be embedded in his tastebuds and mind. Just the thought of eating you out in that stupid, stupid skirt made him clench his jaws tightly.

Mingi might think that he's so slick, but in reality, you've been feeling his gaze on you since the moment you detached yourself from his lap and went over to talk to Seonghwa and San. Mingi is rather straightforward when it comes to you and what he wants (so technically you) and even when he wanted to play his feelings off, you knew him better than that. So the whole time you talked with San and Seonghwa, you have been intentionally striking poses that will allow Mingi to get a flash of your skimpy underwear or poses that will accentuate your figure be it your ass or boobs. Mingi, God bless him, loves you for whatever you had to offer him. When asked by Wooyoung whether he was an ass or boob man, Mingi literally said "I'm a (y/n) man," and you made sure to reward him that night by letting him overstimulate you to the point of crying and cockwarm you through the night and wake you up with a rough pounding. Safe to say that was the first time you said I love you to him (his was the first time you went down on him). Not to be a total attention whore, but you loved knowing that Mingi had his attention completely on you even when you two were not in close proximity. It was as if the two of you owned the world and the others were mere decorations.

When San and Seonghwa excused themselves to go get the delivery food that arrived in the middle of San telling you Wooyoung's latest prank attempt that almost resulted in their fridge almost breaking down, you made your way to your boyfriend whose smoulder melted into an adorable pout. You chuckled at the sight and let your body fell into his opened arms with your knees trapping his left thigh and your thigh that was between Mingi's legs rested so close to his crotch. Upon impact, Mingi immediately wrapped his arms around your body, resting his chin rest on your chest as he looked up at you, "Tell me why we can't bail this dinner and just hole ourselves in my room and fuck?" he whined, hands travelling under your skirt to cup your asscheeks in his big and warm hands. Your eyes widened at the sudden gesture and your head immediately shot to where San and Seonghwa were, making sure they didn't see you in such a position. Looking back at your boyfriend, your hand slapped his shoulder as his hands found their way inside your panties to caress the soft skin of the flesh he liked to spank during sex. "May I remind you that you invited me for DINNER and not sex?" you pointed out, lips threatening to curl into a smile at the feeling of Mingi oh so affectionately stroking your ass. Mingi groaned and buried his face between your chest, "You MAY remind me, doesn't mean I have to like it," he grumbled, suddenly biting on the inside of your clothed breast, forcing a yelp out of you.

Sometimes you wondered how you could be so soft for your giant hunk of a boyfriend. Sure, he's tall, muscular, big, and big, but he's your baby just as much as you are his, or maybe even more. You couldn't help but feel bad at his use of dejected voice and you really were planning on staying the night over anyways. So you decided to give him something to hold on to. Literally.

Looking at where Seonghwa and San were (still making sure that the restaurant got their order because your carnivore of a boyfriend and his roommates are very particular about their food) just in case, you pushed yourself slightly back which confused Mingi. He was about to ask what you were doing when you suddenly turned around so your ass was facing him and bent down. The sight of your panties got Mingi's jaw to drop and when you pull them down to reveal your bare cunt, Mingi's mouth immediately felt dry. With eyes glued to the folds where he usually buried his face, Mingi's tongue automatically slipped between his lips and he leaned forward to get a taste. Much to his disappointment, however, you grabbed your panties and turned around. "What are you doing?" you asked with a raised eyebrow. "What are YOU doing presenting yourself to me like that? Now come on, let me get a taste," he whined, grabbing your hips and flipping your skirt up to expose your bare cunt to his eyes. You let out a yelp of surprise when he got close to actually burying his face between your legs. Extreme measures had to be taken so you reached for his throat and pressed on his jugular enough that he choked slightly, allowing you to push him back against the couch, "You are not about to eat me out in the middle of the living room where your friends could see us, you hear me?" The way you sounded so serious and the pressure you put on his throat managed to make Mingi's head spin a little, loving how you took over. You retracted your hand to allow air back into Mingi's lungs, holding yourself back from mauling him from the way his eyes fluttered. You just know that he was getting so aroused.

While Mingi was distracted, you slipped your panties into his palm and leaned close as you heard Seonghwa and San walking back slowly with food. "Something for you to hold onto until after dinner," you said before giving him a soft peck on his cheek and retreating to help Seonghwa and San with the food. It took Mingi a couple of seconds to realize that you were no longer on top of him and just as he was about to be disappointed, he noticed your frilly panties in his hand and he perked up. His head snapped to look for you, giddiness evident in his eyes. You were taking the food out of the plastic bag when you noticed Mingi grinning widely at you, a sight that made you smile to yourself. That smile fell however when Mingi blatantly dangled your panties in front of his face for him to take a big whiff, making a whole show of fluttering his eyelids and rolling his eyes to the back of his head. Your face reddened immediately and you would've screamed had Seonghwa and San seen what Mingi did which thankfully they didn't because San had his back to Mingi and Seonghwa was in the kitchen.

Trying to be as discreet as you could, you gestured for Mingi to stop doing what he was doing but much to your dismay, the man spread your panties in his large hand and stuck his tongue out. You knew where that was going but when Mingi actually took a fat stripe on the spot that made contact with your pussy, your knees almost buckled and you were sure that your face was burning so hot, smoke should be coming out of your ears. It was a miracle San didn't realize what was happening.

Thankfully, Mingi immediately shoved the panties into his pants when Seonghwa called him out for dinner. Yes, he shoved it INSIDE his pants so that his cock wouldn't miss your cunt so much, or so he told you when he whispered directly into your ears as he pulled your chair like a gentleman. Gentleman my ass. What kind of gentleman shoved his hand inside your skirt as he made conversation with his dormmates? What kind of gentleman trace the slit of your pussy as he asked you how you were? What kind of a gentleman stuck one of his fingers between your folds when he pretended to reach over you to get a side dish? Freaky bastard. Nevertheless, the same bastard that made you clench your thighs as you silently hoped your arousal wouldn't stain the cushioned chair. It was bad enough that he was teasing you, but Seonghwa was sitting across him and San was across you, they could've easily seen what Mingi was doing and based on how you were biting your lips, they could've easily made an assumption on what was going on.

You decided that you might want to get some revenge on Mingi. The more he touched you under the table, the bigger your desire grew for him to have a taste of his own medicine. Your opportunity came when Seonghwa said he had prepared dessert for you after knowing that you would be joining them for dinner. Of course, as a polite guest, you offered to help him which means Mingi's hand had to momentarily part with your cunt. But of course, to tease you, Mingi stuck his slick-covered fingers into his mouth as he made eye contact with you, smirking when your eyes once again widened. This time, San noticed the interaction between you two, however, staring confusedly with an eyebrow raised but not saying anything, not even to point the behaviour out.

As you moved around the kitchen with Seonghwa, you made sure to sway your hips as sensually as you can, knowing that your boyfriend was staring at your ass the whole time. It wasn't like he was being subtle about it anyway, you saw how hard he was biting into his chopsticks, he could've bent them easily. Too focused on teasing your horny boyfriend, you almost forgot where you were and what you were doing and it made you clumsy as seen by how you accidentally dropped the spoon Seonghwa handed over to you before he reached for the plates in the cupboard. "Whoops!" you said, bending down to grab the utensils on the floor as you flash your boyfriend your bare, glistening cunt. The sight was enough to elicit a groan out of Mingi which was caught by San, thinking that his friend was hurting. But when San saw that Mingi was staring at something, he instinctively turned to look at what Mingi was looking at too which was a bad idea because he hadn't planned on seeing one of his best friends's girlfriend's pussy on full display. His eyes widened in shock and he so wanted to tear his eyes off but he couldn't, he couldn't even help but be affected, suddenly very aware of the fabric of his underwear that rubbed against his cock when he started shifting around in his seat.

"(y/n)?" San called out mindlessly, surprising you enough to the point that you immediately stood up and turned around. Mingi's daze was also broken when San called out to you and it didn't have to take a damn genius to deduct the fact that San totally saw your pussy, it was all over his face; the shame, the blush, and if you look closer, the way he started to uncomfortably tug on his pants. The three of you stayed in your positions, frozen, not knowing what to do or say while Seonghwa remained oblivious.

You were damn embarrassed to have been caught in that position, flaunting your princess parts (or so Mingi calls your pussy) to your boyfriend's dormmate. Despite it being an accident, the shame was still very much real. You couldn't even dare yourself to look up, not even when Seonghwa asked about the cake he bought. You managed to play it off as you inspected the cake, making up crap on the spot to justify your not looking him in the eyes as you talked to him. What were you supposed to do? You didn't know what to do if San was looking at you which he so totally was and Mingi witnessed all this. He saw how San was sneaking glances at you as his cheeks were tinted red. What caught Mingi's interest was that the blush and San's mannerisms didn't show shame, it didn't even show that he was sorry for even seeing you in such a state, heck, not even disturbance. It was the shade and mannerisms of a man who was appreciating someone in a sexual manner. Mingi didn't like that, Mingi didn't like that one bit. He had hoped that by putting a hand on your thigh San would stop his stare and obvious intrigue but of course, that did nothing.

"You know hyung, I think this cake is great, it's sweet but it's not so sweet," Mingi stated after having a spoonful of cake. "Oh? I think this cake is on the sweeter side," Seonghwa said, raising an eyebrow and trying another bite. Mingi shrugged as he finished his cake, "I don't think so because nothing is as sweet as my (y/n) here," he made a point of winking at you before staring at San in triumph. But much to his surprise, San didn't bat an eye, he wasn't threatened. Heck, he had a look of intrigue and knowing his friend, Mingi realized his mistake of calling you sweet. He was willing to bet his gaming setup that San was totally thinking about how your pussy must've tasted.

Luckily dinner came to an end rather quickly because Seonghwa had to rush out to deal with a Hongjoong emergency (aka Hongjoong had just started unpacking the last of his boxes after moving into the new dorm MONTHS after). There were four of you left alone in the dorm; you, Mingi, San, and damn awkward silence.

"Well," Mingi coughed as he grabbed his dishes from the table ever so slowly so he could get his brain to create some kind of excuse. San stood up while shaking his head furiously, "No, no, you... You leave the dishes to me, I'll take care of them tonight and you can take over my turn next time," San said, smiling to his friend though the smile didn't reach his eyes. Nor was it his usual smile, it seemed rather restricted. Surprised, Mingi blinked confusedly at San, "Uh... It's okay, I can-" "No, you should spend time with your girlfriend. Think of it as me doing you a favour," San cut him off, shifting his eyes at you who was already looking at him with wide eyes. For a moment, San was reminded of the image of your cunt to which he immediately shake his head to erase the image from his head as if he was an etch-a-sketch. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't quick enough as Mingi caught the look on San's face and he could feel his blood boil, hating the idea of his friend thinking about his baby's princess parts.

Abruptly, Mingi tugged your arm to stand up, "Thank man, I'll be sure to do you a favour next time," he smiled curtly, wanting to leave the dining area immediately to get some damn privacy. San wasn't surprised that Mingi acted as such because the behaviour was very much similar to the time Wooyoung talked about your tits after a trip to the waterpark. San was just hoping that Mingi wouldn't superglue his mouse to his mousepad before an important game.

Figuring that you were in the clear, you moved to follow Mingi, bidding San a good night and telling him that you had a good time out of sheer politeness. Seeing as you were interacting with him again, San stopped you by calling you, making you turn around while your boyfriend waited by the hallway that led to his room. "I-I," San had to clear his throat, acknowledging that what he wanted to say was rather embarrassing. But he swallowed his shyness and just gave you a smile, "I-I'm sorry for what happened earlier, I didn't mean to look at..." He trailed off as he gestured to your body awkwardly. While you were mortified that he brought up the topic again, you were glad that he didn't explicitly said what he did. Thinking that the situation had passed anyway, you smiled back and shook your head, "No worries San, it was an honest mistake," you assured him.

"For what it's worth," Just as you were about to join your boyfriend, San made you halt your steps once again. You tilted your head slightly which made Mingi feel irked because you were paying his friend too much attention for his liking especially considering the fact that the particular friend had seen something he shouldn't and that Mingi was needy. "You had nothing to be ashamed about, you have a very pretty... Kitty..." San said, not realizing that he had glanced lower at your body and even let his tongue dart out slightly to lick his bottom lip before looking at you straight in the eyes again, "Mingi is indeed a very lucky guy just as we all have said. But tonight I got a confirmation."

You couldn't even answer San when Mingi pulled you into his arms and shielded you away from his apparently sleazy-adjacent friend, "Thanks man but she knows I'm so lucky to have her," he said through gritted teeth. Now he's absolutely pissed.

In a flash, you were tossed onto the bed in Mingi's room. Your body bounced slightly and while you were still in a daze of surprise, Mingi crawled on top of you. "How fucking dare you," he growled, diving down to capture your lips in a desperate kiss. You yelped slightly when Mingi shoved his tongue in your mouth out of the blue. Though he looked pissed because his face looked pissed and he's 6 ft tall with the proclivity to wear anything and everything dark, his kiss showed his real emotion. "Does he not think I already know that I'm so lucky you let me love you?" he whimpered into your mouth when your hands grabbed the hair on the back of his head. "Baby, you know how much I appreciate you for letting me love you, right?" he asked as he pulled away. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of his reddened pouty lips and hazy eyes looking at you, seeking for your approval. You lifted your body slightly with one arm as the other went to cup his chin between your thumb and index finger, letting your thumb swipe his puffy bottom lip that was glistening in your mixed spit, "Of course baby. You're my Minnie Minnie Mingi, you're the only man I allow to touch me however you want," you then leaned closer to blow directly to his ear, making him visibly shudder, "You're the only man I allow anywhere near my princess parts," when you bit down to his ear lobe, Mingi's arms buckled slightly and his eyes rolled to the back of his head while his cock strained against his pants.

You pulled back slightly and pouted at him, "And... Didn't you say you wanted to have a taste of me?" you batted your lashes at him. That absolutely wrecked Mingi's resolve because in one swift movement, he had pushed you all the way to his headboard while opening your legs widely. When Mingi was face to face with your glistening, pulsating cunt, he couldn't help but stare at it while biting his bottom lip, momentarily appreciating it in all its glory. While it technically was rather embarrassing to have your pussy be stared at like that, it was a regular occurrence for you and you knew you had nothing to be ashamed or shy about. How can you? Mingi worshipped the ground you walk on and it made you feel like a goddess. "Still so fucking wet for me," he said to himself as he swiped two of his fingers on the mess of the wetness. Due to not wearing panties and rubbing your legs together the whole night, your arousal was spread everywhere. While Mingi was very possessive of you, oftentimes saying how he didn't want to waste a single drop of your princess nectar, the sight of the glistening even glittering mess was a sight to behold to him.

"Fuck baby, how can your pussy look and taste even more delicious than that damn cake?" was the last thing Mingi said before he attached his lips to your cunt, eliciting a gasp from you.

Mingi took his time eating you out, truly devouring you whole and enjoying every single second of it. To say that Mingi was obsessed with your pussy was an understatement. It seemed like he knew your body better than yours because he understood what every tic, squirm, moan, and arch of the back meant. He knew that you loved how he use his tongue to trace shapes on you and rather than simply flick and nibble on your clit, you love how he use his nose to bump into it. You had even joked that you knew that Mingi was perfect for you due to his pointy nose. No matter how much you love him bumping his nose on your clit, it can't beat how much he absolutely go batshit crazy when you use his nose to get off when you sit on his face. Just the thought got him grinding his hips on the bed. Seeing this, you grabbed Mingi's hair and pulled his face back, causing him to whine. "Did you just hump your bed? I thought I was the only thing your cock wants to make contact with?" you huffed, pouting at him though only meaning it half-heartedly. Mingi shook his head slightly to loosen your grip on his hair before he leaned his head on the junction of your thigh, peppering kisses on the outer lip of your pussy. "Sorry, I can't help but imagine fucking this pussy... My baby's pussy... My baby's pretty pretty pussy," he moaned before engulfing your cunt once more. Though his mouth was busy pleasuring you, his eyes never left your face. He loved the way your face contorted into pleasure when his tongue breached your hole to gather your slick and push it up to your clit as a lubricant so his nose could move more seamlessly. The intensity of your reaction was what got him excited but the knowledge that he was the one who was doing those things to you was what got him addicted. The best part for Mingi though was when you grabbed his hair to fuck yourself on his face. Your hips went wild to chase the kind of pleasure only he could give. When you use him like that, Mingi feels like he is nothing but a toy you used to get off and he feels honoured above anything else.

Just as Mingi was enjoying the feeling of your arousal down his chin while his tongue was fucking you, your hips stopped moving. Mingi was too into his headspace that he initially didn't notice your halted movements, in fact, his mouth only moved on its own automatically, lapping your juice as he flicked, nibbled, and nudged on the sensitive nub. "Baby," you whined out loud, forcing Mingi to slip out of his headspace momentarily to reply with a low hum as his tongue was busy gathering every last drop of you. "I don't wanna cum on your tongue tonight, I wanna cum on your fat cock. I wanna cum while I ride you," you whined, bordering on begging.

Hearing that you wanted to ride him, Mingi pulled away from your cunt with a smirk, "Oh? My princess wants to ride me using her... What did San called it? Your kitty?" he chuckled mockingly. You whined and kicked your legs slightly, embarrassed that he used such language at you and especially using his friend's words on you. Slowly, erotically, Mingi climbed over your body whilst slowly pulling your top off and shoving it down your waist, "If I feed the kitty my cock, will it purr?" he asked as he leaned down to suck a mark in the middle of your chest. "Can the kitty even take my cock, baby? Can my baby's kitty princess part take my load when I cum inside?" you looked down to see his lips wrapped around your right nipple, "Remember when we had sex the first time? Remember how your pussy can't take me? I barely hung onto my sanity that time because I wanted to make you mine but I had to be gentle. I don't think I can be gentle this time," he pouted, leaving your nipple to leave a string of his spit that later dripped down your stomach. Wanting his cock inside you immediately, you nodded frantically, "Yes! Yes! My pussy is already perfectly moulded to take you, Mingi, please, I will ride you so good, I want your cum in me," your hands were wrapped around his neck tightly as you tried to ground up to his hips, wanting to feel his cock on you immediately.

Luckily Mingi couldn't say no to you especially when you became that whiny for him. It was endearing, really.

With steady hands, Mingi flipped you both over so you were straddling his hips. You leaned back on your arms to stare at the bulge straining against its confines between Mingi's legs with a twinkle in your eyes. You knew what was under his trousers, you've seen it multiple times but it never gets old; the excitement of seeing it strain and then pop up like jack-in-a-box. Well, in Mingi's case, it's jacking into a cunt. But it works. Whenever you are presented with the opportunity to undress Mingi, it always feels like opening a present because it actually feels like a present. How can it not? It's only for you and you get to play with it Mingi always lets you take your time with him as he gets to experience the joy of seeing you thrilled just from seeing him.

Slowly, you unbuttoned his pants and when you unzipped his pants, pulling them down just past the midsection of his thick thighs without bothering to take them off completely, you were shocked to see your panties still there. "Mingi!" you exclaimed as you pulled the frilly, flimsy garment like a magician because as soon as the panty was pulled, Mingi's cock popped up tall, spurting some precum on your thigh. Scratch that, soiled frilly, flimsy garment. Your eyes were wide in surprise and wonder, fascinated with how much cum there actually was and excited with the thought that the same amount of cum would be inside you momentarily. Perhaps more.

Mingi looked away in embarrassment when you showed him your panties, completely forgetting that it was there in the first place. With his arms crossed on his still-clothed chest, Mingi pouted and mumbled out an explanation. "It was all your fault for giving me your panties and letting me play with your pussy during dinner, and then to make shit worse, you flashed me your entire pussy when you know I want to bury myself in it 24/7. That's why I came," his cheeks were red which showcased his embarrassment even more but you couldn't understand why he would be embarrassed for cumming from his own girlfriend's teasing. So you cooed at him as you reached to cup his face, urging him to face you, "Aww, baby you don't need to be embarrassed for cumming in your pants like that. I find it absolutely adorable and it's a great ego boost to know that you were so affected by me," you said as you peppered kisses down his jaw. Mingi's embarrassment slowly faded when you told him you liked how affected he was by you. "Really?" he asked, looking at you who were now trailing kisses up his toned stomach as you pulled his shirt off. Nodding, you didn't let your lips stop their path up to Mingi's nipples, "Of course, sweetie. How can I not love the thought of my baby so infatuated by me?" you smiled against his skin.

All of a sudden, Mingi pulled you up so your face was right in front of his. Inhaling the scent of you sharply, Mingi let out a shuddered exhale before speaking out, "Well, you need to remember that this baby needs to have his cock impaling your pussy, so please, please, pretty please fuck yourself on me."

Finally, after so many back and forth between you two, you moved to position your opening above Mingi's awaiting cock after giving him a soft peck on his lips. You knew Mingi loved seeing himself fill you up and you can't disappoint him so you leaned back and opened your legs to hug his hips perfectly with his tip pressing on your cunt. The heavy tip already provided a thrilling stimulation that got you biting back a squeal. Without warning, you lowered your hips so that Mingi's cock would enter you slowly. Mingi was watching how his cock filled you up very closely with his jaw hanging open due to the warmth your cunt provided. His hand reached to part your pussy lips apart so he could see better, not realizing that you had thrown your head back from the additional pressure he accidentally gave to your pussy. "F-fuck," you whimpered, thighs trembling as you finally got all of Mingi inside you. Even after having sex with him (or the more often making love sessions), you still needed time to adjust to him first before actually jumping into action. Mingi hated seeing you struggle no matter what came after that, so to help you, he gently stroked your thighs with his large and warm hands, "I'm sorry that I'm too big," he pouted. To some, it might sound like a brag, but it truly wasn't and thankfully you knew that.

Copying his expression, you pushed yourself to wrap your arms around Mingi's neck loosely and gave him a small smile, "Why are you apologizing? I love your big, fat cock that got me drooling just from the thought of it," you gave an experimental movement by pulling your hips up to see how he would feel only to find nothing but pleasure that was accompanied by a slight pressure. "I love how you could fill me up for days with your stupid extra large cock," you lowered yourself again until your hips met again and Mingi moaned loudly as he threw his head back, "F-fuck yes! My cock is stupid! It's so so stupid for filling you up so good." Tilting your head to the side, you brought Mingi's face back to yours again, "But do you know what I love most about you?" Somehow Mingi managed to look both sexy and innocent when he shook his head, wanting to hear your answer so obediently. "I love the feeling of your cum being dumped inside me because that's how you truly make me yours, you left a part of you in me and I love it beyond anything else."

At the first roll of your hips, Mingi grunted and let his head fall on your shoulder, wanting to keep you close. But you had another plan which involved him laying on his back on the bed. So you pushed him down by his chest which earned you a whine from the giant of a man but you immediately pressed a finger on his lips, "I'm in charge now and I want you lying there on your back looking pretty while I use your dumb cock." Mingi would've protested had it not for the way you started fucking yourself on his cock with your knees trapping his hips as an anchor for your movements. Sure, Mingi loved fucking you into his bed or making love to you under his sheet on a rainy morning, but this? You taking control over him while being on top? It makes him feel like a king while still being doted on. "You love riding your lover, don't you?" Mingi teased as he moaned, loving how tight you were gripping him. "I do, baby, I so fucking do!" It didn't come as a surprise that you let out a loud moan. You both were very vocal in bed what with Mingi's tease and begs and the praises you gave your boyfriend.

What you didn't take into account was the fact that the door to Mingi's room was never closed. So it shouldn't come as a surprise when San walked past the room only to halt in his tracks, getting the second surprise of the day. San felt like he should say something, but considering how you reacted to him seeing your pussy, San felt like he had to tread carefully. How? No clue, eyes busy looking, brain malfunctioning.

You were so caught up with bouncing on top of Mingi to take notice of your guest. Your whole sense was filled with Mingi and it was just so addicting. On the other hand, Mingi noticed San as soon as the man walked by, having the advantage of facing the doorway. While Mingi as a boyfriend is the type to get jealous and very possessive if he found anyone eyeing what is his, Mingi as a lover has no problem reminding people who you belong to, what it takes to satisfy you, and who was the only person who could do it. Mingi couldn't help but think that it was the perfect opportunity to send a message to San. So he sat himself straight and pulled your body close to his so your chests were pressing together. The sudden movement made Mingi's cock hit a different spot in you, the spot that had you squealing Mingi's name as the muscles of your thighs constrict,

"Aww poor baby, let me take over for you, love," he said sweetly to your ear as he eyed San carefully. San should've run to his room, put on his headphones and blasted something loud but he couldn't, he couldn't stop looking at how his best friend's body was tangled with his lover so intricately, so intimately.

Mingi simply wrapped an arm around your shoulders as the other was anchored on his side while his feet spread slightly and were planted firmly. The way Mingi began thrusting into you was something you couldn't replicate. His pace was fast but his movement was precise, it was rather animalistic and painfully addicting. Your head lolled to rest on the side of his neck as your arms wrapped tightly around his broad shoulders, moans spilling out of your mouth incoherently. "Tell me baby, who's making you feel this good?" Mingi asked, eyes maintaining contact with San's, "You! You! You, Mingi! You!" you moaned whimpering when he managed to find your g-spot, causing your legs to snap shut which signalled Mingi that that's where he should be hitting. With precision, Mingi started hitting your g-spot continuously without his speed ever faltering. "Louder! I want everyone to know who you belong to! Who your pussy belongs to!" Mingi smirked when he saw San's eyes widen. "You, Song Mingi! You're the only person w-who- Ah! Who ca-can fuck me l-like this! My body, my pussy, belongs to you, my love, I belong to you!" you cried out pathetically, completely oblivious to the fact that San was listening in the whole time.

It didn't take long for either of you to reach your climax what with being sensitive and having to hold off sex since dinner. You were still sensitive from the way Mingi ate you out so when Mingi began thrusting into you at a bruising strength, you found yourself biting down on Mingi's shoulder, ensuring that a mark would be left behind there. The impact from your bite sent Mingi reeling, with his hips halfway into a thrust, his thighs shook as his ass clenched, cumming hard inside you, painting your insides with his seed. "That's it baby, make me yours. Fill me up so I'm filled with nothing but you," you babbled as your hand reached to stroke Mingis's hair. Mingi's thighs were still trembling slightly as he emptied himself inside of you but at least he was seated down and his body was able to relax slightly, leaning his own head on yours as his grip on your waist remained. The moment felt so intimate that San scurried away to hole himself up in his room. Mingi could only imagine that San was jacking off to him and you fucking, San should only be so lucky to have witnessed not only Mingi's treasure (your cunt) but also the way Mingi made his claim on you.

As you both came down from your high, you remained in your position, not wanting to be separated just yet as you find the other very comforting. Mingi was stroking the skin of your lower back with his eyes closed, enjoying the praises you whispered to him whilst peppering kisses on the skin of his shoulder.

He was content then, being in his own space with the love of his life.

Especially after letting someone who crossed a boundary witness Mingi claiming what is his. Not that Mingi would mind teaching him another lesson.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet

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miguel-owhora · 5 months

Note

Something like one day Miguel assigns you some task and in the process you encounter a variation of his and you completely forget about your mission, then Miguel has to go look for you because enough time has passed, only to find you half unconscious and very stupid, with clear signs that another Miguel fucked you.

I was actually hooked on your idea idk idk

TYPE — drabble

SYNOPSIS — what anon said

WARNINGS — 18+ , cheating but is it really cheating if it's a variant of your husband , cunnilingus , squirting , implied multiple orgasms/milking

FEM-ALIGNED READERS AND MINORS DNF, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE HEAVILY APPRECIATED.

TAGS — @sweetcorpse , @tophamhat-kyo , @villainousdelicacy , @realitylemon , @gayaristocrat , @gaynesspersonified

MORE — this idea literally has me foaming and slamming inside my cage

This version of your home world isn't unusual. It's literally a couple years from '99, a couple years back into the past. Nothing unusual, nothing uncommon from your current year back in your original timeline. Swinging around your city is nice, the sky dark with the city lights polluting the night sky, preventing you from seeing the stars - that is, you never really did see them, unless if you went to the moon station. But that was only ever a privilege you got once you were older.

You spent majority of your youth in the underground part of Nueva York, living in the dark with only the city lights as the sun. You only ever stepped out whenever you wanted to rebel and when you went to college, and only ever moved out of the underworld - the name many called the underground of NY - when you got with Miguel. Bless his heart, as much as you adored your husband and how many years you've been living on the nicer side of NY - that is in looks, but just barely - you would always favor the underworld. You found that despite the reputation it earned, the people were always more real and down to earth than the people living overhead.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and just barely swerved out of the way before you hit a pole. You swung yourself up and landed on top of a skyscraper of a building, landing in what many would dub the classic spider pose. You peered over the edge of the building, overlooking the city in all its glory. Nueva York, as a whole, no matter how corny you would sound right now, would forever hold a special place in your heart. The people, the food, the diverse mixture of culture and background - that's what made Nueva York, Nueva York: just a clusterfuck of everyone and everything.

After a solid couple seconds of surveying everything you raised your hand to look at your goober - despite what Miguel tried to get everyone to say, it was a goober at the end of the day, a damn watch if you want to be simple about it - and began to type in it. You read over the mission Miguel gave you, just a simple 'catch an anomaly and go home' type of mission It wasn't one of those big bad villains, just some guy. Didn't even have a name.

You snorted to yourself as you lowered your arm and stretched, grunting as one or two of your bones popped pleasantly, blood flooding back to wherever it needed to go.

"I didn't know we had a Spider-Man."

The sound of Miguel's voice nearly has you falling off the building, and hadn't it been for your ability to stick to surfaces, you would've been a splat of flesh on the floor. You whipped around, startled, and found yourself looking at your husband.

...Future husband, as this Miguel isn't - first of all - your Miguel and younger than the early thirties man you knew and love. But it was still technically your husband. Technically. Unless if this was one of those world's where you didn't go overhead and stayed in the underworld, or something along those lies, somewhere where you never met Miguel.

This Miguel of Earth-547, Miguel-547, was younger than your Miguel, a bit more youthful, but no less handsome. Perhaps in his twenties, with the telltale signs of a lack of sleep on the heavy eyebags underneath his dark eyes, perhaps from studying so much. The thought has you almost snorting but you caught yourself as you stepped down from the railing of the building, looking over at Miguel with a slight tilt of your head.

"You don't. Not yet, at least." You replied, eyeing him with keen interest, mission forgotten.

Miguel raises an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. You shake your head, snorting in amusement. He's Miguel, he's your husband, just like when he was younger, back when you first met him, back when you first roomied with him against your will.

"Who are you?" Miguel asks, and you can see the regret written across his face. This time, it makes you laugh, both at his face and at the question.

"That's.. that's stupid. Nevermind." Miguel mutters, face darkening in embarrassment as he lightly pouted - frowned, whatever, he has the same face for both feelings - and looked away. It's such a Miguel thing to do that you choke and cough, laughing, and wiping away tears that never meet your fingers, not with your mask covering your face.

"I'd tell you my name but..." You rolled your shoulders, placing your hands on your waist. "I think Miguel would get mad at me for revealing my identity, even if it's just my name. I don't want to mess with any canon event. You know how it is."

"I don't." Miguel replied, glancing back at you with a confused expression. "And Miguel? That's.. that's my name. I'm guessing you mean somebody else? And canon ev- what the shock are you even talking about?"

Oh the irony, you thought to yourself. "Something like that, sure, and it's a long story."

Miguel pursed his lips and gave you a look. You grinned behind your mask, the lenses to your mask squinting at him.

"But I can offer you something better."

This got Miguel's attention and you chuckled, still grinning. Gotcha.

Which is how you ended up in Miguel's dorm room, stuffed between his legs and eating at his pussy. His legs hold you firmly between strong thighs, keeping you trapped and stuffing your face into pussy - not that you minded of course. It's your favorite past time, and why would you deny yourself the opportunity to eat your man's cunt like it's your last meal? You'd be a fool not to.

