#prayed to anything that the colors would make sense anyway

[wttcsms]

and i can’t make you stay (in this broken place) ; atsumu miya

pairing atsumu miya x f!reader word count 6.3k synopsis i sin too much to pray for you — no one can believe that one of the most powerful crime lords in the underground world of japan, atsumu miya, is wrapped around the finger of a naive girl like you, but love doesn’t really care about boundaries anyway. content contains yakuza/mafia au, pet names (”baby”, “my girl”), morning sex, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, gun mentions, mild descriptions of violence, minor/insignificant character deaths, naive/innocent reader

It’s rare for him to be beside you when you wake up in the morning; even rarer than that is you actually waking up before him. But rare doesn’t always equate to never, and proof of this is the fact that he’s lying right next to you, snoring softly with an arm thrown over your body.

It’s funny — even when he’s asleep, he’s still protective of you.

There had been a lot of things about Atsumu Miya that had taken a considerable amount of time to get used to: his overprotective nature, the way he’s always right (because whatever he says goes; if he says the sky is yellow, National Geographic better have that on the cover of their next issue), the way that he treats speed limits as a suggestion…

The hardest thing that you had to learn to deal with, though, is the fact that he’s a businessman first and your boyfriend second. And for the most part, you can handle being second place on his list of priorities.

After all, you’ve only known him for a little over two years. It’s unfair, really, for you to expect him to rearrange his whole entire life over the fact that you entered his… Unexpectedly, if you’re going to delve deep into the details.

You like to think about how the two of you first met. It never fails to make you smile, and you’re smiling (like an idiot, you presume) right now. You were eighteen, then. A freshman at a decent sized university and horribly naive — even more so than you are right now, which is saying a lot.

He — a random junior fresh out of a party — wanted to take you out.

“Like a date?” You had asked, stupidly, hopefully.

“Yeah, like a date.”

(His smile was anything but sweet, but red flags seem like regular flags when you’re eighteen and looking at the world through rose colored glasses.)

The “date” could only be reached, according to the college boy, via a dark alley that just screamed dangerous. You didn’t want to walk through there, but he had convinced you that you were in safe hands.

Those same hands were gripped tightly around your wrists as he led you deeper down this unlitted alleyway. The same safe hands that travelled all over the sides of your body. Even in this damp location, even with the humid summer heat of Japan, even with the humidity making the air feel so thick it was as if it were solid, even with all of that, you were still shaking every time he so much as grazed your body.

The moment his “safe hands” found their way up your shirt, you screamed.

You don’t know this part about the story. Honestly, if Atsumu gets his way (and he usually does), you’ll never know this part. It’s not important, he reasons, for you to know the real reason on why he just so happened to be in that part of town.

(It had been too dark that night, and you were so anxious that you hadn’t noticed the stains on the collar of his dress shirt, and even if you had, you would never even think for a second that it was the blood of a rival yakuza member.)

Of course, the unbiased details of the story have long since been erased from your memories. When you look back at this fateful day, the only proper way (your words, obviously no one else’s) to explain Atsumu’s entrance is to compare it to that of a knight in shining armor. Because that’s how you felt when you saw his tall figure at the entrance of the alley.

You had screamed for help, and he saved you with no hesitation.

After that, it had only made sense to you to keep in contact with him.

For such a shy, scared girl, you were awfully persistent in chasing after him. He’s never saved a girl’s number in his phone before, and he swore that you weren’t going to be an exception.

And then you became an — no, the — exception.

(He tells you, one day when he’s drunk, that he always knew you were going to be The One since the first day he met you. You had been shaking like you were freezing and stuttering over your words, and he didn’t want to see such a pretty girl like you — no, not like you… just you, because you are the only exception, after all — in a predicament like that ever again.

What a walking contradiction he is: vowing to protect you as if your very association with him isn’t the main reason why you’re in a constant state of danger.)

You moved in with him after just six months of dating. He’s your first serious boyfriend, and it’s not like you regret staying by his side, even if he does have some weird tendencies that any other sensible person would investigate. The early morning meetings and late hours that he works “at the office” are suspicious. Sometimes, he’ll come home to you with a different new scar but the same method of brushing off all your questions and concerns as trivial things.

( “Ya worry about me too much.” He tells you, like the thought of you caring about his well being, about him, so deeply doesn’t make his heart grow twice its size.)

You’re not nearly as dimwitted as his coworkers — specifically Kiyoomi Sakusa, the notorious germaphobe and coldest of the bunch — think you are. You know that there’s more to Atsumu Miya than his job as an investment broker. You know that there’s a reason he doesn’t want you to be at his work office. Absolutely no surprise visits — he’s very adamant about this rule. You highly doubt you could even get away with it; the security for his company is insane.

But he comes home to you in one piece, and his cashflow seems nearly endless, and when you’re with him, you feel so safe. So, you don’t question his business, you don’t go digging around, trying to find out where all his money and power come from. At the end of the day, does it really matter?

All that matters is that he’s here with you, right now, for what seems like the first time in forever. You’re so ridiculously happy about this fact that you can’t seem to stop smiling at him as he continues to sleep. You take a hand to reach up and play with his hair, and his eyes open in a flash, almost as if he hadn’t been sleeping just a second ago.

He looks ready to jump into action, but his body relaxes when he realizes that it’s just you.

(That’s another one of Atsumu’s odd tendencies — he’s constantly on his guard.)

He makes a small noise, shuts his eyes again, and snuggles up even closer to you, his grip on your body tightening even more. You continue to run your fingers through his hair.

“Poor baby, longer hours at the office?” You murmur, more to yourself than him. Of course you know that he’s working longer hours — the number of times you fell asleep while waiting for him makes it hard for you to not notice the slight shift in his schedule.

He’s still trying to snuggle up even closer to you, like he can’t bear not having his body pressed flush against yours.

“Mm, I’d feel a lot better if I got to spend more time with my girl.” He says, face burrowed in your hair, muffling his voice. You know this is just supposed to be a sweet morning in bed with your boyfriend, but you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together at his trademark nickname for you — my girl. It sounds even better when it’s said with his morning voice.

“Let’s have breakfast together.” You suggest, your hand moving lower to play with the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck.

It’s not a bad idea. Atsumu knows you like to dote on him just as much as he does for you. The image of you wearing one of his dress shirts and just a pair of panties he bought you while working hard to prepare him a meal is a sight that greets him home at least once a week, and he can never get tired of it. But it’s been a while since he’s been able to indulge in this much free time, and today—

Today Atsumu wants breakfast in bed.

His arm around your waist allows him to squeeze one of your asscheeks before he moves his arm to the front of your body, traveling to the apex of your thighs. You part them without him having to tell you to do so, and he smiles at your easy submission. You really are his good girl, huh?

“‘Tsum—’Tsumu.” You whimper out while he traces the lace of your panties before pulling them to the side to expose your pretty pussy. He leans on his other arm, resting all his body on his left arm, so he can admire you better.

“So early in the morning, and my baby’s already so wet.” He’s smiling as his index finger finds its way inside of you.

You know that your original plan was supposed to be making Atsumu feel good, a treat for working so hard (working on what , you have no idea), but you can’t focus because it’s barely seven in the morning, and he already has you wet and wanton for him and his touch. It’s unfair, really, how just a simple taste of his touch has you keening for more already.

You can’t help but lift your hips up to try to get him in deeper, but he just laughs — a deep, melodic rumble — before adding his middle finger.

One of the things he loves most about you is the effect you have on how he views life. Atsumu Miya’s never been the type of guy to believe in fate; coincidences, sure, but never destiny, y’know? But he supposes even the universe has a heart, because it led him to you.

Sometimes, when he’s feeling extra confident, he reckons that he has the Midas Touch. His hands have explored every centimeter of your gorgeous body; how else would he explain just how golden you are? But that’s just all you; his golden girl long before you even met him. If anything, he knows the real truth: the more time you spend with him, the more time you’ll lose that lovely shine to you. Touches from a man like him only tarnish, are only capable of tainting you.

But he can’t think about that now. Lately, he’s been getting in his head, always wondering when the day is gonna come where you decide to pack your bags and jump ship. It’s why he needs to savor moments like these for as long as they last.

You grind against his hand, trying to get him in deeper as if it’s physically possible. That’s another thing he loves so much about you; it’s easy to get you needy for him. The thought of you being like this with someone else leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but the little whimpers of his name draws him out of his uncalled for jealous spiral.

Your hands, so much tinier than his, grab onto his arm, nails making themselves at home on the skin and muscle of his biceps. Most of the time, you’re his cute little pillow princess, but then there are moments where you’re just so desperate that you’re willing to put in the work, too.

“Look at you, baby, gettin’ all wet and messy from riding my fingers like they’re my cock.” He coos, watching you use his fingers to get yourself off. You’ll never believe him when he tells you just how pretty you look going stupid as the only thought in your mind is to chase after the pleasure only he can give you. Would you be grinding against the hand of anyone else, clenching around someone else’s fingers as well as you are right now?

No, you wouldn’t be. You wouldn’t be, because it’s his skin that had indentations of your nails digging themselves in there as your movements get even more sporadic. It’s him that’s being granted a front row seat to watch the way your pretty pussy glistens in the morning glow of the sun. It’s his fingers that are buried knuckles deep in your wet heat, his hand that your slick arousal is dripping all over.

“ATSUMU!” You moan out, practically humping his hand as you ride out your first orgasm of the morning. Your cheeks are burning with heat, but it’s nothing compared to the warm feeling you get in your belly before cumming all over your boyfriend’s fingers.

You’re not given a moment to come down from your previous high because when Atsumu withdraws his fingers from your cunt and brings his cum coated fingers to his lips to get a taste of you, all his restraint, all thoughts of taking his time to savor your sweetness, flies out the window.

He’s greedy, he knows it. But he also knows you, so when finds himself with his head between your thighs, licking up the remnants from your previous orgasm, he knows before you even do it that you’ll card your fingers through his hair and push his head down.

He smiles at your needy actions. Honestly, when he’s with you, it’s hard to stop himself from smiling. You just make him so happy — even happier when you make those cute, little noises when he fucks you with his tongue.

He could live in between your legs for the rest of his life, with only your juices to sustain him. Drugs have hardly ever held any interest to him, but as he relishes in the sweet taste of you, he can’t help but think that you’re his drug of choice. With a pussy like pure codeine, and a taste so sweet that he can’t help but drown himself in your essence, you wash away all his worries.

You’re lucky that he’s not tender headed, especially since you always love to pull at his hair when he makes you feel good. The sounds of him eating you out are lewd and mix in with your sweet mewls. He knows you’re close. Your thighs are closing in on him, your grip on his hair is tightening and you’re pulling with reckless abandon as your body squirms and moves sporadically without your mind telling it too. You’re so lost in the pleasure, burning in the heat of the moment.

When he finally sucks on your clit, you scream as your second orgasm has you clamping your thighs. He continues sucking on your clit throughout your release, utterly enraptured at the way you throw your head back with your back arched. He admires the way your pretty lips part to moan out his name, only his name, always his name.

You’re trying to catch your breath, watching as he licks his lips, your juices smeared all over his chin, making the lower half of his face all shiny, slick with your arousal. Your bottom lip juts out as you pout, tears welling up in your eyes.

Immediately, the pleased expression on his face morphs into one of complete concern.

“Baby, what’s the matter?” He’s panicking, worried that he went too hard on you. He’s been rougher before, but maybe his idea of “soft and sweet” is different from yours. He had only wanted to make you feel good, and it seemed like you were enjoying it, but—

“Y-you didn’t give me a-a-a chance—” You sniffle, finding it hard to stop the flow of tears from falling down your warm cheeks. “—t-to make you feel good, t-too.”

His thumb wipes away some of your tears. Look at you, all fucked out with your cute, quivering little hole still clenching around nothing. Nothing is better than seeing your pussy covered in your cum — unless, of course, it’s his cum that’s seeping out your abused hole.

“It’s okay, baby.” He coos, using his free hand to tug at the waistband of his boxers. “I never said we were finished.”

Atsumu Miya likes to play games. Which his right-hand man, Kiyoomi Sakusa, says is going to be the downfall of them all, but Atsumu doesn’t care because he thinks that Omi is too serious for his own good.

To the outside world, he’s the president of MSBY, one of the leading investment brokerages in Japan. That’s what he likes to call himself: an investment broker. A real businessman, y’know? And he looks the part, too: gelled hair, nice watch, shiny shoes, a custom tailored suit that’s been ironed by you.