Miguel's voice is breathless and whimpery, a hand holding the back of your face as he shamelessly grinded against your mouth. He arched his back and squeezed his thighs when your mouth attached to his swollen cock, sucking on the sensitive nub. Your tongue dipped into his hole as you felt him tremble and moan, incomprehensible words of praise and encouragement tumbling from his mouth as he came inside your mouth.

He tried to push you away once his climax passed over, but you didn't budge, merely using your enhanced strength to grab onto his thighs and gently push them down. The position made him even more open and gave you even more access to the sweet, delicious slick that poured out of him, which you didn't dare let a spare a single drop and eagerly slurped up.

"Hah - ca- shock! - cálmate, pinche perro!" Miguel moaned, his thighs tensed and twitching as he danced between pushing your head away and humping into your mouth. He moved when you slipped into two fingers and began to move them, thrusting them in and out of his pussy with a certain expertise that came with someone who's done this before, and sucked on his cock.

Whatever you did, however you learned it, was enough to rip an unexpected orgasm from Miguel that had no buildup and caught him off guard. Even moreso when he felt liquid shoot from his pussy and he went unbelievably warm, but shock, if it didn't make him stomach flutter. His cheeks darkened when he heard you obscenely slurp, drinking whatever liquid he squirted out.

"What - what the shock was that?!" Miguel breathed out after you finally pulled away with a pop. Miguel felt something hot and possessive curl in his stomach when he saw the bottom half of your face - the only thing you dared to show him, the upper part of your face was hidden by the mask you wore - was dripping wet with his fluids. He watched as you licked your lips; and Miguel swallowed.

"You squirted," You said calmly, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. You pulled your fingers away from his pussy and plopped them into your mouth, cleaning them of whatever slick coated it, and Miguel stared with wide eyes.

He slowly blinked and looked away, beyond flustered.

"I never knew I could do that." Miguel muttered, panting.

"Well now you do, use it wisely." You replied, amused, lips curled into a teasing grin. Miguel rolled his eyes, but not unkindly. Your eyes flickered from his face down to the rest of his body and over to the lower half. His pussy was slick and swollen, the dark hair neatly trimmed, looking and smelling and tasting absolutely delicious. That never did change about him, did it? You could spend all eternity between his legs, eagerly doting on his cunt.

You snapped out of your thoughts with a little grunt as Miguel suddenly hauled you off the ground and onto his bed, flat on your back. The lenses of your mask widened and your mouth went dry when Miguel swung himself over your lap, straddling you. Your hands instinctively fell onto his waist, so small and holdable, and nervously giggled, licking your lips that suddenly felt too dry.

"What's - what's all this about?" You asked, flustered. Miguel seemed to pick up on this and smiled, a little dangerous, a little fond. He slowly rolled his hips down, eyes gleaming when you softly moaned, your cock, hard in your suit, eagerly responding to some stimulation.

"Just a little treat. You ate me out..." Miguel's hand reached down to grab a hold of your cock, rubbing it through the material of your spandex. "...So I'll let you hit."

"Fuck." You whispered, breathless. Miguel just chuckled, eyes dark and smile dangerous in the way that made you fall in love all over again.

"Have you checked on [Name], Miguel?"

The sound of his AI's voice is enough to rip Miguel's attention from the holograms in front of him. His eyes feel dry as he gives a couple of blinks, vision straining from having stared at screens for so long. It takes a couple of heartbeats before Miguel could process Lyla's question and gave her a questioning look as she hovered near him.

"What?" He asked, intelligently, and totally not in a dumb way.

Lyla rolled her eyes, exasperated. "[Name]? Your husband? The one you sent on a mission?"

It was Miguel's turn to roll his eyes. "I know the name of my husband. Why are you asking if I checked up on him? He's reliable, he'll get the job done."

Lyla smirked in the way that told Miguel she knew something he didn't and could already feel his heart dropping to his stomach.

"What's wrong?" Miguel demanded, immediately on alert, his mind beginning to creep with different scenarios that made him stomach twist uncomfortablely.

"Nothing's wrong. He's fine, he's not hurt." Lyla paused and gave him a look over her heartshaped glasses. "He's just neglecting his duties for a variant."

Miguel processed the words and paused, eyebrow raising. "Variant?"

Lyla just smirked even wider, glitching and moving somewhere else, teasing. A set of coordinates appeared on Miguel's watch.

"Why don't you check it out?" Lyla chuckled, stuffing her hands into her pockets. "But just go alone, alright?"

Miguel didn't know if he wanted to strangle Lyla or himself. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

He took a deep breath and rubbed his temple. He could already feel the telltale sign of a migraine appearing, and no, his lack of sleep did NOT contribute to it.

"Lyla, open a portal." He eventually sighed out, dragging a hand over his face to get rid of any drowsiness.

"You got it, boss."

The orange and colorful portal appeared in front of Miguel, lighting up his dark lab in a warm color, changing the texture of the area around it. Miguel took a moment to appreciate it, a moment to gather himself, before throwing himself in the portal.

He knew the world he sent you to was one of your guy's timelines. Just a couple years back into the past, nothing crazy. The whole mission was a simple one, even a newbie could've done it. He knew you could handle more, obviously, but the thought of you getting hurt, of losing you, that frightened Miguel. It scared him. And while he knew you'd get tired of basic missions like the one he assigned you, he wouldn't budge. Well, at least not now.

But he didn't think he'd end up in a rather familiar dormroom. Specifically, his old dorm room, in his bedroom. Familiar posters line the walls, little figurines scattered around, his old desk lined next to his bed and scattered with messy shit. It's nostalgic, and for a second, Miguel imagines himself as his fresh out of high school guy barely entering his college years.

What's out of place, however, is the body of his husband laying on his bed. He's not dead, thankfully, Miguel's eyes catching sight of the slow rise and fall of his chest, and if anything, seems to be half out of it.

His mask is pulled halfway up, from his nose and down being the only thing revealed. His lips are slick and bit, light bruises on his jaw. The pants of his spandex are pulled down far enough to reveal his cock, which lays heavy and flaccid on his stomach, and yet...

Miguel's cheeks darkened and his lips pursed when he saw the dried evidence of cum on your belly and cock. Miguel pixelated his mask away, sighing out of exasperation, even if his core squirmed in a familiar way.

Miguel walked the short steps towards his bed and hovered over you, taking in your frazzled and obviously worn out appearance. Miguel reached down and gently grasped your jaw, tilting your head to get a better look at you.

He was surprised when you softly groaned, squirming as you seemed to awake up.

"Miguel?" You slurred out, and Miguel then realized his variant must've had his time with you.

"[Name,] ready to head back home?" Miguel questioned, his voice quiet but a faint hint of affection tinting his words. Perhaps he should be jealous that a variant got to his husband, but he can't find it in himself. If anything, it was... kind of hot. But that was another thing for another time.

"Mm? Home.... wait-" You stirred a little, becoming just the slightest bit alert. "Which dimension?"

Miguel made a little exasperated face even if you couldn't see. "928."

You went slack, pleased with the answer. "Mkay, le's go h'me..." You slurred before promptly knocking yourself out. Miguel stared before slowly setting your head down. He gently pulled your mask down and stuffed yourself back into your spandex before scooping you up.

"Lyla-" He began but was caught off by the AI, who glitched into existent.

"He looks kind of cute. You're, like, his knight in shining armor - or would it be spider in shining armor?" Lyla mused as she took a couple mixtures of the husbands. Miguel didn't dignify her with a response as a portal opened up, illuminating the room in a warm colorful glow. Then, a thought crossed his mind and he paused.

"Did he even finish his mission?" Miguel asked Lyla, even if he knew the answer.

"Absolutely not." Lyla grinned.

Miguel took a deep breath but didn't get angry - he never did get angry with you, now did he?

"Send someone to finish it." Miguel asked as he slipped through the portal, his AI glitching out of air. Missions he damned, he had his own mission now: giving you the aftercare his variant failed to do, which, in his opinion, made him the best variant out there.

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yeyinde · 9 months

Text

lavender skies | Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x GN!Reader

Then suddenly, and all at once, there's a loudness in your head: a hundred whispers echoing in time to the same off-beat rhythm, full of memories and moments shared between you, threads woven throughout the years all buoying to the surface as you realise you're a little bit in love with him. (And that, maybe, you've been a little bit in love with him the whole time.)

tags: friends to lovers (but the type of friends who are basically already dating and everyone knows except them - until suddenly they do), mutual pining. Slight Kent bashing, oops. Golden Girls as a coping mechanism. warnings: none. very tame, considering who I am as a person. Heavy make-out sess, though. word count: 6,6k notes: This has been sitting in my requests forever (I lost the original, but the gist was: Gaz + pining + idiots in love). You can blame a lot of this on summer rain and 80s city pop. Been going to the pier and listening to it while I wrote this. Not my best, sure, but it was fun.

The Tinder date he warned you not to go on (and seriously, mate, who uses Tinder anymore?) ends like this:

Your date, the biggest gentleman in Kent, as proclaimed in his bio (a red flag in hindsight—there's no such thing as a gentleman from Kent), sneaks his number to the waitress, and then leaves you behind in downtown Manchester to go bar hopping with a group he just met.

It's not a great loss. All things considered, it's not even the worst date you've ever been on. It was just a spur-of-the-moment whim—equal parts anxiety and megrim: the sudden fear of being single forever (and no, despite what Kyle might say, it has nothing to do with the wedding invitation you'd gotten on Facebook, or the three others that came before it)—and therefore, there isn't much to be upset about. Not really.

But the world doesn't work on half-hearted lies and shaky truths, and on a dank little corner in Manchester, abandoned by your ride home, your abysmal date who barely looked at you, you can't deny that it hurts. That it's a little bit of a hit to your self-esteem in a way that makes you angrier than you were before, because, honestly—he wasn't even a catch to begin with.

Stupid.

You should have listened to Kyle, to his immaculate wisdom and emotional maturity far beyond his years, but you hadn't because—

Well. Sometimes the world should work on little lies. If only to the ones you tell yourself. Ones like:

It's completely fine—really it is—if your friend of nearly eight years is moving on with his life. And it's totally, absolutely okay if your best friend meets some flighty barista in Amsterdam and won't stop talking about her for the meagre three weeks he's been back from his impromptu trip to the Netherlands, then to Mexico. It's fine. It's all fine.

Because maybe you are, too.

And maybe that's the reason you went out with David from Kent.

From Kent? He texted, only hours before your date. (Hours because he'd been busy with this thing for his job—his boss is corrupt and the world is, too, but at least Amsterdam Barista is doing fine). You can do so much better than that, birdy.

You wanted to say, what? Like someone from Amsterdam instead? but you're doing this new thing where you try not to sound as mad as you think you are. Zen, maybe. Internal peace and happiness. So, instead, you say:

He's nice. I like him.

Words that, of course, have come back to bite you.

He isn't nice. He wouldn't stop staring at the waitress, and talking over you, or just generally ignoring your existence. He left you downtown, stranded without a way home. You don't like him. You really don't even think you were that interested in him.

But it makes sense.

Kyle is moving on. Your friends are getting married.

And where does that leave you?

Well—

It leaves you stuck downtown with shoes that were intended to be used for aesthetics, the kind that means standing entirely still and immobile, and not walking the fifteen kilometres to your flat because you'd spent all your money on this super flattering outfit and these unfunctional shoes, and can't afford a cab or an Uber.

Sometimes, you pretend you're a functional adult—one who knows how to navigate everything with ease, and you live in the present, the real world, where time is fluid and unchangeable, and things make sense (maths and geometry and physics) unless they don't (black holes and the vastitude of space and fate)—but moments like these remind you that you don't. That you live, instead, somewhere in the parentheses of both.

The indigo sky, murky black and void of any stars, seems to grumble along with you as you turn toward the street, readying yourself for the long walk home. Except the groan sounds less commiserating and more ominous. A noise that seems to reverberate through the crowded street, and right into your bones.

Some have the wherewithal to find shelter. A smart move because almost a moment later, the heavens split, and a summer deluge drenches the street. It's unrelenting in its downpour, soaking everything in its path in a shrill roar.

Caught in the middle of St Peter's Square, there are not many places to duck under for sanctuary, but you find an alcove beside a store, and dart toward it. The non-functional boots are pretty to look at, but with each step, you feel the hard synthetic rubber grind against your heel. Blisters form, break. The burn makes you inhale sharply against the pain, hobbling now on tender feet.

The wall is slick with condensation, but you lean against it to keep your feet from taking the brunt of your weight.

It reminds you, quite suddenly, of that night in Cardiff with Kyle. When you'd drank three-dollar margaritas at some downtrodden bar with your friends and ate rather limp-looking fish tacos (a mistake, of course, and Kyle still can't look at corn tortillas the same way), and laughed until your belly hurt at something he'd said—the words lost to alcohol and faded with time—and then leaned over, promptly throwing up in a bush.

You still can't drink tequila without giggling (and gagging) at nothing, a phantom memory, and the thought presses against a tender spot in your chest in all the wrong ways.

Time is fluid. An unavoidable truism that you can't escape.

There are people you've known since you were a child whose faces you can barely remember. Ones you promised the world to, to always be together, who you hardly think of anymore.

Moving on. Moving forward.

You think, then, of Kyle. Of the distance that lingers between you both, widening each day. It's nothing you've done, nor he; it's just—

Life. Concurrent. Everpresent.

It hurts to lose a friend, you'd always think. A small moment of grief, of loss. But not like this. Never like this.

Stuck in a downpour in the middle of Manchester, you realise you miss him. Have been missing him.

Huddling under an awning, you fish your phone from your soaked pocket, and pull up the only person you want to be around right now, in this moment of vulnerability. Loneliness.

You send him a quick text, date was a bust. Stuck downtown. Are you busy?

Kyle's reply comes three breaths later. For you? Never. Send me your location.

You send him your pin.

Another message pops up: stay put. I'm on my way.

You met Kyle Garrick at university.

It's one of those things in life that just sometimes happens. A happy accident. An eventuality that makes the world feel a little less daunting. A lock and key sliding into place. Sunsets in pretty ochre.

Someone you knew and someone he knew (two people who are now best man and groom in the upcoming wedding) decided to invite all of their friends out for a night, and it was then, slightly tipsy on cheap ale when you realised the boy in the back—a head taller than everyone else and more befitting inside the glossy pages of a magazine—was different, somehow, from anyone else you'd ever met.

It started when some stupid kids decided to pick on another. A smaller boy with a blue cap.

Kyle was the only one who noticed. The only one who seemed to care.

It was his anger that drew you to him in the first place. Moth to a flame. It's quick—the sizzling flame of a lit match: suddenly burning the wick and nearly uncontrollable. But it's short. A flickering star, burning bright, burning hot, and then being tempered and swallowed down until it's smouldering. Still hot, still dangerous, but—

Managed.

It was a snap. He was laughing, jovial. Telling jokes, and having fun, but still maintaining that enviable enigmatic persona: reserved but kind. Funny, but mature. And then it crumpled in an instant, folded away into anger. Bright and blistering. He walked to them, eyes blazing, and didn't wait for any excuses when the kids noticed him, just quickly decimated their foundations, and crushed their feeble lies between his teeth.

"Bullyin'? That's a pretty foul thing to do, innit, mate?"

And that was that.

He handed the kid back his hat—the one the others knocked off into the gutter—and told him, clipped, that he was better than them.

Just keep your chin up, yeah? Fuckin' losers, that lot. Don't go messing about with them anymore. Fucking pricks. That's a nice hat, too. Where'd you get it? Really? Oh, that's mint—

It was that moment when, unprompted and unnoticed, he easily slipped away from the group to help some kid he didn't even know that you realised you were very keen to get to know him.

"Fancy a kebab, hero?" You asked, smirking up at him.

A grin broke across his face. Sharp, feral. "I could always go to a lamb kebab."

The rest, really, just came quite naturally. Your best friend. The person you go to for anything—even terrible dates that leave you stranded in the rain.

You just wish you knew when it all began to change, to fall apart.

Kyle meets you near St Peter's Square.

You spot him first from your hiding spot beneath the awning, catching sight of his form moving through the (now) empty streets, hands shoved in the pockets of his denim trousers, the bottoms tucked, sensibly, into his fawn-coloured boots.

Even with the hood of his windbreaker pulled low over his brow, you can pick him out of a crowd with an ease that is as warming as it is jarring.

You wave him over when he stops on the mouth of Mount Street, looking in toward the Starbucks on the corner.

He finds you just as easily. And oh, his expression makes your toes curl in your misshapen boots.

Anger pinches the corner of his mouth, and hangs off the furrow of his brow, the divot between his eyes.

"Unbelievable," he huffs when he reaches you in the middle of the street, and sucks his teeth when you open your mouth to protest.

"It is what it is," you offer, playing the peacekeeper. You fall into step with him, trying not to wince. "I'm over it."

"Yeah?" The shadows across his brow deepen. "Are you sure? 'Cause… I'll fuck him up for you."

Setting your friend on a man from Kent feels entirely too vindictive, despite how much of a rush you get at the thought of seeing the man cowed a little bit. You shake your head, playing the part of a reasonable adult.

"It's okay. I'm just—I'm just, over this, yeah? Can we—"

Kyle stops you with his hand against your shoulder. "You alright?"

"My feet hurt," your smile is strained. "Terrible shoes."

"Take 'em off."

"Are you crazy—?"

"I brought slides for you. Figured you'd wear something stupid."

"Okay, fair. But—ouch? We can't all be crazy good-looking Armani models. Some of us have to work for it."

Kyle snorts. "Just take your shoes off, yeah? Throw 'em in my bag."

You can't deny it feels blissful when you lean against the slick wall outside of a shop, toeing off your tight boots. Aching feet freed from their prison. The sigh you let out makes him glance up at you from the pavement, bent over the rucksack he brought.

There's disapproval in his gaze—maybe at your choice. Choices. The date he warned you about. The boots. The socks he spots are stained with blood on the knob of your foot.

He tuts. A soft admonishment that cuts through the silence of the empty square. But it's all he says. He swallows the rest and drops the shoes he grabbed on the pavement in front of you, slowly pushing them forward with the tip of his toe.

You try not to grin when you see them.

Crocs. The ugliest ones you could find in Schuh. You'd bullied him into getting a matching pair with you. Neon yellow adorned with little clips.

You slip them on as Kyle reaches down to grab your boots. He pauses with them in his hand, eying them with something that taints the air with his disdain.

"When did you buy these?"

"On Friday." When he was sleeping off his impromptu trip to Chicago. He brought you home deep-dish pizza, frozen, and promised that it tasted much better fresh. "For the date."

"Why?" Is all he asks.

You shrug. "They're cute…?"

His eyes stray to your shoulders. The wet fabric of your shirt. His chin lowers slightly, but his eyes stay fixed on your flesh, on the goosebumps that bubble to the surface, spreading over your exposed skin. Eyes flicker, catching a droplet of water you can feel running down from behind your ear, falling over the slope of your neck. It breaks against your collarbone. He watches it all.

There's tension in the air. Static. The pressure builds and reeks of ozone when it presses into you, knuckles digging into the hollow of your throat. It renders you unable to speak—locked in a paradigm where the world beyond the honeycomb of his eyes ceases to matter, to exist almost. Thick honey ensnares you. Molasses. It clots against reason, logic, and makes you feel weightless. Floating, unmoored, in this unfamiliar abyss that closes in around you.

Except—

It isn’t.

There’s something aberrant about it, anomalous, that you can’t ignore; but beneath it sits a preternatural sense of familiarity that bends the paradox into knowns. Into tangibles. Concretes.

This is the same tension that has been simmering—festering, almost—since before he joined the miliary. In Cardiff when he leaned against you in the taxi, boney shoulder digging into your arm, and said, ‘dunno what I'd do without you, y’know?

It was the hazy smear of neon from the shops perched on the street. An ethereal gold hue streamed in from the window, cutting across the tenebrous in an asymmetrical chiaroscuro. The light was soaked up by him. Warm honey, the perfect compliment to his eyes, to the soft pink of his lips.

How could you possibly describe the feeling that spumes in the pit of your stomach outside of undiluted comfort?

Home.

It feels like like in shades; muted. A soft undercurrent that lingers inside something else, something deeper—

Moments in the foyer when he was heading back home for the evening. When he’d linger in the doorway, shoulder balanced against the frame, arms folded over his chest, and warned you not to watch Taskmaster without him.

He’d know, he said.

When you asked how, he just said:

“Because I know you.”

It feels like that. Like that and something more. Everything, all of it, coalesces into this. Into this moment where you can’t stop staring into the flecks of mahogany and charred birchwood in his eyes, and he can’t seem to decide where to keep his, vacillating between the slope of your neck and matching your stare. A lurch, a flash of something in your chest when your gazes meet. The deep sfumato of a bare forest in the middle of winter—rich browns, raw topaz, honey and amber in a sea of white. A sleepy hinterland. Solemnent and peaceful. Dreamy. Hypnogogic.

The world always seems to shudder into a deep slumber whenever he’s around.

He dips closer, swaying into you. Gravity, maybe. Tidally locked satellites on the same rung. Something bubbles in your chest. Unwinds from its dormant perch between the gaps in your ribs, and climbs up your esophagus. Ready, you think, to be free—

In the distance, tyres squeal against the pavement.

—and all at once, the moment burst, breaks. Shatters into a million pieces, cosmic dust, and you watch them fall around you, blinking rapidly, as though you’ve just woken.

It feels like slowly coming down to earth when you quietly gather your things, words now stuck in your throat. In their prison.

Kyle tears his gaze away from your bare skin, clearing his throat.

"Hardly." He murmurs after a moment and slips his jacket off his shoulders before wrapping it around yours. It smells of rainwater, wet rubber. Beneath the polymer, you can smell Kyle—vetiver, cypress, jasmine; sweet and heady—and you bury your nose in the hood when he turns back to the empty street. “Well, uh—”

You can’t speak. Not yet.

He seems to understand.

"Yeah," he nods, and reaches out, tugging on the end of the drawstring. "Let's get out of here."

The rain lightens into a muted drizzle, soft droplets that fall, almost rhythmless, on the wet pavement. The town sleeps, the streets bare. Empty. The only sounds come from your slick footfalls, a horn in the distance.

It’s an easy silence that lapses between you—not at all unlike the lulls before, when things were easy and featherlight and endless; when you could talk to him about everything, anything, and all of the worries in your life were saved for something else. Never him. Never, ever him.

But it tugs at something in your chest. The same pressure blooms at the edges, lingering in the periphery. You think of the spell you fell under—quiet yearning—and shake your head, desperate now to break it.

It’s just as easy to slip into familiarity. To tease, and taunt. And so, you do.

"I'm surprised you haven't said I told you so by now. That's so impressive self-restraint."

His gaze slides over to you. "Well, you know, it's implied."

"Oh, is it, now?"

"Yeah, like when you messaged me and told me about it and I said—"

"Who even uses Tinder?"

"—that he's knobhead, and you're gonna get hurt."

You scoff. "He's from Kent, so."

"Even worse," he makes a face, derision contrasted by the jaundiced lamp spilling over the pavement. "A Tinder date with a guy from Kent? What's next? Moving to Bristol?"

"It's a nice area."

He rolls his eyes. "Sure. As nice as Essex, maybe."

"The two are not even comparable—"

"'Dunno why you're rushing into anything, anyway,” he angles his chin toward you. “If this is about Carver's wedding, I said I'd go with you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but…"

"But what?"

"That's sort of—like, you just have your own thing going on. I don't want to get in the way."

"I've always had my own thing going on. So have you. But that's never stopped us before, has it? What's changed."

"What about—" you swallow down something thick, bitter that wells in the back of your throat. "You know. Amsterdam. The Barista, or whatever."

His brow knots together. "And what about David from Kent?"

You sweep your hands out, motioning morosely toward your Crocs, your damp outfit. "This is what happened with David from Kent. Not exactly the fairytale meet cute you have with Amsterdam—" he makes a noise, like he means to interrupt. You cut him off. Bury it. "And besides, you should take her. I'll just—"

"I want to go with you."

"Why?"

Kyle falls to a stop near the Kebab shop you usually go to whenever he comes back from his missions, when he's craving good, hearty food that will rot his insides and clog his arteries. A small comfort from before, when everything he has now was just a dream, and you were struggling students in university who could barely afford a meal each and would split a lamb dinner over ale and terrible movies from the noughties back at your flat.

The suddenness of it all makes you blink beside him, slowly angling your chin up at him. A questioning noise wells in the back of your throat, but when you finally turn your gaze to him, it does out. A snuffed flame.

He brings his hand up, finger scratching at the soft patch of skin on the bridge of his nose where it starts to arch up. The look on his face, hidden, slightly, by the night blanketing overhead, but just illuminated enough by smears of neon and flushed street lamps for you to see it clove into something slightly flustered, hesitant. Sheepish, almost, like he hadn't meant to say what he did, and now doesn't know how to proceed forward. Cards tucked tight to his chest. Does he play his hand or fold?

You blink. Then blink again. Struggling, almost, to take in the suddenness of his flustered state.

Because the thing is:

Kyle doesn't get embarrassed or sheepish.

A running gag in your mutual friend group is that Kyle is twenty-eight going on sixty-five. An old man crammed inside the body of a young adult. He runs hot—passionate about his beliefs, quick to temper when he thinks an injustice is being doled out; a disciple of loose stoicism, but of a new age variety that is half parts stereotypical stoner chillness and ripe maturity—but he rarely is ever caught unawares enough to become embarrassed by something. He just has a perfect gauge of himself and those around him, able to quickly make friends with anybody he meets, and self-aware enough to know when he's in the wrong, when he needs to dial it back.

Being his friend for so long, you know the nuance of these expressions. His mien is ingrained in your head: known and catalogued. Nothing about Kyle is a mystery to you except the things you're barred from knowing (his second life away from home, you often joke: wholly confidential, entirety draped in secrecy).

But the look on his face is entirely alien to you. An expression you hadn't thought him capable of making.

It's jarring. It bludgeons into you with a ferocity that takes your breath away.

You know the man standing beside you, but this, everything else, is so unearthly. So foreign.

"Kyle," you hedge, taking a small step closer to him. You're not sure why. Maybe to reacquaint yourself with the man standing before you. Maybe to find something of familiarity within him to comfort the sudden crescendo of your pounding heart because even just the heady scent of his cologne—vetiver, amber—quells the sudden bloom of anxiety in the pit of your stomach. "Are you—?"

"No," he mumbles, then huffs out a soft laugh. It sounds mean, in a self-deprecating way, and your heart lurches for him. "Yeah, no. I'm alright. I just—shit, you know? 'Course I'd wanna go with you. Should be kinda obvious, no?"

Sure, you want to say. Sure, no, totally. Very obvious. And maybe had he not stopped, not made this peculiar expression on his face—like he isn't sure what to do when he always knows what he wants, what he's meant to do—you might have said them. Might let them tumble from your lips, equally self-deprecating and a touch forlorn despite never really knowing why, but that would be a lie, now.

Because you do.

The look on his face is upsetting—not because Kyle never makes that expression, or because he's never uncertain about anything, ever, but because you don't know it. It's not something you've ever seen before. And it hurts.

It's stupid. This whole thing. It shouldn't make you feel some sense of loss when he does something you don't expect. He always does. It's his brand, now—jettisoning across the world to catch bad guys and slap the trite American sense of justice and liberty for all across the faces of anyone who tries to oppose it—and you're very much acclimated to this side of him, the one he hides away from you, giving nothing at all about where he's going, what he's doing, what he's done, until he's back in England, safe and sound, and texting you at six in the morning for an English spread because he missed home. And maybe, maybe he missed you, too.

Those quiet moments are tucked into a cosm where it's only you and him, and greasy food, and reruns of Golden Girls together with your feet in his lap as you sit on the chaise and pick favourites (his is, of course, Rose) until the sun goes down, and he heads home because he has a debriefing in the morning in Hereford, and you have work. It's bereft of unease, of tension. Time slips through your fingers fluidly, and you hardly notice it's been hours since he first arrived. Comfortable, wholly, in his presence and in your skin.

Soulmates, everyone used to joke. You just get each other. Near finish each other's sentences.

Except for lately, where there has been this undeniable tension simmering between the two of you—a sense of fragility that you can't comprehend.

Growing apart, you thought. And then: guess it's time to do the same.

It made sense to make the first move. To download Tinder—much to his chagrin—and start looking for your—

Your Barista from Amsterdam.

And oh.

Oh.

Maybe it's the way the street light frames the angles and plains of his face, or the shadows that run deep lines of tenebrous across the valleys in his eyes, the sharp slope of his lips, the soft pout. The inscrutable expression that rents a jagged divot between his brow, and an unsure twist of his mouth. Maybe it's everything. Nothing.

But the only thing you know right now is that you know him. Have known him. Deeply. Intimately. In a way that goes beyond the boundaries of bodies, of flesh and blood. Bones and marrow. You know his soul. His essence. The foundations of who he is cobbled together in a lonely kebab shop over cheap ale, commiserating on an endless stream of papers and assignments; the eventuality of ever after when you hand in the final one. Over beans and toast in the afternoon, a whole day spent lounging in your flat watching reruns of Golden Girls, and petty arguments over Taskmaster that always seem to go a little bit too far, and never far enough. Fights that end two days later when he shows up with Greggs and a complete box set of that show you said you wanted to watch but never had the time for. Bargain shopping in Tottenham on an early Saturday morning because there's this chair, you see, one that you saw on their Instagram page and you simply must have it.

Soft moments in between, brackets where life doesn't seem to wrap its cold hands around your throat. Time spent in each other's company just for the sake of it.

Climbing onto your roof—a thatched mess of moss and straw and broken asphalt shingles that will one day give under your weight—and watching the stars, always searching for one that rockets across the sky while he murmurs beside you, quiet in this stillness that falls like snow in the dead of night around you. A hushed whisper as he relays the places he's been—all stars, he rasps, hand brushing wide strokes across the raspberry sky, dusted with light pollution: I'll take you there one day to see. Best fucking beer I'd ever had, too, just don't tell my cousin because he thinks the shitty lager he makes for his bar is good—and you try to picture it amongst the grey clouds. A life on the opposite side of the world. Just the two of you. Always.

And that's what it's always been, hasn't it? Just you. Just him.

It's sometime past midnight on a street corner in Manchester. Your feet hurt from walking all night, and your clothes are damp from the rain that caught you off-guard. A summer downpour. It clings to your skin in a way that's both freeing and wholly uncomfortable, but you're not thinking about that. You're not thinking about anything at all, not now. Not really. There's a silence in your head as the world falls into pieces, breaking like the jaundiced light that cuts crevasses and canyons in the tenebrous that colours sharp valleys of his face. He turns, then, a gentle list of his head as he takes you in, breathes your silence and questions the wideness of your eyes, the soft parting of your lips. The movement makes the light spill over the arch of his nose, the slope of his brow. The dawning of a new day. A new world. The untouchable of the moon where no light shines now burning hot under the sun.

(And maybe you've been a little bit in love with him the whole time.)

So, you say it. You whisper all the words that bubble up, impatiently waiting between your teeth, effervescent and burning white-hot as they throw themselves over bone and flesh to be free.

Confessing goes like this:

Molten agony in your guts as the secrets you barely understand yourself dissolve into the atmosphere, spoken aloud and born on cobblestone and petrichor. Wide-eyed shock, uncertainty, as a new quiet falls over your shoulders, louder than anything you'd ever heard. Guncotton in your nose. A million detonations in your ears.

You've never much liked the silence. You break it, then, with your bare hands.

"...and that's basically it."

It isn't much. It isn't poetry. You're not even sure the words were real. A figment of your imagination, broken free because of baristas in Amsterdam and losers from Kent, abysmal dates and the unending fear of being wholly alone in a world you're not prepared for, all without the person who makes you feel a little bit better about the nothingness that permeates around you.

And sure. Sure. You don't need him. If Kyle decided never to speak to you again, you'd cry and you'd hurt, but you wouldn't be less of a person because of his absence. He doesn't complete you in the same way you've read about in thick books with strong-willed protagonists and an abundance of petty misunderstandings, but he compliments you. Elevates the good and stifles the bad. You want to experience things with him—not because there's some grand force at play, red strings knotted around your fingers that lead you back to him—but because you like his company. His thoughts. His mind. His presence. His essence fills you with joy in the same strokes it makes you want to pull your hair out sometimes. Good and bad. You want it all.

You want it. Want him.

And he—

He's taking you home a little past midnight where you'll make yourself beans and toast and maybe try and sleep, or turn on the television to watch four women you're intricately connected to eat cheesecake and solve each other's problems. He could be at his own flat right now, playing that video game he said he wanted to try when he got back, or watching that movie he was supposed to with his flatmates, his friends. He could be talking to some barista in Amsterdam.

But he isn't.

He's here with you. Still. Still.

"I just—," you say, or try to.

But the rest is a muffled gasp against soft lips when he presses his against yours, stealing the words out of your mouth.

You can feel your heart beating through your lips. Taste him on your tongue when he draws you closer, hands reaching, grasping. Pulling you into him, into his body. You fit against him, tucked safe between the parentheses of his arms. He tastes of cardamom and cornflower. Lavender notes between his molars. Hints of milk on his tongue. You drink him down and know, then, that this is what they mean they talk about love being a feast because you chase this taste for the rest of your life and never be satiated.

He loops his arm around the small of your back, dragging you closer still. As if any atom between your bodies is an affront. There’s no hesitation in the action, in the way he burrows into your skin. No trepidation.

And maybe it would be silly for there to be any. You know him—every iota, every inch; secrets whispered at midnight in a shallow breath and dreams uttered at noon. To be known, to know, is a powerful thing. You feel it ghost across your flesh, featherlight, and reach for it with your bare hands. Seeking, searching. You don’t stop until the tips of your fingers meet his warm skin, curling around him. Anchoring yourself to him. Stuck, now, in permanence.

You find spots that were untouched before. Behind his ears, the dip of his brow, the curve of his nose, and the slope of his jaw. Cupping it in the palm of your hand, a plinth for him to rest his chin.

Your canvassing makes him groan, makes him tilt down into you as he begins his own exploration, chasing you in a mad pursuit. Sliding over your valleys, your plains. Running over the rugged mountains and the steep cliffs. He scours your topography with eager, nimble fingers. It’s slow, languid. There’s no rush with this, a consensus you both seem to come to rather quickly when he pries open your mouth and tangles his tongue with yours. It’s sweet, soft. His hands mimic his chase, sliding along your body as if he means to commit the entirety of you to memory, searing it in his brain.

It’s only when he comes to a crossroads at your navel, pushed flush against his body, does he stop. You moan in despair at it, wanting more and more, not ready to give up this taste that curls over your tongue—saccharine sweet, salty—and Kyle echoes the noise with a groan, a quiet plea for air that both of you desperately need but can’t quite make yourself take.

“Fuck—” he groans again, breath stuttering out in sharp, deep gasps. “Can’t bloody tell you how long I wanted to do this for, fuck—”

His words seem to peel back the dreamy gossamer of a slowly burning sensuality. It ignites in a blaze, not at all unlike the swiftness of his anger. The sharp, sudden strike of a match. The crackle and hiss of flames renting the air.

The blaze starts at the point where your upper lip touches his, and almost immediately, it consumes you.

It's frenzied when he kisses you again—feral and wild: all teeth and tongue and nips against your bottom lip but the moment you sink into the fervour, Kyle changes it. Slows down. Chaste pecks to your sore lips amid a sensual onslaught. A languid roll of his tongue, soothing the burn his teeth left behind.

The way he kisses you feels like a paradox.

It's organised chaos. Refined madness. A cluttered mess of finesse and deliberate suckles; an artist's masterstroke.

You can't keep up. His rhythm is fierce and uncatchable.

Each step seems to stutter. An avartan you can’t keep pace with. Elongated taals, dips. A crescendo of harmony that is matchless, unreproducible. You struggle along with his swift current, his unerring tide that sweeps you away; unmoored, adrift. The tentative exploration ends. He knows you, now. All of you. And this is his summit. His scramble to the top. It’s biting passion; roaring flames.

You cling to him, holding tight to the liferaft he offers in a slow huff, a gust of mirth across your lips and into your lungs, slowing down to accommodate you. Malleable, now, he lets you lead, lets you take over, and move seamlessly with him. In tandem, parallel. Equilibrium brings you to heel, and you sigh into his mouth—a deep exhale of everything that has been building and building, tipping the scales around you until it was unbalanced and precarious. Teetering on the edge a precipice unknown.

His hand roams across your known geography—hills and streams, rivers and canyons—until he reaches your hand still bracketed around his cheeks, slowly peeling it away from his flesh to slide his fingers between yours, holding tight, and—

Kissing is immaculate. Bending at an altar, and making an offering to something bigger than yourself. It’s the spark of lightning flashing overhead, static in the air. Magnets drawing closer and closer until they snap together in the middle.

But holding his hand?

It feels like coming home.

The world tipping back into place. Amber warmth in your veins; the softness of a jasmine petal. You suck in a deep breath at the shock of it all.

You think of missing puzzles and loose sea ice drifting alone in the vastitude of the ocean. You think of a life where he isn’t in it and find yourself shuddering at the wrongness that emanates from it.

You want him. Want him—

It’s Kyle who pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours. You blink slowly, eyes catching dark amber, honeycomb. It draws a smile from you, full and deep. Giddy on the taste of him, of this.

The only thought in your head is finally, finally.

You see his lips curl in response, eyes lidded and heavy. Blooming with want, affection. Adoration.

"What, ah—," he laughs a little, then, breathless and happy, and the noise anchors itself to your breastbone, pressing into the hollow of your ribs. A place you'll keep it forever. "What now?"

He hands you the starless sky, and places it into the cup of your palm. Breathes laughter in the air, paints the moon with his joy. You think about the places he wants to take you, and the ones he swears you'll never go. You think about aeons from now when the world is gone and the stars all die out, when there's just the hazy lavender of endless abyss you can't make sense of. You think of him, and you think of you, and you wonder when it started to just make sense for there to always be two.

Maybe that night in Cardiff when he held your shoes and gave you his coat. When he draped his arm around your shoulders, laughing at something stupid you'd said. A year before he joined this task force he makes cheeky remarks about but never goes too deeply into detail. When it was just endless summers spent working and drinking and eating good food.

He'd asked the same thing, then, half slumped over in the taxi, and three sheets to the wind. It made his eyes darken, endless pits. Black holes. The expanse of the sky is framed by brown lashes, and drooping lids.

And you'd said—

"Beans and toast?" It feels right. It feels good. "We can—"

He huffed, too, just like he does now, and squeezes your hand once, tugging you along.

"We're not watching Golden Girls."

You watch Golden Girls. Kyle wraps his arm around your neck, keeps you tucked in close to his side. He steals kisses from you when Sophia says something that makes you laugh until you're breathless and trembling.

When David from Kent texts you, he grins wide, and whispers in your ear, think I've always been a little bit in love with you, you know?

Yeah, you say, and kiss back until the taste of him is etched into the space between your teeth. Since Cardiff. For you?

"Since Uni for sure." He smiles again, sheepish and a touch flustered. It glitters on his brow and nips the apples of his cheeks. "You stole my heart when you devoured four lamb kebabs and then ate my tabbouleh. Said to myself, yeah, that's the one for me, innit?"

"On second thought, what's that Barista's number? Might try my luck instead."

"Nah, you're smitten," he presses his lips into the hollow of your throat, nips his teeth against your pulse point. "And you're all mine. No take backs."

"Ah, for fuck's sake—"

Ahhhhhhhh. Sappy romcoms are my kryptonite and it shows.

COD MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #cod gaz x reader #cod mw2 fanfic #ehhhhhh #these are my sloppiest tags #i didn't feel like making a gif so i threw this together real quick #will fix in the am #when my eyes aren't on fire

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thelargefrye · 2 months

Text

February Filth Fest : DAY TWENTY-FIVE : FREE USE ... mature one - shot

pairing : boyfriend!seonghwa x girlfriend!f!reader x san

genre : smut, idol au, established relationship au

word count : 1.2k

smut warnings : language, tit fucking, cuckold (san basically cuckold seonghwa), free use, light cum play

honorary suffer tag : @sanjoongie

seonghwa and you are exploring new parts of your bedroom experience, but it just so happens that it involves his bandmates also getting in on the experience.

DAY TWENTY-FOUR ↤ UNDER THE COMFORTER ↦ DAY TWENTY-SIX

when you arrived at seonghwa's dorm, you originally expected to just hangout. it had been a while since you saw your boyfriend and so really all you wanted to do was cuddle and maybe watch a movie or him play animal crossing.

and that's originally how it started. you lay in seonghwa's bed with him, the two of you cuddled up and his comforter pulled over the two of you to keep each other warm. a movie playing on his tv and the lights dimmed just enough to want to lull you to sleep. it was quiet and peaceful, until san walked in.

the younger of the two males opened the door, walking in like this was his bedroom and not seonghwa's. seonghwa attempted to greet san, but the younger completely ignored him. instead he focused on you instead. crawling onto the bed and obscuring your view of the movie you and seonghwa had been watching.

"what sannie–

san cuts you off, his lips smashing against yours as he rips the comforter off your body and throws it onto seonghwa's. san doesn't say anything, but instead opts to shove his tongue down your throat and swallow any moans that leave your mouth. his hands wander your body, snaking underneath your clothes and groping your breast over your bralette you had worn.

when san pulls away from the kiss, he makes sure to tug on your bottom lip, pulling it out before letting it go. you can't help but let out a small laugh at the action while san trails his lips down your skin. he pushes your shirt up past your chest before pulling your bralette down, allowing for your breast to be on full display to both him and seonghwa.

"i think san missed you," seonghwa teases as he moves from his bed to his chair in order to give san more room.

"i think he's just horny is all," you say back, making seonghwa laugh before his eyes are going to watch as the younger idol begins to suck on your breast as he starts to grind against your clothed core. you let out little whimpers as the material of your panties rub against your clit, giving friction along with san's tongue fondle your nipple.

you run a hand through san's hair, lightly tugging on it before your eyes are flickering back over to your boyfriend who is palming himself over his sweats. you notice a light blush dusting his cheeks as he watches san continues to touch you.

after a few more moments, san is pulling away from your breast and sitting up, straddling your hips. his hands come up to once again to grope and squeeze your breast, "fuck look at how pretty they are," he says more to himself as he grinds down against you.

you watch as san then takes his sweats and underwear off, letting them drop to the floor before he's getting back on the bed and pulling your shirt and bralette off with ease. he drops them with his own clothes before he's pumping his cock as he moves up your body.

"i still can't believe hyung is willing to just let us fuck you like your our personal cock slut. still blows my mind," san says as he takes both your breasts and pushes them together. "i can use you however i want, i don't even have to fuck your pussy, but your breast instead."

you couldn't help but moan at his words, rubbing your thighs and clenching around nothing at the thought of san only using your breast to get off. its something that has plagued your mind a few times in the past and something you've managed to get seonghwa to do a few times. so you're quick to push your breast together yourself, your hands replacing san's and it makes the idol laugh before he guides his cock push between you.

"f-fuck, feels just like i thought it would," he mumbles to himself, but the praise still inflates your ego. san then begins to thrust his cock between your boobs, his tip poking out from the top of your boobs with pre-cum just beginning to form at the slit. you stick your tongue out, allowing the head of his cock to brush against your pink muscle and it causes san to let out a groan while throwing his head back.

"you really got yourself a keeper, seonghwa," san says, eying your boyfriend who for a moment you forgot was there watching you.

"you're just saying that because she keeps your dick wet, sannie," seonghwa says and you watch san bite his lip, hands coming to rest on the bed's headboard as he looks down at you.

san continues to thrust in-between your breast. pre-cum coming out of his tip and whatever doesn't make it onto your tongue, lands on your boobs. its really a sight in san's eyes that he doesn't mind capturing forever. the image of his cum on you, like his own way of temporarily claiming you as his own.

claiming you as his own. the thought echoes through his mind as he speeds his thrust up, eyes never looking away from you and the different parts of you that are in his vision. your breast bouncing with each of his thrust despite being pushed together, tongue out and welcoming the tip of his cock, as if you would be ready to take his whole cock in your mouth at any moment. just for him.

your heart may belong to seonghwa, and after san is done you may go back to cuddling with seonghwa. but right now, in this moment, you were san's.

"fuck," san curses under his breath, his thrust beginning to become sloppy and he can feel himself growing closer to his climax. "i'm– i'm close," he says and you encourage him to finish, to come and shoot his seed into your mouth.

when he finally does come, his seed shoots out and while some of it does make it onto your tongue, it also lands on other parts of you. covering you in his seed, you let go of your breast in order to instead stroke san to full completion.

san doesn't say anything, instead breathing heavily as he looks at you before he's climbing off the bed. he picks his underwear and sweatpants off the floor before pulling them back on. he watches seonghwa get up off his chair, wet wipe in hand as he wipes off any of his cum that didn't land in your mouth.

san notices you get shy when seonghwa presses a kiss to your cheek and he has to stop himself from cooing over how cute you both are.

"sannie, do you want to watch a movie with us?" seonghwa asks but san stretches his arm, rolling his shoulders before he answers.

"nah, i'm gonna go lay down, night," he says before walking out of seonghwa's room and into his own.

when san gets to his room, he can't help but flop down onto his bed, grabbing his pillow and holding it close to his chest. yep, at the end of the day you will always belong to seonghwa and not him or any of the other members.

tag list : @watamotee33 @kawennote09 @mixling-blog @marahleiwhen @kpopnightingale @harry-the-pottypus @pyeonghongrie @sanniesbum @marvelahsobx @khjcoo @mysticfire0435 @exfolitae @dementedaly @simeonswhore @moonm1st @nvmbheart @spooo00oky @frgogh @sookacc @seongwin @burnsmepls @ad0rechuu @tunaasan @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @cheesekimchi @confusedmoonchild777 @mjyungi @innieontop @iweirdthingsblog @s0obinluvr @worcesheshestershiresauce @moonlightgrleric @wineyoungie @jeongwangjessmina @lemineso @darlingz99 @soobiverse @bratty-tingz

networks : @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet

#lost paradise : fff.#joongfryefff24 #cultofdionysusnet #cromernet #kdiarynet #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez blurbs #poly ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez seonghwa smut #ateez yunho smut #ateez wooyoung smut #ateez werewolf au

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so-boredtoday · 11 months

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The Scent

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: You've been transferred back to the general work zone without explanation after spending a couple of months working with Miguel. You decide to confront him about it but reason for your transfer is not what you expected.

Word count: 4K

Rated: M / NSFW

Tags/warnings: Mating cycles/In Heat, Biting, Scent kink, Knoting, Fluff, Smut, Oral sex, She/Her pronouns, Breeding talk, No beta reader we die as a cowards, Vaginal sex, Pet name, this is not good don’t let the tags fool you, Spanish.

Author notes: So here it’s the first one… I loved Miguel so much and the Oscar Isaac voice is a turn on to me so here we goo!

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

The following week marked the two-year anniversary of your arrival to the Spider Society. Jessica had invited you to join after you helped her deal with an anomaly in your universe. At the beginning you had individual tasks of little importance until your first team mission arrived. You had been assigned to Miguel's group for the first time, he didn't seem to care about anyone in his group, after a couple of missions you were able to start adapting to his rhythm, avoiding getting in his way and tying up loose ends when he needed it.

He liked working with you: You were efficient, something he liked very much and you were not intrusive which he liked even more, you did your solo missions on time and covered him perfectly in battle. You also brought him lunch without interrupting him and made his coffee just the way he liked without having to tell you how.

You did the reports better than anyone else and always had the answers he needed. Plus you are very good at talking to people, could see how you were genuinely interested in what others had to say. You were able to talk to him... which was not an easy task, at first you talked about casual things like Lyla's updates or Hobbie's disasters but soon you started talking about more important things such as the multiverse or even his family.

He had moved your desk into his office a couple of months ago, with the excuse that it would make the work more efficient. But the real reason was that he could see you from there even when you didn't realize it.

Jess started teasing him about how much he liked you but he would always deny it and end up grumpy. He didn't like you...he just thought it was nice how you smiled when something went right or how your hair fell a little messy over your face...well maybe he liked how you smelled… like black cherry and vanilla it was a pleasant smell that he began to get used to. Sometimes his office smelled like you when he arrived in the mornings which made him smile as he started with the day's activities, however right now your sweet smell had started to become a problem.

A couple of weeks ago something started to change in him. He could smell you even before you came into the quarters and being there next to you had become a living hell, your essence was affecting him in unexpected ways.

With you in his office every time you moved a burst of vanilla flooded the room, like when you stretched to straighten up or when you untied your hair it was totally intoxicating.

He felt the need to hold you in his arms and kiss you, just imagining it made his cock twitch inside his suit and it was getting annoying. He knew his rut was close but there were too many things to do in the GQ so he decided - for his own sake and especially yours - to return your desk to its original place.

It had been a couple of weeks of you working in your old space wondering what had happened. In addition to sending you as far away as he could, Miguel had been completely ignoring you and put you to Peter B's mission group. Something was wrong and you needed to find out.

You walked to his office to discuss but Lyla informed you that he was sick so he had taken a couple of days at home. Concerned, you decided to go to his house with a bowl of hot soup with the intention of helping him to get better, but above all to get some answers.

Lyla would help you to remotely open the door for you, the house was beautiful, with an exquisite Scandinavian style but with more earthy tones and small decorative accents of Mexican craftsmanship. Everything seemed to be in its place and there was no trace of dust anywhere. You left the soup on the open kitchen counter to check if he was okay but heard a noise in what seemed like the master bedroom, you approached and heard his voice through the door.

"Mieerda... I can even smell her in here" A knocking noise alarmed you a little and you opened the door cautiously. A book flew next to your head; the room was a mess with pillows torn, sheets disheveled and many items lying on the floor.

"Miguel, are you okay?" you asked as you walked in, his eyes looked confused to see you there "I came to drop off some soup for you...Lyla said you were sick and I was worried tha..."

"Get out of here." he said bluntly as he sat on the edge of the bed to turn his back on you, you walked to where he was “Que te vayas carajo”.

"No" you replied "You've been ignoring me all this time... you even took me back to the main work room... what's wrong Miguel? Did I do something to upset you? If so I didn't mean to, I apologize if..." He made a grunt interrupting you

"You didn't do anything wrong... It's my business go away please" He said with clenched teeth. You ignored his words and moved closer to face him. He looked feverish and he was sweating.

"Miguel you don't look good at all" You said ignoring his words putting your hand on his face.

When you reached his chest, Miguel gave a soft growl in response. His muscles were tense beneath your touch, and you could feel his heartbeat pounding against your hand. Despite this, he still wasn't saying anything.

"You have a fever Miguel, you need some medicine" You told him as you sat down next to him. He started to stand up to walk away "Let me take care of you Miguel" You told him by taking his hand. Miguel's eyes got a little darker, there was something in the air that felt heavy "Please".

As you spoke, Miguel let out another low groan from deep within himself. For some reason, hearing those words coming from you made him feel more at ease than before. He looked up at you, his eyes full of emotion. "I’m sorry," he said quietly. "But you can’t help me”

"I can't do it if you don't tell me what's wrong, trust me Miguel... I just want to help you" I said looking at him with genuine concern.

Miguel hesitated for a moment, but then nodded slowly. Taking a deep breath, he finally opened up about his situation. "I've been feeling these… urges lately they have become so intense that they won’t let me work." he admitted, looking away slightly.

“Urges?” You said confused. “What kind of urges?”

Miguel took a deep breath, hesitating for a few moments before speaking again. "Sexual urges… It comes with powers. I have them from time to time…" he paused before continuing “I had always been able to control them but… They get worse when you're around... your scent… It makes them worse” he confessed in a quiet voice.

"Oh..." You blushed at his confession. "I didn't know sorry… I was so worried… I thought I had offended you in some way " You replied "Or that I had inadvertently jeopardized a mission and I made you angry without realizing it" you continued relieved "I’m sorry Miguel” You told him sincerely “…But don't worry you just need a little help and you'll be fine"

Miguel's face softened as he heard your words. His eyes were still wary though, like he was waiting for something else. "Y-you are going to help me?" he asked softly, sounding hopeful.

"In any way I can" You said to him as you approached him again "Tell me how I can help you Miguel..."

Miguel looked at you with surprise, unsure if he should trust you or not. After a moment of hesitation, he spoke quietly "Pero Cariño… I don’t want to hurt you"

"What could be so bad that would hurt me Miguel?" You asked looking at him tenderly

Miguel nodded slowly, looking relieved. He seemed hesitant but determined too. As you leaned closer, he whispered "I want to bite you..."

"Then do it..." You told him as you moved even closer… Vainilla y cereza negra he thought as he closed his eyes, your scent flooded the room and then without a hesitation you kissed him.

As soon as you kissed him, Miguel let out an animalistic growl in response. You could feel his sharp teeth pressing against your lips, before he started to kiss back passionately. Soon enough, his hands moved up from your waist to grip onto your neck tightly, pulling you closer to him.

“Miguel…” you say with a sight

Miguel responded by deepening the kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of yours. His hand slid down your body until it reached between your legs, gently caressing your inner thighs. With each passing second, his desire grew stronger, making him more desperate to possess you completely.

Miguel's hand moved up to remove your jeans. Each movement was accompanied by a soft moan from you, heightening the intensity of the moment. "I want you," he whispered huskily, his breath hot on your skin “I have wanted you for months”

"Take me then" You said looking him in the eyes.

Miguel smiled devilishly before leaning in closer to capture your lips once again. His hands roamed freely across your body as he explored every inch of it, leaving trails of fire wherever they touched. You moaned softly as he pressed harder against you, letting out a growl of desire.

You heard the sound of the fabric of your panties tearing “Miguel… oh my god… they were brand new” You told him in a tone of mock indignation as he carelessly removed your button-down shirt and unclasp your bra to throw it away.

With a wicked grin, Miguel pulled away slightly to admire your exposed curves. Taking in each detail with his eyes, he then leaned forward to claim your mouth once more. As he kissed you deeply, he ground his hips against yours, sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Yes… I’m going to prepare you Cariñito”

You blushed when you heard the pet name again. His hands moved slowly across your body, exploring every inch of you with his fingertips. When he finally stopped on your pussy and then on your clit, he began to massage gently, sending shivers through your spine. "Are you already wet for me Preciosa?" he asked huskily.

As Miguel's fingers moved down faster and faster, your breathing grew heavier and deeper. His lips traveled lower, leaving trails of fire wherever they went. When he finally reached your most sensitive spot "I've wanted to taste you ever since I first smelled you...so sweet." The sensation was overwhelming, he started to lick your entrance and you closed your eyes while he made circular movements over your clit. It was overwhelming you tried to close your legs but he stopped them to continue devouring you, at some point your hands were on his head grabbing his hair as you began to tremble and a feeling of pleasure formed in your lower stomach it didn't last long before you were left trembling from the intensity of your orgasm.

You looked at Miguel, panting heavily. With a satisfied smirk on his face, he pulled you close and kissed you deeply, savoring the taste of your passion. “Are you ready to take me now Cariño?" he asked.

The interior of your thighs was all wet and your chest was rising and falling rapidly as you gasped for breath “Miguel…” You said almost inaudibly “Please… I need you…”

His eyes darkened as he heard your plea, and he knew exactly what you needed. Without another word, he take you and lay you face down on the bed and lift your hips positioned himself behind you. Taking hold of your hips, he pushed himself inside you in one swift motion. "Ohhh...yes..."

Your face sank into the mattress, silencing a little the scream of pleasure when you felt him deep inside you "My God... Miguel" You moan

As he continued thrusting deeply within you, Miguel let out a low growl that was part pleasure and part dominance. With each powerful movement, he reached deeper and deeper until he couldn't contain the need any longer. "So pretty like this… and just for me… you want me to fuck you harder right Cariño" he said between breaths.

Tears of pleasure streamed from your eyes and as you felt it deep inside, the angle made each thrust touch that soft spot "Yes..." You said in a whisper.

He responded by increasing his pace, pushing himself harder against you with every stroke. His breathing became ragged and his grip tightened around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Yes… just like that preciosa, cum for me” he murmured softly.

"I’m close…" You moaned, my hands gripped the sheet as you felt him moving inside of you, his hands tightened on your hips as your walls began to contract in their length and your legs trembled trying to hold up.

With each wave of pleasure that washed through you, Miguel grunted in satisfaction and increased his speed. As your orgasm subsided, he slowed down slightly but kept moving inside of you gently, savoring the feeling of being close to you. "That's right, babe, feel it," His knot was forming inside you

As Miguel continued thrusting slowly and steadily, you felt his body trembling from within. With each movement, he seemed to be getting closer and closer to release. His knot was big inside and you could hear the soft sounds of skin slapping together echoing throughout the room, creating an intense rhythm between the two of you. "Take it… take it all of it”

His breathing was heavy and his grip on your hips tightened leaving a red mark. Suddenly, without warning, he let out a loud moan and released himself inside of you, filling you up completely.

As you lay there feeling satisfied by the sensation of being filled up by Miguel's seed. Miguel wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you close to him as he nuzzled against your neck softly. “I need to bite you honey”

You shivered when he put his mouth in the back of your neck and began to give small wet kisses.

As Miguel kissed your neck, you shivered in anticipation, enjoying the warmth of his breath and the gentle touch of his lips. You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the moment, until suddenly, you heard a low growl coming from behind you.

Miguel slowly turned you around, you looked at him revealing that his fangs were now fully extended. His gaze was intense, and his breathing was heavy as he stared at you hungrily. "Don't move," he said in a low voice, before moving closer towards you. A feeling of dread settled in your chest and you closed my eyes in anticipation "Is it going to hurt?" You asked.

Miguel chuckled darkly, but there was no trace of humor or kindness in it. Instead, there was only an animalistic hunger mixed with lustful desire. Without warning, he grabbed hold of your waist firmly and pulled you close, pressing his body against yours. His hot breath brushed against your ear as he whispered. "Yes, it will hurt... but I promise it won't be too bad just stay still”

You let out a sigh with your eyes closed feeling his hot breath on your neck and suddenly a sensation of sharp pain flooded you as he began to bite you.

As Miguel bit harder, you let out a sharp gasp from the pain. You couldn't believe how strong he was, yet also gentle enough not to cause any more harm than necessary. Despite this, the sensation of being bitten made you feel like prey instead of a human.

Miguel's hand went down until it reached your pussy and to make circular movements on your clit. The sensation of pleasure that started to build up inside of you quickly overwhelmed your senses. Your breathing was heavier and faster as you began to moan softly in response to Miguel's hands. Soon, you were lost in a world of pure bliss, unable to think or control yourself completely.

"Vamos cariño, cum for me," Miguel said with difficulty with his fangs still in your skin. As you came closer to orgasm again, Miguel increased the intensity of his movements until finally, you reached your climax once more.

For a moment you forgot that his teeth were still on your neck until he let go. His teeth marks left behind a trail of red lines across your skin, but it didn't hurt anymore thanks to the numbing effect of his venom.

You were breathing heavily as he caressed you tenderly, helped you into his arms and then put his chin on your head. You closed your eyes for a moment as your breathing returned to normal "Are you okay?" He asked you softly

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine" You told him as you smiled, you turned to look at him, his hair was messy and his lips were a little swollen. "How are you Miguel?... I was able to help you?" You said whispering in his ear, he let out a small laugh. No one had ever seen him so relaxed, he looked you in the eyes and started to bring his face closer to yours.

His lips brushed yours for a few seconds and then he kissed you again softly, he took your face gently with his right hand and caressed your cheek. He pulled away from your face slowly to move down to your neck, he gave a couple of kisses on the bite mark and you closed your eyes at the contact "So beautiful… and just for me." He sat on the edge of the bed and carefully helped you onto his lap.

Miguel looked up at you with intense desire in his eyes as you lay on top of him. You both stared deeply into each other's eyes before he leaned forward and kissed you passionately. After several minutes of rough kissing, he pulled away slightly and whispered in your ear, “Ride me Cariño”

Having control after what happened before seemed a bit surreal. You kissed him again as you guided his length to place it in your folds, he let out a grunt as you began to push him inside you "Oh Miguel… you feel so good" You said to him.

Miguel let out a low moan as you rode him, feeling completely enveloped by pleasure. As you continued moving up and down, he reached around and grabbed onto your hips tightly, pulling you closer to him. As he continued thrusting upward, " Who owns this beautiful cunt??"

“It belongs to you Miguel…” You said in a needy moan your walls began to contract as you found the right angle, your eyebrows drew together and you let out a moan. “Only to you…” Miguel responded with a growl as he increased the intensity of his thrusts, pushing himself harder and deeper helping you. You gasped in pleasure as his movements grew more powerful, sending waves of sensation through your entire body when your climax came.

Miguel's breathing became ragged as he approached his climax, gripping you tighter as he plunged deeply inside of you. His eyes closed shut tight, groaning loudly as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through his veins. His knot feels big inside you, he trusted in you a couple of times and he cums again.

You felt his hot cum inside and looked at him as he kept his eyes closed. He looked handsome with his sweaty forehead and breathing erratically, he was still inside you without moving, you could feel his seed sliding down your thighs. That’s when a thought hit you "Miguel..." You said in panic "I'm not on birth control."

Miguel opened his eyes at the sound of your voice and looked back up at you with no worries in his face. "I know," he said softly, his expression turning serious. "In fact, I was hoping for that…” You looked at at him in confusion as he moved carefully to get out of you.

Miguel smiled reassuringly at you before leaning down to kiss you gently. "Don't worry about it," he murmured against your lips. "I'm not going to lie, I was thinking about it when I knot you."

You opened your eyes in surprise. "What are you talking about Miguel..."

Miguel chuckled lightly at your surprise. He kissed you again to stop your words, he moved closer so that his body pressed against yours. His hands began exploring your curves while his tongue explored every inch of your mouth. When he finally pulled away, he looked deeply into your eyes and spoke quietly. "Well, let's just say I like the idea of it," he whispered kindly. You shivered slightly from his words, feeling both scared and excited.

He continued kissing you and caressing your skin until you relaxed, it was then he carefully placed you on the bed so that you would rest. He stood up and walked to the bathroom leaving you alone on the bed for a moment reflecting on his words. After a few minutes he came out of the bathroom with a damp towel and helped you clean your thighs, he noticed how nervous you seemed. "Is everything okay?" he asked softly, kneeling beside you on the bed.

You avoided his gaze for a moment "Miguel... I don't think you're serious, are you?..." You said nervously "About the pregnancy"

Miguel looked at you thoughtfully before speaking again. "I don't want to scare you off, but... yes, I was serious about it." His voice was gentle yet confident.

You looked at him surprised, the idea of having a son with Miguel seemed crazy… you weren't even together... But that didn't stop you from fantasizing about what it would be like, the idea flitted through your mind as he caressed your legs lovingly and the more you thought about it the more it started to make sense. You guys were the best team in GQ and you spent all your time together even when you didn't have any missions. He cared about you as much as you cared about him, he knew you more than anyone and above all he understood you...