To the men who dared to go against him, though, he’s the embodiment of death. The building MSBY calls its headquarters is fifty stories tall, but right now, right fucking now, he’s deep underground. On the rare occasions he does allow you to visit him at work, he shows you to his office at the very top floor — the one with the best view in Japan, he tells you, as you stare in awe at the beautiful scene before you — and says that this is where he does most of his work.

He doesn’t like lying to you, but sometimes, lying is necessary. You’re a curious thing by nature; if he told you the truth, the truth being that most of the time, all of his business is handled in the wide basement of this office building, you would ask to see it.

He doesn’t want you to see it, though. Doesn’t want you to see the way he handles business, doesn’t want you to see the men he does business with, and certainly doesn’t want those men to see you .

“Pathetic.” Kiyoomi spits out, leaning against the wall with a cold look in his dark eyes. The black mask he’s wearing obscures the disgusted sneer on his face that Atsumu knows is gracing his features.

The three men whose knees are on the floor, bowing down to Kiyoomi and Atsumu, don’t say anything in reply.

Kiyoomi brought them in because he had a sneaking suspicion that this trio had been breaking the rules, and Kiyoomi’s suspicions are hardly ever wrong. These three men had gotten a little bit too ambitious in their pursuit of money.

“Ya think I would just let the three of ya walk around as free men after what you tried to pull?” Atsumu snaps. “You think I would let anyone get away with tryin’ to sell off girls? The three of you are shit at running drugs, you really thought you could get away with human trafficking?” His voice is raising — he’s not yelling, though, not yet. “I ought to get the whole crew down here, so they can watch you three beg for your lives before I put a bullet through each of yer heads.”

“Pl-please, sir—”

“Close yer damn mouth. The more you talk, the more I want to get this over with.” Atsumu takes a step closer to them. “I was gonna go easy on ya, but then Omi told me somethin’ real interesting.” He nods to Kiyoomi, who finally stops leaning against the wall and straightens up.

“They have a bunch of files on young girls they’ve been scouting in this area. Ones that they think would be easy targets.” Kiyoomi tosses the file that he’s been hiding away in the inside of his suit jacket. “I think the one I left on top is gonna make you—” He pauses, as if he trying to find the right word without spoiling the surprise. He shrugs instead. “Well, go ahead and take a look.”

When Atsumu opens the file, he’s greeted with a candid shot of you. It had been taken last week — he knows so, because he recognizes the frilly white sundress you’re wearing in this photo. It’s the same dress he bunched up to fuck you by the lake the two of you were having a picnic at. The memory is a good one, but the fact that they managed to get a clear photo of you before that angers him.

Attached is a paper with your information filled out: basic things, like your name, age, your city of residence…

Obviously their work isn’t nearly as thorough as it could be, considering the fact that they hadn’t known about your connection to him. It’s almost laughable, really, at how pitiful their attempts to start their own little side business is.

“[Name] [Surname].” He reads out your name slowly, mockingly — as if these men are children who need help sounding out new vocabulary words in a picture book.

“Sir, please! We’ll do anything! We-we can even get her for you, if that’s what you wa—“

A swift kick to the man’s jaw has him shutting up, the impact so strong that a tooth flies out. Kiyoomi looks at it with disgust.

“God, you three are the biggest fucking idiots here, huh? I don’t even wanna know what I was thinking lettin’ ya in.” Atsumu’s eyes narrow at the pitiful sight beneath him. He should feel bad, he thinks. But, then again, they’re just asking for it. Not only did they try to use their weak connection to MSBY to promote their own little business venture, but they failed, miserably. He’d be embarrassed to be them right now.

It’s not just the ignorance and disloyalty that has his blood pressure rising, though. It’s the fact that they’ve been watching you, taking pictures of you, maybe even following you whenever they can, that makes him see red. Them asking him to spare their lives in exchange for you, though, is his breaking point.

Kiyoomi can see that Atsumu’s this close to doing something dangerous, but he doesn’t make any moves to stop him. Not because he can’t, but because he just doesn’t want to. Atsumu’s a big boy who can clean up his own messes (not well, which leaves Kiyoomi with the responsibility to erase all traces that anyone’s ever been murdered down here). Truth be told, Kiyoomi’s bored, and when Atsumu gets mad, things get fun.

He can see the gears turning in Atsumu’s head right now as he plans his next move. The pathetic whimpering coming from the trio of traitors is making Kiyoomi’s ears bleed, so he’s hoping ‘Tsumu can hurry the hell up so he can make it on time for a lunch reservation he set up…

“Since the the three of ya are all gonna be meeting yer maker soon, I’ll let you in on a little secret only the higher ups know about.” He pulls out his phone — his personal one, the one dedicated just for you — while he talks. “[Name] is my girlfriend. So I don’t need the three of you to try to take advantage of her and bring her to me.” He crouches down so he doesn’t have to speak as loud when he explains what’s about to go down.

“As a matter of fact, I think I’m gonna call her right now. Ya know what happened to the last guys that tried to fuck me and my organization over?”

“Sir! We did—“

He gets cut off when Kiyoomi knees him on the side of his head.

“Shut up, and let him finish.” Atsumu can always count on Kiyoomi to help him get his point across.

“The last guy’s last words were tellin’ my girl how pretty she looked. She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

“Y-yes.”

“Ya think my girl is pretty?” Atsumu pulls out his gun, matte black, fully loaded, and presses it against the middle man’s head. “Ya wanna know why that was that bastard’s last words?” He sneers, not waiting for an answer. “It’s because he wasn't even good enough to be looking at her.”

He pulls back his hand, removing the gun from against the man’s temple, and straightens up, standing to his full height.

“But that was too borin’. And besides, I don’t want you fuckers talkin’ to her.” His gun is tucked safely behind his back as he unlocks his phone. A photo of you blowing a kiss at him greets him on his home screen.

“I’m gonna ask her to pick a number between one and three. Whatever number she chooses is the number of bodies Omi’s gonna have to take to the burner.”

“Th-this isn’t right!” One of the men shouts. “Letting your fucktoy call the shot—“

“You can get shot right now if ya like.” The man is silent. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

When he calls you, you pick up on the first ring, just like he knew you would because that’s what you always do.

“Hey, aren’t you at work right now?”

“I’m takin’ a break.”

“That’s good! You’ve been working so hard. Are you sure you can’t bring some of your work home?”

Well, he could, but he’s not sure how you would feel about having a stranger’s blood splattered all over the white carpets you made him buy.

“Nah, I’m fine. Hey, I wanted to call you because I need some help.”

“Really?” He can practically see your wide eyes. “Of course! D-do you need me to come down to the office?”

“No!” He winces when he realizes that his voice is louder than it needs to be. “No.” He repeats, more gently this time around. The difference startles the three men, but Kiyoomi just rolls his eyes. It’s pathetic how much Atsumu babies you.

“I just need you to pick a number between one and three.”

“For what?”

“Can’t say. Just pick, baby.”

“Um…” He can tell you’re probably biting your bottom lip in thought. “Whatever I say won’t ruin the company, right? Like, this isn’t some life or death decision I’m making?”

Atsumu’s smile is a sadistic one. “Of course not! I can’t tell ya what it’s for, but it’s definitely nothing crazy. But you gotta pick now, baby, I’m in a hurry.”

“Okay, well, you know what? You can never go wrong with picking the highest number. I think I should choose number three.”

“Three?” Atsumu asks, just to confirm that he hasn’t gone hard of hearing yet.

“Three.” You confirm, giggling a little bit. “So, did I choose good?”

“You chose perfectly, baby. I gotta go now, but I’ll see you tonight.”

When he hangs up, it’s like flipping a switch. His face is contorted into a cruel sneer as he stares down at the three men. He only looks up to nod at Omi, who’s now pulling out his own gun.

“Hey.” Atsumu taps the toe of his shiny dress shoes on the cheek of one of the kneeling men. It’s the same one who was so adamant that this “wasn’t right”. Pulling back the safety of his gun, the action making a resounding click that echoes throughout this dark room, Atsumu smirks. “How does it feel knowing that my fucktoy is the reason why ya got a bullet through yer head?”

He doesn’t get an answer because dead men don’t speak.

Showing you off, though, becomes a problem — and fast.

Word spreads like wildfire in the underground world, and the hottest news right now is this: Atsumu Miya’s absolutely whipped for some stupid slut, and if you value your life, you’ll leave her the fuck alone.

But there are two sides to a coin, and the other side is this: the best way to fuck with Atsumu Miya is to fuck with you.

Every major and minor crimelord or lone wolf has heard about you. Most of them have seen a photo of you, some of them even have their own. The most direct way of having Atsumu Miya in the palm of their hands is to choke you with it first.

An old rival of his is the first to hear the news about you. Tobio Kageyama isn’t interested in how pretty you are; he doesn’t care that you’re naive and just begging to be taken advantage of; he couldn’t care less about all the lewd comments used to describe you when he’s gathering info. All he cares about is that kidnapping you will have Atsumu doing whatever he wants, and at the end of the day, all Tobio really cares about is how much power he has.

But you don’t know about any of this. How could you? Atsumu’s main goal is keeping you in the dark. You’re not stupid — obviously, he’s into some shady shit, but it’s never been anything that you felt you should worry about. Besides, aren’t all businessmen a little crooked?

The sound of several muttering voices and the slam of a door signals that Atsumu is home, and you peek your head from behind the wall that serves to separate the entranceway from the living room.

“‘Tsumu?” You ask, staring first at your boyfriend, and then at the three men behind him. You recognize the trio — you call them his friends, even though Atsumu knows better. They’re loyal and he doesn’t mind spending time with them, but there’s no room for any real meaningful friendships to take place.

“We have to go. Now.” Atsumu makes his way to you in just three long steps, his hand finding its way to your tiny arm, squeezing tight as he drags you alongside him.

“‘Tsumu, I-I don’t understand. Did I do something? Wh-”

“Kiyoomi, you sure you wanna go alone? Bo could always come with you.”

Kiyoomi scoffs underneath his mask, as if what Atsumu just suggested offends him. “I respect Ushijima, but I’m sure he and I can come to an understanding without any assistance.”

Atsumu speaks to Shouyo and Koutarou, double checking on certain things, and when everything seems to be sorted out, he nods at them before dragging you out into the hallway of the apartment building you live in.

“Atsumu, let me go.”

“I can’t do that.” He says, never easing his grip on you as he walks down the hallway and pulls you into an elevator, taking the two of you down to the parking garage.

“What’s going on, Atsumu?” You try to ease the shake in your voice as you grab at his chin, forcing him to face you. He seems angry at first, but his features soften as he looks down at you.

“I’m not a good person, ya know.”

“Did something happen?”

“The specifics aren’t important, trust me.”

“Trust you?” You ask. “Can I? Should I?”

Now’s not the time for his heart to be breaking. Whether he’s fucking you or not, you always look up at him adoringly, like he’s just the ninth wonder of the world or something. Now, you’re staring at him like he’s a stranger, and the worst part about it is the fact that it’s entirely justified. You brought out a different side to him no one else would ever know existed, but that doesn’t mean you know about who he really is.

“Do you?” He retorts, looking directly in your eyes, seeing his crazed expression reflecting back at him.

A beat passes, and then—

“Of course I do, ‘Tsumu.”

You’re telling the truth.

When he takes you to the safe house, he explains it. Maybe not all of it, and he’s definitely sparing you the gritty details, but you get what you need to know — what you should know. MSBY has one foot in the corporate world, and one buried deep in the ground of the world of organized crime. He’s been prepped and primed for his position since he was a teenager; leaving isn’t an option granted to many.

He gave up his life for this cause so his brother could live normally. Now you know why he never talks about Osamu — it’d leave a bitter taste in your mouth too.

A lot of bad men want to hurt you as a means of getting to him. He can protect you — he will protect you. He just needs time. Time to gather more resources, time to deal with all his enemies, time time time.

He’s been running short of it for quite a while now.

He tells you your limited options: stay with him, or stay with him ‘til it’s safe for you to leave this safehouse, and you can break free from this life. You can pretend that you’ve never even met him. Move on. Meet someone normal. You’d still be under his protection either way.

You cried when he told you this. You’re sensitive, after all. Empathetic, too. His pain ultimately becomes your pain, and he hates himself because the last thing he had ever intended to do was hurt you .

But hurting people comes easy to him. His hands have been molded to hold a gun, not love. He’s not built for tender touches and handling things with care, and maybe he was just fooling himself into thinking that you’re meant to be his.