Before the rut situation and his sudden estrangement, you began to suspect that he liked you as much as you liked him. Hobbie annoys you with it all the time, Gwen encouraged you to be more flirtatious... Even Jessica hinted at how much he liked you sometimes but you were sure about Miguel’s feelings. He had never crossed the friendship line before this, that made you doubt ."Miguel…” You said with sadness in your voice “Do you really like me in that way or is this all just about your rut?" You asked

Miguel smiled gently at your question, his eyes softening with affection. "Is not about that…” He answered “I care about you… I always have," he said quietly. He said reassuringly. "I care about you deeply, more than anything else in this world. You're important to me” He paused for a moment before continuing. "I've been caring about you since the first day we met. I feel bad when you're not with me... you don't know how hard it was not being able to have you around"

Before he could continue, you kissed him with a tenderness that the two had not shared before. Miguel's face lit up with joy as he felt you kissing him like that. His heart was pounding faster now, but he managed to keep himself calm. He leaned forward slightly and brushed his lips against yours tenderly. "I love you Cariño" he whispered softly.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara fanfiction #spider man 2099 x reader

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miyukiissofine · 1 year

Text

ೃ༄✯ೃ༄ ೃ༄✯ೃ༄ ೃ༄✯ೃ༄ ೃ༄✯ೃ༄ ೃ༄✯ೃ༄ ೃ༄✯ೃ

(Keisuke Baji x female reader) Mature Content, 18+

Tags: porn with a plot, marijuana use, mentions of alcohol consumption, oral sex (male & female receiving), smut, fluff, Baji has a big dick, breast worship, slightly shy & awkward reader (she can get it though!), Baji w/tongue piercing, pet names (mostly ‘baby’), penis in vagina sex, unprotected sex, Baji is a big simp for the reader, very fluffy ending, Baji and reader are over 18

Synopsis: You recently became friends with Keisuke Baji. You're co-workers at a pet shop and UTokyo students. Now you’re finally alone with Baji for the first time at his place. Your plan is to get high and seduce him. But you're more nervous than you thought. Baji is hot - like so hot.

Word count: 4.5k

A/N: originally posted as a 3 part series on my deactivated tumblr (username Bajiisofine). This is the full version in its entirety, slightly edited.

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It’s the first day of winter break for UTokyo students. To celebrate, Keisuke Baji invited you over to the apartment he shares with his friends and co-workers, Kazutora and Chifuyu. A few weeks ago you began working part-time at Pet Shop Palme, which is how you met the trio.

You had quickly grown accustomed to the four of you going back to their apartment after work to unwind with a few beers or to smoke a bowl. However, today is the first time you've been completely alone with Baji at his place — his roommates are both out of town with their girlfriends.

You and Keisuke are sitting crossed-legged on his bedroom floor, leaning against the wall opposite his unmade bed. A large overflowing ashtray sits between you. His walls are covered in karate tournament flyers and motorcycle posters. A punk playlist plays at a low volume, providing background noise.

"There's like maybe one hit left."

Straightening out his legs, Baji gently taps your bare foot with his pinkie toe to get your attention. You’re trying not to stare at the skin peeking through the rips in his black jeans.

His honey-brown eyes are red and glassy from the weed. After taking his last hit from the pipe he passes it to you. Grasping it, you brush your fingers across his thumb ring. An electric spark jolts through you. You notice the bowl is mostly gray ash at this point but attempt to light it anyway.

“Ugh! That was gross!" You laugh, coughing as you exhale, dumping the remnants into the ashtray between you.

“I warned you,” he chuckles at the face you’re making. “So, whatcha wanna do tonight?" Baji leans his head back against the wall and raises his eyebrows expectantly. Turning to face him, you’re mesmerized by his ink-black hair cascading in soft waves down to his shoulders. Suddenly you feel very shy and break eye contact.

"Um, well… Emma texted me earlier. She said she was able to convince Mikey and Ken to agree to go to karaoke tonight," you giggle, looking down at your chipped nail polish. You met Emma and her best friend Hina at the beginning of the semester and became fast friends. Emma was the one who told you about the job opening at the pet store.

"Pfft," Keisuke laughs, "I would definitely pay good money to see that." He pushes the ashtray away and repositions himself. Before you can raise your head to look at him, he lays his head in your lap, his long hair spilling over your thighs.

Keisuke grins, his sharp canine teeth graze his bottom lip as he reaches up to trace his knuckles along your jawline. His smile widens when your eyes meet. “Hey, pretty,” his deep voice is barely above a whisper.

You freeze, suddenly aware that your heart is beating too loudly. So loud in fact, that he must be able to hear it.

"Baji, I have to pee!" You push yourself up off the floor, trying to hide the fact that you're trembling. His head hits the ground with a hard thud.

"Ow!” Keisuke grimaces, laughing and rubbing his head.

"I'll be right back!" Rushing to his bathroom, you lock the door and look at your reflection. "Shit!"

Your innocent workplace crush on Baji has intensified over the past three weeks you've known him. Normally getting high relaxes you — that was the plan for today: smoke with Keisuke and make your move. But for some reason, his sudden flirting made you feel self-conscious and nervous.

Turning on the faucet, you splash cold water on your face and try to calm down. Glancing in the mirror, you're grateful for your waterproof mascara. After patting your face dry and trying to salvage what you can of your makeup, you text Emma and Hina in group chat to tell them what a fool you just made of yourself. Realizing you've now been in Keisuke's bathroom for over 20 minutes you sigh and flush the toilet.

"Hey! I thought you fell in!" Baji shoots you his toothy smile from a reclined position on his bed. His wavy dark hair pools over the white pillowcases like an oil spill. His sheets are surprisingly clean.

In fact, because of your nerves, that's the first thing that comes out of your mouth. "Your sheets are so clean!"

Keisuke rolls his eyes, "Thanks. I do laundry — sometimes." He laughs and extends his left arm out, making a come here motion with his hand. His silver rings catch your eye. Baji’s hands are beautiful: large and veiny with long slender fingers.

He notices you staring at his hand, “What? It's clean, stop judging me!” Keisuke feigns being offended and sticks out his tongue at you. The ball of his silver tongue ring glints in the low lighting from his bedside lamp.

You laugh and climb onto the bed next to him. But not before managing to bump your shin hard on his bed frame.

"Fuck!" You reach down instinctively and rub your shin.

"Hey, c’mere," he chuckles as he sits up to massage your leg.

"Keisuke,” you sigh. "I-I like you." You look sheepishly up into his eyes, noticing that the pupils in his amber irises have widened.

Keisuke bites his lower lip, the tips of his pointy canines peeking out. He swears no one has ever looked at him quite like the way you did just now.

Not breaking eye contact, he lays back down and pulls you towards him. “I like you too.” The sultry tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine.

Hesitating briefly, you kiss him. Tentatively, at first, shy with your affection. Baji pursues the kiss further, massaging your tongue with his. You can just barely feel his piercing, his tongue is gentle, sensual. Feeling bolder, you lick his upper lip with the tip of your tongue. He moans, teasingly biting your lower lip.

“I want you," Keisuke whispers as he moves away from your mouth to nip and kiss your jawline down your neck.

A delicious warmth spreads through your core as your body responds to his. Your skin tingles where he touches you. Reaching down between his legs, you caress the growing bulge straining against his jeans. Baji moans, reflexively thrusting his pelvis against your hand.

"I want you too," you’re practically purring. Lifting his black and gray striped shirt with one hand, you kiss his toned chest and stomach. Your other hand remains pressed against his cock, firmly stroking his erection.

You kiss your way down his happy trail, nibbling and licking it playfully. Glancing up at Keisuke, you see his eyes are closed, his head back against his pillow, clearly enjoying your attention. His blissful expression gives you the confidence to unzip his pants. Baji opens his eyes and quickly helps you pull down his pants and boxer briefs.

You move your head down to his cock, he’s huge and hard and so ready. His dick twitches with yearning, clear drops of precum beading down its engorged head.

"Hey," Keisuke's voice is thick with lust. He clears his throat and looks at you, reaching down to gently stroke your cheek, "you don't have to do anything you don't wanna.”

"I wanna," you murmur, wantonly gazing up into his eyes. You’re nearly drooling, you just want his fat dick in your mouth now.

"Thank god," Keisuke mumbles, throwing his head back, a moan escaping his lips as you grasp his long girthy cock.

Teasingly, you lick away the precum that has begun to drip down his shaft. You drag your tongue down to his balls and up again to just below the tip, coating his shaft with warm saliva.

You repeat this motion, making sure his cock is nice and wet; your mouth's lubrication pooling around the base of his balls. Finally, you reach the head and swirl your tongue over his tip. Baji moans and grabs the back of your head with one hand while bunching up his sheets with the other. He continues to rake his fingers through your hair as you take him as far as you can into your mouth, wrapping your lips around him. He’s too big to take entirely into your mouth so you grip the base of his cock with both hands.

Creating suction with your cheeks, you gently hum as you continue to swirl your tongue over the head of his cock and back down, running your tongue along the thick protruding vein on the underside of his shaft.

You begin bobbing your head up and down while simultaneously pumping the base with both hands dripping with your saliva. Baji thrusts his hips up, groaning as he pushes himself further into your warm wet mouth. A low guttural sound escapes his lips. He opens his eyes, “B-baby... uff... I-I’m gonna cum.”

You look up, your lips still wrapped around his thick shaft as far as they will go, and nod, signaling him to cum in your mouth. Baji moans your name as he ejaculates, you continue sucking and pumping until he’s left shuddering and jerking beneath you. After swallowing his load, you sweetly smile up at him, and gently kiss the tip of his sensitive cock.

"Damn… you’re amazing,” Keisuke gazes at you with starry-eyed affection for several seconds before sitting up and pulling you into his lap. He kisses you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue.

“It’s your turn now, pretty baby,” Keisuke chuckles as he pushes you playfully back onto his bed.

Baji stretches to hand you a bottle of water from his bedside table. His black and gray striped t-shirt raised halfway above his toned abdomen. He smiles down at you — his amber bedroom eyes and sharp canines giving him a distinctly predatory air. Not breaking eye contact, he pulls a hair tie off his wrist and holds it between his teeth, gathering his wavy black hair in a ponytail.

“I like to tie my hair back… before I eat,” Baji winks, sticking his tongue out suggestively, the silver ball of his tongue piercing protruding forward on its bar.

You snort-laugh, nearly choking on your water, even though he’s making your heart pound — no longer from nervousness but desire. Your body tingles, yearning to feel the sensation of that tongue, his hot breath between your legs.

“Ohh — you laugh,” his tone is light, teasing. He leans over to tickle you, burying his face in the curve of your neck. “But, I know you’ll like it,” Keisuke whispers in his smooth baritone, tugging at your earlobe with his teeth.

“Lemme taste you,” Baji licks the sweet spot just beneath your ear, coaxing a moan out of you. “Hmm… pretty baby?”

“Yess, Keisuke…,” your voice hitches in your throat, a surge of heat flooding through you, culminating between your thighs. You grab at his shirt, tugging it over his head.

“You’re the one whose clothes are in the way,” Baji mumbles. Hungrily eyeing your body, he runs his silver-ringed fingers over the swell of your breasts and down your torso. Curling his fingers under the hem of your shirt, he caresses your bare skin with his knuckles as he pulls it over your head. Tossing your shirt aside, Keisuke wraps his large hands around your rib cage, lifting you further back onto his bed so your head rests on his pillows.

You hold your arms out, inviting him in. Smiling up at him, your expression somehow both innocent and full of desire. Swooning at your eagerness he bends to kiss you — deeply, wantonly, moaning into your mouth as you palm his hardening cock.

“Wait — wait, baby… let’s get you naked.” Baji stands, his already huge erection bobbing in your face as he helps you pull off your leggings. He pauses to admire you in your bra and panties.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he purrs. Watching you undo your bra, he groans appreciatively as your breasts bounce free. His dick twitches, a bead of precum leaking from the swollen head.

Quickly leaning back against his pillows, you open your arms and legs for him. Baji lays on top of you, caging you in. His silver pendants dangling from his neck. He grins, his canines cutely scraping against his bottom lip. Keisuke lowers his head to kiss you again, more slowly this time. He massages the ball of his piercing sensually over your tongue. His lips linger on yours, swallowing your little moans. Pulling away from your mouth, he licks and bites down your neck and collarbone before moving to your breasts.

Groaning quietly, he cups your soft flesh in his large palms, sucking and licking your nipples lasciviously. “Mmm— I’ve wanted your titties in my mouth,” Baji’s resonant voice against your sensitive nipple vibrates through your core.

“Keisuke.” You sigh, grasping at the nape of his neck, pressing his head closer to your chest.

He grins against your breasts, swirling his tongue around one of your erect nipples, rolling the tip of the other between the pads of his fingers. He’s satisfied once the peaks of both your breasts are tender and wet with his saliva.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous,” Keisuke murmurs as he kisses and licks his way to your stomach. He teasingly dips a fingertip into your belly button, eliciting goosebumps and a breathy sigh. He chuckles at your reaction, “You’re so cute.”

Baji slowly inches down your body, kissing and nibbling around the outline of your panties. Sharp teeth grazing the soft skin of your belly, hips, and upper thighs. He is a tease, purposefully ignoring the growing wet spot on the fabric centimeters from his lips. He chuckles at your desperation, the way you thrust your pelvis, trying to get relief from friction by rubbing against his face.

Finally, he plants a kiss on your clothed slit. You moan, wriggling your hips, hands tangling a mess in his ponytail. Keisuke chuckles again, “Okay, okay, baby… I’m gettin’ there.”

Hooking his long fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, he slides the sopping garment down your thighs. A low growl forms in his throat as a slippery strand of your arousal clings to the crotch of your panties. “Fuuck,” Baji's breath is heavy as he licks his lips, looking up at you. “Your pussy’s so wet.”

You squirm, self-conscious and horny, “Keisuk-ehh,” you whine, turning your head, burying your face in his pillow.

Completely exposed to him, Baji splays his big hands between your thighs, spreading them wider. His bronze eyes are lustful and dreamy as he admires your glistening wet lips. Mesmerized by your pussy, he traces the outline of your swollen labia with his fingertip before gathering the slick seeping out of your little hole, spreading it around your lips.

You whimper as Keisuke puts his nose practically inside of you. Inhaling the scent of your arousal, he moans about how good you smell. The sensation of his hot breath against your naked pussy makes your toes curl.

Grinning at your soft mewls, he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the hood of your clitoris. You jolt, the sensation sending a rush of heat through your body as you thrust up against his lips.

Keisuke purrs, sliding the tip of his tongue between your lips, tasting you. “Mmmm.”

The vibration from his deep voice sends shivers through you, making your hips buck again.

“So squirmy,” he chuckles. Curling his arms underneath your thighs, he grips you with his biceps, holding you firmly against him so he can continue.

Baji looks up at you with pure want in his eyes. Wetting his lips, he sticks out his tongue, holding it flat against his chin. The ball of his piercing raised from its stem. Slowly, sensuously, he licks you. His wide tongue trails saliva up and down your pussy and over your clitoris. His slow pace is deliciously agonizing, you writhe beneath his strong grip on your thighs. Panting, you rake your fingers through his hair, loosening his ponytail.

Baji moves his attention to your clit, slurping and sucking it noisily. Encouraged by your moans, he slips a single finger inside you. Deftly curling it upwards, exploring your warm wet walls, searching for your special spot.

Trembling, you reach to touch his lips, putting one of your fingers inside his mouth. You start rubbing your fingertip over your swollen nub while his mouth is on you. Groaning at the sensation of your finger in his mouth, Keisuke slides a second finger into your drooling pussy, stretching you out. He’s found your sweet spot and presses it with a firm, deep pressure. An intense wave rushes through your entire body, arching your back in pleasure. Baji greedily licks your fingers, sucking on them.

“Unff…ffuu…,” you whimper, as more meaningless words spilling from your lips. Your face muffled against his pillow. You’re so close to release; your whole body tingles, toes curling. Panting, you gyrate against Keisuke’s mouth, rubbing your wet pussy on his face. He thrusts and curves his fingers inside your walls, rhythmically massaging your G-spot. His lips make sloppy wet sounds as he continues sucking your clit. Your wet walls contract, pulsating. Baji moans as your pussy flutters around his fingers.

“Keisuke!” You cry out, cumming hard against his face. He keeps his mouth over your clit and fingers firmly inside you as you ride out your high.

Still panting, you sigh contentedly, giving Baji’s head a little squeeze between your thighs. He sits up, amber eyes beaming at you, a triumphant grin on his face. His long dark hair has come out of its ponytail, wisps sticking to the sweat on his forehead. His lips, chin, and the tip of his nose glistening with your slick.

“I wanna fuck you now,” Keisuke smiles wolfishly up at you from between your thighs, his bronze eyes heavy-lidded with desire. Sitting up, he wipes away the sweat from his forehead, running his fingers through his long tangled hair. “Fuck… I need some water,” he chuckles. “Your little pussy made me thirsty.” He notices you’re still panting and grins, “I bet you're thirsty too, huh?”

“Oh my god, yes! I just didn’t want to ruin the moment by saying anything,” you laugh.

“Baby, this is a marathon, you gotta stay hydrated,” Baji winks at you as he gets up from his bed, his huge veiny hard-on bobbing in front of him. It leads him from his room to the kitchen. Sighing, you stare at the little bounce his sculpted muscular ass produces as he walks away. Your wet pussy leaks onto his sheets as you stretch your arms above your head.

Hastily, you sprint to his bathroom to pee, making it back just as he returns with a bottle of water from his fridge. He’s about to hand it to you when he has a better idea.

“Open your mouth, gorgeous,” Keisuke opens the bottle and slowly pours it into your mouth, his eyes filled with lust as he watches the stream of water spilling from your lips down your neck to your bare breasts.

Palming his neglected erection, he takes a gulp of water and bends down to kiss you, sensually passing the water from his mouth to yours. Keisuke slowly swirls his tongue, teasing yours with the ball of his piercing. The taste of your pussy is still on his lips and tongue. You moan into his mouth as he takes the tip of your tongue between his lips and gently sucks it.

Baji eagerly lays on top of you as you reach down between his toned quads to stroke his cock from base to tip. Warm precum leaks from the engorged head into your palm. The veins in his thick shaft are completely swollen, his dick feels so heavy and huge — you need both hands to stroke him properly. Groaning, his hips reflexively roll forward, thrusting his needy cock against your hands.

“Keisuk-ehh,” you purr, looking up at him with yearning eyes. Bending down to kiss you, his pendants dangle from his neck above you. Baji slips one of his large hands between your legs. His silver rings scrape against the tender skin of your thighs. He easily penetrates your drooling wet pussy with two long fingers, curling them upwards. A low groan vibrates from his Adam’s apple when he feels just how wet and ready you are for him.

“Ufff… I need to be in you,” Keisuke grunts, his usually velvety deep voice sounds gruff now, making your pussy ache. You whimper, gyrating against his fingers inside you, needing to feel the friction from his hand against your slick lips and swollen clit.

Your horny noises and thrusting pussy are too much for Baji — a hoarse growl emanates from his throat as he grabs you by your thighs, spreading your legs and pulling your hips flush beneath him. Your pelvis instinctively bucks up as he grips his thick cock in one hand, gliding it over your slippery folds. You both moan as he slaps the head against your needy clit.

“Mmm, baby… you’re so wet,” Keisuke gazes down at your glistening cunt, his sharp canines biting into his lower lip. His eyes transfixed on your shiny swollen labia, he slowly eases into your warm wet hole, groaning at the sight of your drooling little pussy taking in his lengthy cock.

Baji bends to kiss you, teasingly licking your lower lip before penetrating your mouth, massaging your tongue with his. Your whole body tingles from the sensations of his fat tongue in your mouth and fat cock in your pussy.

He moans into your mouth as the plush walls of your hot little cunt stretch to accommodate his lengthy hard dick. He sensually circles his hips, thrusting into you, his large hands firmly gripping your ass and thighs.

Keisuke fucks you hard, burying his shaft deep in your pussy, with each thrust his heavy balls bounce against your ass. He stares lustfully at your breasts bouncing as he pounds into you. Both your bodies slick with sweat, incoherent sex noises and lewd squelching sounds from your pussy fill the room, the air thick with pheromones.

Baji reaches between your legs to rub wet circles around your clitoris, then gently pinches it. “Fff…uff,” you moan, toes curling, back arching off the mattress as you writhe beneath him. He groans as you buck your hips up, grinding your swollen clit against his pelvis, your walls gripping his entire length inside you.

Keisuke leans forward to suck on your titties. He wraps his lips around one of your nipples, sucking it, swirling his tongue around the hard tip, drooling — his eyes closed in pure ecstasy. Mewling, you grab his muscular ass with both hands, pushing him deeper into you. Baji moans as your sopping-wet pussy sucks him in.

Your walls begin to contract and flutter around him, and you whimper, burying your face in one of his pillows. Your toes curl as his cock swells even larger inside you, making your pussy throb. Your entire body tingles, waves of pleasurable heat flow through your core. “Ffuu… uhf… KEI!” You call out his name, moaning, trembling, your thighs shaking. Keisuke gazes down at you, his golden brown eyes half-closed and dreamy as he fucks you through your orgasm.

The hot pulsating sensations of your wet walls fluttering and squeezing his cock soon push Baji to his limit. There’s a warm tingling in his balls, the muscles at the base of his dick tighten and contract. Keisuke grunts, clenching his pelvic muscles, trying to hold back, but it’s no use.

It’s the way you look panting beneath him: You’re just too hot, your pussy’s too wet. Your sexy little moans… the fuckin’ needy way you called out his name as you came so hard, creaming around his cock…. FUUCK!

Baji groans, exhaling a deep breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “I’m gonna cum!” He calls out your name, you moan as you squeeze his thick cock, milking it as he thrusts into you, sloppily jerking his hips, shooting his hot cum deep in your pussy. Keisuke moans, his shoulders shuddering, the aftershocks of his orgasm sending shivers down his spine. He collapses on top of you with a little grunt.

“Fuck, baby... you wore me out,” Baji chuckles as he rolls over onto his pillow next to you.

“You’re so pretty when you cum…” he touches your mouth, tracing your lips with his index finger, “and your little noises are so sexy.” He smiles at you with soft affection in his eyes.

“You’re pretty hot, yourself — Baji-san.” You both laugh at the name he specifically told you not to call him when you first started working at the pet shop.

“C’mere, gorgeous.” Keisuke pulls you onto his sculpted chest, embracing you in a full-body hug. He lowers his chin and kisses the top of your head, “You smell so good,” he murmurs into your hair.

The silver pendants from his necklaces press against your face. You push them gently aside, laying your hand on his heart. He begins drawing tiny shapes on the back of your hand with his fingertips. Sighing, you nuzzle in closer to his chest. Baji’s skin smells warm and comforting — a faint blend of sandalwood, pot, and sex. Soft strands of his long wavy black hair tickle your face.

“Y’know, it’s kinda funny…,” Baji pauses to clear his throat. You can feel his Adam’s apple bob and vibrate as he speaks, his deep voice low and soothing. “I asked you to come over tonight ‘cos I was gonna ask you out.” He entwines his fingers with yours. “I even made sure Chifuyu and Kazutora would be gone so we could be alone.”

“Really?” You smile as you feel Baji’s heart begin to beat a little bit faster in his chest.

“But I wasn’t sure if you liked me in that way… y’know — romantically,” he mumbles, and you can practically hear the blush in his voice.

How is he so fucking cute?

“Keisuke,” you lift your head to peer up at him. And he is blushing, his chiseled cheekbones dusted pink. He momentarily looks away from you, breaking eye contact. He’s embarrassed because he blushed and you saw it.

“Kei,” you sit up and place a hand on one of his pink cheeks. “I came over because I wanted to have sex with you. Like, that was my plan from the beginning,” you tell him, thinking it will reassure him.

Baji looks into your eyes. His expression is soft and sincere, vulnerable. “I don’t want just that though…,” he pauses and self-consciously rubs the back of his neck, trying very hard not to break eye contact.

“Fuck — what I’m tryin’ to say is… I don’t wanna be,” he makes air quotes here, “‘friends with benefits’, or fuck buddies. Or any of that shit. I want more than that. I really, truly like you… a lot,” he realizes he’s still rubbing at the back of his neck and puts his hand down. He grins at you sheepishly, a wide smile that makes his brown eyes crinkle adorably shut.

“Keisuke!” You’re completely unable to think of anything even remotely coherent to say. He looks down at you expectantly. And you just stare back up at him for several long seconds, with pure adoration in your eyes. If heart eyes were real, you’d definitely have them.

Finally, you’re able to speak — sort of: “I-I like you too… really, so so much… like I can’t even begin to say h—”

“Then just kiss me already,” Keisuke chuckles, pulling you towards him.

©️poorly written by Bajiisofine Miyukiissofine, 2023. Please do not copy, translate, upload to other platforms, or claim as your own.

#tokyo revengers smut #baji smut #baji keisuke #baji keisuke smut #tokyo revengers x female reader #baji keisuke x you #keisuke baji smut #tokyo revengers x you #baji x female reader #baji x reader #tokyo revengers x reader

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a-fools-circus · 6 months

Text

Salacious Want

Papa II/f!Reader

Desc: after confessing to Secondo how you've spent your time alone, he makes sure you know that the only person allowed to touch you is him Word Count: 6.3k Tags/Warnings: bondage, bdsm, impact play, degredation, edging/orgasm delay/denial, rough sex, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, choking, dom/sub, ownership, creampie, aftercare, bc aftercare is important and i want to showcase that i think Secondo fits the duality of being both a rough dom and a tender loving dom, please note that there is one moment when the reader claims to be overwhelmed, but every moment of sex beforehand and afterwards is consensual with both participants willing

this was originally intended to be a fic for Kinktober. obviously that didn't end up working out, BUT i still wanted to write this bc i liked the idea, and i've yet to give Secondo some love so here it is ! this ended up being very fun to write and way longer than intended so i think it's a win. Secondo stans i'm starting to understand you. enjoy babes <3

also available to read on ao3 here

Minors DNI/NSFW below the cut

It was only a few hours ago when you were sat in the shadowed corner of the confession booth. The only thing separating your figure from Secondo’s was the wooden lattice in the center.

Secondo had been preoccupied with his responsibilities all day. It wasn’t his fault—the workload came with his status as Papa. You didn’t blame him for it, and he was adamant to remind you that he would rather spend his time with you. But you were left on your own. You had to sate your desires—by yourself—in private whenever you had the time. It was boring after the second or third time. Your own touch wasn’t nearly the same as his.

You knew the risks that came with teasing him (most of which would come from him), but the opportunity presented itself perfectly when you realized that he would be hosting confession. You couldn’t help yourself. You had to do something to coerce him, to convince him to focus on you instead. Taunting him with the knowledge that he missed out on your pleasure seemed like the perfect way to rile him up.

Armed with your knowledge, you taunted him from your shadowed corner of the booth, detailing every aspect of your indulgence. Every sound you made, every fantasy that crossed your mind, every part of yourself that you touched—it all came forward in your own kind of confession.

Secondo was good at appearing disinterested. Annoyingly good. You could get on your knees and beg for an hour straight, and he wouldn’t bat an eye. He knew he could make you do whatever he wanted when you were desperate to be touched, and he used it to his advantage often.

But his silence from the other side of the confessional was more than feigned disinterest. You could practically feel the disapproval radiating through the lattice, somehow knowing he was staring with that stern gaze he only gave you. He was most intimidating when he was silent, but it was even more nerve-wracking not to be able to see his reaction.

You made it worse by reminding him of his responsibilities; he had to continue carrying out the rest of confession for the following Siblings. You made your way out, leaving him to stew in his frustration as he was forced to ignore the aching arousal between his legs. That was the nail in the coffin.

Once time granted him respite from his duties, he wasted no time finding you.

Now you were sat on your knees on his bed, bent over with your face in his silken sheets. You were completely bare except for the collar around your neck and the restraints that bound your arms behind your back. You were placed near the edge of the bed, instructed to “keep your ass in the air and stay still.”

You couldn’t see Secondo, but you could sense his steely gaze scanning every inch of your body as he stood behind you. There was no doubt he could see how wet you were; after what felt like hours of sitting here bound, you were getting desperate.

The click of his shoes on the hardwood floor is the only sound in the room. Every echo of the sound makes you throb, your holes clenching around nothing. You’re sure that sight is obvious to him, too. But he says nothing as he looks over your restrained body. The anticipation in the air is thick, heavy on your mind as you wait for him to do or say something—anything.

After what felt like an hour of staring, he finally reached a hand out to brush over your thigh. The cool texture of his leather glove surprises you. Secondo’s touch is featherlight, barely grazing your body as it slowly trails inward. His pace is maddening, and you know he’s doing it on purpose.

The trail of his hand stops when his fingers hover daringly close to the spot he knows you need him most. The space beside you on the mattress sinks as his knee comes to rest there. Secondo leans over you, still barely touching your skin.

“Who does this pussy belong to?” Your senses heighten as the sound of his voice finally caresses your eardrums. You tilt your head just enough to catch a glimpse of him.

He’d discarded his regalia at this point, now wearing only the black turtleneck and dress pants he sported underneath. Just the sight of him made you want to pounce on him and make up for lost time. But you contained your impulses, humoring his demands as the threat of his dominance made you ache.

You swallow hard. The face paint he hadn’t bothered to clean off only made him look more intimidating. “You,” you whisper back to him. “You, Papa.”

“Mm. Bene…” His husky-toned affirmation almost makes you whine. “Then why did you touch it without permission?”

Secondo’s words catch you off guard at first. You start to speak, a tiny squeak leaving your mouth, but the words fail to form. You look away in embarrassment. Your eyes catch on the obvious bulge that strains against the front of his pants.

Suddenly, he grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging firmly until your shoulders rise off of the mattress. Secondo leans in further, his breath warm against your ear. The scent of patchouli and tobacco floods your nostrils. “You will answer when I ask you a question, yes?” He growls, the sound of his voice rumbling in your ears.

You swallow hard, eyes fluttering shut at the pain on your scalp. “Yes, Papa—”

“Look at me.” You do exactly as he says, your body thrumming with desire as your eyes flicker up to meet his. “Why did you touch yourself without Papa’s permission?”

“Because, I…I was desperate, Papa.” Your heart pounds in your chest at your confession. Judging by the way he scoffs, you assume your response isn’t satisfactory.

“Desperate?” Secondo echoes. You nod in agreement. “What, desperate to make yourself cum just so you can tell me what a disobedient, needy whore you are?” The leather of his gloves squeaks as Secondo tightens his grip.

The degrading term sends a surge of arousal through you. The sensation is only heightened by his grip on your hair. “No, no, Papa…I…I just wanted to be touched. I really, really needed it.”

“Oh, is that it, piccolina? You just needed to be touched?” You nod fervently, humming a small “mm-hmm” in reply despite the blatant mockery in his tone. “Perhaps I should remind you how you taunted me, then. The way you told me how hot and wet you were when you fucked yourself? How you came so quickly by your own hand?”

Secondo punctuates his annoyance with another firm tug on your hair. You whine, hissing slightly at the soreness in your neck. “I…I didn’t mean it, Papa,” you manage to choke out. “I just…wanted you to know how much I missed you…How much I need you.”

“It sounds to me that the only thing you ‘need’ is a lesson in restraint, sì?”

A whine rumbles in your throat at his suggestion. You want to fight back, to argue and prove your point, but that would only garner more punishment. You nod in response before realizing your muteness is unsatisfactory. “Yes, Papa.”

Secondo releases your hair and you fall forward, your face planting into the sheets. He rises off of the bed to return to his place behind you. His hands run teasingly over your body with gentle brushes that give you goosebumps. A shiver runs down your spine as his hands move further down.

You barely feel two of his fingers glide through your slit, your wet arousal gathering on his digits. You don’t know when he removed his glove, but you relish in the warmth of his bare hand instead of the cool leather. Your hips roll towards his touch in an attempt to gain any of the friction he seems to deny you. Your wrists twist in their restraints. His fingers spread you open to reveal your entrance.