But all thoughts of how he’s a monster incapable of deserving nice things, incapable of deserving you, leaves his mind when he finds you straddling his lap. You stopped crying, but the barely dried up tear streaks are still on your cheeks, lashes still wet as you stare at him.

You’re pressing your body against his, arms wrapped around his neck, face burrowed in the open space between his neck and shoulder. It’s like you’re trying to steal him of all his warmth — isn’t it bad enough that you’ve already stolen his heart?

Is it bad that he’d give you his all, give you everything, if you just asked?

He’s not sure how long he holds you like this, but it also doesn’t take you very long to start squirming against him.

Even in a life threatening situation, you’re still his needy little slut. You’re grinding on his lap, letting out tiny, cute whimpers as you rub your clothed cunt over his steadily hardening cock.

“Mmm, I-I need you, ‘Tsumu.” You whine out, rubbing your face against his neck, inhaling his familiar scent.

“Yeah? My pretty baby needs me?” He groans out. “I need you, too, baby. I need to fuck your little pussy ‘til everyone knows who you belong to.”

Ridding you of your shorts and panties is an easy task, especially since you’re so eager. Your dainty fingers are unzipping his jeans, and he watches you with half-lidded, lust filled eyes as you hastily pull down, trying to free his cock from its confines.

He fucks you all night, making good on his word. The first time you orgasm is when you ride his cock like it’s the last time you’ll ever do so, pathetically rutting up against him like a weak bitch in heat. His fingerprints are embedded in the flesh of your hips, and he sucks harsh hickies on your neck and collarbone that don’t fade for a week. The second time you orgasm is when he takes you to the king sized bed and properly gets his cock reacquainted with your pretty pussy, thrusting in so deeply that he presses against your cervix despite your whines. Your walls clamp down on him so tightly, clinging to his dick every time he tries to move; he doesn’t have to mold you to him, it’s as if you’ve already been made for him, custom tailored to fit him and only him.

He fucks you rough and hard, with a bruising pace and superhuman stamina. Your throat is sore from screaming so much. You’re nothing but a leaking hole by the time he’s done for the night, vision blurred and limbs feeling like gelatin. You can barely form a coherent thought, nevertheless speak using actual sentences, and so when he pulls you close to him, placing a gentle, almost chaste kiss on your forehead, you can’t tell him what you want to say: I love you, and I won’t leave you.

The hardest part about the life he’s been forced to live is the fact that his priorities will never align. He thinks about this as he tucks you in, brushing back your hair as you sleep. You roll over on your side, grabbing at the spot where he should have been laying, pouting in your sleep as if you know he should be there and he isn’t.

That’s the issue. No matter how much he wants to, he can’t be there for you as much as he would like.

Stupid Kiyoomi warned him about this — “You can’t live a double life.” He can’t run the underground crime world and be your boyfriend. He also can’t put you through this life; can’t force you to stay in a place where you don’t belong.

He brushes his lips against your forehead again, smiling at you as you sleep.

He’ll come back for you, he swears. He just has to make sure that you’ll be safe. Won’t come back for you until he’s certain that all the major threats are gone.

You’ll wake up alone. There will be no way for you to contact him. He won’t go out of his way to speak to you, either. It’s best for the both of you to learn and adjust to living without each other.

In this line of business, it’s just better for everyone in the long run to prepare for the worst.

#haikyuu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #miya x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu smut #smut #lemon #one shot #drabble #angst #yakuza au #mafia au #hq imagines

[marshmallowprotection]

Choi Twins 2023 Birthday Analysis

Would you believe me if I said that I don’t have much to say this time because the details are always too obvious to spend hours trying to figure out what the little details are? I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t trying to figure them out, though... Anyway! Here we go, let’s talk about it!

So, Cheritz already gave away what’s happening in this picture. It isn’t much of a surprise to me because the theme this year is everyone as children. Which, that frightened me the very second we started on Yoosung’s birthday given just how many of our friends were neglected as children. They gave us one of the happier moments in Zen’s childhood, but we, the fans, know that Saeran and Saeyoung spent their childhood in shackles.

I’ve been speculating for months how they’d even handle this. Some of the hard questions I had to ask myself were: What if they have no choice but to draw the two of them apart? What if Saeyoung is in college and Saeran is in the church in this photo? What if it’s like the 2019 split screen? I didn’t think they’d go as far as to show Saeyoung in the field and Saeran in Mint Eye because they’d be older in their years and beyond what we’d consider their young childhood.

So, Cheritz choosing to show one of the only positive days from their childhood was probably for the best. I can’t tell y’all how scared I was we were going to get a photo of them sitting together in their childhood home with a smuggled piece of cake and a single candle. I mean, it’d be touching to think that Saeyoung would want Saeran to have a good birthday moment, but I don’t think anyone could’ve handled that theme.

“Secret Outings” is all you need to hear to connect the dots on this image. It’s a moment where their mother passed out and there’s a small window to get some ice cream, look at the clouds, or feel like they might just escape a living hell one of these days. I think the relief I have over this only comes from the fact that the Twitter Event will have the boys trying to find the good in the bad, and enjoying the realization that their present can be whatever they want it to be and they’re free.

I pray whatever image they’ve got cooked up on Twitter won’t kill me. If it’s the boys are kids trying to enjoy ice cream, I am going to full on cry for a week and i won’t be okay. They always add an image to the Twitter threads so there is really no telling what it’s going to be. It might be a single photo, or there might be two of them and I don’t know what’s worse. The thought of the boys together on the fleeting summer day of freedom... or them apart, celebrating as young boys who miss each other dearly.

Anyway! As you can see, my speculation is more or less taken care of. I know a few things about this photo. The boys are likely outside somewhere because the hard light that’s on Saeyoung’s head implies he is either directly in the line of the sun or he’s standing by a window where the sun is on him. It makes more sense to me that he’s outside from the harshness of the light. I can’t write off either for this situation, but there’s only so much I can dissect from the small window they gave us.

This could be inside OR outside. It’s a window but I can’t tell if they’re inside of a building or not. I would hope not, if only because the angle here seems like it’s... an outside view of a window. I don’t know for sure. I definitely can’t tell from the other half of the image. There are a lot of whites and blues in this photo... and I can tell y’all from experience over the years that anything that’s a light color isn’t going to reveal anything to you whatsoever.

It makes finding Zen and Saeran so much harder than it needs to be... literally. I’ve cried in group photos because if Zen and Saeran are there... it means I’ve got a chance of not only losing them to the background details, but I’ve got the worst chance in the world of screwing up which is which.

Speaking of that, a lot of people have been saying online, “Why is that hair so white?” Again, I’ll give you the answer to that, Saeyoung’s hair looks white due to the hard light that’s hitting him. It’s not Saeran. It’s not a photo of the boys as babies with the wrong hair color like they did with Children’s Day last year. This is just the way light theory acts out.

The Children’s Day photo was done just for the sake of keeping spoilers out and away from the front and center for fans who don’t know everything there is to be aware of at this point, and for the sake of consistency.

They don’t want to draw everyone drastically different from the way they are in the present. That’s why Yoosung, Jaehee, and Saeran don’t look like how they actually would.

Hard light brightens anything it touches. It’s called hard light for a reason, and if you work with photography or digital art, you’d have discovered this a long time ago when you were just starting out. Here’s an example of a basic hard light I’ve done on a photo of Saeyoung just to give y’all something to look at to clear up a round of confusion. You can see right off the bat that it makes him look bright to the eye. His colors are extra saturated and feel garish if you look at him for way too long.

See how his highlights become whiter? Yeah. That’s the same thing that’s going on in this photo. I hope that clears that problem up for anyone since I’ve seen it a lot since the preview was posted last night and I don’t know if anyone’s had a chance to explain how light works in photos.

So, all and all, I think what’s happening in this photo is simple. Saeran is nervous about being outside for too long and Saeyoung is trying to reassure him that the world can’t hurt them as long as they’re together. Which, in hindsight, it hurts so much to think about them having conversations like that and knowing what’s the next step in their lives while they’re none the wiser to it. Saeyoung is the brother who would do anything to see Saeran smile, and Saeran is the brother who has no choice but to cling to Saeyoung and pray for the best.

Saeyoung is wearing a black shirt or jacket. Saeran is wearing a hoodie that’s a few sizes too big for him. Whatever they have are things that Saeyoung got from a donation bin. I don’t think anyone here believes that Mother Choi would care enough to make sure they boys have something on their back. She gives them the bare minimum so she can afford to wet her lips with alcohol. As long as the two of them aren’t dead, that works for her. They don’t need anything but that in her eyes.

This is the first time we’ve seen baby Saeran drawn in something that isn’t the white button-down or the green shirt he wears in the flashback to the cathedral and the Special Believer package. It might be the first time Saeyoung has been drawn in something other than his black hoodie, too. I just don’t know if this one has sleeves? The color is too light on his arms to have sleeves!

It’s a notable detail to me because I would never imagine the boys wearing any clothes that make it easier to tell how small and malnourished they are. I know they’ve got bruises, too. Saeyoung and Saeran would definitely make a point of wearing clothes that cover everything up. They don’t want to attract attention to them. Their father could be anywhere... his men could be just around the corner. Their hair is enough of a dead-giveaway. They don’t need to make it obvious to anyone.

Anyway, I’m excited for the twin’s birthday and I can’t wait to see them. Boys, I love you so very much. You’ve been a part of my life since 2016 and I know that I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for you. That’s why I’m happy this year that the theme is everyone as children. They all survived and made it a place in this world where they had each other as family. The RFA is a found family and I am happy to be a part of it. I know we all suffered, but we have each other now in every sense of the word. They’re my family.

I survived, they survived, and I’m happy to say that you’ll get through whatever you’re going through, too. Our past is a part of us, yes, but it doesn’t control our future. That’s what I hope to see when the boys take to Twitter and recount their history. What we’ve survived may always be with us... but, our future can be the place we want it to be as long as we’re ready for it... and I think, Saeyoung and Saeran are ready to tackle the present and the future. I’d like to think we all are after seven years of being a family.

#character analysis #mystic messenger #mysme #mm #mysticmessenger #mod kait #saeyoung choi #choi saeyoung #luciel choi #choi luciel #seven #707 #saeran choi #choi saeran #saeran #mystic messenger saeran #mysme saeran #mm saeran #mm seven #mysme seven #mystic messenger seven #seven mystic messenger #seven mm #seven mysme #saeran mm #saeran mysme #saeran mystic messenger

[soupbitch-moneybitch]

blackbonnet drabble i pulled out of my hyperfixated ass. major s2 spoilers:

if i never see your eyes again

The first thing about Edward Teach that Stede Bonnet noticed were his eyes.

They were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Choked more than half to death, bleeding from the gut, lying in the midst of black smoke and hot flame, Stede saw two beacons of light emerge from the darkness surrounding him. A pair of soft, glinting doe-eyes that contradicted the rest of his person, all wild mane and tight leather. His eyes were the calm in the storm, and instantly Stede, all bloody and afraid, had been awash with a sense of serenity. These eyes—and the man they belonged to, whomever he was—they would make it all right again.

Despite everything, despite the carnage and screams and blood, he had smiled. He couldn't not smile at eyes like that.

And now, he will never see them again.

The worst thing about Ed's lifeless body, Stede thinks, as he rips away the cloth covering his still face, color drained from his usually vibrant skin, is the fact that his eyes are closed. Because it means that Stede will never again see the way the sunlight catches on Ed's irises like the rays sparkling on the endless ocean. He will never again see them crinkle in the corners with crows-feet when Stede makes him laugh. He will never again see him bat his long lashes, or widen them comically large when hit with a scheme or an idea for a fuckery. 

He will never again see the way his pupils blow wide when he's been properly kissed.

Every night since they've been apart, Stede has dreamt of Ed's eyes, looking back at him with as much love as Stede feels in his heart, and now those dreams will remain a thing of fantasy. There will be no gentle gaze on a sandy beach as the waves lap up onto the shore around them. 

Stede will never see Ed's eyes again, and it's a tragedy so monumental that he can't even feel the full breadth of it all. His chest is a pitch-black, bottomless cavern. Ed had once told him that all the important bits were on the right, but the shattering of Stede's heart solidly on his left side suggests he forgot about something vital. 

How is he meant to survive this? Ed's eyes are closed, goddamnit, and he's just meant to keep on breathing? 

He presses his forehead to his clasped hands and says, "I'm sorry." It's not enough, but it's not like there's a combination of words in the English language to convey the depth of his grief anyway. Of his regret. So he settles with "I'm sorry," and says it again for good measure, because the "I love you" that he wants to say is stuck as a suffocating lump in his throat.

The room is silent. Even the sea seems still. No room that Ed Teach occupied has ever been this quiet. He's too big a personality; the air vibrates in his mere presence. Or it used to. Now, with nothing but his body there lying slack on his deathbed, Stede realizes that Ed's soul took the sound with it when it left the room.

Except, suddenly, the silence breaks. A soft thudding sound pulls Stede out of his reverie of misery. He turns toward it and sees, with a lightning strike to his disassembled heart, the twitching of his beloved's hand.

And he begins to plead, aloud to Ed, and internally to whatever God that may be listening, that there may be life inside him yet. That Stede may see his eyes again.

"Come back to me," he begs, because now that he has it, he knows that having this hope dashed would surely put him in the ground right beside Ed. 

Ed's hand is still twitching, but his eyes are still closed.

If this chance is a fuckery, and I never see your eyes again, Stede thinks, then I never want to see anything ever again. Make me blind, because the world will no longer have anything worth viewing if your eyes aren't in it.

The air is vibrating again. Stede swears he can feel Ed's soul returning. He holds his hands so tightly that his own fingers ache from the clench. He prays. He prays and begs and prays some more, that somehow, he managed not to be too late.

Ed's eyes fly open.

They're the most beautiful thing Stede Bonnet has ever seen. 

#blackbonnet #blackbonnet fic #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 spoilers #diz writes fic

[fluffypotatey]

Leverage Ep 11 >:3

Pre-game thoughts:

ngl the last episode was a lot of fun! got to see Nate at his breaking point, Sophie being the best (as always), ALEC AND ELIOT DUO!!!!!

also it looks like this one focuses on Parker? (at least, that’s what the blurb says 🤷🏻‍♀️) so praying for more moments for my ot3 🥰 either as duos or altogether, I do not care. just want them to have screen time 

anyway, can’t really think of anything else to add???

I mean, this is the last episode before the 2-parter finale, so I’m curious if this will touch on…..the ✨insurance company✨and that uh Crowley-looking dude (unrelated to GO!Crowley, a show I should also watch)

BUT ENOUGH ABOUT THAT ON WITH THE SHOW ✨ 

Reaction:

ooooooh a flashback 👀

Ok that was not a safe dose

AHHHHHH THE STOVE

NOOOOOOOOO ERNESTO

is he dead?????

oooooooooh team drama 👀

lmaooooo parents (Nate/Sophie) using jury duty as a lesson

“Yeah, I know jury duty, this seems legit” <- has only gone once

OooooOOOoooooOoOooh defendant is wearing colored shades, he must be an asshole 😂

WAIT WHAT

WHO IS FILMING THE CASE???? IS THAT LEGAL????

babe, please step the fuck away from the jury panel. i would not be in favor of you anyways with you standing so close wtf

oop! she knows!!! fuck they’re gonna strike her out 

ok but seriously who are those camera people???? are they even a real legal team???? the ick is strong, I hope they burn this other team to the ground

YES PARKER

CONVINCE THEM

SHUT NATE YOU WERE A SLIMY INSURANCE MAN BEFORE YOU DONT GET TO TALK

everybody giving Nate the stink eye, yesssssssssss 

(You would think, with how much I yell at this man, I hate him, but tis the opposite! Love him. He’s just an asshole, and I would never like him in person, great character <3)

OMFG ALEC BACKSTORY??????

YES PLEASE

NANA YOU BADASS

ELIOT AND PARKER DUOOOOOO

FUCK YES

Lmao he took the beer

literally before clicking play I was like “you know, I don’t think Parker and Eliot have been a duo yet” AND HERE WE GO

ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE

nO glasses guy 🫢 was a faker?! <- is not shocked

jfc Alec is good 😍

ok what you doing Parker? oh wait nvm 

Chess???? lmao you nerd

“Hmmmm how do we show an evil character is smart…..I KNOW! Chess!”

ohhhhhh big pharma ok (can’t believe it took me this long)

WAIT WE DOING POISONED APPLE

ugh no we’re not

oh shit bribery????

ELIOT PLAYS CHESS???? you fucking nerd 💕

lmao Parker gets a lesson in social interaction (I’m so sorry, girlie, I’d hate it too, but tbh I also befriended an older lady while at jury duty so same????)

it’s ok Parker you tried your best 🫂

“I have a peanut allergy” <- love you Alec 

Nate, I sure hope you don’t regret that honeypot plan

OHHHHHHHHH oh dear ok now the brownface comments make sense

Ok show’s age has been shown

jfc Sophie wtf please tell me this is the only episode where this happened 

“I’m very spiritual” <- 🤢 god how many times have I heard this

Jesus H Christ I can’t even look at her T^T

awwwww Sophie is helping Parker

ELIOT YOU ARE SO CUTE

HES TRYING

PARKER YOU CUTIE 🥰 

i want Parker and the grandma to be friends. Like best friends

lmaooooooo she’s foreman now (I don’t think I spelled that right)

girlie, you sound like you’re giving the old man a job interview 😂

SHE GONNA BUY OUT THE LAWYER???? 

He won’t

Nate noooooooooo

ALEC

YES

MY BOY

HE LOOKS SO GOOD IN A SUIT

but also shit they are treading the legality there (<- she says even tho they do this every episode)

“Do you trust your government, Ms. Vargas?” ALEC 😂😂😂😂 bringing back the old teachings of being a Jehova Witness i see

WE ARE BARELY HALFWAY?????? (Sorry just looked at the time stamp  what do you mean it’s only been 20 minutes????)

“is that a high school yearbook?” oh my god

Alec, babe, love you, but what

ALEC I LOVE YOU

girlie you could say cauliflower steak

Awwwwwwwwwwww Parker has a friend 🤧🤧🤧🤧

Alec’s headshot is beautiful 

“It all checks out unless [says an example of exactly what Alec did]”

Ooooooh outsource mention 👀 

Nate there are cameras!!!!

“You know why they say, ‘Justice has a blindfold’? Because Justice is asleep” FUCKING DEAD

ok bro this isn’t jury duty anymore this is a trial???? did I miss the part where they finished jury selection 

OH SO HE’S AN ACTOR???

lmaooooo he was Scottish 

Awwwwwwwww Parker 🥺 “she likes rainy days” im fucking sobbing

Ok now that’s why we were only halfway 

“We win the trial” LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOO

Hehe Alec has to actually win the trial

“You think lawyers aren’t just pretending and trying to fill in daddy’s shoes” ok, uh, wow 💔 

SHE GOT A BAG LUNCH 🥺🤧

Eliot on another parents trip!!!

wait who is he fighting???? Oh ok

Nate, you look so fucking dumb 😂

*gasp* THAT MEDICAL MAN IS LYING FIGHT HIM ALEC

oh ho ho! bringing up his qualifications I see 👀 why he now only doing cases in Cali 👀

OH HO 👀

HE BROUGHT UP BIN LADEN 👀

GET HIS ASS ALEC! FUCK HIM UP!!! FUCK! HIM! UP!

Alex’s closing statement 👀 omg 🥺 yes babe 🤧 beautiful 💐 take my flowers 💐💐💐💐💐

jfc I’m nervous!!!! I know this will end happy but still!!!! So nervous 🫠

nooooo, she must not figure out 🫠

Oh dear, 

OH YES THEY TURNED OFF THE TV WONDERFUL

lol yesssss girlie, burn that fucking bridge!!!! BURN THE BRIDGE!!!! DIG THAT HOLE!!!!

unrelated but her jacket is super pretty

ok ok here we go. fuck I’m nervous 

YESSSSS LETS GO BITCH

FUCK YEAH MESS WITH THEIR CAMERA

why are you revealing yourself to her????? bro she could find people to get you!!!!

OMG SHE MADE A FRIEND! GET THAT COFFEE

Final Thoughts:

this episode was so much fun!!!! we may not have gotten much of the Parker/Eliot duo but I’m still happy that they got to tag-team! Parker learning how to socialize, be a team player, and lead was just 👌👌👌👌👌👌 wonderful so proud of her T^T Alec was amazing (obviously) and fucking killed both for stalling the case and winning it <3

not as much Nate/Sophie moments besides them acting like parents to their teammates and being a well-oiled machine 😎 so I’m still satisfied! a little disappointed that there wasn’t any hint for the finale but that might just be because of the messed up order again 😔 

overall: wonderful episode, this might be my favorite of the season (tho Miracle Job still has my heart)

#fluffy watches #fluffy reacts #idk which tag I originally chose for this live-blog series #leverage

[forget-you-morelike-fuck-you]

A Favor Or Two- S.H. Pt. 3

Steve brings Y/N to his basketball game.

Masterlist

1 < 2 > 4 < 5

TW- Pining, slow-ish burn, cursing, innuendo, slight angst, mentions of drugs

Pairings- Eventual Steve x Reader, Friend!Eddie x Reader

Word Count-3,351

(Gif not mine, credit to the owner!!)

When the phone rings around 6, you make sure you’re the first to answer. “Hello?” You ask into the receiver.

“Y/N?” It’s Steve. You bite your lip.

“Yeah, hey, Steve. What’s up?” He’s calling to ask if you’re coming to the game tonight, stupid. You shut your eyes tight in embarrassment as you wait for his reply.

“Do you think you’ll be able to come to the game tonight? It’s cool if you can’t, but I just wanted to make sure.” He responds.

“Yeah, I can come.” You say. You can hear his smile through the phone.

“Okay, great. The game starts at 7:30, so I’ll pick you up in about an hour. Is that okay?” He asks. You nod as you answer.

“Yeah, that’s great. My address is 1482 Pine St.” You tell him.

“Cool. I’ll be there. Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye, see you soon.” You don’t realize your heart is pounding until the phone hits the deck, your face flooding with warmth. God, what is wrong with you? This is all a game, a ruse. A favor so you can keep your alibi when you go smoke at Eddie’s. Still, you press your hand to your chest in a pathetic attempt to calm your senses.

“Mom! Dad!” You yell down the stairs to them.

“Yes, Y/N?” Your dad asks, no doubt lounging in his recliner in front of the TV.

“S- My boyfriend’s got a basketball game tonight. Is it okay if I go?” You ask. You hear your dad ruffle a newspaper.

“As long as you’re home by curfew and you’re homework’s done.” He says.

“Yeah, it’s all done, thanks! He’ll be here in about an hour.” You turn on your heel and rush back into your room.

What to wear, what to wear? Your jeans and sweater suddenly don’t seem right. You go through your closet, looking for something presentable. After a while of trying different things on, you settle on a form-fitting shirt with the same jeans you had on earlier. After all, it’s just a sporting event. And why would Steve care anyway? Glancing at the clock, you have about half an hour before Steve is scheduled to arrive, so you decide to touch up your makeup. Not much, just a refresher of mascara and a little swipe of a shimmery eyeshadow. Your bright red lipstick is tucked away in your car, so you opt for a gloss instead.

All there is to do now is wait. You decide to go over the list again, quizzing yourself to pass the time.

Steve’s basketball number is 8.

His favorite color is blue.

Steve had a pet dog growing up, his name was Buster.

Steve Steve Steve Steve Steve.

Soon, you hear a car horn out front, and you bolt down the stairs before your parents can open the door. “Okay I’ll be back later, bye!” You exclaim as you go out the door. You know they’re looking out the blinds as you walk to Steve’s car, and you dread the questioning when you get home since they’ll see Steve here, but you push that away now as you get into the passenger seat of the car. “Hey,” You say as you open the door.

“Hey yourself. You look different.” He says, eyeing you in a way that makes you feel a little self-conscious.

“Different how?” You question. Steve backs out of the driveway and starts toward the school before answering.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without that red lipstick. The red is nice on you, but this is nice too.” He explains. You pray he can’t see you blush.

“Oh,” You say. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He says. “Oh, I have a present for you.” He reaches back when you reach the stop sign at the end of your street and pulls out a green jersey. You take it from him, holding it out in front of you. It’s his basketball jersey. “It’s an extra. Don’t worry, it’s not covered in sweat or anything. Just figured you could show some… I don’t know, school spirit or something.” He chuckles. You laugh at the gesture, unbuckling your seatbelt so you can pull it over your head.

“Wow, Steve. Comic books and now basketball jerseys. You really are the perfect boyfriend, aren’t you?” You joke, and he lets out an awkward laugh.

“Tell that to my exes.” He says, glancing in the rearview mirror, a strain in his eyes. You let out a chuckle, deciding to mind your own business and the conversation fizzles out for a moment.

“Uh, so,” You say, getting Steve’s attention again. “I started that comic while I was at the dentist with my brother.”