“Look how wet you are,” he taunts. The leash attached to your collar rustles before being pulled taut. Your head jerks back, your shoulders lifting off of the bed as your back arches. You can feel Secondo’s cock—hard and straining against his pants—as he presses against you. “Open.” You hear him growl.

The demand sends a wave of heat through you. You comply, but you’re barely able to part your lips before his hand moves away from your cunt and his fingers force their way down your throat. You fight off the urge to choke in order to remain obediently willing.

“You wished to show me how much you needed me, sì?” You nod, humming around his fingers. “Show me, then. Take my hand like you would take my cock.”

You eagerly heed Secondo’s words. Your mouth sucks and licks his fingers with enthusiasm, savoring the taste of your own arousal as it coats your tongue. You ignore the way your body aches from the awkward position he’s contorted you in. Saliva seeps from your lips and dribbles down your chin, escaping you as you swirl your tongue around his digits the same way you do with his cock.

“Greedy little mouth…” Secondo growls as he watches you intently. His hand stays firmly enveloped in your mouth as he presses his body against yours. You groan around his fingers when you feel his cock press against your ass. “Look at you, drooling all over yourself, pretending my cock is down your throat. You look so desperate.”

You shift on the bed, trying to clench your legs together in a desperate attempt for friction at the sound of his degrading tone. Secondo notices immediately. His hand slides out of your mouth, not caring that strands of saliva spill from your wet lips, and delivers a harsh smack to the swell of your ass. The sound echoes in the room. The sudden sting makes you cry out, your eyes widening in surprise.

A firm tug on the leash makes you choke momentarily. “Keep your legs spread,” Secondo growls, his hand reaching down to tug at your thigh and force your legs apart while the other pulls the leash taut. “If you can’t be good, you aren’t getting touched.”

Your hands tug at their restraints, fists clenching with frustration. “I’m…I’m sorry, Papa. I’ll be good, I promise. Please touch me, please.” Your words come out in a flurry, rushed and desperate, as you pant for breath.

Secondo’s hand releases the leash, allowing you to fall forward again. His hand immediately snakes around your waist to land on the space between your thighs. Saliva-wettened fingers land on your clit and swirl in agonizingly slow circles. Your breath catches in your throat, a shaky gasp leaving your lips. Your hips jerk into his hand as a silent encouragement.

Another sudden spank takes your breath away. His hand stops its movements and you whine. “Stay still. You’ll only take what I give you, sì?”

You nod, sighing dejectedly. “Yes, Papa.”

It takes all of your strength to keep your hips in place and resist the urge to grind into his hand when he continues to swirl his fingers. Your thighs tense and your mouth falls open with whimpers and moans.

Secondo barely increases his pace at the sound of your pleasure. Your hands ball into fists in their restraints, a low groan ripping from your throat. You curse, desperately using every ounce of control to keep your hips still.

“Mia piccola puttana…she can be good when she wants to be, hmm?” He tilts his head, watching your pleasure-contorted features. His hand speeds up slightly and you gasp.

“Yes…Papa…Fuck…”

“She likes it, doesn’t she?”

“Yes…Yes, Papa, I like it…” Warmth pools in your abdomen, winding tighter with each swirl of his fingers. Your thighs begin to shake as you lose the battle of staying still. Your hips thrust desperately forward, eager to hit the orgasm that lingers so close to fruition. “Please, Papa. It feels so good…fuck..!”

Secondo pulls his hand away mere seconds before the warmth spills over. You cry out, a high-pitched whine ripping from your throat as your orgasm slowly dissipates. Your hips buck forward as if trying to chase his touch.

“Why did you—?”

“You don’t deserve to cum yet.” His voice is stern, leaving no room for argument no matter how badly you want to. “Poverina…you did not think I would give you what you want that easily, did you?” Your lips part to respond, but the words get caught in your throat. “Such a greedy whore…you made yourself cum and you think you deserve it by my hand?”

“I’m…I’m sorry, Papa. I won’t do it again, I promise.” You whine, grinding your ass against him in a silent plea. The roll of your hips is slow as you feel the outline of his rigid length through his pants.

Another harsh slap comes down on the swell of your ass. You gasp, the sting coursing through you and halting your movements. “Now you think you deserve my cock?” Secondo’s grip digs into the skin of your hips as he accuses you, his grasp so tight you can almost feel the bruises begin to form.

“No, no, Papa. I don’t.”

“No, you don’t.” He taunts. His hand massages the red handprint blooming on your ass, soothing the lingering sting. “Are you going to start being good for Papa?”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll be good. I promise I’ll be good.”

“Bene…” He gropes your ass, the tight grip making the welts forming on your skin sting. “Now be a good girl and ask for it. Nicely.”

“Please, Papa…I want you to touch me. Please touch me.”

Secondo scoffs at your plea. “Now I know you can beg better than that.”

A whine builds in your throat, but you swallow hard to contain it. “Please, please, please, Papa. Please touch me. I need it so fucking bad.” You pant. “I need you. I need your touch. Please.”

Without warning, two fingers push past your entrance and stretch you open. You gasp at the sensation, cursing as Secondo pumps his fingers at an unrelenting pace that gives you no time to adjust or savor the feeling. Your nails dig into your palms as you whine at each thrust of his hand.

“Fuck! Yes, yes…” You cry out, your cunt throbbing around his fingers. “Thank you, Papa. Fuck me…”

Secondo’s other hand holds you in place, gripping your hip so tight you think it’ll leave bruises. His fingers curl, searching for that sweet spot that’ll leave you crying out. As soon as he hits it, you curse in a loud gasp, your back arching to push your hips into his touch. He massages the spot with each pump of his hand, sending waves of pleasure through you that make your toes curl.

“Fuck, Papa! Yes, yes, yes. Right there. Right there.” Your moans fill the room, your cries reverberating off the ornate walls. Each plea is louder than the last. Your arms tug at their restraints, your hands flexing, desperate to hold on to something, anything.

Secondo groans, his voice husky. “Desperate whore, all worked up by my hand. You love it, don’t you?” You nod and mutter a small “mm-hmm”, too overwhelmed with his pace to form a proper response. “Fottuta troia,” he growls, taking a fistful of your hair and tugging until your shoulders lift off the bed. He leans over you, his fingers still pumping with their unwaveringly strong pace. “You answer your Papa, sì?”

You wince, whining at the mixture of pain and pleasure that courses through you. “Yes, Papa. I…fuck—I’m sorry, Papa,” you manage to squeak out between moans.

“Tell me how much you like it. Tell me how good my hand feels.”

“It feels…so fucking good, Papa,” you whine. Your words aren’t enough, evident by the way he tugs on your hair again for encouragement. His lack of response has you on edge. “You fuck me so good. I-I love the way your hand feels in my pussy.”

The tight grip on your hair is unrelenting. The awkward position you’re held in makes your back sore, but the pleasure granted to you overrides any discomfort. Warmth builds in your abdomen yet again, swirling and coiling with the need for release. Your thighs tense, your walls tightening around his fingers as your pants grow quick and loud.

“Oh, fuck…I’m…P-please…” Your voice quivers as you beg. “Please, Papa, can I cum this time?”

Secondo nuzzles against your neck, his breath warm against your ear as he speaks. “Oh, dolcezza,” his words seem sweet, but you recognize the mocking in his tone. “Asking like that, you almost have me convinced.” His fingers pull out of you, a wet, squelching noise accompanying their retreat. “Almost.”

The whine that escapes you is even louder, even more desperate than before. “No, Papa…why did you…” You stammer and whine, unable to form a complete sentence. You almost feel like you could cry as the coil of warmth slowly dissipates. He releases your hair, a grunt escaping you as you fall forward onto the mattress and he moves away. “Please touch me again, I can’t…I need to cum.” Your hips roll in the air, desperate for some form of contact.

“You need it?” You hear him echo, almost as if he’s mocking your plea.

You nod your head and hum a small “mm-hmm” with a whine. “Yes, Papa, I need it. I need to cum so fucking bad.” You shiver when you feel his fingertips reconnect with your heat for just a moment, barely grazing over your folds. “Please, just keep fucking me. I was so close, I—”

Secondo cuts you off with a harsh spank, the sound echoing in the room. His hands hold tightly onto your hips, dragging you backward until your ass is flush against his body. And his achingly hard cock that strains behind his pants.

“Greedy whore thinks she deserves to cum already…” He mutters as his hands trace the swell of your ass.

“No…no, Papa, I didn’t mean that…” You pant, your breath heavy. “I just…fuck, I want it so bad. Please…”

He goes silent as his hands continue to trace gently over your skin. The silence heightens both your nerves and your desperation. Finally, his gruff voice breaks the silence. “Tell me again, cara: who does this pussy belong to?”

“You, Papa.”

“Bene.” He presses his body more firmly against you. A quiet whimper escapes your lips at the feeling of his cock so close yet trapped beneath layers. “This pussy is mine. Mine to use and fuck whenever I feel like it.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Say it.”

“My…my pussy is yours, Papa. Yours to use, yours to fuck.” You swear you feel his cock throb behind his pants.

His torso presses against your restrained wrists as Secondo leans over you. If you weren’t so afraid of being punished and denied any longer, you’d grab ahold of his shirt and tug him closer. His hands move to your hips, where his nails dig into your skin. “You cum when I tell you to. When I decide you deserve it.” His voice is a sultry whisper, like a smooth velvet that wraps around your senses. It makes you want to forget about your own desires.

You nod, sighing at his words. “Yes, Papa.”

“If you pull another stunt like that—taunting me with your impatience—I’ll tie you up and make sure you don’t cum for hours. Do you understand?”

The thought makes you shiver in a mixture of arousal and fear. You swallow hard, nodding your head again. “Y-yes Papa…”

“Are you going to be good for Papa?” His hips roll against you, and while the friction isn’t stimulating for you, it makes you gasp nonetheless.

“Yes,” you choke out. “Yes, Papa. I’ll be good. I promise.”

“No more touching yourself without Papa’s permission, sì?”

“Yes, Papa.”

His hands squeeze your hips, but the gesture is more playful than painful. “Molto bene.”

Secondo ruts against you, dragging the bulge in his pants along the curve of your ass. He groans before moving to grind against your slick heat. The wetness of your arousal seeps through and stains the fabric of his pants. He couldn’t care less.

One of his hands slides up the arch of your back, avoiding your restrained wrists and caressing your spine. “You want Papa’s cock, sì?”

“Yes. Yes…please, Papa,” you whine breathlessly.

His other hand trails down your hip and over the swell of your ass before groping you firmly. His grasp is rough, making the welts that have formed from his spanks sting. “Beg for it, puttana.”

You sigh in frustration at his words. “Please, Papa. Please put your cock in me.” You fight with every ounce of restraint to keep your hips still. You want nothing more than to rub and bounce your ass against him, to hear him groan and curse at the friction. But you know doing so would earn you another punishment. “I want it—I need it—so fucking bad. Please, please.”

Secondo leans away from your body. The loss of his touch leaves you feeling exposed and vulnerable, yearning harder for him. “She needs it, she says…” You hear him mock you as the faint sound of a zipper catches your attention.

You groan at the familiar feeling of his cock as the rigid and warm flesh lands on your ass. Secondo wraps one hand around the base, his other hand gripping your hip as he guides his cock to the space between your legs. He barely brushes against you, only allowing enough contact to cover himself in your slick arousal. The light friction makes you whine.

It’s not until you feel the head of his cock rub against your swollen, neglected clit that you stop whining and start panting. It’s even harder to stay still, especially when his pace is so languidly slow.

Your toes curl with strain. “Papa, please…I can’t…I can’t wait anymore…”

Another harsh spank comes down on your ass, making you hiss. “You can, and you will.” He growls. “Be good.” He continues the light and gentle grinding, his hands moving to rest on your ass and spread you open for his viewing pleasure. “Sathanas,” he curses, the sound making you throb and clench around nothing, which he certainly notices. “Così bagnato per me...you are a desperate little whore, aren’t you?”

“Yes, fuck yes, Papa.” Your nails dig into your palms as your body tenses in anticipation. “Please give it to me.”

He slides his cock along your folds, moving back and forth in long, sensual strokes. He pulls back to guide the head of his cock to sit at your entrance and grazes it teasingly, never pushing forward with enough force to enter you. You know he’s savoring the way you whimper and squirm. You groan, the sound turning into a whine.

“Please, Papa…” Your voice is breathless at this point, so desperate you could cry. “Please, please, I can’t wait anym—Ah!”

You’re cut off by his sudden, forceful thrust forward as he buries himself inside you with one movement. The stretch of your walls stings, making you hiss and curse. Your wrists tug at their restraints and your thighs go tense as he immediately starts a rough and unrelenting pace, giving you no time to acclimate to his intrusion.

Each thrust is met with one of your loud and desperate moans. Secondo runs his hands over the curve of your hips, his thumbs rubbing gently over your skin in a manner that completely opposes his rough movements. He groans, the sound sending heat to your core, and you feel him lean over your body.

The leash suddenly goes taut. Your head is lifted off of the mattress, strangling your moans as they leave your mouth. “This is what you wanted, sì?” He growls into your ear, punctuating his question with a set of firm thrusts. “To be fucked hard and rough like the whore you are?”

“Yes! Fuck…fuck, yes…” You cry out, voice strained against the collar around your throat. “Thank you, Papa, thank you…Lucifer below, it feels…so good…”

He leans back and pulls the leash with him. His free hand holds your hip tight, his grip strong enough to make you ache. He groans, cursing something in Italian under his breath, before spanking you again. Your walls flutter around him at the pain. “Dillo di nuovo. Tell Papa how good his cock feels.” His voice is low and rough, practically a growl, as he pounds into you.

“Your cock feels so fucking good, Papa…” Your eyes flutter shut as your head becomes light. Your moans and whines are guttural, choked out by your collar. “I love it…I love the way you fuck me…Don’t stop, Papa.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on it, puttana.” Secondo punctuates the word with a particularly rough thrust, making you cry out with a strangled moan. “You’re going to cum for me—when I tell you to.”

The room fills with sounds of your pleasure; moans and cries leaving your lips and the repeated, quick slapping of skin against skin. His own groans hit your ears and excite you further. He pounds into you with a relentless rhythm, quick and hard thrusts that make your body tremble under him.

“Papa…I’m gonna—fuck…” You feel your thighs shake, unsteady as the warmth in your abdomen tightens.

“Not yet.” He snaps back. He tugs on the leash again, making your head lighter as air escapes your lungs. “Solo un’altro po…”

It’s almost impossible to hold on any longer. The heat that swirls in your abdomen coils tighter and tighter with each thrust, the impending release crescendoing with no sign of stopping. All you can choke out is a quiet, strained “please” in between his powerful thrusts.

Secondo groans at your tight and wet heat, the sound turning into a slight chuckle that reverberates in your ear as he leans in. “Poverina…you need it, don’t you?” His voice is light and sweet despite the mockery in his tone. You nod before muttering a small “yes, Papa” in return. “Cum for me, tesoro. Cum on Papa’s cock.” He growls in your ear, his pace never wavering.

It takes only a few more of his rough thrusts to send you over the edge. The sound that leaves you is one you didn’t know you could make: a loud and guttural moan built up from constant denial that spills involuntarily from your lips. Your entire body tenses and trembles underneath him as waves of pleasure make you throb and clench around him. His pace never changes, working you through the high until your muscles go lax.

His thrusts slow down until they become slow rolls of his hips against your weak body. He releases the leash, letting your head fall against the mattress with a soft thud. His hands trail over your breasts as he leans to place a small, gentle kiss on your back between your shoulder blades.

“I’ve never heard you make those pretty sounds before.” He mutters against your skin. His hands knead your chest as he continues to roll his hips against you languidly.

A weak smile forms on your face. “I…I told you I was desperate,” you pant between heavy breaths. You groan with each of his thrusts, the leisurely pace doing nothing to soothe the overstimulation. “Thank you, Papa. Thank you for—ah—letting me cum…”

His hands trail down your body, his touch tracing your curves before returning to your hips as he leans back. “Oh, I’m not done with you yet, dolcezza.”

You barely process his words before he pounds into you again. He wastes no time finding another intense and rough rhythm. Your body tenses as the overstimulation makes you whine, your hands balling into fists as they tug at their restraints. You cry out, your body shaking under the power of his thrusts.

“Fuck, Papa! Shit, shit, shit…”

Secondo’s deep groans fill the air, complimented by the wet sounds of sex. “Merda. I didn’t think you could get any tighter.” One of his hands lands on the small of your back, purposefully avoiding your bound wrists.

Every thrust sends a shock wave of pleasure through you, surges of overstimulating ecstasy that course through every inch of your body. It’s an overwhelming sensation, making every muscle tense and every moan and whimper more desperate than the last. Your noises only spur him on, each pathetic sound met with a powerful thrust that makes you whine louder.

“Papa…fuck, I can’t…it’s too much…” Your knuckles turn white as you ball your hands into fists. The overstimulation hurts, but the pain only adds to the pleasure he gives you. You trust him enough to know he’d drop everything if you were genuinely hurt. But right now, he knew you had no interest in stopping.

The leash suddenly goes taut, your head lifting off of the mattress again at his sudden tug. He spanks you again, your cry strangled by his sharp tug on the leash. “Fucking take it,” you hear him growl. Another spank makes you whine. “You’ll take my cock until I’m done with you, puttana.”

You groan at his words, your back arching into his thrusts. “Y-yes, P-Papa…”

His thrusts turn sharp and quick as he ruts against you. It’s primal and needy—almost animalistic—the way he moves. Each slap of his hips against your ass makes you hiss, the welts left from his hand stinging at every movement. Your body remains tense, every drag of his cock along your walls causing you to clench around him.

“Così fottutamente buono...questa figa è perfetta, tesoro…” You can barely hear his low, husky voice over the sound of skin meeting skin. Secondo tugs again on the leash, making you groan as your head jerks back. He leans down until his breath hits your ear. “You’re going to cum again for me, dolcezza.” His tone is clear—his words are a command, not a suggestion. “I want to feel this pussy milk my cock.”

The vulgarity in his words makes you whine. “Yeah…yes, Papa—fuck, I wanna milk your cock dry.”

“Sì, that’s what you want, giusto? You want Papa to cum in you and fill you up?” He growls in your ear, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

“Fuck, yes. Yes, Papa, I want your cum…Please, pump me full.” You strain to speak against the tight collar, but your plea is loud and desperate.

You can hear his breathing growing heavier. You can tell he’s getting close. He shoves his cock as deep as he can as his thrusts turn into forceful rolls of his hips as he grinds against you. The friction makes the marks on your ass sting.

Secondo’s free hand snakes around the curve of your hips, wasting no time finding your swollen and aching clit. His fingers swirl in time with each movement of his hips. The rhythmic pace between his deep penetration and the delicious friction of his hand makes you writhe under him.

You curse, your hips jerking wildly into his hand and against his hips, too overstimulated to find a rhythm. “Papa…Papa..!” You cry out and whine as your eyes screw shut.

He knows exactly how to make you tremble, all of the movements that send you closer to the edge and make you melt under his touch. The repeated clenching of your cunt makes him groan and curse.

“Fuck, Papa! I’m gonna…Sathanas, I’m gonna cum again, shit…” You feel your thighs shake and tremble, every muscle in your body tensed as the heat in your abdomen returns, mounting to a high.

Secondo pants, tugging on the leash again. “Dai, dai…cum for me, cum for Papa.”

The dual pleasure leaves you unable to resist, the sensations overwhelming your body. Your second orgasm is even more intense than the last. Your body shakes and your moans turn into whines as the pleasure leaves you overwhelmed. You don’t even notice the few tears that escape as you writhe and tremble. He works you through the high, his hand swirling perfectly against your sensitive core to prolong your pleasure for as long as possible. He only removes his hand once your whines turn to hisses.

The continuous, rough movements enacted on your overwhelmed body borders on pain. But you know he’s close, evident by his heavy breathing and groans as he pounds into you with the last of his strength. His grip is tight on your hip as the other hand holds your leash taut to keep your body in place.

With one final powerful thrust, Secondo stills as he spills himself into you. You feel every kick and pulse of his cock as he fills you. He groans, growling something in Italian, but you’re too far gone to comprehend it. He releases his grip on the leash, allowing your head to fall to the mattress.

Your body goes lax as he pulls out of you. Both of you grunt at the sensation. A wet squelch fills the air as you whine at the emptiness, too accustomed to his presence despite how overwhelming it feels. Your hips fall flat on the bed as you pant for breath and groan at the soreness in your back.

A wave of relief courses through you as your wrists are released from their restraints. The ache in your shoulders is painfully evident now that you can move freely. You roll onto your side, blinking heavily as you look up to see Secondo’s face.

His paint is smeared in various places, streaked by beads of sweat. His chest heaves with his own heavy breaths. You get the urge to scold him for exerting himself at his age.

He leans over you, reaching down to unfasten the collar around your neck. You instinctively tilt your head to make the process easier. You sigh when the garment is removed, allowing your skin to breathe and give your neck a break. Your eyes are heavy as you watch him place the collar and restraints on the nightstand with care.

Secondo leans down again, running a hand through your hair. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Un momento, bella,” he mutters against your skin before leaning away.

You watch as he walks in the direction of the adjoining bathroom before he disappears past the doorway. A small smile graces your face. It was easy to get intimidated by him, by his steely gaze and guarded demeanor, but he showed you a tenderness that no one else could match.

It was never as evident as it is in these moments. When he walks back into the room with a damp washcloth in his hand, your heart swells. He always takes the time to treat you so gently after sex, especially when it’s rough.

He cleans you carefully, running the washcloth over your flushed skin. He moves you with a sense of care and worship, like you’ll shatter beneath his touch if he isn’t careful. The warmth of the wet fabric is soothing, making you sigh with each stroke. He occasionally leans down to place kisses along your skin.

Once you’re clean, he lays the cloth on the nightstand. You know he’ll retrieve it later, probably after you’ve drifted off to sleep. He guides you to lay against the pillows, helping you move in your sore state. You groan at the aching pain in your body—the sting of your ass, the soreness in your shoulders, the aching of your back. He runs a hand over your thigh, fingers barely grazing your skin as his touch trails over the swell of your ass.

“You’re still red,” Secondo remarks. You feel the slight tingle of discomfort, your skin warm from the welts that have formed. “You must still be sore.”

You can hear the concern in voice, almost as if he regrets what he did. “It’s alright. It doesn’t hurt that bad. I’ll be okay.”

“You’re sure?”

You smile at him, at his worry. “Yes, I’m sure.” You extend an arm towards him, beckoning him closer with your hand. “Now come here. I want you to lay with me.”

“Oh, is that right?” He teases. Despite his sarcastic tone, he’s already kicking off his shoes. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes. It is. You need your rest too, old man.”

You hear him scoff before he climbs onto the bed and situates himself beside you. “‘Old man’, huh?” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close until your back is flush against his chest. He’s careful to keep distance between your hips so as not to irritate your welted skin. “Stai attento, mia cara. You wouldn’t want another punishment so soon, would you,”

You giggle at his words, laying your hand atop his arm and pulling him closer. You groan as you settle against the bed, attempting to allow your aching body to relax. You feel his arm move away from your waist. His hand comes to rest on your shoulder, his thumb massaging firm circles into your sore muscles. The gesture makes you smile, your head turning back to look at him.

“You don’t have to do that, Papa.”

“Oh, of course I do,” he responds, his hand working towards your shoulder blades. His lips brush over your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “Mia piccola bellezza was so good for her Papa. She deserves to be taken care of.” His lips land on your neck, trailing kisses down to your shoulder. “You’re always so good for Papa,” he mutters between kisses.

He leans in to kiss you, and you turn to meet his movement. The gesture sends sparks through you. You smile against his lips, pressing into his kiss and relishing in the warmth that blooms in your chest.

You don’t know when you fell asleep after that. You laid there, allowing him to tend and care for you however he felt necessary. Not every touch was meant to massage or tend to your sore muscles, but you didn’t care. Just having his hands on your body was enough.

This was how he showed his love to you, and you found nothing but comfort and security in his arms.

#surprise ! i posted #crazy i know #clown's stuff #papa emeritus ii #papa ii #papa emeritus ii x reader #secondo x reader #papa emeritus x reader #papa x reader #the band ghost smut #the band ghost #ghost bc

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scoonsalicious · 18 days

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 17, Unanswered - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, anxiety.

Word Count: 570

Previously On...: You met with the head of Galvin & Associate's, your PR firm, to make sure a statement went out refuting any relationship between you and Steve Rogers. Also, why the fuck isn't Bucky calling you back?!

A/N: SUPRISE THIRD DROP!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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You managed to keep down some saltine crackers and a bowl of chicken broth Sam had prepared for you for lunch, though it was difficult not to gag, what with all the sass he was giving you about the headlines. You were feeling a little less tired, now that you had some nourishment in your system, but you still found yourself lying in bed, listlessly checking your phone over and over again for a new message or call from Bucky that never came.

Lisa Galvin had been true to her word, at least; you began receiving Google Alerts linking to your statement. Of course, they weren’t getting as much traffic as the original articles had, but you were relieved to know that the truth of the matter was finally out there, and you could breathe easier for it.

You sent a link to your statement to Bucky, hoping that would entice him to answer you, but were only met with continued silence. You were becoming increasingly agitated by his lack of communication. Yes, you were worried about his safety, but as much as you were loath to admit it, Carthage was with him, and two super soldiers working together was a challenge even the more elite terrorist organizations would have difficulty taking on.

But then again, he was with Carthage. What if he had seen the headlines and believed them? What if he— no. You weren’t going to let yourself go down that path. He had been so dedicated over the last two months, working to prove he was worthy of your trust, cutting her out completely. He wouldn’t – couldn’t– betray you like that. He knew it would destroy you, destroy any chance the two of you had to make your relationship work. You had to trust him. That was the entire point of your separation. Rebuilding trust, and you had to believe in him.

You had to.

With a sigh, you put your phone back on its charger, battery already well depleted from all the web browsing and non-Bucky texting you’d done so far today. Maybe you would take a nap. While you were feeling a little better, you didn’t want to risk a repeat of last night, where you couldn’t even stand on your own without assistance, so you figured a little extra rest would do you some good. Besides, maybe you’d wake up and Bucky would have contacted you, and you could finally stop fretting over the entire thing.

Yes, a nap sounded excellent right now.

You woke up, a few hours later with a start. You’d had a nightmare. You couldn’t remember exactly what it was about, just that it had been about Bucky, and it left your heart aching. Rubbing your eyes and trying to shake the feeling of pain from your heart, you checked your phone again. Still nothing, but it was quickly approaching the designated time for him to call you– his “proof of life” communication that had become a standard, every day tradition when one of you was away. Surely, he’d contact you soon. So, you waited.

And waited. And waited. Then you waited some more.

Two and a half hours after the predetermined call time, you’d had enough. You could feel your stomach practically eating itself alive with anxiety, on top of the nausea you were already experiencing, and there was only one person who had the answers you were looking for.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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creamyychann · 2 years

Note

Hey can u make a ran haitani x f! Sibling x rindo haitani. After naive little Y/n comes back home after her dance class complaining about her cramps due to dancing, her 2 older brothers couldn't hold back and give her a nice "massage" to help her feel better.

Incest/step-cest

HAITANI BROTHERSSS 😩

Massage... Wanna know smth? This request reminds me of an audio abt a guy asking for a massage service from the listener but then the listener end up having sex? Pleasure him? Idk I forgor & the guy is also like those innocent, cute guy, SO, I'm taking an inspiration from that 🤩

Also, I really like their original hairstyle (not bonten ///sorry) so, this taken at Kanto Manji Era.

Ran (21)

Rindou (20)

Reader (19)

Tags: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, INCEST, Dub-con, Threesome, Double penetration 1 hole, Naive reader.

MINORS DNI

Don't like it? DON'T READ IT!

You've been warned.

Read at your own risk.

The Front door could be heard opening, the 3 brothers rushed quickly to meet their sweet, darling sister. "Welcome home Y/N! " they both greet, but then they notice your appearance. Limping, holding your back & hip, not to mention the pained expression displaying on your face.

"Ahh.. Hi nii-chan! " you greet back after struggling holding up yourself. "Y/N, are you ok? Want me to carry? " Ran spoke as he carefully hugs you in worry. "Uhh,, I didn't stretch good enough today & I ended up with muscle cramps, haha" you explain trying to ease out the pain "Here here let your big brothers handle you Y/N" Rindou gently lift you up & carry you to their bedroom.

You sat on the bed then arch your back, making out a satisfying crack. "Y/N, you really seem in a lot of pain, do you want your big brothers to give you some nice, relaxing massage? " Ran spoke as he wrap his arm on your shoulder while staring at you longingly with his classic smile. "Yeah, that would be great isn't it? Besides, you've worked really hard" Rindou kneel down to match your vision, his usual scowling expression now replaced with a gentle expression that only you & Ran ever seen him like this.

"Sure, I think that'll be a great idea" you agreed with a warm smile.

Ran & Rindou smirked at this

You're completely naked. Your breasts squeezed onto the bed while your bottoms are covered with a blanket, though Ran was against covering it but the room has an AC in it so you don't want to freeze. Besides you Rindou watch your glistening back so intensely while Ran pour oil massage onto his hand. You shivers as Ran's warm oily hands touches your back. Your face flushed red as Ran sensually massage you.

You shriek when you feel another 2 hands rubs & massage your legs. "It's tense here, you really overworked yourself" you heard Rindou spoke, feeling his large rough fingers dipping onto your soft thighs. You moan at the relief when Ran hit the spot. You didn't realize the effect you cause from that moan you let out.

As they continues to massage you, Rindou trail his hand up & up till it reach your upper thighs, just below your buttocks. Meanwhile, you're slowly drifting off over how relaxing it is, not aware the real intention they have. Hands slowly come up your ass & then grip it. You let out a moan when Rindou did that, while at the same time, Ran trails his hand to the side of your breasts & slowly gets under it.

"Hey, Y/N, do you want a 'special massage' session? ~" you hear Ran whisper to you while he slowly massaging your breasts. "H-hm? What kind of special massage? " Feeling arousal start to build up as Rindou slowly massaging & groping your ass. "You'll see~ ♡" He whisper again & finally pulls away from you.

You feel the blanket covering your ass get taken off but you didn't think much of it. You could hear sounds off clothes moving or cluttering then a sound of falling clothes. The sudden change of atmosphere crowding the room as you half sleepingly lay on the bed. The bed dip as you feel something hard rubbing against your ass.

"Hmmm? Nii-chan? What's that? " You ask trying to see behind you "oh, it's part of the special massage! You'll love it! ♡" Ran soothe you as he spread your ass not before giving it a firm grip. "Go on Rindou~ Don't keep your baby sister waiting~" Rindou tch-ed at his brother exclamation but do as he told. "Be ready Y/N, it'll hurt at first" Rindou said as he plunge his dick into your pussy.

Your eyes widen & whines at the sudden feeling. "Ah! ~ what's this! ~" "Relax baby~ it's part of the special massage~ we promise it'll feel like heaven~" Ran strokee your hair as you moan, clenching around Rin's dick as he let you adjust his length. A few minutes later, Rin start to move.

"How does it feels baby sister? ~ it feels good right? ~" Ran whisper, gliding his hand on your buttocks, watching it bounce every time Rindou thrust. "I-it feels good! " you continue to moan as your arms change position into gripping the bed sheets.