Steve’s smiling again, looking at you expectantly, “And?” He asks.

“Well, it’s definitely not Charlotte Bronte, but I guess it’s alright.” You give him a sly smile. In truth, the comic was really good. You almost read it cover to cover in the 30 minutes you were waiting for your brother to be done.

“Well, I’m glad you at least don’t hate it. Let me know when you’re finished with that one and I can give you the next edition to read.” He promises. “Ya know, if you want.”

You nod. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”

When you pull into the school parking lot, there’s a sea of green. You’ve never been to one of these things, and you’ve never really seen the point in it. But you’re not here for yourself, you’re here for Steve.

You both get out and make your way to the Stadium, and it’s so packed with people you feel a little claustrophobic until you feel warm fingers interlacing with yours. You look over and there’s Steve, giving you a sheepish smile. “Don’t want you to get lost!” He shouts over the din of band music and the clamoring crowd. You smile back at him, squeezing his hand lightly. Why does Steve have to be so nice?

He leads you to the home team bleachers and says a quick goodbye before going to join the team. You look around, and no one you know is here. This is gonna be a long game. When someone taps you on the shoulder, you whip your head around, only to see Eddie.

“Hey!” You shout as he climbs down to sit next to you. “What are you doing here?” He shrugs.

“I sell to some of the guys on the basketball team. They like to unwind when the game is over, so I’m happy to oblige them.” He says, patting his trusty lunchbox. He looks down at the jersey you wear and gives you a knowing smile. “Sooo,” He begins. “How’s the boyfriend?” You roll your eyes.

“Ugh,” You groan, “He lent me this for the game. He invited me to help set our story straight. Kind of hard to date a basketball player without ever going to one of his games.” You say.

“Yeah, yeah okay. Is that why you’re blushing, dude?” Your hands fly up to your cheeks.

“Eddie!” You warn, but he just laughs.

“Alright, I’ll cut it out. It’s not like I blame you. Harrington’s, like, the hottest guy in school, or something, right?” He shoots you another sly grin, and you just roll your eyes, pushing him lightly. “Speak of the devil,” Eddie points to the other side of the gym, where the basketball team is taking to the court. Steve searches for you in the crowd, and gives you a wave and a wide smile, which you return. The blue marker on his arm is still there, your phone number marked up his forearm. You can feel Eddie’s eyes boring into the side of your head.

“Don’t. You. Dare.” You say, not even deigning to look in his direction. He just sits and folds his arms. The basketball team does some warmups while they wait for the other team to get ready to play, dribbling and passing, then shooting 3-pointers. You don’t know much about basketball since sports have never been your thing, so you won’t know much about what’s going on. But you’re fine just cheering for Steve.

“I’m gonna go get a snack, you want some popcorn or something?” Eddie says loudly, trying to make sure he’s heard over the loud crowds. You turn to him and nod.

“Yeah, thanks! Oh, get me a water bottle too?” You fish out a few quarters from your pocket to give to him.

“Sure!” He nods and starts making his way down the bleachers. You turn your eyes back to the court, where the other team makes their entrance, the opposite side chanting for their team. The cheerleaders are shaking their pompoms in perfect unison, jumping as they finish their cheer. Then an announcer comes over the loudspeaker.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Hawkins High Tigers versus the Midtown High Chariots! Please take your seats, the game is about to begin!” You look for Eddie, not sure if he cares to watch the game, but you want your popcorn. You spot him in the crowd, his long, shaggy, curly hair sticking out like a sore thumb amongst all of the “normal” people surrounding him. He makes his way up the steps and flops back down next to you as the buzzer sounds, signaling the beginning of the game.

“Woo! Go Steve!” You shout, clapping as Hawkins takes the ball.

“Milady,” Eddie says, offering you your water and some popcorn, which you take gratefully, twisting the cap of the water and taking a sip.

“Thanks, buddy.” You say, eyes still trying to pay attention. You watch Steve run down the court, then someone passes him the ball and he shoots… and scores! You whoop for him and pop a piece of popcorn into your mouth.

“So,” Eddie begins. You look over to him, eyes raised in question. “don’t take this the wrong way, I’m being serious.” You roll your eyes, waiting for him to finish. “Do you seriously, like, like him? Not even necessarily as like, a boyfriend. You think you’ll be friends with him when this is all over?” You consider the question. You’ve been having such a great time with Steve the past couple of days, but will everything go back to how it was once you slip him the $20 you’ve reserved for him after the dinner on Saturday?

“I hope so.” You conclude. “He’s really a nice guy, so far as I can tell.” Eddie nods.

“Well, just let me know if he turns into an asshole and I’ll let him have it for you. You deserve better than that.” He says, and you throw a piece of popcorn at him.

“I highly doubt he will, Eds. If he’s anything, he’s a gentleman. That much I know.” Eddie picks the popcorn, which landed on his shirt, and pops it in his mouth before raising his hands defensively.

“Okay, okay. Just let me know, if in the highly unlikely event, he hurts you, okay?”

“Alright, I promise I will.” You say, shaking your head lightly.

The game passes at a snail’s pace, it seems, but Eddie’s company helps keep you entertained in between cheering for Steve and trying to make sense of the plays. You munch on popcorn and sip your water, talking and laughing with Eddie until halftime. When the buzzer sounds, Hawkins is down by 4, but you’re hopeful they’ll make a turn around in the second half. You watch as Steve goes to talk to the coach with his team, then after a couple minutes, he turns and starts walking toward you, scanning the crowd for his jersey. You stand and wave, trying to make it over the heads of several people headed to concessions, shouting his name. “Steve! Over here!”

Your voice makes it over the din and he spots you, jogging forward. “Hey!” He greets you, walking up the bleachers. Eddie is silent, thankfully, as Steve comes up to you. “Having a good time?” He asks. You nod with a smile.

“Yeah, actually. I don’t really know what’s going on, but it’s pretty exciting, I guess.” Steve laughs.

“I guess that’s all I can hope for. Listen, I’m starting to get hungry. You wanna go grab a bite after the game before I take you home? My treat.” He offers. You can feel Eddie’s eyes on you. You didn’t tell him he picked you up to bring you here. You’re getting an earful as soon as Steve walks away.

“Yeah, sounds good. We can go to the diner, if you want. I just need to be home by 10.” Steve brushes his hair back, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.

“Yeah, Sounds good. As long as we don’t go into overtime that shouldn’t be an issue.” He says. His coach calls his name, and Steve looks over his shoulder, signaling for another minute. “Alright, I gotta go. I’m gonna hit the shower after the game, but it won’t take long. Just wait for me, okay?” You nod in acknowledgement.

“Sure. No prob.”

“Cool. See ya!” He starts back down the bleachers with a little wave, and you sit yourself back down next to Eddie. As soon as Steve is out of earshot, he practically squeals.

“Oh. My. God! He picked you up? From your house? Did your parents see him?” He pummels you with questions and you let out an exasperated laugh.

“Yes. He offered to bring me at school today. And yes, from my house. And probably, my parent’s probably saw him. I’m already dreading the questioning when I get home.” You answer.

“Dude, you know he just like, asked you out, right?” Eddie says. You roll your eyes and shake your head.

“It’s not a date. We’re gonna keep practicing our cover story until we have everything memorized. That’s all.” You deflect, but you can’t help but shuffle your feet, looking down at your twiddling fingers.

You hear Eddie gasp next to you. “You actually like him, don’t you?” Your head shoots back up, and you punch him in the arm.

“No! I already told you, he’s just nice.” And handsome, and funny, and… oh fuck.

You try to hide the panic in your eyes as you realize, maybe you do like Steve.

You keep your composure through the rest of the game, trying to keep it casual through Eddie’s teasing. When the timer runs down to thirty seconds, Hawkins is tied with Midtown, and it’s Midtown’s ball. The play runs, and Midtown shoots… and scores. The Hawkins side all groan as the clock keeps ticking down. The only way to win now is for Hawkins to get a 3-pointer in. All eyes are glued to the court, even yours and Eddie’s. The play starts, and Hawkins steals the ball, there’s a pass, then another, and then the ball is in Steve’s hands. The timer tick, tick, ticking.

“5,” The opposition’s crowd starts counting, “4,” Steve dribbles to the three point line and poises to shoot, “3,” He takes the shot, and the Hawkins side waits with bated breath as the ball soars through the air. The buzzer sounds, the ball just hitting the hoop. And then, it falls through the net. Hawkins wins! You jump up, cheering with Eddie as you hug him. All of the people on the Hawkins bleachers make their way down to the court to celebrate, and the team hoists Steve on their shoulders.

You push your way through the crowd, Eddie deciding to hang back, and you reach Steve, looking up at him with a huge smile.

“Steve!” You call. “Steve!” He looks down at you and you laugh heartily. “That was amazing!” He’s beaming at you, and then his teammates put him down. You pull him into a hug, and he hugs you back, sweaty and sticky, but he still smells so good. You let go, and the crowd starts to dissipate. Eddie takes you by the shoulders, leaning in close so you can hear him.

“Alright, I’m gonna go shower off. Give me ten minutes, okay?”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll be over there!” You yell, pointing to the edge of the gym. He nods and gives you another smile, his brown eyes crinkling in the corners.

“I’m really glad you came! You might be my good luck charm!” He jokes, and you let out a nervous laugh, your heart thrumming in your throat.

“We’ll see about that, Harrington. Go take a shower.” You push him lightly and he laughs as he turns away. You turn and walk to the edge of the gym to wait for Steve, and Eddie’s waiting to say goodbye before he goes to make his deals with the basketball team. You give him a quick hug as you reach him.

“Thanks for being here with me, Eds.” You say as you part.

“For sure. I wasn’t gonna let you sit all sad and lonely while your boy toy played his game.” You roll your eyes, so much for being nice. “Anyway, I gotta go.” He says. “A couple guys are gonna meet me in the woods to buy some stuff.” You nod.

“Okay. I’ll see you soon. Hopefully after all of this boyfriend business is done with I’ll have more time to hang.” You couldn’t help but feel a small pinch at the thought of your time with Steve ending. You’re having such a great time together.

“You’d better! I’ve got some good shit rolled and ready with your name on it.” He turns to walk away, then turns back once more. “Have fun on your date tonight! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively.

“That’s such bullshit, Eddie, you’d do almost anything!”

“Yeah, so if you do something I wouldn’t, you’d definitely be doing some nasty shit.” He laughs.

“Okay, that’s fair!” You giggle. “See you tomorrow!” Eddie throws a hand up as he turns back around.

“Yep!”

And so you’re alone, almost everyone is gone now, so you it’s much quieter as you sit and wait for Steve. There’s a chill coming in from the doors and you wish you had brought a jacket. You rub your arms as little goosebumps form, more people filing out of the gym, letting in another gust of wind.

When Steve comes out, his hair is wet and he’s wearing a dark red hoodie and jeans. As he approaches you turn to face him. “Took you long enough,” you tease, bumping your hip to his. “I was starting to think you drowned in there.” He rolls his eyes with an easy smile and you start walking to the door.

“Come on, Y/N. I’m on the swim team too. I may be all brawn, no brains, but I can do a mean breaststroke when I need to.” He says, and you blink in amazement at what he just said. When you look up at his face, laughing incredulously, you can see his cheeks tinged with pink. “That came out wrong.” He says, closing his eyes with a sigh.

“Ya think?” You laugh. He just opens the door for you, and your teeth start to chatter at the cold, your arms pulling tight against your body. He looks at you, obviously freezing, and wraps an arm around you.

“I’ve got another jacket in the car. You can put it on when we get there.” He says, pulling you to him, his hand landing on the top of your exposed arm. Blood rushes to your face at the contact, but he’s so warm, you don’t want to pull away.

“Thanks,” You say gratefully, and as you reach the car, Steve opens the door for you, letting you go as you slide in. Steve gets in and starts the engine before reaching back to grab his extra jacket for you. It’s a jean jacket lined with fleece, and you put it on hastily, your teeth still chattering. You wrap your arms around your body, taking in the scent of Steve as he pulls out of the parking lot.

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger thing s4 #eddie stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things 4 #stranger things

[thefreelanceangel]

FFXIVWrite2023 (#7 - Noisome)

Oh gods...

Years of practice kept Tara's face impassive as she desperately prayed to any and everything to remove her sense of smell. Immediately.

Any and every consequence would be endured. Welcomed, even, provided that those consequences came along with a removal of her entire sinus cavity.

Oh gods how am I supposed to get through a whole reading with her?