Rindou suddenly stopped along with Ran pulling away from you. You look back in confusion, seeing your big brothers eyeing each other. "Baby, do you think you can take the 2 of us? " Ran slowly pumping his semi hard dick whilst looking intently at you. "I-i think so? " you answer, not really getting what he meant. Your answer makes both brothers smirk & ready to pounce

A hand hold down onto someone chest to avoid falling down while the other wrapped around someone's neck to sloppily makes out with him. Your mind filled with nothing but pleasure. Feeling their 2 dicks in one hole feels so painful yet so good. Their thrust is not slowing down at any moment, knowing how much heavenly noises coming from your mouth if they keep doing this. Pulling away from the kiss, a string of saliva still connects your tongue as you & Rindou looks intensely at each other.

Feeling left out, Ran pouts & give you a hard thrust making you yelp. He pulls you onto him, crashing both lips on each other. You wrap your arms around his neck as you continues to moan at their never slowing thrust.

They're getting close, so are you, but you can't hold it any longer. You squeezed your walls so tight at your orgasms, not forgetting to moan so loudly onto Ran's mouth. The sudden tightness triggers their own orgasm resulting with them happily filling you up with cum.

You 3 pants as you 3 lay on top each other. Feeling so drained & tired, you slowly drift to sleep. "Nii-chan... " you barely let out whisper, but it still get caught by Ran & Rindou's ears "yes Y/N? " Rindou response between heavy breaths "thank you... Can we do it again sometimes? " you ask slowly closing your eyes, & drift off to your dream land. Ran & Rindou smirks devilishly, as Ran strokes your hair, Rindou answer your questions.

"We'll happily do that Y/N ♡"

ೋ❀❀ೋ════ ❀ ════ೋ❀❀ೋ

I SWEAR, I THINK SOMEONE CURSE ME, I FRACTURED MY KNEE, THEN MY LEFT SHOULDER IS SPRAINED, NOW MY PEN TABLET IS LOST WTFFFF.

2K notes · View notes

domripley · 7 months

Text

Tell Me You Love Me

pairing: ghostface!tara carpenter x reader

warnings/tags: mentions murder, gaslighting, daddy kink, face slapping, threats of violence (but it doesn't go into too much detail, oral sex, verbal humiliation, tara is toxic, manipulation.

summary: you've been suspicious of tara for awhile. You should have just kept it to yourself.

word count: 4,197

request: Have you seen the Tara as Ghostface theories? Would you mind writing a Ghostface Tara smut with a female reader? Thanks!

this is a repost

Once they were in the microwave, you made your way to the living room to turn something on to kill the time. You were bored, but there wasn’t much you could do about it just yet. Your parents were gone for two weeks, having gone on a vacation that due to finals and your classes, you couldn’t go. A part of you was upset for them planning this out during the semester, but it meant you would get a lot more privacy with Tara. So, you weren’t too upset about it. Although with a murderer out there, now killing college students, you thought your parents wouldn’t want to leave. Shaking the thoughts out of your head, you turned on the TV, and of course, whatever channel it was on, it was having a Stab movie marathon.

You shrugged, keeping it on as the microwave went off. Tossing the remote back onto the couch, you made your way back to the kitchen. As your hand was on the door, your phone began to go off. Groaning, you let go of the door to the microwave and grabbed your phone on the counter.

Unknown caller.

You answered the phone, “Hello?”

An unknown voice replied, “Hello, (Your Name).”

You opened the door to the microwave and asked, “Who is this?”

The person on the other end of the phone chuckled before hanging up. You rolled your eyes, grabbing the plate of pizza rolls before making your way back to the living room. Stab Two was now playing, and for a few seconds, you thought about sitting down and watching as many of them as you could before Tara arrived. It was a way to pass the time.

As you ate a pizza roll, your phone rang again.

Unknown caller.

“What the actual fuck.” You said, trying to finish the pizza roll in your mouth before you answered the call.

“Hello?” you said, trying not to sound too annoyed.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” the unknown person on the other end asked, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Oh please, how original. Have a good day and do not call this phone again.” You snapped.

Before you could pull the phone away from your ear, the unknown person threatened, “If you hang up, I’ll come and gut you like a fucking fish.”

Your eyes widened, taking the phone away from your ear to put it on speaker, you began to text Tara.

Hey, do you think you can come sooner than later?

“How’s your parent’s vacation, (Your Name)?” they asked, causing you to flinch. How did they know they were on vacation? Only your group of friends knew that, and you trusted them all completely.

“What’re you talking about? My parents aren’t on vacation?” you lied, trying to make it seem that you weren’t all alone.

You went back to your text conversation with Tara, and you were confused to see that she had left you on read. Was she okay? Was she hurt? Did this creep get to her? All these questions were running through your head, only to be brought back to reality when the other person spoke up again.

“I don’t see your parent’s car anywhere in your driveway.”

When the person said this, you instantly hung up. Rushing over to your front door, you looked through the hole. From what you could see – you saw nothing. No one in your driveway or in the yard. You locked the door, looking at your phone. This time Tara texted you back.

Daddy: Hey baby, I just now saw this. I’m going to go get us dinner and then I’ll be right over.

You bit your lip, almost jumping out of your skin when you heard a loud bang on your back door. Your eyes widened, realizing you hadn’t locked the back door. You ran towards it just as the nob began to turn. You knew you weren’t going to make it in time, so you ran down to the basement where your bedroom was at.

Locking the basement door, you slowly made your way to the closet. That was your best bet in hiding. You heard the TV turn off, squeezing your eyes shut to try and focus on nothing but your breathing. Footsteps were getting louder and louder, and you knew who ever this was was going to know you were down in the basement. You looked around in the dark, trying to find something you could use as a weapon. That’s when you saw your old baseball bat.

This will work, you thought to yourself as you heard the person try to break down the door. You silently wished that they would just give up and leave. You started to cry as the door gave way – hearing the person slowly walk down the stairs, you knew it was only a matter of time. Finally, you held your breath as they walked past the closet you were in. You hoped they would turn the corner, so you had a chance to run up the stairs.

Suddenly, your phone began to go off. Tara was calling you. You ran out of the closet, swinging the bat in the direction of the person in the Ghostface costume. Unfortunately, the person grabbed the bad before you could do any damage – throwing the bat in the opposite direction, you braced yourself for them to stab you, but to your surprise, they didn’t.

Rushing up the stairs and out of the house, the person in the Ghostface costume left. After a few minutes of trying to calm down, you called Tara back, in tears. When she answered, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Why didn’t you pick up when I called?” she questioned as you cried.

“Ghostface broke into my house but didn’t hurt me. I was so scared.” You said, trying to calm yourself down. Tara hummed, which was odd to you, but you were too busy being upset to point it out.

“I’m almost to your house,” Tara said softly, and you nodded even though she wouldn’t be able to see it.

“Alright, the door is unlocked so you can come in,” you let her know and when she says thank you, you hang up.

Now that you were calmed down a little, you began to think of how not worried Tara was acting. Normally, she would be freaking out, but she seemed so calm. You didn’t want to question her – maybe it was because she was driving – but it still felt so odd to you. You shook your head, laughing. You couldn’t believe yourself – thinking that Tara, your girlfriend of two years was the one behind all the murders. But it was odd that she hummed when you told her.

You shook your head, trying to let go of the thoughts – thinking that it was just your anxiety making you overthink. You jumped a little when Tara opened the door, but to your surprise, she had no food in her hands.

That’s odd, you thought to yourself. Your thoughts cut off when Tara spoke up.

“So, you’re here all alone while a killer is going around? You’re parents really did say ‘fuck you’, huh?” she chuckled, and you gave her a small smile.

“Yeah, they did, haha. But I appreciate you for staying the weekend.” You said, trying not to let her know that you’re a bit suspicious.

“Everything okay?” Tara asked, giving you an odd look. You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond of to that.

“Other than that loser in the Ghostface costume trying to scare me, I’m fine.” You said, wanting to be as short with her as possible with it.

Tara’s jaw clenched but stayed quiet – you didn’t seem to notice, but you watched as she sat her bags down.

“Babe, where’s dinner?” you asked, trying to see the excuse she came up with.

You wanted your gut to be wrong, that you just wanted to be overthinking like you usually do often – or that was what Tara always told you when she would act suspicious.

“What do you mean?” Tara questioned, acting as if she had no idea what you were talking about.

“You had told me you were going to pick up dinner before you came to my house.” You snapped, but she gave you a confused look.

“No, I said I’m going to pick you up and then go get food, babe,” she said. You almost believed her. Almost.

“Your text right here says: ‘I’m going to go get us dinner and then I’ll be right over.’ So what the fuck, and the fact that Ghostface found me was because you called me. You had texted me to let me know you were getting us food and then you’d be here. But you never went to get us food… so in that time, where were you, Tara?” you asked, watching as her confused look on her face turn into a sinister smile.

“Oh baby, why do you have to ask so many questions? Why can’t you be my good girl and keep that mouth of yours shut?” Tara snapped, throwing you off completely with her sudden change of attitude.

You watched as she opened her backpack and fished out something you didn’t recognize. Bringing it to her mouth, Tara pushed a button and began to talk. “Oh, my sweet, sweet girl…You figured it out huh?”

It was a voice changer – with the same voice that had called you.

Your eyes widened, realizing that all this time you weren’t overthinking – that your girlfriend was in fact Ghostface. Was she a part of Amber and Richie when they were killing all of her friends? You couldn’t help but wonder.

As Tara started to get closer to you, you backed up – guarding yourself from your murderous girlfriend. You turned and ran towards the bathroom, refusing to look back as you heard Tara behind you. Getting into the bathroom and shutting it just in time as Tara almost grabbed you. You locked it quickly, backing yourself all the way to the tub.

“Baby, open the door and I can explain everything to you.” Tara called out, banging on the bathroom door. You shook your head, trying to gather the words to say – but nothing was coming out. You were terrified, finally putting the pieces together from the past six months. How your ex-girlfriend, who you were still friends with and nothing more was the first victim and how Tara didn’t seem upset. At first you thought it was just Tara being in shock, but now it all made sense.

She was doing the killings.

But was she alone in doing them this time around or did she have a partner like Amber and Richie. You snapped out of it as she continued to bang on the door. You started to scream, wishing there was a window in your bathroom.

“I’m not opening the door, you’re going to kill me, Tara. I know you’re the one doing the killings, so why would I open the door? So, you can kill me and get rid of your only witness.” You yelled back at her as she tried to slam against the door.

“I would never kill you, baby… I just wanted to scare you a little. I promise I would never hurt you.” Tara said, and a part of you wanted to believe her, but you just couldn’t. Why would she scare you? Especially if she had no desire to hurt you.

“Open this fucking door, (Your Name). I don’t want to break it down but if I have to, I will.” She threatened, stopping what she was doing to wait for your response.

“Go the fuck away and leave me alone.” You snapped, and Tara bit her lip. She knew that she fucked up, but she was going to make things right with you.

“(Your Name), I know I’ve scared you, but I really mean it, please open the door for me.” She said, calming down just a bit so you felt safe with her. Of course, she wasn’t going to kill you, no. But if you weren’t going to open the door for her, she was going to have to take matters into her own hands.

“No, Tara. Just go and I won’t tell anyone.” You said, trying to get her to leave.

“Very well then.” Was all she said before the doorknob began to aggressively jiggle.

You screamed as she opened the door, but Tara was quick to rush you. Smacking a hand over your mouth, she whispered, “Stop screaming, (Your Name). I told you that I wouldn’t hurt you and I meant that. Can you please listen to me?”

You swallowed, shutting your eyes for a few moments before she moved her hand from your mouth. You bit your lip, trying to decide on what to do.

“If I wanted to kill you, I could have just slit your throat, but am I doing that? No.” Tara stated, wiping your tears away before holding you in her arms.

“Why would you kill everyone that you did? Why?” You cried out, unable to control the tears that were coming out.

“That’s for another day and I promise I’ll answer that, but right now I think I need to make it up to you,” she paused, letting go of you.

“How? Are you going to turn yourself in?” you asked, sniffling. This made Tara smile softly, caressing your cheek before you pulled away. A part of you wanted her to keep being affectionate, but the other part of you wanted her to leave you alone. She killed not only her friends, but yours.

“Oh baby, no. I’ve been neglecting you so much lately, and you deserve so much better than that.” she sighed. You knew what she was trying to do, but you didn’t want to fight her any more. Considering she still had her knife with her - you were afraid that she would change her mind and kill you. “I want to make you feel good, princess. Don’t you want Daddy to make you feel good?”

She grabbed your hand gently, interlocking your fingers together before she led you to your bedroom. You tried to ignore the broken door to the basement, wanting nothing more than to ignore the fact that your girlfriend had revealed herself to be the Ghostface killer.

You tried your best to get your mind off of it, not wanting Tara to know that you were still on edge. You put your mind on Tara, and what she was going to do with you eventually. You knew that you were going to have to go to the cops - but another part of you didn’t want to betray her.

“Undress for me,” was all Tara said and you did as you were told. Pulling your shirt off, you threw it across the room. Tara signaled for you to turn around, and when you did as you were told, she unclasped your bra for you. Turning you back around so you were facing her, Tara reached towards you.

Pushing you on to the bed, Tara climbed on top of you. Kissing your neck, Tara bit down. She wanted to mark you so everyone around you knew who you belonged to. Moving her mouth down your chest, flicking one of your nipples with her tongue – smirking at the whine you let out. Giving it a few more licks before taking it into her mouth, she sucked on it, suddenly biting it harder than she normally would.

Before you would tell her, she was being too rough with you, but because she hadn’t touched you in weeks, you were willing to take everything and anything she was willing to give you. Even if it was a little painful.

“God… do you know how much I’ve missed you underneath me, baby?” Tara asked, but you knew she wasn’t expecting you to respond to that.

Leaning her head down, she bit the top of your breast before getting off of you. She unbuckled your belt, pulling it from the loops as fast as she could. As soon as it hit the ground, Tara pulled your jeans and your underwear off you.

Taking your underwear, Tara brought them up to her face. Closing her eyes, she hummed. “You’re so wet for me, baby. You’ve gone and ruined your underwear. The pair I bought you for Valentine's Day this year.

You weren’t sure as to what she was getting at, but you’ve learned not to question her – to just go with it. “I’m s-sorry.” You whimpered as Tara got down on her knees in front of the bed. You took that as an invitation to move down the bed, so your ass was right at the edge of the bed, wanting to make things a whole lot easier for her.

“Oh, you’re sorry? How sorry are you?” she asked, placing a kiss on your right, upper thigh.

“I-I’m so sorry for ruining the underwear you got me, I’m sorry that I kept questioning you every night. I should have just been a good girl and kept quiet.” You cried out, causing Tara to laugh.

Bringing her left hand to your left thigh, she held it open – slapping her right hand down against your pussy. You cried out, trying your best to close your legs but Tara held them open.

“You’re such a pathetic little whore, aren’t you? Apologizing for anything just so I’ll fuck you huh?” Tara teased, this time she brought her hand down against your thigh, not once. But twice.

“N-No, just-“ you began, but Tara cut you off by slapping your pussy again once more. You cried out, trying your best to stay still, but it was becoming too much.

“You’re lucky that I know you’re only a whore for me,” she commented, running her hands up your thighs. “Do you want Daddy to forgive you? Hm?”

“Yes, please, please-“ you whined, cutting yourself off with a moan as Tara leaned in. Running her tongue through your folds, Tara hummed in approval as you combed your hand through her hair.

You kept her head still as she allowed you to grind against her face – closing your eyes, you tried to get in a better rhythm. Tara kept up, moving with you as you began to grind harder against her face.

“I’m-I’m coming, fuck,” you groaned, feeling Tara’s tongue slide into your entrance.

She held you in place, fucking her tongue in and out of your pussy before moving her mouth to your clit. Sucking gently, Tara kept going through your orgasm, only stopping when you pushed her head away. She smiled at you – licking her lips, she spoke up, “Such a good girl for me, are you ready for me to really fuck you now?”

You nodded frantically, unable to speak up as you tried catching your breath. Tara got up off her knees – going over to her bags to pull out the strapon she had brought with her. You watched as she put it on with ease, quickly moving back towards you so that she was between your legs.

“You want my cock, baby? Tell me how bad you want it.” Tara said, slapping the tip of the toy against your pussy. She smiled, loving the whimpers she was bringing out of you.

“Please, Daddy, I need your cock. M’need it so bad.” You begged. Your attempts at not sound so desperate were out of the window – now you didn’t care, all you wanted was for her to fuck you.

“Good girl,” Tara praised, lining the toy up and bottoming out completely. You let out a loud whine, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to adjust to the feeling. It had been exactly three months since she’s fucked you like this – claiming to only have time to use her fingers. A part of you wanted to forget that she was Ghostface and that she wasn’t lying to you for months.

“Maybe this is what I should have been doing all along, baby. Instead of lying to you and pushing you to the side, I should have just been fucking you quiet. Maybe then you wouldn’t have been asking. So. Many. Questions.” She emphasized her statement with hard thrusts.

You cried out, gripping the bedsheets as she started a rough, but slow pace. She wanted to take her time with you, really convince you that no matter what, you only needed her. Tara leaned over, wrapping her hand around your throat as she fucked into you harder. Squeezing for just a few seconds before letting go, Tara felt her own mess on her thighs. She would be lying if she had told you that she didn’t like causing you pain.

Licking the tears from your face, she whispered, “You’re so pretty when you cry for me. Like the good girl you are for me.”

You whined as she pulled out of you – looking at her just in time to see her spit on your pussy. Wiping the tip of the strapon against your clit, using her spit as lube to push back into you. Keeping just the tip inside of you, Tara reached her hand down to play with your clit, rubbing tight, small circles, she kept her eyes locked on you.

“Are you going to go to the cops, Princess?” she asked, way too calmly for your liking.

“I-no-“ you started, cutting yourself off with a scream as Tara pinched your clit roughly. You shook your head, trying your best to get her to ease up. “No! No, I won’t, I promise I won’t.”

You let out a loud sigh when she finally let go of your clit. Tara smirked, knowing that with a little persuasion, she could get you to do anything she wanted you to. She slid all the way into you once more, automatically starting a fast pace. She rubbed your clit once more, wanting nothing more than to make you come.

“You made for me, made to take my cock any time I want, and you love it. This little pussy loves it too.” Tara chuckled, a dark look in her eyes as she reached her free hand up to your face, caressing it before slapping you across the face as hard as she could. You cried out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, threatening to come out.

“P-Please, Daddy. Please. I’m so close.” You whimpered, trying your best to fuck Tara back – meeting her thrusts.

“You want to come, baby? Beg me.” She snapped her hips, slapping your face once more.

Wrapping her hand around your throat to hold you, she fucked into you harder as you gathered up the words you wanted to say. “Please let me come, pleasepleaseplease, I’ll be so good for you, won’t tell anyone anything. Promise, Daddy.”

Tara hummed as if she were thinking about it, “Tell me you love me and I’ll let you come.”

“I-I love you, Tara,” you whimpered as she started to slow her pace down.

“Tell me that you don’t want anyone else but me.” Tara demanded, slapping your breast before palming it roughly.

“I just want you, Tara. Just, please… I can’t hold it anymore.”

She picked her pace back up, leaning down to kiss you before saying, “Be a good girl and come for me.”

You did just that – coming harder than you ever have before. You pulled Tara down, so she was laying on top of you before raking your nails down her back.

”Fuck,” she hissed, but continued to fuck you. She loved the pain of your nails against her back – making her want to fuck you some more.

As soon as she pulled out of you, she slapped your pussy not once, not twice, but three times before laughing. “Such a good girl for me, what are you not going to do again?” she asked, as you sat up. Grabbing you by the neck harshly, her demeanor changing quicker than you expected.

“N-Not-Not tell any-anyone, Tara please, you’re hurting me.” You whimpered.

She continued to choke you – leaning in to kiss your forehead. “Good girl.” She whispered before letting you go. You gasped, trying your best to catch your breath once more.

“I’ll be back later tonight; I’ve got to make a few phone calls. But if you ever tell anyone, I will have to get rid of you. Understood?” Tara threatened.

“I understand, T-Tara.” You whispered.

You watched as Tara’s glare turned into an oddly comforting smile.

“Good girl. I wouldn’t want to get rid of you when I love you so much.”

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #my writing #mine #scream #scream 6

156 notes · View notes

wasongo · 10 months

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I think I got a lot of new followers recently because twitter keeps going to shit. However, as you probably know I can't and don't post nsfw art here.

You can find my NSFW socials on my pinned post. I think a lot of people are hesitant to join platforms which aren't fully available to the public yet but if you'd like to keep up with my nsfw art I'd like to:

Urge you to visit my website and subscribe to my RSS feed for gallery updates!

Suggest you follow me on either Pillowfort or Cohost (18+).

In the last year I have started using PF and Cohost more than Mastodon, as they've implemented new features and their posting system is more in line with what I enjoy: robust tagging and filtering, ability to post MANY images, and readmores for long posts.

If you've been hesitant to join either of those platforms since you don't know what to expect here's a small-ish review of both purely from my experience as someone who: a) enjoys profile customization b) likes to have an organized art gallery that is filterable by tags.

This review is aimed at artists looking for NSFW spaces to post! UI screenshots might have suggestive terms and images. Proceed with caution.

Edit: Good grief tunglr, if you open this on the web dash the images aren't shown in the neat galleries I put them in to make the post shorter. Head on over to the permalink if you'd like a better looking post!

Let me just say that if you're looking for a review on more technical aspects of these platforms, like security and moderation policies. I'm not your guy. You'll have to look elsewhere for that. I'm focusing on QoL UI and community aspects.

Though both these platforms allow nsfw, please make sure to read their ToS/Community Guidelines for rules on what is and isn't allowed. Though as far as I'm aware they have pretty similar rules.

Pillowfort

Overview::

Pillowfort has more years under its belt being available to users than Cohost does, as such I THINK the artist/fandom userbase atm is larger, which means you might see more activity there. UI as of right now is very comfortable and the site runs pretty smoothly. Loading times are very decent. Posting is easy, though the image uploader is a little wonky (they are working on fixing this). You are able to create and manage communities based on interests or themes, which people can follow or join and all post in the same space. You can personalize your profile by adding images, links, and formatted text to your sidebar, as well as customize your own profile colors. Tag searches in my experience yield results of both art and aesthetic irl porn and gifs. If that's something you miss from ye olden tumblr days it might be worth a look.

Pros:

Posts have privacy options (everyone, logged in, followers, mutuals, only me)

Has a DM system

Posts have Commentable, Rebloggable, NSFW toggle

Can post MANY images on a single post

Readmore feature for long posts

Robust tagging system

Robust filtering system: hide or click-through warning (by installing Tassel userscript only)

Customizable profile colors, Light/Dark mode for whole website

Communities you can follow/join for shared interests

You can filter posts on profile by tag

You can filter posts on profile by "original poster" or "reblog"

Cons:

wonky image uploader, cannot upload multiple images at once

Cannot search for multiple tags at once

Search for terms with periods in them is currently broken (ex. "D.Gray-man" will not yield any search results)

Communities have few moderation features atm

Without Tassel installed the filtering system is pretty garbage atm (you can either show or hide nsfw or filtered tags completely, with no click-through warnings)

No multiple account/side blog feature yet

Some inline image formatting options are broken atm

Default endless scrolling

No progressive web app for mobile atm

For a more in depth explanation of PF's UI and features you can check out this official post.

Here are some images of the UI.

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Cohost

Overview::

Cohost feels like it has a small artist/fandom userbase at the moment. However, to make up for that it has a pretty slick UI, it works great as a progressive web app on mobile, and it recently implemented an ASK system similar to tumblr's! Everything loads pretty quickly, and you can switch between your "latest posts" feed and your "bookmarked tags" feed. You can access your likes as a bookmark system, but as a whole "notes" and engagement numbers except for comments are not visible anywhere (this is wonderful for my personal mental health). It has a simple post editor and though the image uploader only allows 4 images that will load with lightbox, there's a workaround to upload MANY inline images if you want. The catch is you'll need to use a bit of markdown or html to do that. (more on that below) Though you can't personalize your profile colors, you can add personality to your page by making very cool pinned posts and adding images to your sidebar.

Pros:

Animated avatars! (listen i like having my animated komui icon)

You can make multiple "pages" (blogs) which function independently for comments/asks. switching between pages is effortless

Ask system, with anon toggle (you cannot reply privately atm tho)

2 Factor Authentication

Progressive web app for mobile works like a charm

You can preview your post before you post it

Posts have a NSFW toggle and you can save drafts

Can post MANY images in a single post (bit of a workaround as you'll need to upload your images to a draft first and then add them to a new post with some markdown or html code)

Readmore feature for long posts

Robust tagging AND filtering system (show, click-through, hide completely), plus CW system to give your posts additional click through warnings you deem necessary

You can do incredibly cool things with HTML and inline CSS on your posts

You can filter posts on profile by tag, and you can have pinned tags

Toggles for hiding reblogs, replies, and asks on profiles

Paginated browsing instead of endless scrolling (things load faster)

No engagement numbers visible ANYWHERE

Cons:

Image uploader does not let you upload multiple images at once. Limit to 4 images (can upload more as inline images with code)

Advanced post formatting (ex. bold, italics, bullet list, inline images etc.) has to be done through markdown or html + css which is not the friendliest for those who don't know any code (there's a button for a markdown cheatsheet when you post tho!)

No dark mode, or customizing profile colors atm (however there are workarounds to changing site colors with Stylus extension)

Cannot search for multiple tags at once

Cool things you can do with CSS on your posts might look very bad on mobile

Since you can do some crazy things with CSS on posts, you might come across eye straining visuals and movement on some posts. There are settings to tone this down, and people are pretty good about tagging things, so with some good filtering you should be able to avoid this however.

A little quieter on the artist/fandom front (but we can change that)

Here are some images of the UI.

If you made it to the end of this review thanks for giving it a look! If there's something vital you might want to know that I missed in regards to UI and posting features let me know and I will try to answer. But again, this is not a technical/security issues/bugs review so don't ask me about that.

Lastly, I've been seeing a handful of NSFW artists I follow on twitter hopping on bluesky. I REALLY suggest you do a little research on the owners and platform to see if you think joining is worthwhile, since I have a feeling many artists might not want their alternative to be a site owned by crypto advocates (and also a billionaire). Some basic research will get you there. Just take heed and use your best judgement. On that note Cohost is strictly against crypto (I'm guessing PF might be too but I don't have a link that I can point you to confirming this atm).

I believe community driven and supported platforms are the way to go. If you end up thinking either of these two places are worth your time, do consider getting your friends and favorite artists on board or supporting them! You'll get added perks on both platforms if you become a supporter. PF recently added the ability to have MULTIPLE AVATARS (PFPs I think they're called nowadays) which I think is super cool (i really miss that from LJ days).

Again, thanks for reading and I hope to see some of you there!

#pillowfort #cohost

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pedroshotwifey · 7 months

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Favorite Bounty Chapter 1

Series masterlist

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Chapter W/C: 8.3k

Chapter tags/warnings: Nothing to warn about yet, no use of y/n, reader being a horny cuss, canon-typical violence, PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE

Chapter summary: Your day takes an unexpected---but surprisingly welcome---turn when you get caught in the crossfire of a Mandalorian fight.

A/N: Hey, I'm going to go ahead and put it out there that these first few chapters will not be the best. Favorite Bounty was the first thing I ever wrote, so please keep that in mind. I have gone through and edited the small things so there is a bit of improvement from when it was originally posted to ao3. After chapter 4 is out, every chapter after that will be brand new and will have better grammar/writing. Thanks for reading! :)

***

You hear blaster fire going off outside.

Quickly, bang after bang ripples through the air and the sharp sounds travel through your window, making your ears ring.

A commotion like this is not an abnormal thing to wake up to on this planet, Jakku is known to house dangerous criminals looking to escape the New Republic. Some thugs get away with spending as many as a couple of months or so slipping around from town to town before getting caught. Even though you have grown used to the fact that there are gangsters sneaking around, you don’t feel comfortable going out without your blaster. You’re not the best shot, but you’re also not the worst by any means.

At least you don't have to worry about Jakku getting super overrun. It seems as though criminals are always being plucked from dark corners and alleyways to be brought in. Despite their best efforts, they always get caught eventually. If the New Republic can’t get to them, it’s likely they will get tracked down by a bounty hunter and hauled off the desert planet imprisoned in carbonite. In your opinion, the better option would be to let the Republic get to you first. You've seen firsthand the fates of crooks after being handled by a bounty hunter and decided it makes getting thrown into a cell by an officer look like a dream.

You don't see the need in panicking about the blaster fire just yet, it seems to be pretty far off. You just pray silently that it won't get any closer. It's still a bit dark outside. You glance at the clock and scowl when you realize it's only about 6:40. You have work today but you don't have to get up until 8:00. You contemplate trying to go back to sleep but decide it's not worth it, you're already awake anyway. And besides, it's probably not the best time to be letting your guard down, even if the commotion seems to be a good distance away.

You sit up straight, letting your bare feet dangle off the bed, and stretch your hands above your head with a groan. You feel your back strain and lock up. Stars, it hurts.

You’ve been picking up extra shifts at the junkyard and it's starting to show. Pulling heavy wagons full of scrap metal really takes a toll on you after a while. You roll your eyes when you remember the large load of parts that was dropped off yesterday. Today’s going to be a long one.

You sit in silence for a second, trying to fully convince yourself to get up. You contemplate getting someone to cover your shift, but you know how dirty that would be. You know you wouldn't be able to enjoy your day with a good conscience.

Suddenly, a loud crash pulls you out of your thoughts and you jump up looking for the source. You turn towards it just quick enough to see a glass shatter on your kitchen table. A blaster shot had torn through your window and by some stupid coincidence, pelted right through the cup as well.

Maker, just what I needed today, you think sarcastically. The disturbance must be happening much closer than you initially thought—either that or the fight has moved closer in the span of a couple of minutes. If that's the case, it must be moving fast, an indication that you probably need to move. You try to snap completely out of your sleepy state and scurry to pick up the glass so you don't step on the shards while you get ready.

You pick up the broom and dustpan nestled in the corner of your small house and walk back to the table. You stop in your tracks once another shot comes roaring through the now-shattered window. What the fuck?! These guys must only be a couple of yards away.

You shoot down to the floor, trying not to land on any glass, but too alarmed to care much at this point—you’ve abandoned the idea of being careful, you need to get out before you’re trapped in here. Eyes wide, you watch as yet another shot intrudes into your home. You follow the fast flash as it shoots through a closed cupboard, probably breaking more glasses as it settles.

Your head whips back around when you catch a flash of metal flying across the window in your peripheral vision. Whatever it is, it’s probably the target that's caused shots to stray into your home. Ok, the fight is right outside your house now. Great.

Your heart starts to pump with adrenaline, and you form a plan in your head in a matter of seconds and jump up. The collision seems to be inching closer and closer every second. You spot your boots sitting next to your bed and tug them on before grabbing your bag full of essentials. You always keep one under your bed just in case. It doesn't contain much, but it has enough water and rations to get you through a few days, as well as a dagger as a backup defense.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror of your open bathroom as you quickly strut towards the door three minutes later. You’re still in your sleep shirt—an old tee that has faded far too much to be worn in public. You had managed to remember to slip on a pair of pants in the midst of your panic as well. (Thank the maker for that). You also decided to slip into a light jacket last minute. Your hair is messy but you had frantically pulled it up just enough that it won't get in the way.

After taking in your disgruntled appearance for a split second, you turn towards the door, already dreading what you might come face to face with once it’s open. You put your hand on the knob and start to turn it until...

BANG!!!

The door slams open and you throw yourself to the side to avoid getting trapped underneath it. Everything seems to happen so fast. You see the same metallic flash you saw earlier, but this time it bursts into the tiny room as the door falls to the ground. Once the dust starts to settle, you can make out the shape of a body–the flash you saw is actually a… droid? No, the flash of metal you saw is a man. Just as you begin to register what's going on, you see a bundle of brown and green tumble from the stranger's grasp. You look back to the door and the heap of tin is suddenly boosted into the air and back on his feet, the jetpack strapped to his back turning off as soon as he’s stable on the ground.