Slim, haughty, immaculately coiffed, the elezen woman reeked so badly that Tara felt bile rising in the back of her throat. What the hells??? She knew the smells of poverty, those were entirely acceptable. She knew the overperfumed reek of idiotic nobility, those were... endurable.

This, however...!

"I'm so relieved you were able to fit me in today, Madame Veil," she said, flapping her skirts as she sat, filling the room with the noxious odor. "I've no idea what's gotten into my husband of late and I'm desperate for answers!"

Could she even open her mouth without vomiting? Tara wore a veil in Ishgard, keeping with her absurd stage name, but the thin violet fabric couldn't block that... stench. She folded her hands over her veiled face, ears angling down, and breathed in the smell of sweet, clean silk. A few gulps, a few gasps of her own scent and she lifted her head. "Of course, my lady."

There, she'd gotten that much out cleanly. "Forgive me, I must open a window. The stars carry a strange miasma at times and I struggle to breathe." She rose with all the artificial dignity she could manage and swept rapidly to the window across the room. Tara flipped the latch and shoved it open, sucking in the clean, frigid air with a few desperate gasps.

"Ooo! It's dreadfully cold out today! I should've ordered a brazier for the afternoon, I didn't know you'd need the window open for a reading."

Tara gritted her teeth at the scolding tone leveled at her back and reminded herself silently that she'd been blackmailing this client's husband for several years now, he paid well, all she had to do was lie to the woman. Deep breath, deeeeeeep breath...

"My apologies, my lady, but the stars do as they will. I am but their humble servant," she said, turning around to face the pit of stench dressed up in olive brocade and dull brown fur. Who chooses her clothing anyway? Those colors are horrible on her.

"I just need a quick reading today anyway, it'll be fine," the woman replied, rearranging her hands in quick, sharp movements. "I just need to know why my husband is being so standoffish! He'd been handling his business trips as usual, but in the last fortnight, every time I enter the room to greet him, he makes a dreadful face and makes an excuse to leave!"

...odd. He damn well knew that if he wanted to keep his precious mistress in Gridania, he needed to play the doting husband when he returned home.

Tara opened her mouth to reply and caught the atrocious stench right on her tongue. It took every bit of self-control she'd ever developed to keep from screeching, and even so, she spun to the window and gasped in a few more lungfuls of clean air.

Wait...

She worked her mouth, spit discreetly into a handkerchief, and turned back to the impatient noblewoman. "My lady, may I ask, have you changed anything of your dress or routines in the past fortnight?"

"Changed an- Goodness, no! I'm always keeping up with the latest fashions. Fall colors, of course, as we're approaching that season. Oh! And I recently adopted a morbol seedling! They've become all the rage."

Oh, for f-

"I understand completely, my lady, but you must understand that I also read the stars for your beloved husband, and morbols are unequivocally bad luck for him. If he senses your close association with one, it only follows that he would flee the turning of his luck."

"Oh! I never knew! Oh, my goodness! Well, thank you, Madame Veil! And to think, you said the stars were under a miasma today! You're quite good to grasp the heart of the matter so swiftly!" She rose to her feet, dropping a small leather pouch on Tara's fortune-telling table, and smiled as the stench all but rolled off of her. "I'll rehome the poor thing immediately and see to it the household is properly cleansed of its influence! Oh, poor Augustine, he couldn't even bring himself to warn me! I'll do my best to welcome him home properly!"

Tara smiled and bowed, keeping her jaws clenched together. As the woman swept out of the room, still chattering gaily to empty air that paid her no heed, Tara's gaze met that of the woman's bodyguard. The white edge of a handkerchief protruded from his helm and he paused in closing the door to give her a look of profound gratitude.

When the door latched securely, Tara wrenched off her veil and spun to the window, gasping in as much clean air as she possibly could. Snowflakes whirled into the room, melting on the warmer surfaces within, and she shivered, cold but unwilling to leave the window until the lingering stench filtered out of the room.

Dad's right, she thought, daring a quick dash across the room to snatch a blanket from her cot and smother herself in it. The more money they have, the less wit they possess.

Who, after all, in their right mind, would ever want to keep a morbol as a household pet?

#Tara Inyanga #FFXIVWrite2023 #Fortune Telling for Fun & Profit #FFXIV

[sexwithamanda]

A deep dive, a hike let's say. Not physically but mentally.

Episode #345

Hello,

I make these when I feel the most inspired. This last week was lovely, I went out a lot but I spent time with both my lovers, I pray they never read these, but I am sure one day these will be read, not aloud in a classroom I hope. It's a humid, hot, cloudy, wet day in the beautiful state of Florida. I am sitting at a coffee shop where I've tasted butterfly tea, which tastes like lemonade more than anything. It has a dark purple color and on the counter, I spied a cake that resembled Oreo. I decide for that, it's gluten and vegan. If I told you that I was trying to be healthier would you believe me? I suppose I don't seem to be that way. It was yummy, and I read a few (more than a few) pages of this memoir that has me on my toes. She is a writer and went to school for journalism. I've always felt that writing and putting something out there is insane. We all have a voice to talk about anything, that's why music is universal. If all the lyrics are in a different language, we still can continue to feel exactly what they are saying regardless of the fact that we don't speak that language.

Last week I went into a meeting, I like to speak as you can tell from my typing. I suppose that it is obvious that my clicking and clacking on my laptop in this quiet coffee shop seems to annoy the men next to me, but I digress with I am being me. Let it be. Right at this split second the song playing, is by tears for Fears. You decide if my life is a movie because I have already decided that it is. Anyways back to the meeting, I am talking about. I don't look at people as adults anymore. I assume everyone is a child, regardless of how you think t might be, we can be professional but we are all children at a point. Things we do, mistakes we make, and accomplishments that occur all happen because we learn from others. This meeting was an intro to exactly what I've been wanting for a while. A taste of who I could be as a public speaker. I don't think I'm perfect, but I think that healing is a journey that rules us over. We tend to be selfish about our lives. I had a conversation last night with my friend, and each time we speak I feel we learn a bit more about ourselves rather than the other. I give her the space to speak as she gives me my space to speak as well. I learned that I get tired easily maybe I should get that checked out but I can confirm that I love someone that I really shouldn't. It is okay though. Life is too short not to face the facts. I think head-on, I want to be exclusive with this person but I also think that I want to be friends. I need to deal with myself first, but once I feel that I can finally trust myself to trust someone I think that's when I could commit to them.

In other news, we both discovered that we miss each other dearly all the time, because we are two peas in a pod, and we have each other's back. I think that my sense of self is reflected in the darkness of my sorrows, and probably for good I can sense that I will be way better off. I guess for a while I thought that the only occupancy of people's company came with an abundant reach for bad decisions. I then tend to let myself be swept away from all reality when I am with my friends. They make me feel so safe, kind, and sweet. I got really lucky.

Next topic of discussion; my podcast, sex with Amanda on spotify. It is my baby, but let me explain that I know that people listen to it, people I know. I am brutally honest, and I am myself. I think that it is my therapy, the raw truth of my thoughts when it comes to it. I think the people that I want to listen to it won't, which is good for me. But, in actuality, these secrets are for the entire world to listen to. It's not just relatable it's my life. Inevitably it is my happiness. I feel a sense of ease after every Friday session. My episodes are unedited, I speak my truth and let myself be completely honest. (sometimes it is mean.)

Now here is a side note, my favorite thing to talk about is sex, but it is the education, the feeling, and the love of intimacy in the space of someone else that makes me feel loved. I love love. I love sex. I love sex with someone who makes me feel as though everything is right and how it is supposed to be. I don't want to be rushed unless it feels right but I also want to be healthy. I want it to be sacred in a way. I don't have sex with anyone, but with someone who has a connection to me, with me, and makes me feel good. If I've been intimate with someone, (if I chose to, because in some instances that is not the case), you have made me feel at ease. I love the feeling.

I have an addiction that is hard for me to describe, if you come across this, go on spotify, look up sex with Amanda. Take a listen to one of my episodes or wait till this upcoming Friday for the newest one. I can't wait to have a conversation with you.

Thank you for reading, listening, and being.

Mahal Kita,

Amanda

#blog #kindness #poetry #filipino #love #i love you #sexwithamanda #podcast #spotify #friendship #short stories #boyfriend #lovers #happiness #in love #take it easy #illustration #individualism #journalism #writing #author #everything i know about love #dolly alderton #life #self-help #books #roadtrips #life is a movie #movies #laugh

[humansun]

Written Friday, May 5th at 8:03AM

Fuzzy fish. My fuzzy fish!

What’s going on today - Oh! I know! I haven’t reached out to Jingyi or Lacy in months. And I don’t know if they’ve forgotten about me but I have nothing to show. That makes me want to die.

The likelihoods of them actually remembering and wondering where I went is high because I never followed up. I hate this. I need to confide in someone about it.

Anyways! What direction would I like to go? I have a lot of questions. I have a very hard time being “Robert Rodriguez” scary, because I am scared myself. 

I wonder if I put all of my eggs in my own basket, if things will start to show for itself. If I’m going to end up being in a position where things make more sense and I’ve gained the skills myself to feel confident.

You know what I mean? If my self-esteem levels are going to grow from doing things by myself or doing things with other people or in other places.

I wonder what life has in store for me. Whether good or bad. Whether colorful or greyscale. I wonder.

I hope all will be good, but I can only continue to do my best and hope and pray that all my wishes and everything I hope for will come true. 

But will it though. Do I believe it though. I really don’t know.

Other things on my mind, I can’t keep up with all the books I’m given right now, I’m like barely reading unless its for technical stuff. It’s all a mess, my friend. The reading is not really happening.

Yesterday, I had a really difficult time setting boundaries with my boss and my family and I am more determined to be able to manage that better. To be able to practice saying no or pausing to give space before saying yes is a very powerful thing I think I should practice. 

Diet is not looking too cute - my fupa is still present and stubborn. It’s hard to lose weight and it’s hard to know exactly what you’re doing to make that difference.

My relationship with my sister makes a lot more sense after having some transparency sprinkled in. Having a good relationship with my sister and family is important to me, even though I recognize that I did not have a traditional home experience. That is was bit dysfunctional and that’s alright.

I can get through anything, even if it’s difficult, even if I’m crying, even if I wish I wasn’t born some days. I can get through my people pleasing problems even if on some days I slip up and have a hard time setting up boundaries. No matter what I am going through, I am capable of bouncing back. That also means not giving up my time or offering it when I don’t need to or no one asks. Plus, I have a tendency to be late, so let’s not do that to my friends.

As of right now, I do have a handful of things I have to do. I have them written down which is good, but they must be done.

As for graduate school, fun fun fun idea but very scary at the thought that I’ll be 200k in debt at the end of it. It’ll be like going to med school, with no guarantee.

At this rate, I don’t want to be turning 28 and having nothing behind me. You know? And that’s the scary part. Feeling like nothing is moving forward for you. That things are all going backwards. That you aren’t moving as forward as you think you are. Like you are on a treadmill.

That’s a terrible feeling. And this is where I’ll need the most help. 

I’ll need to dedicate the full 8 hours of my day “working” because that would give me the space and room to handle my business and do it well.

It’ll give me the time for creative brainstorming, creative execution, read slash study, and work for New Wave.

No matter what anyone says I have to believe that it’s all going to work out. That even if I go to graduate school or if I don’t then I will make myself out of something and be proud of that.

Within the next fall, if I am unable to start grad school by September 2024, then I will find another job to start and prioritize making money while handling my creative work at the same time. Hopefully, that will work out. But giving myself this time to really focus on what I want to do and witnessing my self-discipline will prove to me that I am capable of achieving my dreams on my own.

It constantly feels like I don’t have time for any little thing anymore. I don’t have time to go back into my book and read it, otherwise I’m losing time. I don’t have time to sit and read dad’s Go book, because it feels like I’m wasting my time.

In this society, it feels like I constantly have to have a project for show in order to be of value, so my mind is battling that. Wanting to have something to show all the time.

But sometimes, there doesn’t have to be something to show, because who you are what’s to show. What you’ve gone through mentally is what’s to show. That you struggled and came out the other side is what’s to show. You know?

It feels like some people in this society have reached a level of success that feels so impossible for me. But I’m happy for those folks and I’m hoping that I can get to a point where I feel proud of my achievements and feel satisfied with how far I’ve come as an individual and artist.

[antiphon]

The other night I had a patron come in--tired, slow-moving, sort of color-faded in that way people can get when our lives get hard--and lean on the desk and ask me, with a few stops and starts, "Do you have any books about how to stop people using witchcraft on you?"