As the warrior straightens, you realize two things. One; the man is a Mandalorian, no wonder he looks so shiny. You evaluate him again as he stands in place for a moment, tall and intimidating, the realization makes your stomach twist with uncertainty. You have heard a lot of stories about Mandalorian culture, some good, some… well, not so good. Recalling some of those not-so-good stories in question is enough to make you weary of his presence. You try not to judge too quickly though when you realize the second thing…

The brown and green bundle that rolled into your home upon the intrusion was a baby. He is still stumbling to a stop when you land eyes on him. Without thinking, your instincts kick in and you’re scrambling toward the child, praying he didn't hurt himself in the fall. You scoop him up and inspect him quickly but thoroughly, trying to keep in mind that he’s not the only thing you need to be worrying about right now.

You’re not sure of the ethnicity of the creature, but he is definitely young, and judging by the Mandalorian’s panicked reaction when he reaches for the child only to find an empty satchel, he seems dead set on making sure he has the baby within his grasp at all times.

Realizing the child is missing from his spot, the man looks around frantically while trying to simultaneously avoid the bullets ripping through the air. You look between him and the child in your hands a few times before you lock eyes, well, eyes and helmet at least. He looks you up and down and stops at the little green ball settling into your arms. Even though you can't see his face, you just know his eyes narrow as he snaps his head back up to look at your face. Oh shit.

If you thought he was intimidating before, it was nothing compared to the energy he is filling the air with now. You try not to seem scared but you feel your eyes betray you as they open wider and you have to swallow the lump stuck in your throat. You subconsciously bring the child closer to you even though you know you should probably be getting him back to his…father? Whatever the relation, you don't have time to figure it out right now. You just know you need to give this baby back before you get a bullet between the eyes.

You tear your vision away from the kid to look at his father as he starts to strut toward you. You feel your stomach clench into a nervous ball from the raw power the man seems to emit the closer he gets. You stagger back a bit, slamming one hand behind you on the ground, and you have to try your best not to fall on it. The man stops after the first couple of steps though, when a bullet hits him on his right shoulder, thankfully covered by what you recognize as beskar, the most robust metal in the galaxy, best known for armoring Mandalorians.

He barely falters at the impact of the blast bouncing off and instead reaches for his own blaster currently stationed in its respective holster. Within a split second, he whips around and shoots the offending crook, and then another standing beside him before turning back around before you can even blink. As quick as the gang members hit the ground, more start to file in, all seeming to have it out for the Mandalorian.

What in chaos could this guy have done to have this many people out for his throat?

Everything just seems to get more and more confusing every second. Who is this guy? Why is he carrying this baby with him? Who did he piss off this badly? Just in general: what the fuck is going on??

The gang is circling around him, trying to surround him completely. He turns every which way, landing hits every time he pulls the trigger, but they just keep coming. As tough as he seems to be, you can tell he is starting to get overwhelmed. It's got to be one to at least 20 right now. He slows for a second, probably trying to figure out the best course of action from here. He knows he only has a second to decide what he needs to do. You watch him from the ground you’re still stationed on as he appears to be weighing his choices. You peer down at the little green creature in your lap. You wonder why he hasn't come to rip the kid out of your arms yet.

“You…”

You look up, nearly snapping your neck out of shock when you hear the baritone voice coming through the Mandalorian's helmet. His head turns towards you slightly, probably to make sure you’re still there. He speaks loudly so you can hear him over the blaster fire he’s still dancing around. His tone is harsh and commanding and you listen for him to finish whatever he was going to say. For a second you think you might have imagined it.

“You need…need to run… take the kid and run… i'll find you”, he calls to you between shots as he continues dropping enemies.

You hear what the man is saying but you don't think it processes because you’re still sitting on your ass staring at him with wide eyes. Clearly, he decided to trust you enough to bring his child somewhere safe. He said he would find you, he trusts you—for now—you need to move before he changes his mind. Your brain is telling you what to do, but all adrenaline seems to have drained from your body because you find yourself unable to move.

He stumbles back a bit as another bullet hits his chestplate, probably knocking the wind out of him. The gang is getting closer. He scans his surroundings and turns to you for a split second. “GO!'' Even though it's breathier this time, the command is louder and more prominent. It's effective though because before you know it, you’re on your feet and pushing out the doorway, bag slung over one arm and the kid tucked in the other. The Mandalorian makes sure you’re going to follow his instruction before turning back to the pack of crooks surrounding him.

You dodge as a grimy hand reaches out to grab you, but the next second, he is lying lifeless at your feet. You turn your head just enough to see the kid's father spin back around, spraying more bullets as he does. You frankly have no idea what's going on right now, why you are agreeing with this man, or why you are still carrying this unknown child as you dash out of sight. Stars, you don't even know where you’re going. Seems like the best option right now, you try to reason with yourself.

You twist and wind down alleyways, praying silently that you’re not being followed. The sun is starting to rise, making it harder to blend in with the shadows as you sprint aimlessly away from the combat. Your heart feels like it's going to jump out of your chest as you start to come to your senses. You can’t hear blaster shots anymore, and you think you have been running for ten minutes or so. Your legs have started to burn, but your ears have stopped ringing, so at least there's that.

You decide that there is probably about a mile between you and the battle at this point. The thought convinces you to slow down a bit and you inhale a deep breath you didn't realize you needed. Holy shit… what the fuck. You stand in the middle of an alley, hidden by a dumpster as you crouch down to try to calm yourself. You try to regulate your breathing, you know you can't rest like this for long, so you take advantage of what time you can spare. In and out…in and out...

You look down at the child in your arms and can't help but relax a little more when you see his big black eyes staring back at you. At least he looks comfortable, You think. You feel yourself soften as you smile a bit when the child coos up at you, reaching his little three-fingered hand up to grasp a small handful of your messy hair.

You start to untangle his tiny fist from your hair when you hear something behind you. Your eyes go wide again and you are automatically back into flight mode. You have no idea what made the thump, but it sounds close enough for you to want to get out of that dark crevice as quickly as you can. The ache in your legs miraculously goes away as you stand up. You have the adrenaline to thank for that this time. Looks like it's finally working in your favor.

Clutching the kid up to your chest, you shush him as quietly as you can and start to move around the dumpster, a bit slow at first as to not alert whatever made the sound of your presence, but you pick up the pace as soon as you feel it's safe to do so. You jolt back into a full sprint, looking back over your shoulder every couple of minutes to make sure you don't see anything coming up on you.

You wind down a few more empty streets, trying to spot your next move before you reach it. Even if you panic a bit at first, you have always been good with slowing yourself down and keeping a relatively level head in stressful situations.

You’re smart, you know you can get out of here undetected if it's a member of the gang from back at your house. None of them seemed to be the sharpest tool in the shed. They seemed to be more set on landing a hit somehow than anything else—so probably not too focused on what's going on around them.

You hear another loud thump - whatever it is, it's getting closer. Your pulse strums in your ears and you could’ve sworn it stopped for a second. You gain a bit more speed, pushing yourself as fast as you can. You feel as if you are being hunted, it's an awful eerie feeling. Fear starts to crowd in your stomach again at the thought of it. “Come on…not today,” you mutter almost silently to yourself, the noise coming out slightly distorted from the tremble shooting throughout your body.

You turn your head around again and your blood runs cold when you see a shadow cast onto the building you just ran past. It looks like it's moving slowly, almost casually. It's a large figure… its fucking stalking you. You squeeze your eyes shut for a split second when the thought presents itself. Shit, shit, shit-

You try to collect your thoughts enough to figure out a plan in case it is a gang member on your trail. Some of those guys looked pretty big, and even if they are dumb as rocks, you’re honestly not sure if you would be able to take one on your own—especially while using one hand to hold the kid. You reach behind you for the extra knife you strapped to the side of your bag, but you feel nothing—you must not have grabbed it in your panic to get out of the house. A groan slips out between your closed lips, a mix of frustration and fear apparent in the sound.

You try not to hyperventilate when you begin to fully grasp the reality of your situation. You are in the middle of nowhere, being hunted by a large creature, defenseless, and with no plan in place to protect this baby.

You tell yourself to calm down, you know the creature is starting to gain on you, and you need to think clearly in order to figure out how to either hide or defend yourself. You whip your head around behind you one more time, trying to spot the shadow so you can gauge how much time you have to prepare yourself, but you don't see a shadow.

You don't know if you should be more alert or more scared. Sure, the shadow is gone, but that could mean one of two things; one: you lost him in the last few turns you took, or two: he was somewhere beyond your reach, waiting to pounce. You try to shake off the dread taking over your body as you continue to push forward.

Your frantic thoughts stop short when you run into a hard surface. Shit. Your breath catches in your throat as you find yourself unable to look up at whatever you had run into. But before you can convince yourself to, a large hand wraps around your wrist and you jolt at the sudden connection. Fuck.

Although you are still jumping out of your skin, you almost cry tears of joy when you see the familiar visor of the Mandalorian looking down at you. You may not know this man, but you do know that as long as you have his kid, you’re not going to be caught up in any kind of trouble. You sheepishly give him a half smile and he takes a step backward, releasing your arm.

As scary as he can be, you feel a wave of relief wash over you as you stare up at him. Running into him is definitely the better alternative than coming face-to-face with a gangmate. You look behind you one more time just to make sure nobody is following and your body relaxes a little once you see the coast is clear.

“Oh, thank the maker Mand-“, you start to tell him you thought you were a goner but you get cut off as he pushes his arm out towards you again.

You are a bit confused when he holds his hand out expectantly, palm towards the sky. “The kid.” the gruff voice tells you flatly. Oh, right, that. Your brain is clearly still mush from the terrifying chase. You feel your cheeks flush as you quickly reach your other arm down to pick the baby up properly, but before you can touch him, the Mandalorian's hand shoots out once again to grab your forearm.

He gives you a hard tug and turns around so your back is almost flush against him as he leans forward a bit, enclosing you into a tight space. What the fuck is he doing?? “Hey wha-”, you start to retort angrily before he cuts you off by cupping a sizable hand around the lower half of your face. Ok, now you’re pissed.

You try to squirm out of his grasp, anger bubbling up as you prepare to give him a piece of your mind. Feeling your struggle, he holds you tighter to him, and you feel a tinge of shame when you can't help the nervous flutter that appears in the bottom of your stomach when he presses you up against tight muscles. “Stop moving” he whispers harshly, somehow managing to make it sound intimidating even in such a quiet tone.

You listen to him, shocked again by hearing him say something. “Listen,” he says, helmet pressing gently against the side of your head as he hunches you down further. Wanting to struggle more but not seeing any other choice, you do as he says. You hear faint footsteps rushing in the distance, getting louder the longer you sit there. By his hurried whispers, you can tell the sound has to be more gang members, out on the search for the man above you.

“You need to listen to me”, he says suddenly. “I'm injured and there are too many of them for me to get rid of right now. You need to follow me closely so we can get out of here.” You shudder at his rushed whisper against your head. The rebellious part in you wants nothing more than to turn around and tell him to fuck off, but you know that escaping with the Mandalorian is your best chance to evade the group of criminals right now.

You know they have seen your face, and they know you took the child with you when you bolted. As dumb as they may be, they have probably put together that this man is not going anywhere without his kid. You need to get out of here, and as much as you hate it, listening to his infuriating commands is the smartest decision you can make in this scenario. You decide ultimately to comply to make your escape quick and easy.

You look up at him as much as you can and give a curt nod, letting him know you are going to follow his lead. As soon as he sees you give in, he takes his hand away from your mouth and stands up. You let him drag you back up to your feet by the wrist he still has within his grasp. You’re surprised at how effortlessly he lifts your weight, but then again, he is a Mandalorian, so it shouldn't stun you as much as it does. Maybe not stun, maybe it scares you, but you can't tell the difference right now.

Before you know it, you are being pulled in the direction the man seems to be set on. Judging by the confidence in each step he takes, he seems to know where he is going, which is a relief on your part because you are still in such a daze that you don't know if you would be able to tell right from left if you had to.

He steers you in between allies and around corners in complete silence, probably still listening for the crooks behind you. After a couple of minutes, he slows from his rushed pace and into a walk when he notices you struggling to keep up with the child growing heavier in your free arm.

You guess the gang is far away enough for it to be safe to slow up a bit. He lets out an annoyed sigh as he switches speeds, just quiet enough to where he probably didn't think you could hear it. You roll your eyes behind his back. He isn't the one holding this absolute boulder of a child, you thought, also getting annoyed.

You have no idea where he is taking you or how long it's going to take to get there. You want to ask him but he doesn't seem like the type to tolerate being bombarded by a million questions. He would probably leave you in the dust after the second one.

After another minute your curiosity gets the best of you and you decide to just risk the one. You open your mouth to ask where you are going, but before you can say anything, you get jerked forward by the heavy man as he unexpectedly hits the ground on one knee. He lets out a strangled grunt as a cloud of dirt is lifted up from the force in which he lands. The gang had a sniper waiting, and he had shot an unprotected spot in between pieces of heavy armor lining the man's leg.

“Shit!”, he gasps as he removes his hand from your wrist to instinctually cover his fresh wound. You found your balance as he releases his grip. You look up to where the shot came from and his eyes follow yours, looking just in time for the perp to jump down from where he had been lying prone on a rooftop, probably going to tell his fellow cutthroats your location

Groaning, the Mandalorian rises to his feet and points in the direction he had been leading you, keeping his other hand on top of the gash on his thigh. You grimace as you see the crimson blood start to pool out from under his glove and trickle over his shiny armor. You have no idea how he is standing on that right now. The child in your arms turns to face your chest, apparently having seen the small flood as well.

He was clearly unsteady on his feet because of the amount of blood draining from his body at an alarmingly quick rate. He sways a bit before yanking his head to the side, trying to snap himself out of it. Your attention is pulled to look at his helmet as he instructs you on where to go. “You see that–fuck–you see that ship over there?”

You look to where he still had his hand raised and spot the hunk of metal. It isn't too far away, you could probably make a run for it and be there in less than three minutes. You turn your head back at him and nod as he drops his hand back to his side.

“You need to get to it… ill… ill meet you there,” he tells you between heavy and distorted pants.

You hesitate, wanting to help him get there as well, but you have to remind yourself that he knows what he's doing. He’s probably done this more times than you can count.

You take off into a full sprint, determined to get to the ship as fast as your feet will carry you. You try not to look back as you hear another storm of shots fired through the air. You don't need to know who has the advantage right now, you just need to get to your destination and pray the Mandalorian comes back in one piece.

You hold the kid tighter to your body, trying to conceal him as much as possible.

You can hear your heartbeat pounding like a drum in your chest, threatening to pop out at any moment. You are running on pure adrenaline at this point, and your brain has definitely checked out. The ship grows bigger as you approach, probably only a minute away now.

Almost there…

It's old and it looks like he could have pieced it together with scraps from the junkyard, but it will have to do. You just hope it can actually get into the air, it almost looks too damn heavy to fly. He had to have gotten here somehow though, so it obviously serves its purpose.

Seconds later, you step onto the open ramp of the ship. You feel like you want to cry with relief. You’re so close to getting off of this maker-forsaken planet. Even before all this, you have always dreamed about getting away from this awful place. Now that you have an opportunity to do that, you are going to use it.

Before you can turn back around, you hear a series of clambers and then a loud thud. You quickly realize that it was the sound of the Mandalorian jumping onto the ramp behind you and rolling until he hit a crate sitting in the hull.

He must have been rushed and still in the middle of a fight judging by the amount of force he used to push himself onto the transport. The beskar-clad warrior lets a deep and distorted gasp escape through his helmet after likely having the wind knocked out of him by the harsh landing. To top it all off, it looks like he came to a stop on top of his maimed leg.

After the initial shock of being dragged onto his ass—even if it was his own doing—he puts his palms out in front of him to hoist himself back up as easily as he can manage. Even though you can't see the man’s face, you know he has to be wincing under his shiny visor. He recovers fairly quickly, but you have a feeling that the Mandalorian is rarely this clumsy. The blood loss is probably throwing him way off kilter.

As soon as he was up he limps his way to the side of the ramp and slams down on a button to bring it back up before turning back around to climb the ladder you could only assume leads to the cockpit. He struggles with not being able to put much weight on his injured leg, but he makes it up nonetheless. You can still hear shots raining onto the ship, but the metal seems sturdy enough to deflect them relatively easily.

You stand uselessly in the belly of the ship as you listen to him stumble around above you, probably trying not to grunt too much as he pushes himself through the sharp pain in his thigh. You take an educated guess when you gamble that he is definitely not the kind of person to submit to showing anyone he is in pain, no matter how much it may be affecting him.

You have to regain your balance when the ship jolts suddenly and you are sent forward as it is lifted into the air. Between all the running you had just done and the shock of having to plant your feet to avoid falling on your ass, you render your legs useless and back up until you feel a crate behind you, taking a seat. The relief you feel as you lift yourself off of your sore feet is almost instantaneous.

You let out an exasperated breath and bring the child closer to you. You feel a faint smile crawl across your face when he balls his hands into tiny fists in the air and lets out a squeaky yawn. Poor thing is probably exhausted from the long morning he's had so far. There's also no telling what he may have endured in the hours before he rolled out of his father's arms and into your house.

Realizing you will finally be able to relax a bit and have time to think, all of the doubts and emotions you should have been feeling come rushing in like a flood. You have no idea what you are going to do now. Where will you go? Surely you won't go back to the planet you just left, even if you wanted to, you get the feeling it would be too dangerous anyways.

How are you going to get back on your feet once you do settle onto another world? You only have a handful of credits stuffed into your bag. Can you trust the Mandalorian to drop you off somewhere safe enough for you to even try? Will you be able to stay alive if you get landed on another planet like Jakku? Is he still alive up in the cockpit right now?

Some of your wordless questions are answered when you hear the bulky steps of the Mandalorian climbing back down the ladder. You realize suddenly that you had been staring into nothingness for maker knows how long. You shake your head and turn towards the Mandalorian as his feet hit the ground, opting instead to stare at him as he walks across the foundation of the ship, obviously trying not to limp.

Even though you can’t see beneath his heavy helmet, you imagine him wincing and feel a tinge of empathy. Just by the way he confidently carries himself even through pain, you can tell he wouldn't dare ask anyone for help with anything if he knows he is capable of doing it himself, least likely tending to an injury.

You know the location of the wound is not ideal for him to patch up himself, and you instinctively want to offer a helping hand, but something in the back of your mind tells you he would never let his guard down long enough for you—a stranger—to touch him in such a vulnerable position, even if it may be only to help. You can't blame him though, that is an iffy situation. You frankly don't know if you would trust a stranger to help you in that way either, especially with the many enemies he seems to have. You wonder why he has so many… what in the universe could one man have done to have that many people against him?

He walks past you and you watch with curious eyes as he pries open a crate near the back of the room, pulling out a bacta patch and a few other medical supplies. He curses quietly to himself as he closes the bin back up and takes a seat on top of it. With a small thump, he leans his head to rest on the wall behind him. You picture now that he is probably trying not to close his eyes, still carefully aware of your presence mere feet away from him. With all the blood loss he's sustained and fighting he's done in the last couple of hours, you can only imagine how much he wishes he were alone to be able to do just that.

Can’t he know by now that you’re not going to try anything? You've been sitting on a bin the entire time, with his kid sleeping in your lap for maker's sake! It's so frustrating to have to sit back when you know you are able to help.

After a moment, he lazily lifts his head back up and reaches for a cleaning solution—bacta spray you can only assume—and attempts to spray it through the burnt hole in the fabric of his flight suit. The hole seems to be positioned to where it's almost covered by the plate of beskar on his lower thigh.

In order to get a good visual and make sure he's actually dousing the blaster wound, he has to cock his head to the side a significant amount. He clearly can't see well enough the first time he tries so he leans a bit more. This time, he manages to get the solution in the right spot, but he also about falls off the bin he's sitting on. He must be dizzy from the amount of blood he’s lost. He tries this tactic three times before he gives up with a frustrated groan and sets the spray back beside him.

You take your eyes off him and spot what looks like a hovering crib in the corner of the hull. Going against your instincts to stay still and quiet, you get up and walk the now sleeping child to the opened sphere. You can feel the Mandalorians' eyes following you with every step. You place the kid inside, making sure he’s comfortable, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you walk cautiously toward the already pissed-off Mandalorian. You scold yourself mentally, knowing how stupid of a decision you’ve just made.

He tenses and sits up as you approach, no doubt trying to make himself look bigger. You slow your steps and subtly raise your hands, trying to show him that you just want to help. Your heart is pumping a mile a minute and you silently pray that he can't hear it. You know he’s struggling—he knows he’s struggling—you both know that whether he gets it from you, or from a medic on the next planet you land on, he's going to need help dressing the wound.

You look up at his helmet, hoping you’re making eye contact, and nod toward him while darting your eyes toward the spray, trying to make your intentions clear. He loosens his posture a bit and you take that as an invitation to take another step forward. You keep your eyes on him as you reach for the spray. You cautiously look away from his visor and train your vision to look at his leg instead. You can tell from here, before you even try to clean it, that you won't be able to see under the fabric enough to tend to the wound.

You bite your lip and try to think of what to do. You have an idea, but you just know he’s going to hate it. You rack your brain trying to find another option, but you know there's no alternative to what you have to do. You can feel his eyes boring a hole into the back of your head as you place the bacta spray back down and reach for the pair of medical scissors sitting next to a roll of gauze.

You see him tense back up out of the corner of your eye. You try to take steady breaths as you pick up the scissors and turn toward the intimidating man in front of you. You reach out to grab the fabric of his pants, fingers almost touching when his hand bolts out from his side to catch your wrist. You gasp as the scissors fall to the floor, he seems to have snapped out of his temporary daze at the sight of your hands getting closer to his exposed skin. This man has something against wrists, you think, trying to humor yourself to calm down.

The hull is dead silent, the only sounds are your shaky breaths and his battered ones. Every breath he takes is faint and labored. You stare at each other, neither of you daring to be the first to move. You should be terrified, but something tells you he's not going to hurt you. You keep your composure and glare back at him, doing your best to show him he can’t intimidate you, which you at least know is a full-fledged lie.

You can tell he is barely conscious as it is, and if he tried to land somewhere to get a nurse to look after his injury, he probably wouldn't be able to stay awake long enough for it. This needs to happen here and now, you are his only shot.

You continue to stare, brows furrowed and your mouth screwed tightly shut as you try to ignore his grip. It’s tight and threatening, and it scares you half to death, even though you won’t let him see that. “I…you need to let me help” you manage to stutter from under his grasp. You swallow, trying to compose yourself. “I need to be able to see the area to clean it,” you say, trying again to maintain eye contact.

You’re proud of yourself for sounding more confident, you need him to think he doesn't frighten you. You wince as he slightly tightens his grip on your forearm. Ok, well maybe that didn't quite have the effect you hoped it would.

He stares at you for what seems like forever, obviously weighing his options. He grunts frustratedly but drops your wrist. It's a small victory, but you'll take it. You rub the forearm he had wrapped his hand around. He sees you do so and reaches out again, this time to make sure you're ok, but he retracts it almost before you even notice—which he probably didn't want you to do. He didn't realize how much of a grip he really had.

Taking a shaky but deep breath, you lean down, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in your wrist, and pick up the fallen scissors. “I won't cut any more than I need to,” you say, looking up at him. “Promise.”

You wait for a response, not sure if you'll get one at all, but after a moment he gives you a slight nod. He seems to be more cooperative now, probably because he feels a tinge of guilt about accidentally hurting you, but you'll take what you can get. “Okay”, you say, trying to calm your breathing. No looking back now.

You kneel down facing his side and reach again for the fabric of his pants. When you look up to check for confirmation one more time, he is turned facing forward, staring at the wall in front of him.

You hate that you have to do this, you don't know a bunch about Mandalorian culture, but you do know that as long as they can help it, they never show any skin, especially to an outsider. Before you can convince yourself to stop, you carefully loop your pointer finger under the ripped material. You do your best to not touch any skin just yet.

Once you are sure the fabric is lifted away enough to make a cut without touching his thigh, you slowly glide the scissors underneath.

You make the cut as small as you can, not wanting to reveal any more than you absolutely have to.

Luckily for you, he seems to be getting drowsy and more off guard, so you shouldn't have to be too cautious. You spread the material apart and bring the bacta spray to the injury now that you have a clear view. It's still slightly hidden by the plate on his thigh, but it's definitely more accessible than it was a minute ago.

You wince at the gory sight of the blaster wound, it looks like it’s probably big enough for you to fit your thumb in. There is still a small amount of blood trickling out so you use a gauze pad to dab around the hole and then apply a bit of pressure to get it to stop as much as you can.

Now that it's at least a little clean, you spray the solution. It must sting a good deal because the Mandalorian pops back up with a hiss and you feel his fingers—you feel his fingers thread through your hair.

You want to slap yourself when you feel the warmth of arousal building in your abdomen and between your legs. Before you can stop yourself, you wonder what other circumstances might have him pulling your hair. You realize you wouldn't mind being in one of those situations at all.

Stop! What the fuck are you doing? This man is a maker-damned bounty hunter. A cold-blooded killer capable of snapping you in two where you stand.

You do your best to convince yourself the man in front of you is a monster—you should not be thinking of him in that way.

You gasp and look up at him, honestly not sure if it's from the interruption of your inappropriate thoughts or from the sting of the slight grip he has on your hair. “I-”, you sputter, not able to find the right words. You figure his action came as much of a shock to himself as it did you because he retracts his arm as quickly as he had grabbed you. “Shit I-”... “im sorry”, he apologizes quickly. You snap back to the present and frantically reassure him that it’s ok.

You could tell by the way he struggles to find the right words and that he doesn't offer an apology on a regular basis. Despite his hard and intimidating exterior, he had felt he needed to say something to you. You curse yourself again when your cheeks flush from the thought. Shit.

You shake the childish thoughts from your head and focus on the task at hand. You definitely weren't the best nurse in the galaxy, but you would have to do it. As you settle into the familiar routine of fixing up the injury, your thoughts drift to where you had first learned the technique. Your mother was a medic her whole life. It was her passion, and she wanted to pass her skills on to you. One of the first things she had taught you about was sterilizing a laceration.

You smile faintly as you recall one of your earliest memories. She had taken you to her clinic and sat you down on the counter while she sorted some meds. Afterward, as she had promised you that morning, she pulled out the supplies needed and showed you step-by-step how to disinfect an open injury. Your eyes water a bit as you recapture the moment. Stars, you miss her. You catch yourself drifting off and try to snap yourself out of it. This is not the time to think about this… you need to focus.

You work to finish cleaning and dressing the wound as fast and delicately as you can, desperate to get some space between you and the Mandalorian as soon as possible. The last thing you need right now is for this man to pick up on your flustered movements. You have been glancing up at him every minute or so, just to make sure he’s still comfortable and that he hasn't passed out. It would monumentally suck if you were stuck trying to figure out how to get this ancient hunk of metal of a ship to cooperate with you.

You put a final patch on the injury and get back on your feet. You glance hesitantly to the t-visor following your movements. You send a small smile in his direction as you begin picking up the supplies to put away. “It should be fine now as long as you don't run on it for a bit,” you tell him as you open the bin he had pulled the equipment from.

You have relaxed more since being on the ship and your voice is no longer quivering. You need to keep yourself occupied so you don't sound anxious again. You feel the need to make sure the Mandalorian knows you aren't unnerved being around him. You don't want him to think he can intimidate you so easily the way he can with others. The next time you dare yourself to look in his direction, he is still sitting in the same spot. Now that you have had the chance to calm down and take a few deep breaths, you have gained your composure and a slight bit of confidence.

“You should probably try to stand on that” you suggest. “You know, just to make sure it's not going to keep bleeding”.

You think for a moment that he's just choosing to ignore you, and then you think he might have actually passed out this time, but right before you are going to say something else, he starts to raise himself off the bin. You send your thanks to the maker for not making you have to argue with this man. He takes a step forward, testing the waters to make sure he isn’t going to collapse if he puts his full weight on it.

He takes one more cautious step before trusting it completely. Once he's sure it's stable, he walks to the crib you had set the baby in. The kid still appears to be sleeping. After he makes sure he's not injured in any way, he turns back around to climb the ladder to the cockpit. You find it kind of touching that the warrior can be so soft for a child, you can tell now how much he cares about him.

He strides past you and reaches for the first rung. He clasps his hand around it and stops, turning his head slightly in your direction. “Thank you,” he says, his voice softer now that he's sure everything is settled. You are taken aback by the gratitude and stand there looking like an idiot for a moment. He starts to turn his head back once you give him a small nod.

“You’re welcome.”

****

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 4 months

Text

Combat Cold Cuts

Tech x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your favorite team of Navy SEALs just docked and are looking for some good food.

Pairing: Tech x Fem!Reader

Characters: Mira (OFC), Tech, Hunter, Echo, Wrecker, Crosshair

Tags & Warnings: modern!AU, sandwich shop!AU, navy!AU, fluff, awkwardness, smidge of angst, military/naval terms and jargon, sad Bad Batch backstories, mentions of death, mentions of war, mentions of injuries

Word Count: 3.2k

Author's Note: If you've been here a while, then you'll know that earlier in the year, when the polls came out, I made a poll asking who from the Bad Batch y'all would want in my Sandwich Shop AU, and Tech had the most votes. So, ta-da! Took me half a year, but better late than never. Also, don't quote me on this, but I may write more for this AU. Also, if you know where the title is from, we can be friends. As always, please enjoy 💚

@clonexreaderbingo Square: Tech

Today begins like any other day for you as you get ready for your job on the naval base. The sky is crystal clear and the sea breeze coming off the coast is refreshing. You’ve been working at the sandwich shop on the naval base for two years now thanks to your friend Mira. You've known Mira since high school, and because she's the wife of a sailor, she lives on base. Her personal recommendation is what helped you get the job and you're forever grateful to her.

You love working on the naval base because you get to interact with all of the sailors. The sailors always have the best stories to tell. Whether it’s their last meal before setting out to sea or it’s their first meal back on dry land, you're always there to smile and laugh at what they say. Sometimes the men are lively and sometimes they're quiet. You can usually tell when something bad has happened while they were deployed, because the normally talkative ones say nothing.

While stopped at the security gate, as you wait for the officer to scan your ID, you can see a destroyer coming into port in the distance. With that class of vessel docking, you know it’s going to be a busy day at the sandwich shop, with lots of hungry sailors looking for good food and someone to tell their stories too. You quickly go through your mental checklist to ensure you properly restocked yesterday, then the officer returns your ID and lifts the gate for you to enter.

“Hey!” Mira calls with a wave and a bright smile as you enter the sandwich shop.

You smile and wave back. "Good morning!"

"Are you excited?" Mira asks as she playfully jabs her elbow into your side when you come around to the back of the deli line.

“For what?” you ask as you rub your side, then throw on your apron.

“Didn’t you hear?” Mira says.

“Hear what?” you ask.

“The Bad Batch are on that destroyer that came in this morning,” Mira answers with a giddy bobble of her head.

“No way!” you exclaim, but quickly hush yourself. “Really?”

“Yup,” Mira says with a pop of her lips on the last letter. “Top scuttlebutt says they’re returning from a super dangerous and top secret mission.”

“Woah,” you breathe. "Incredible."

The Bad Batch. An elite team of five navy SEALs that were pulled together as sole survivors from other teams across the navy. Each member of the Bad Batch has a unique skill set that allows their team to be practically unstoppable in the field. Which is why they are assigned the most difficult missions, because their success rate precedes them. They don’t even use their real names anymore, just the nicknames they've been given over their many years of service.

Hunter, their sergeant, is the only member of the team that began his career as a navy SEAL. He lost his original SEAL team during a special operation involving drug pirates off the gulf of some foreign country. According to sources, he was able to track down the pirates, complete the mission, and bring his dead men back to port for a proper burial. That's how he got the name, Hunter. He's a natural born leader, and there’s not an operation he won’t lead his men into.