Now, ours is a one-room library with a pretty small collection, especially for adults, and I couldn't think of anything in it that would stop somebody using witchcraft without using witchcraft. I pointed this out to the patron, who agreed it made sense, and showed them where the witchcraft books are. (No, I don't believe someone can use witchcraft to fuck up your life without doing anything tangible to make it suck, any more than I believe someone can fuck up your life by praying for it to get bad and doing nothing else. But I do believe in taking patrons' concerns seriously, and people with shit going on tend to share eventually if you listen to them. Also, it is way more fun to take this kind of question at face value.) We found a few books that seemed like they might cover protection from other witchcraft.

Once the patron had picked their books, they started telling me, in that spilling-out way people can get when our lives get hard, about what was going on, how they don't really believe in witchcraft but all these things keep happening. (Waiting for this, sometimes, is the rough-go-of-it version of a reference interview.) And around the point they got to, "I don't have any money, you know, all I do for work is twirl a sign, but they've been taking out credit cards in my name," I figured it was probably all right to insert myself and say, "Do you...want me to look up any books about identity theft? Local resources maybe?"

Anyway, obviously this is a funny story, because I am a person for whom non sequitur humor is the peak and people coming into the library with unexpected questions is what I live for, and obviously this is a sad story, because this patron was so stressed and unsupported that neither they nor anyone else in their life had managed to get to "hey, this is identity theft, and it sucks, but there is some recourse, and there are people who can help you with it." Hopefully my putting that language to it was helpful, even if none of the resources were. I ran into the patron the next morning while I was walking to my garden and they were walking to the bus stop--people with that much shit going on in their own lives don't often recognize me outside the library, so I didn't greet them, but I guess they stay around here and there's a decent chance I'll get to ask in the library. No zippy conclusion. Just a thing that happened.

#stereotype of myself #library

[stackofeggs]

ren with falsie’s color palette? <33

uhhhh i went a little overboard and took a few creative liberties. is this fashion? who knows

(color palette from @hermitcraft-ask-games)

#rendog #renthedog #hermitcraft #egg's carton #i did not expect! a request! lets pretend i dont have chemistry due #i looked at photos of golden retrievers #realized i do not have the time to learn how to color them #prayed to anything that the colors would make sense anyway #golden retriever rendog?? i was onto something but </3 i could not deliver #hoping someone sees my ramblings.... im beaming the idea 2 your brain to create #edut: why did i put a 4 there

[mercy-burning]

Roommate Agreement

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader x Luke Alvez Summary: After about a year of living with Spencer, Y/N gets excited when he introduces her to a new potential roommate. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Free use, threesome, cum play, penetrative/unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (male receiving), rough sex, dirty talk Word Count: 2.3k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: I was gonna write this as a blurb, but it got a little longer than I anticipated lol. I’ve been super into this kink/fantasy lately, so uh.. this was just pure indulgence 🥰✌

———

Apartment hunting and living on my own sucked, which is why Spencer Reid coming into my life was the biggest blessing I ever could have hoped for. He was handsome, kind, welcoming... And he let me live with him for free.

Well, not entirely.

But regardless of our little agreement, I still slip him some cash when rent comes up because it's just common courtesy. I'm grateful that he lets me stay with him and provides me with what I need (and then some), and if there's any way for me to return that favor, I'll do it.

He gets annoyed with me whenever I do it, but I always know how to get him to forget about it...

Just thinking about last night brings a smile to my face as I put away the last few glasses in their respective cupboards.

The heavy padding of Spencer's feet behind me makes me turn around then, and I nearly clench my legs at the sight of him, dressed and ready for work, except his dick is out and hefty in his right hand. It's hard, leaking, and by the look on his face I can tell he's about ready to let go.

"Give me your panties, sweetheart."

Before he even gets out the whole sentence, I make quick work of lifting my shirt out of the way and opening up the fabric, pulling it away from my body and giving him an opening. He walks up with a hungry kiss to my jaw as he jerks himself off, right into my panties until he's making a mess of them. I sigh out happily as he hums against my skin.

And when he's done, he kisses my cheek chastely and uses my shirt to clean up a bit before tucking himself back neatly into his pants. I adjust my panties and feel the warmth spread over my skin while he grabs his bag from the back of the chair to leave.

"Have a good day, Doctor," I call with a cute smile, my hand dipping down to feel the mess he made and wishing he didn't have to go.

"You too, sweetheart," he returns with a wink. He turns to leave, but before he's at the door, he throws back, "Oh, and make sure you're dressed properly when I get back, he's coming over with me after work."

"Wait, really?" I ask brightly, my heart starting to race.

"Mhm. He's excited to meet you."

I’d had plans to run some errands today, but as soon as he tells me the good news, I know I won't be able to get anything done.

———

The second I hear the door, I'm waiting like a dog with a wagging tail, excited for extra company and eager to make a new friend. I flatten my tiny skirt, though with how frilly it is, it really makes no difference— I think that as excited as I am, I'm definitely anxious about potentially adding a new person to our dynamic.

My hands reach behind my back and clasp together as I rock slowly on my feet, ready to welcome them when they come through the door.

Spencer, as always, looks positively delicious, and it only amplifies when he sees me and smiles, reaching out for me. "Somebody's excited..."

In his embrace, I laugh and welcome his hand as it slips up the front of my skirt to make sure I've followed his instructions. He quickly runs his middle finger through my opening, a smile forming on his lips— I can feel it against my neck. "Good girl."

"I couldn't help it," I tell him earnestly, refraining from whining in protest when he removes himself from me entirely. Then I look over his shoulder to see our guest of honor, Spencer's co-worker Luke Alvez. With a shy smile, I reach my hand out to shake his. "I have a new guest to impress."

Luke accepts my hand with a smile all his own, accompanied by wandering eyes that make me feel warm from head-to-toe. It reminds me of how I felt when I first met Spencer while apartment hunting last year. Luke's eyes are just a few shades darker but regardless of color, the hunger swimming within them remains plentiful.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," he says smoothly. His voice makes me feel a whole new sense of ease and the overwhelming need to submit to him entirely. "I've heard great things."

With introductions out of the way, Spencer ushers Luke into the apartment and I close the door. "Let me show you around a bit," he says, and the two walk off, leaving me to follow behind.

We tour the whole apartment, Spencer taking his sweet time with the walking and the talking... I swear he's doing it on purpose, to make me wait and get me riled up, but regardless I stay patient and involve myself in their conversations as normal. Actually, it would have all felt like a completely normal apartment tour in the first place, had I not been thinking about how the men accompanying me would use me in the future...

Spencer saves the living room for last, and once we make it to the couch, I pray that he's ready to start showing Luke the added benefit of choosing to live here rather than in an apartment by himself...

And he knows me so well, because he pulls me aside with a cheeky smile, his hand resting firmly on my ass and under my skirt. "So, Alvez, you wanna give her a whirl?"

"You're uh... You're sure this is alright? You don't mind?"

His concern is sweet, but I can see the lust sparkling in his eyes as he looks over me once more.

Spencer laughs a bit, squeezing my ass with a nod. "Of course. Look how happy she is to see you... So ready to be used up..."

Luke's tongue darts out over his bottom lip at my roommate's words, his decision becoming more clear.

Still, I help out. "It's true... When Spencer first mentioned adding a new roommate to our arrangement, I couldn't wait... And you're perfect.

"So what do you say?" Spencer asks once more with finality.

Luke strides over to me slowly, my head tilting higher with each inch he gets closer. He looks down at my lips and smiles before bringing his thumb gently to my mouth. "This pretty little mouth has been calling to me since I walked through the door..."

I hear Spencer laugh beside me as Luke slips his thumb past my lips and over my tongue. I suck it into my mouth with a tiny groan, flitting my eyes up at him and arching my back as Spencer's grip on my ass gets tighter.

"Get on the couch, sweetheart," he says, letting go and giving me a small spank.

Luke's thumb pops out of my mouth and I stumble to the couch, getting on all fours so my hands are on the arm and my knees are buried in one of the cushions.

The unmistakable sound of their laughing fills my ears and makes me even more eager, though I know better than to tell them outright what I want. Unless either of them asks me to, I'm not going to beg. I mean, I'm not sure about Luke, but I know that Spencer prefers when I use visual signs in our daily routine. He likes to hear me use my words, sure, but that's only on occasions where he's in a happier, more giving mood. Most of the fucking we do is when he comes home frustrated and needs to take. No questions asked.

And truthfully, I like that more. Which is why I'd agreed to be his roommate in the end.

Spencer does seem to be more giving today, moving this right along and taking his pants off before walking over to me while his friend follows suit, but I follow our rules anyway, wanting to make a good impression on Luke (though I'm positive I've already secured that bag).

Luke's pants come off too, though he waits until he's right in front of my face. I'm looking up at him with my bottom lip between my teeth, and when he starts to work at his belt, I look down to see.

Meanwhile I feel Spencer's weight dip down behind me, and it doesn't take long for him to slide right in, spreading my legs further and beginning to fuck me steadily. He gathers my hair from my face and into a makeshift ponytail with one hand while the other rests at my hip. "You gonna be a big girl and open your mouth wide, or do I have to make you?"

I respond in kind by slacking my jaw and welcoming Luke, his hands coming down to tilt my chin and slide his thick, hard dick into my mouth.

"That's right, sweetheart," Spencer praises, giving me another small spank and a slight tug of the hair. Meanwhile Luke is slowly fucking my throat, pushing himself deeper with each thrust.

Eventually, the two of them are fucking me with perfect rhythm. Each time Spencer goes in, Luke goes out, and their force is even the same. It's building and building with each second, and I can feel my whole body start to go numb with pleasure. My knees are tingling from the couch, my ass is surely red from how many times Spencer has spanked me, and my throat is bruising beautifully.

Spencer's hand releases my ass and reaches out to my throat. The way he's bending forward gives him a deeper angle inside me, and I can't help the choked whimper that comes out of my mouth because of it. He can feel it, too, because his fingers rest just under my chin.

"His cock feels so good down your throat, doesn't it, baby?" he coos, driving into me harder.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a few seconds to blink away the tears that blur my vision, and when I open them I look up at Luke, pure unadulterated bliss painting his features. He looks down at me with awe and lust and need, and I can tell that it won't be long before he snaps.

"When he comes, you're gonna keep it in, okay? I wanna see it..."

I clench around Spencer at his words, and my orgasm follows shortly after. As soon as I start to come down, Luke holds himself still at the back of my throat and comes with a shout, his hands rooting in my hair. I try my hardest to keep it all in, meanwhile Spencer starts to stutter as well. And by the time Luke is pulling himself away from me, his friend is coming inside me, just like he's done so many times before.

It's a familiar, wonderful feeling, though this time it's even better because I know I have cum filling both ends of me. I feel so full, so warm and numb and fucked out, and I never want to go a single day without it that way.

When Spencer pulls out and leaves the couch, Luke makes room for him in front of me. He steps into view then, reaching his hand out to pry my mouth open and examine his friend's work.

"Oh, sweetheart, you look so pretty with all Luke's cum in your mouth... Doesn't she look pretty, Alvez?"

The other man muses, his hand coming down to graze my cheek. Both their hands are on either side of my face, and they're gazing down at me with such wonderment that I swear I'll do anything to feel this way again— to make them feel this way again.

"She sure does," Luke says, and I nuzzle into his hand. "Just like a proper cumdump."

Their words and their eyes and their touches send butterflies soaring through my whole body and bring an open-mouthed smile to my face.

"You can swallow now," Spencer says, tapping my cheek. I do, and immediately afterwards he leans down to kiss me deeply. I lean into him and flutter my eyes closed, the feeling of his cum dripping out of me and down my leg only adding to the blissful state I'm in.

He pulls away, and I glance over at Luke, who has his dick in his hand and an amused smile on his face. "Damn, I could almost go again..."

I can tell he only means it as a way to keep the mood light, maybe as a joke, but in hopes that it will make him more comfortable with the idea that he can quite literally use me whenever he wants to, I smile as sincerely as I can. "That's what I'm here for," I offer brightly, getting up off the couch and trying to stand on wobbling legs.

I somehow manage, Spencer helps to steady me, and then he laughs, kissing me on the cheek. "You two have fun. I'm gonna shower, and then I have to take care of some errands. That okay with you?"

Luke and I give our approval, Spencer kisses me once more, and then admires me for a few seconds before throwing his friend a wink and heading off to the shower.

The moment I'm alone with Luke Alvez, he takes my hand and gives it a kiss. "You really are something special, princess..."