Echo, their communications specialist, is a triple amputee and a former sonar technician on a submarine. His submarine was attacked while surfacing from a mission, which is when he lost his right arm and both legs. Unfortunately, the rest of the crew weren't so lucky. He spent a week in a coma, and his best friend he served with died in the bed next to him the day before he woke up. Sometimes you see him sitting by himself at the memorial with two open beers.

Wrecker, their demolition expert, was part of an explosive ordnance disposal unit before a fatal accident. It was supposed to be a routine defusal of a pipe bomb, but his partner misread one of the numbers on the detonator, leading him to cut the wrong wire. Wrecker noticed the mistake and tried to stop him, but it was too late. His partner didn't make it, and neither did the rest of the unit. Wrecker survived, but lost most of his hearing, and all of his vision, in his left ear and eye.

Crosshair, their weapons expert and sniper, wasn't in the navy, but was a scout sniper in the marine corps. The man was born with a cigarette in his mouth and a permanent scowl on his face, and not much is known about his time in the marine corp. However, according to the rumors, his scout sniper platoon was ambushed during a night operation in the tropics. They say he was stranded on one of the islands for thirty-two days before he was found and rescued.

Tech, their cyber intelligence specialist, was part of the cyber command group before he was reassigned to the Bad Batch. While it sounds like a desk job, he was actually involved in combat missions where he provided integrated cyberspace attacks in support of operational plans. Basically, cyber-warfare. Not much is known about what happened to his team, and there aren't many rumors or theories surrounding the circumstances either, so it remains a mystery.

"So," Mira begins with a sly grin, “are you finally going to ask him on a date?”

“Who?” you ask as you pull off the plastic wrap from the condiment containers.

“You know who,” Mira taps your arm. “The smart one with the glasses that you make googly-eyes at whenever he comes in.”

“Oh…” you pause. “That one.”

“Well?” Mira presses while waving a loaf of Italian bread around.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “Maybe next time.”

“Maybe next time?” Mira scoffs. “Maybe next time? Girl, he could be dead next time!”

You rush to cover her mouth. “Shh! Don’t say that. It’s bad luck.”

Mira mumbles something you can't understand.

"What did you say?" you ask as you remove your hand.

"I said," Mira begins, "they don't need extra help in the bad luck department."

You roll your eyes and return to prepping the deli line for when the shop opens. While it's true that a lot of bad things have happened to the Bad Batch team, none of the members have died themselves. So, is it really the men who carry the bad luck? Or is it another force entirely? You push back the crazy thoughts, because in reality, you're not superstitious, even if Mira tries to convince you otherwise. Instead, you make your conjectures based on the facts in front of you.

One such fact being that the shop opens in ten minutes and there's already a line of hungry sailors outside the locked door waiting to get in. You and Mira exchange a high-five and put on your game faces to tackle the wave of hungry men. There's nothing quite like the midday rush between ten o'clock and two o'clock, but it's even worse when the ships come to port. You know after two o'clock you'll be able to take a well-earned break, but until then it is full-steam ahead.

Sailor after sailor pours into the sandwich shop once you unlock the door. Mira always mans the register and you make the sandwiches. When you first started working at the shop, it was a complete disaster trying to get in sync with each other. There was shouting, crashing into each other, and lettuce all over the floor. But now, the two of you work together like a well-oiled machine, dancing around each other behind the deli line, and communicating like a dream.

Your heart skips a beat when you see the Bad Batch walk into the sandwich shop. The quiet murmurs of the sailors stop for a moment as the SEAL team's stoic presence takes over the atmosphere. The Bad Batch have a big reputation around the base and they've garnered a lot of respect, even from the greenhorns. It's almost like having a few celebrities walk into the shop, but it doesn't last long and the sailors go back to munching and conversing with each other.

You choke down your nerves as they approach the counter and smile. "What can I get for you boys?"

"Large steak and cheese, toasted," Hunter says. "Extra peppers if you can."

"Sure thing," you answer as you make the sandwich. You quickly pop it into the toaster to melt the cheese, then wrap the sandwich in paper, and hand it to Hunter. "One large steak and cheese with extra peppers, warmed, and toasty."

"Thanks, kid," Hunter says before moving down the line to the register.

"Can I get a really large buffalo chicken with extra buffalo sauce?" Wrecker asks excitedly. "And I mean, lots of sauce, and ranch!"

"You got it," you chuckle, then make his sandwich, wrap it up, and hand it to him. "One really large buffalo chicken drowning in buffalo sauce and ranch."

"Aw, yeah!" Wrecker says as he grabs the sandwich. "Thanks a ton!"

You smile and look at your next customer, but he doesn't smile back.

"Large roast beef," Crosshair says. "Make sure the mayo is light and not a single onion touches it."

"Understood," you bristle at his tone, then quickly make his sandwich, wrap it, and hand it to him. "One large roast beef, with a squirt of mayo, and absolutely no onions."

"Finally," Crosshair says as he takes the sandwich. "Someone who can listen."

You let out the breath you were holding in and compose yourself to smile at your next customer.

"Large tuna, please," Echo says. "Extra mayo and no cheese or veggies, if that's alright."

"Not a problem," you answer, then make his sandwich, wrap it up, and hand it to him. "One large tuna, no cheese, no veggies, and extra mayo."

"Thank you, ma'am," Echo says with a nod as he grabs the sandwich and moves down to the register.

"A large cold cut combo, if you please," Tech says. "But I would prefer it if you hold the ham."

"Absolutely," you answer, then make his sandwich, wrap it up, and hand it to him. "One large cold cut combo, but hold my hand."

Tech reaches out to grab the sandwich. "I beg your pardon?"

You look up at him, confused as to what he means. "I'm sorry, did I forget something?"

"You requested that I hold your hand," Tech says. "Are you unwell?"

Your eyes grow wide and your face flushes with heat as you realize the slip of your tongue. "Oh," you stammer. "I'm sorry. I… uh… didn't mean to say… well… I just… um. Have a nice day."

Flustered and embarrassed beyond belief, you rush yourself off the deli line and into the back storage room.

Mira overhears your awkward exchange and waves Tech down to register with a smile. "I can ring you out over here, hon."

Meanwhile, in the storage room, you attempt to pull yourself together. You can't believe you made such a dumb mistake and said something so absentmindedly stupid to the one guy you like, and he's a navy SEAL for crying out loud. He must think you're an idiot, or worse. Although, you're not quite sure what could possibly be worse than being an idiot in front of a man who had perfect scores at the naval academy, but there must be something, and it makes you want to scream.

"Are you doing alright?" Mira asks as she leans against the doorframe to the storage room.

You sigh. "I'll be fine."

Mira walks over to you. "I think I can cheer you up."

"Doubt it," you answer while rubbing your hands against your face.

Mira smiles and pulls out a sticky note. "I got you a date with that smart guy you like."

You peek out through your fingers. "You what?"

"I set you up on a date with Tech," Mira repeats as she waves the sticky note around.

"How did–"

"Ah, ah," Mira stops you. "It's a secret. And by a secret, I mean I just asked him."

Your jaw drops as you throw her an incredulous look. Was it really that easy? All you had to do was ask? Seriously? You're shocked that Mira had the audacity to ask Tech to go on a date with you, but you're even more shocked that he actually said yes. You're not sure how to process this new information, or if you'll ever get your heart to beat normally again. All at once, feelings of excitement and panic intermingle in your stomach and you feel like you're going to be sick.

"Here are the details," Mira hands you the sticky note, a big grin still plastered on her face. "Don't be late."

You take the sticky note from her, and she goes back to the front to continue taking care of the customers. You look at what's written on the small piece of paper, and it's a time and place. The park bench at 1900 hours. You count backwards on your fingers to seven o'clock. Even though you've been working on the base for two years, you still haven't gotten used to military time. You look up at the clock on the wall and see it is two o'clock. At least you have time to get ready.

You spend the rest of your shift trying not to let your nerves get the better of you. You busy yourself with everything possible; to the point where you've swept the floor and wiped the counter ten times already. But you can't help it. You're excited and nervous about your date with Tech. You're not even sure if you know how to go on a date, considering it's been so long since you've been on one yourself. However, you have Mira to help you, so it won't be that bad.

Once your shift is over, the shop has been cleaned and the front door locked, Mira helps you get ready for your date. You explain to her how you feel nervous and how you're worried that you might say something wrong or he might think you're stupid. Mira just smiles and listens as you ramble on, offering the occasional encouragement here and there as she helps you put your hair up. Luckily, you wore some decent clothes today so you don't have to go home and change.

After you're ready, Mira gives you a big hug and a few words of advice. "Just be yourself and you'll be fine."

"Thanks," you say, then separate from the hug.

"Go get em'!" Mira shouts as you open the door to leave.

You turn around, smile, and wave goodbye. Mira knows that you'll call her as soon as the date is over to give her all of the juicy details, but you're happy she's here right now to cheer you on. You close the door to the shop behind you and take a deep breath of the evening air. It's still daylight, since it's summer, and because it's later in the day, you're not worried about sweating or becoming gross from the heat. Steeling yourself, you walk to the park to meet Tech for your date.

As you approach the specified meeting place, you see Tech sitting on one of the benches under a tree. Your heart flutters and your stomach flips as your nerves flare throughout your veins. You try your best to breathe through the anxiety, and you swallow back your fear as you approach him. He acknowledges your presence but doesn't say anything, and then you sit down next to him. You both sit in silence and you fidget with your fingers while trying to think of something to say.

"I–" you both start to say, then stop.

"You first," you both say again, then stop.

You giggle, which helps break the ice. "I've never been good at conversation."

"Neither have I," Tech admits. "However, your colleague was most pleasurable to speak with."

"Oh," you say. "Yeah, Mira is great."

"That is not to say that you also will not be pleasurable to speak with," Tech adds.

You pause for a second as you try to process his words. "Can you say that again, but slower?"

"My sincerest apologies," Tech says. "My military duties require precision of language and I will admit that I get carried away with my verbiage. However, my team finds my speech pattern to be complicated as well, so I would not feel disheartened by your lack of comprehension."

"Uh, thanks," you say. "I think."

"Perhaps I should begin again," Tech says as he reaches out his hand. "I am Tech and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

You smile, shake his hand, and offer your name as well.

Your evening with Tech becomes more smooth as you continue chatting on the bench. Your conversation is filled with quirks from the both of you, as well as giggles from your side, and confused looks from Tech. However, it's nice chatting with someone like him. His speech skills really are incredible and it makes sense why he graduated top of his class at the naval academy. You find him endearing, and the way he gets passionate when he speaks makes you smile.

You carry on your conversation with him for as long as you can; until the sun sets and the lampposts in the park illuminate the walkways for the late night passerby. As much as you don't want to call it a night and leave, you can't help but stifle a small yawn. You try to hide it, but during your brief time with Tech, you've realized that not much goes unnoticed by him. Just thinking about it makes you yawn again, but this time not so subtly, and Tech takes note.

"Perhaps we should adjourn for the night," Tech says. "Your oral reflex and deep inhalation indicates that you are fatigued."

"My what?" you ask.

"You yawned," Tech explains.

"Oh," you chuckle. "I guess I am getting pretty tired. It was a long day at the shop."

"I concur," Tech says as he gets up from the bench. "I assume you will be at your employment establishment tomorrow as well?"

You get up from the bench and stretch your arms over your head. "You would assume correctly."

"Through the power of deduction, will you also be available after you have concluded your assigned duties at said establishment?" Tech asks.

You smile. "Why, yes. That will be the case."

"Then I would like to formally invite you to participate in another mutual discussion tomorrow," Tech says.

"I accept," you answer. "Same time, same place?"

"Indubitably," Tech answers.

"Does that mean yes?" you ask, not understanding the word.

"Without a doubt," Tech explains.

You smile. "Good night, Tech."

"Good night," Tech says. "Pleasantest of endogenous sensory experiences."

You snort and decide to look that one up when you get home, but only after you call Mira and tell her about the wonderful time you had with Tech, as well as the prospect of seeing him again tomorrow. Although, you highly doubt you'll be able to sleep tonight, since your body feels too giddy and excited to calm down and relax. Mira was right. Life is too short to put off doing things you're scared of, because tomorrow is not promised to anyone, and today is all you may have.

Masterlist

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ash5monster01 · 1 month

Text

It's Only Fair

Pairing: MacGyver x Reader

Warnings: nothing but fluff

Summary: There is a new mailman that keeps switching up you and your neighbor, Macgyver's mail.

word count: 600+

a/n: this is my very first, very short, Macgyver imagine I ever wrote. I’m in the process of moving some of them from my original wattpad to here, to find a broader audience. I hope you enjoy x I know it’s not very good, I was seventeen when I wrote it

Masterlist

The cool breeze from outside drifted in the house and gave it a light glow. The weather had been absolutely gorgeous the past few days, warm with a light breeze paired with it. It was what caused you to open all the windows and allow it to flood the home. With the day off from work you spent your time in the kitchen, enjoying the breeze, and baking for what felt like the first time in months. Just as you started pulling out some cookies from the oven the doorbell sounded throughout the house.

"Come in!" you called out as you shut the oven with your foot and started to walk towards the opposing counter to set the trays down.

"Wow it smells great in here" you looked up to spot your blonde neighbor standing in the entry way of the kitchen, holding up a stack of mail. "The new guy gave me your mail again"

"I think he's doing it on purpose now" you chuckled and he smiled and nodded as he walked further in and set it on the counter. You quickly removed the oven mitts and grabbed the stack.

"Well that or he really has no clue he's mixing it up" Mac suggested and you nodded as you shuffled through some bills which honestly could've stayed at his house.

"Well we can't totally complain. We've lived next to each other for years and I finally know your name from the amount of times I've received your letters" Mac laughed at the comment as you set the mail down.

"Yeah I definitely can't complain" Mac's gaze hardened on you and you struggled to keep your composure. The suggestive look in his ocean blue eyes made your skin crawl.

"Would you like some cookies. I've been bored baking all day and I think I should start offering before I gain five pounds" you moved over towards the cookies to distract yourself from the close proximity between you and the oddly handsome neighbor.

"Bored baking?" Mac questioned as he leaned against the counter. You shrugged as you started to cool one off to hand to him.

"It’s a thing, trust me. It keeps me occupied" you said handing the now cooled and gooey cookie to the boy, he rose his eyebrows as he grabbed it from your hand. Slowly he took a bite out of it and then smiled. "What?"

"Nothing it's just this cookie is really good. Better than Bozer's but don't tell him I said that" you chuckled and grabbed one for yourself as he finished his.

"Well then I guess I did something right?" Mac brushed his hands on his pants and stared at the gorgeous girl beside him and he wondered how he had never noticed you before. If he was being completely honest, two weeks ago he practically camped out on his front porch to corner the new mail man and tell him to keep mixing up your mail. It was the perfect excuse to keep coming over and seeing you.

"Well now that you've let me try one of your delicious cookies how about you try one of my delicious dinners?" your eyes widened as you looked up at the boy. He offered a small smile, the dimple in his left cheek catching your attention.

"And what makes them so delicious?" a smirk graced your lips as you looked up to him and he chuckled softly.

"I have a secret weapon named Bozer" a large laugh fell past your lips at his answer and when your laughter quieted down he looked at you just like he did before. "So what do you say?"

"Well, I mean it's only fair"

Taglist: @mayfieldss

if you want to be tagged in upcoming Macgyver fics please let me know <3

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bruh-myguy-what · 7 days

Text

If Not Him, Perhaps Me

Hoooooooo boy! I cannot believe how long it's been. It's almost criminal I've let this go on for so long without an update. I hate doing that...but the ADHD and life decided that just couldn't- which was great (derogatory). However! I am back. Fully, entirely, and totally invested in restarting this series because I still love the idea and want to see it through. I now have an AO3 as well, so I will posting all of the updates and original parts there once I get everything organized.

If you were part of the original tag list and would like to not longer be apart of it, no hard feelings- just message me to let me know and you will be promptly removed for the notifications!

But! If you would like to be added or I forgot to add you- since it's been 140000 years- please just let me know! (whether via message or comment)

________________________

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Pairing- Thrawn x f!reader x Luke Skywalker

Summary- After being aboard the Chimera, for who knows how long, you've grown accustomed to the troopers and how things operate, but one thing that just won't become easy is dealing with Grand Admiral Thrawn.

Word Count- 3.5K

Warnings- Mentions of kidnapping, confrontation, angst

Days turned into weeks which, you could only assume, was closely turning into a month. There were no signs of Luke knowing where in the galaxy you might be or even where to begin looking for you. At the earlier stages of your confinement, fear settled in your heart when the thought of being left aboard an Imperial Star Destroyer alone...without Luke, reared its head. Over time though, complete loneliness dissipated and was replaced by the friendly interactions you participated in with a few Storm Troopers that were in charge of your immediate well-being. "Are you ready for your lunch today," a familiar modulated voice echoed through your small confinement as he called your name.

Lifting your head from the notebook given to you a few weeks prior, a sigh escaped your lips. "I don't know, Danver, is it that gross mush stuff again or, will I be allowed to eat normal food for once while here?" Your comment garnered a laugh from the trooper as he opened the cell doors, setting the plate on a table given to you at Thrawn's request.

"Sorry, pal," the soldier replied, his modulated voice still resonating with a smile, "not even we get to enjoy delicacies like that aboard the Chimera."

While scooting yourself off the comfortable cot you currently spent your time nestled in (which too had been replaced at the request of the Grand Admiral after you'd mentioned off-handedly something about neck and back pain), you set aside the drawing book. A look of displeasure crossed your face, "who honestly eats this stuff willingly?" A disgruntled mumble was all the trooper beside you needed to hear, to pat your shoulder assuringly in response.

"Apparently, you do," his laugh caused your shoulders to slump. "Don't act so melodramatic. At least you're the admiral's favorite prisoner," Danver's joke hardly seemed comical to you as the cell forcefield reappeared behind him. "You might be the admiral's favorite person entirely aboard the Chimera, in fact."

A snort escaped from between your lips as you disregarded the boring plate, preferring the growling in your stomach over the same taste of dried fruits and cold meat. "That's real cute, Danver." You quipped, "Next time, why don't you let him know that so maybe I can go home instead of being held captive here."

Raising his hands in defense, the trooper shook his head. "Listen snarky, all I'm saying is that if you complain about something, it changes, and at a good speed too. If you mention that you're bored, you receive gifts to prevent said boredom- again- at a pretty astounding rate. You also have an array of soldiers at your doorstep to keep you company- though that one could be because we all like you," he laughed at the end of his explanation. His words surprised you, the conviction in which he mentioned the favoritism Thrawn had seemingly shown you caught you off guard. Skepticism lurked in your glare at your newfound "friend" as you stole a glance at the journal gifted to you. "Everyone else has mentioned it, not just me. I've just been the first one to say something to you, apparently." He chuckled again at the suspicious look on your face.

"You're laughing, but I don't find the joke funny..." you grimace at the trooper.

"That's because I'm not joking, snarky," Danver responded steadily and even behind the black visor, you could feel his unwavering stare. "Believe it or not, the admiral has taken a liking to you and all of the Chimera crew can tell." And with a salute, the trooper left you with a thousand thoughts swirling.

There was no way someone as stern and withdrawn as Thrawn would have any kind of favorites, at all, let alone aboard the Chimera. He was only using you to get to Luke, that was it.

Though...

Your thoughts drifted to the conversations you'd been having recently. While you couldn't recount exactly how long you had been on the Chimera, you knew it had felt long enough to feel an odd...growth to your chats with Thrawn. He had been what, you guessed, would be considered "kinder" when he spoke directly to you. At times he had even invited you to his office merely to speak about your art or have you critique some other interesting pieces he had gathered over his years of travel. Thinking about it long enough it did seem that you were learning more facets of the Grand Admiral, though nothing about him personally, just...small details that one could only learn about someone from being in their presence enough.

Of course, even under this realization, there was hardly any way you were going to be kind back to him. He was an Imperial Grand Admiral using you to gain control over the rebel cause, 'Over my dead body.' You thought stubbornly to yourself.

If Thrawn wanted to bring the Empire back into power again, he'd have to do it without your knowledge or help. You just hoped he wouldn't catch onto clues about things as easily as he'd seemed to have with your previous art.

Picking at the pages of your journal, you fidgeted in thought.

____________________________

"She seems to be acclimating very well, sir," a modulated voice spoke in reply to an earlier command, "the troopers all seem to love her. While the other crew members don't seem to interact with her all that much, when we escort her on her strict walks around the vessel, she keeps to herself and doesn't seem to nose around."

Something about this sudden growing knowledge of how well you had been treating his troopers bothered Thrawn. You'd been aboard the Chimera for going on three months and yet in your constant visits with him you still refused to open up at all, quipping with biting comments and passive-aggressive retorts, even when asked simple questions.

The duality perplexed him. Of course, he understood very well that he had never been known for his social skills, even back in the Ascendancy. Even then he expected that at some point you would see he didn't desire for your entire stay aboard his vessel to be excruciating.

Though at times it seemed you'd rather it be such way.

You were unbearably tenacious.

Difficult to speak with about any subject, and downright defiant at some intervals.

It...astonished Thrawn.

"Captain," the cold, calculating voice finally broke the long growing silence, "tell me, why do you believe our captive is so," he pondered for a moment, "agreeable with you?" The Chiss stopped his journey, to stand before the large sculpture in his office- scrutinizing it.

Silence ensued once more as the Storm Trooper considered the question, "U-Uh...sir?"

Turning only his head to glance over at the soldier standing taut by the door, Thrawn encouraged, "I am simply endeavoring to understand what it is she sees so sociable in my troopers, Captain."

"W-Well sir, it seems to me that since she trusts us to not harm her, we have gained her confidence. She's mentioned how scrutinizing you are about her, she..." The trooper wavered for a moment, "She seems to distrust you, uh, sir."

"I see."

The curt reply concerned the captain, but he remained diligent in his stance.

"You are dismissed, Captain. Thank you for your time." Thrawn returned to look back over at the large statue.

"Y-Yes sir!" The trooper bowed quickly and retreated through the doors behind him.

Left alone in the quiet of his office, the Grand Admiral considered what he’d been told. "She does not trust me, hmm?" He wandered back over to his desk, lowering himself into his seat. "It would seem my efforts have not had their desired result. Perhaps I must attempt something more... suitable."

____________________________

"Ya know, I feel like at this point, we could honestly just," you paused dramatically, gesturing for a moment with your hands, "stop wasting our time with these meetings, don't you?"

Thrawn sat idly in his chair, behind his desk, elbows propped up on his desk to steeple his fingers in thought, silently watching you. He'd called you in for another round of conversation at random and it had felt as if all fear had left the atmosphere that surrounded him- now you were just annoyed.

"I feel like we've gone back and forth enough for you to understand that your little gifts?" You lifted the journal he requested you to bring this time, "They aren't going to sweeten me up to you."

"Are you unhappy with the opportunity to practice your art once more?" His sudden question caught you off point as you opened your mouth to continue your tirade, mouth now hanging open dumbly. "Perhaps I have misunderstood your subtle requests then. If you are so displeased with my efforts, then you are more than welcome to return the journal."

Was this guy serious? Was he guilt-tripping you?

Lost for a response, you sat back in your seat, contemplatively. Were you being ungrateful? Had this "warlord of the Empire" truly tried to do something nice for you?

No.

He kidnapped you!

No way!

A small intake of air and the soft rustle of clothing caught your attention and looking back over the desk you saw Thrawn had resumed his casual position in his seat- inclining back a bit, a long leg crossed over the other as he grabbed up his datapad. "I have arranged for you to be transferred into your own personal quarters. Your things are being moved as we speak, please come to me if there is anything out of place. There shall be a set of Storm Troopers at your door to ensure your safety," then his glowing eyes met yours, severe and still unnerving, "and to dissuade your premature and unannounced departure from my ship."

Narrowing your eyes at the admiral, you cocked your head in confusion and irritation. "Wha-?"

"It would seem we have nothing further to discuss," Thrawn interrupted with an oddly soft use of your name, averting his eyes back to the datapad in his hands, "you are dismissed. A trooper outside shall see you to your new space."

Why did he keep interrupting you?!

"But I'm not finished!" You protested heatedly, rising from your seat to place your hands and journal on the desk. Leaning furiously toward the Chiss, "Why are you being so weirdly nice to me? You want information, I know it, but I'll be damned if you think I'm stupid enough to fall for these petty acts of kindness as your method of manipulation."

Your frustration was only met with calm silence, not a shifting of his red eyes, nor a flinch in his body. He seemed thoroughly unimpressed by your outrage. 'How dare he ignore me!' You fumed, gripping the desk edge until your knuckles were white.

"Damn it, Thrawn! I don't care if you're a Grand Admiral of some extinct Empire, I will not be ignored!"

"It would surprise you then, to hear that perhaps I am not manipulating you?" Again with his dumb questions as responses!

That didn't settle your anger any and it seemed as if Thrawn could sense that, as he sat down his datapad, leaned forward, and grabbed the discarded journal from in front of you. "Perhaps", he spoke casually, surveying the worn cover, then before speaking again, met your eyes with what seemed like....warmth? "You have genuinely piqued my inquisitiveness and whether you are connected to a Jedi is no longer an appeal of mine, but rather you are."

An odd feeling settled over you at his gaze. Whereas before Thrawn had only ever seen through you- or so it felt- he was staring...at you now. His eyes seemed to carry the oddest hint of tenderness, maybe? It was something new, something you hadn't seen in his stare before, and you had been the subject of most of his glaring recently.

Even as you stood there, voiceless, the admiral's eyes simply observed you. A warmth spread into your cheeks at his open stare and you withdrew from the desk clumsily, eyes averting to anything else around you.

Were you blushing?

Over Thrawn!

How embarrassing...you were supposed to be furious, not...bashful at such an odd compliment.

Was it a compliment?

Standing from his desk, Thrawn positioned his hands behind his back in his typical way, "Come, allow me to show you to your room then."

Once outside the hall, the Storm Troopers began to follow behind, to which Thrawn coolly discharged them. You were so wrapped up in what just happened in his office, you hardly recognized the confused glances they had given one another. The metal grating below you was suddenly far too fascinating to care about the odd looks of the passing Chimera crew.

The entire walk had been silent, Thrawn never tried to quell any uncomfortable energy you were clearly giving off, he was just...quiet.

That was until the two of you had reached your new room and he greeted the two Storm Troopers already stationed, "Please see that she is satisfied with the room." Thrawn then turned to you, to which you slowly met his glowing eyes. His height was as intimidating as ever, that had never changed. "As I previously mentioned, if you find anything not to your liking, I would request that you address me personally about the matter. You know where my office is by now, I assume?"

"Yes, I do." You quietly replied, nodding meekly.

"Good. Then I shall see you for our next meeting when I call for it." And after handing you off to the guards, the admiral departed down the hall from where the two of you came.

Confusion upon confusion racked up in your mind as you stepped forward, one of the troopers pressing the button to open your door for you. "Weird he brought you here himself, huh?" One of them chimed in as you passed him. Thankfully you recognized the voice and it brought some ease to you.

"Shut up, Arrance, I'm already confused enough." You grumbled, the door sliding shut behind you.

Once you reached for the light, you were shocked to see how...cozy the room actually was. An enormous bed sat in the left quarter of the room, framed by an even larger window that looked out into the starry ocean of space. The bed seemed large enough for four people, fitted with a plush comforter and so many warm-colored blankets it looked like a nest you could crawl into and hibernate for months. The pillows looked just as inviting, their matching covers pulling the colors together beautifully. There was an expansive couch that seemed to go on forever and had nearly as many pillows as the large bed, behind it, butted up against the steel wall, and beside the window sat a desk.

As you explored you noticed that you had a private fresher with everything you could need to pamper yourself, an easel with canvases, paints, and paintbrushes, and a very small kitchenette. Everything.

Thrawn had thought of...everything.

There was nothing this nice aboard the Falcon...

Though, your family was there.

Han and Leia.

Chewie.

R2.

...Luke.

As you sat on the couch, thinking about how much you missed everyone, your heart ached for Luke. Hearing his sweet laugh, feeling his warm touches- as few as they were. And while the room Thrawn had given you was nice...you couldn't help but be reminded of how long you must've been away from the group by now. No one had given you an exact frame of how long you'd been aboard the Chimera, not even Thrawn, but it’s had to be months at this point. Months with still no sign of Luke...

You knew he wouldn't leave you in the hands of the Imperials indefinitely, even if just because you were friends...and nothing more.

Nothing more.

Never more.

Not for a Jedi.

Not for Luke.

Though, that would never stop your heart from yearning for more. Luke meant the world to you and loving him came so easily, especially when that precious smile appeared on his face whenever Han would say something stupid, or Leia would mention something about the twins. His gentleness when it came to those he cared about. His determination and love for others.

Luke was a wonderful man. A strong, compassionate man.

You missed them all so much...

You missed Luke even more.

Maybe they'd come to save you soon.

You just had to hold out hope.

A knock roused you unexpectedly.

You'd fallen asleep?

Of course, you had. The couch was the most comfortable thing you'd relaxed in for weeks- besides that seat in Thrawn's office that was arguably snuggly.

"Oh right..." you mumbled to yourself as you wiped at your tired eyes. You'd forgotten you’d yelled at Thrawn earlier and then he gave you that weird compliment. "What a jerk."

Another knock brought your attention back and you stood to answer it. With a whoosh, you were met with a trooper holding out your journal. How'd he get that? Didn't they move it in with everything else?

"The admiral wanted me to make sure this made its safe return to you." Danver's voice reached your ears and you looked at him confused.

"The admiral?" You echoed curiously.

The nod of his plastoid helmet made everything click back into place, "Yeah. He said you'd left it in his office."

You hadn't left it! That insufferable Chiss had swiped it from you while you were shouting at him! What was with him, anyway?!

You took a deep breath, leveling your irritation, this wasn't Danver's issue. No need to yell at him. No, you’d save that for Thrawn’s next meeting. "Thanks, Danver. I appreciate it."

Muttering a response, he peaked his head in and glanced around with a whistle, modulator crackling slightly from the sound. "He really did give you the best quarters on the ship. That's nuts."

"I'm sorry?" You responded.

Danver moved to stand out of the doorway once again, "word's been going around that the admiral moved you to the nicest room, aside from his, on the Chimera." He chuckled in good humor, "Looks like they weren't lying. Now you really can't argue with me that you're his favorite, huh?" With a nudge to the arm, the captain left after a farewell, the door sliding shut.

You blinked a few times, trying to process what he’d said. It took a moment, but in stunned silence you walked over to slouch into the bed, the journal still in hand. "What the hell is happening?" You muttered, opening up the pages aimlessly, trying to comprehend the last few hours or so of the day.

Thrawn had allowed you to yell at him, instead meeting you with a very oddly placed compliment.

He then gave you, what Danver called, the best room on the Chimera- after having shouted directly at him.

What in the galaxy was going on?

Then your eyes caught something out of place as you flipped through the filled pages, "huh?" Annotations had been made on one of your drawings of a Storm Trooper- coincidentally, Danver- speaking to what seemed to be another person not pictured on the page. The script looked familiar and you realized why quickly after reading the comments.

It was Thrawn's handwriting.

'Captain Danver's plastoid chest piece has a notch or two more than you have decided to add here. Though overall I find your attention to detail praiseworthy. Not many see things as you seem to. The way you've drawn him, opting to illustrate him speaking with a fellow trooper, shows your level of personal esteem for him. Your art is beautiful, your talent is unmatched. Please, continue, I would like to see more.'

Snapping the journal shut and throwing it on the floor, cheeks hot, you curled yourself into the cozy blankets "Stupid Chiss."

________________________________

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