The nickname, while not entirely new since Spencer had mumbled it a few times with my mouth wrapped around his dick, sounds absolutely delightful coming from Luke's lips.

"Thank you," I purr, leading him to the couch and pulling him on top of me. "But there's still so much for you to discover..."

He hums amusedly, tracing my mouth with his thumb again. This time I take it gently between my teeth before he slips his cock inside me, which inadvertently makes me let go of it in favor of a whimper.

"Well, then I guess it's a good thing I'm moving in..."

———

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#spencer reid x reader #ralvez x reader #spencer reid x reader x luke alvez #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #luke alvez smut #luke alvez fanfiction #luke alvez x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #luke alvez x reader smut #ralvez x reader smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction #luke alvez #spencer reid

[221bshrlocked]

Fever in my Eyes

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Reader

Words: 8.5K (yeesh)

Warnings: Smut and Angst, my two faves. Blindfold. Breeding Kink!!! Things are consensual from both sides but since this is a sex pollen fic, some of you might consider it as non/con so please proceed with caution.

Summary: Felucia was not an ideal planet to track a quarry on and you find yourself in a sticky situation when you lose sight of the Mandalorian for a moment. An unexpected standoff between Mando and the bounty leads to you escaping back to the Razor Crest, unaware of the pollen which seeped into your nostrils and past your skin. What will the bounty hunter do once he realizes what you’re asking of him? And more importantly, is it worth risking whatever relationship he has with you?

A/N: As always, I am shit with summaries. It’s a sex pollen fic yall. I apologize if my smut isn’t as good as it used to be, I am trying. Also, please please please let me know how I did in the comments. This is only my second ever Star Wars fic and I was very reluctant to post it but Pedro Pascal made me do it because I cannot stop thinking of the man so here it is. Seriously, tell me how I did and what I can do to better my writing. There will be more Din Djarin fics to come :) Enjoy. And this is not beta’d!

This was not an ideal situation, but it never was. At least not ever since you took the ‘glorified babysitter’ position offered so graciously to you months ago. A short snort made its way past your lips as you walked through the greenery and recalled how you came into caring for the child currently biting and playing with your necklace. You looked down and smiled at him, not bothering to stop him from chewing down on the colorful jewels because you knew for a fact that if Mando heard you criticizing him over something so trivial, he might scold him and make him pout. Maker, the little womp rat made it so hard to be angry with him, let alone attempt to teach him some proper manners. 

So busy playing with the Child, you didn’t notice when the bounty hunter suddenly came to a halt ahead of you. You walked right into his back and stumbled backwards, apologizing immediately when he turned around and tilted his visor to the side. You’ve grown to learn what each tild meant and at the moment, he was definitely a tad bit annoyed with you. 

“S-sorry, I’ll pay attention.” Smiling awkwardly at the man in front of you, you waited until he turned around before narrowing your eyes at the kid currently giggling at your mistake. It was amazing how often he did that, almost as if he knew he was purposely getting you in trouble for his own entertainment. 

“So you never actually told me why this bounty was so important,” your eyes searched your surroundings and marveled at the lush reaching all the way to the top of the strange trees, barely noticing the way the Mandalorian’s shoulders tensed before continuing to walk towards the edge of the forest. If there even was an edge to this jungle. Maker, this was such a weird planet, it smelled weird, it was too hot and too wet, and you sensed there was something strange with all the exotic plants beneath your feet.

When he didn’t respond, you slowly put the Child down and reached inside your satchel for a drink. As soon as the kid noticed the satchel, he waddled back to you and pulled on your cloak until you brought out his favorite blue biscuits. 

“All I’m saying is, this bounty is weird. Who hides all the way out here anyways? I mean I have never heard of this place-”

“You’ve said that about the last four quarries.” You didn’t expect him to respond and eyed him cautiously, looking between him and the kid who continued to eat his snacks and understood absolutely nothing of what you were saying. A shiver ran down your spine when you noticed the way he put the tracking fob back in his pocket before slowly reaching for the blaster pistol. Reflexes instantly kicking in, you hurried to the Child and snatched him off the ground, shushing his little coos and preparing for the worst case scenario which was always, somehow, what transpired.

Silence filled the humid air and you tried to read the bounty hunter’s body language, knowing very well he was not one to say anything unless it was perhaps a little too late for you. His visor dragged through the dried prints on the grass and before you knew it, he was taking off towards the edge of the purple and pink plants. As you followed him, you felt your throat dry much quicker than usual. Thinking it was just the extreme weather of Felucia, you decided it was best to slow down and wait until the Mandalorian caught the bounty before following his path. He’d even told you once to not follow him if you ever saw him running off because that usually meant he was close to the quarry and wouldn’t need your aid. It was a little insulting in the beginning but you were caught during a shoot-out one too many times and understood he was only trying to look out for you and the kid. 

But not even a full minute passed before you heard a sudden blast sound off from the trees above you and before you could figure out what was happening, a heavy weight landed on top of you, and you watched in horror as the kid flew out of your hand into a nearby puddle. 

Trying your hardest to grab the blaster on your hip, you cried out in pain when you felt talons digging into your arms and twist them back. You didn’t know what else to do, eyes scanning the trees in hopes of finding the Mandalorian rushing towards you. But when you realized he was nowhere around, you looked at the kid and prayed he was alright. When you saw his large eyes blinking a few times before struggling to sit up, you knew there was only one outcome. 

“Make a sound, and I will feast on your organs.” The stench of the creature filled your nostrils and you sobbed quietly at the implications behind his words. Taking one last look at the kid, you took a deep breath and pushed off the ground as hard as you can.

“MANDO!” As soon as you screamed his name, you felt three talons break the skin of your shoulder blades and drag all the way down to your lower back. You felt hot tears roll down your cheeks and hated how distressed the Child looked. Almost on queue, he was standing up and trying to waddle your way, refusing to listen to your little objections as you tried to tell him to run the opposite direction. 

Before you could dwell on the many different ways you were about to die, you heard a large blast sound through the forest, throwing the creature off of you against one of the trees with a loud cracking noise. You looked up just in time to see the familiar glint of beskar coming closer through the greenery and as you tried to stand up, you felt the same weight behind you again, twisting the talons into your hair and pulling you to your feet. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat when you felt the edge of the hunting knife against your throat. Eyes unable to focus on the figures in front of you, you blinked a few times and realized there were too many sensations hitting you. But the one seemingly outdoing all the others was the growing wet patch on your back and you soon felt sharp pain growing against your skin where the strange liquid rolled down your skin. You weren’t sure if it was blood or if it was drool from the thing behind you and a part of you didn’t care because what difference would it make. 

“Should have known you were the only crazy one to come here...come after me.” A slithering whisper made its way past your ears and your knees buckled as you started to feel faint. But then the creature held you up roughly and pressed the knife harder against your throat, warning you against falling to the ground.

“Your problem is with me T'doshok. Let her go.” You vaguely saw the Child walk towards his father, relief washing over you when you knew he was safe once more. At some point, you’ve come to care more for him than for yourself and you were never sure if it was because he was so precious or because of how important he was to the Mandalorian. 

“Aren’t we past formalities Mando? At least do me the honor of saying my name...old friend.” 

Your gaze immediately shifted from the kid to the beskar-clad man standing in front of him. So they knew each other? Why didn’t he tell you? Did he still not trust you to know such matters until now?

“ Ni Kelir kyr'amur gar meh gar vaabir not ba'slanar kaysh.” You heard the Mandalorian growl through the visor and even though you didn’t understand what he said, you knew it was anything but friendly. Wait, that meant the T'doshok behind you understood Manod’a. 

A sob escaped your throat when you felt the bounty laugh behind you at the warning. 

“You can’t possibly mean that Mando.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think there was a hint of surprise etched in the voice growling in your ear.

“Ni vaabir not baatir te waadas...believe me.” The conscious part of your brain wondered why he continued to speak in Mando’a. He knew you didn’t understand much of it…

The silence was almost deafening and you weren’t sure what was happening until your boss stepped forward and tilted his helmet to the side,

“Gedet'ye.” The modulated voice sounded strange to your ears. He was only ever this softly-spoken with the Child.

“Well, this is unexpected. In that case-” You didn’t have time to react, watching as the world twirled around you before you fell among the purple and pink flowers you were so impressed by earlier. A strange scent hit your nostrils but you couldn’t dwell on it for more than a few seconds. Willing yourself to stand up, you pushed off the ground as soon as you saw the kid waddling towards you. As soon as he tried to walk behind you, you knew what he was trying to do and picked him up before he could do anything.

“No little guy...you- I can’t...I need to make sure you’re okay.” You could faintly hear the sound of blasters going off for a few moments and by the time you managed to take the gun out of your holster, you saw the Mandalorian standing above an unconscious reptilian creature. So that’s what a T'doshok is…

Slowly making your way towards them, you blinked away the tears and wiped your eyes to try and clear your sight. 

“Ad'ika, are you alright?” You shivered at the tone Mando was using with you. Dank Ferrik, you must have hit your head pretty hard if you thought the Mandalorian was worried about anyone but the green little thing in your arms.

“I- yes. I’ll be f-fine. Just-” You hadn’t meant to react the way you have but as soon as you felt his gloved hand touch your neck, you jerked away from him and held out your hand to stop him from coming any closer to you. Mando was shocked at your reaction and was glad to have something to hide behind. A few seconds passed in silence and you were still staring at him with wide open eyes and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were afraid of him. It occurred to him that it wasn’t shock that beat at his heart but a deep and twisting sense of hurt. And when he scanned your body language, he could tell you were trembling in front of him and the last thing he wanted to do was to give you another reason to fear him.

“Can you walk back to the-”

“Yes. I’ll- fu...I’ll take the kid.” Before he could say anything else, you were clutching the Child closer to your chest and walking back to the Razor Crest. You searched your mind to try and understand why you reacted the way you have to his touch but couldn’t find anything to explain the sharp pain striking through your insides. It was too much too quickly. Even though it wasn’t his skin, you felt neurons firing simultaneously as soon as he trailed his fingers down your neck. You hoped to the gods he wasn’t offended by your reaction because the last thing you needed was to drive him further away from you.

Barely making it back to the ship, you managed to go up the ladder and put the Child back in his crib in the cockpit before shutting it and locking the door behind you. Scrambling inside your mind for a moment, you turned to the ramp and walked towards the hatch before pushing in the code until it sealed shut. 

In an instant, everything touching your skin was too rough and incredibly heavy. Before you could think twice about it, you were violently stripping out of your clothes, throwing them to the ground on your way to the refresher. As soon as you walked into the small room, you turned on the cold water and sighed heavily as it beat down on your heated skin. 

“Not enough…” Crying to the empty room, you made sure the hot water wasn’t on before leaning back against the cool tiles of the walls. But no sooner than that were you hissing and pushing off of the wall. You completely forgot about the open gashes on your back and the shooting pain was almost instantaneous when you remembered just how large the wound was.

As you dwelled on the last hour or so, you felt your legs give out on you and before you knew it, you were sliding down to the floor. Eyes shutting slowly, you fell to the side and let the cold water run down your form. And as hard as you tried to stay awake, you couldn’t help your mind’s request as it begged to rest. You let sleep wash over you, the last sound ringing in your ear was Mando’s worried voice asking if you were okay.

Back outside, the bounty hunter was fuming with anger, not caring about how oddly violent he became with the quarry. He was never one to beat an unconscious being but something took over him when he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks. As he pushed his way through the forest, he thought back to the way you looked up at him with those innocent eyes. And he hated himself for the way his body reacted to your fragile body.

“Ni’duraa.” He whispered to himself when he saw the Crest come into view, continuing to pull the T'doshok until he walked up the ramp and onto the ship. It was awfully quiet but he decided to freeze the reptile before he walked around to look for you. Minutes later, he was ascending the ladder to the cockpit, unlocking it and reaching for the crib on his pilot chair. When he opened it and saw the kid cooing in his sleep, he shut it once more and left to look for you. It was strange how he couldn’t hear a single sound. You were normally talkative after a mission, and as he placed his weapons back on the wall, he noticed your clothes lying haphazardly on the ground. Mando sighed heavily as he picked them up, flushing violently when he saw the last two items leading into the refresher. Strange, you were never one to throw things around.

Not wanting to bother you anymore, he placed the clothes on your cot and ascended to the cockpit once more, wanting to leave Felucia as quickly as possible because he knew how the locals became when uninvited guests stayed for too long. As they left the sector, the Mandalorian couldn’t help but question why you were still in the refresher. You’d arrived long before him and it took him a while to navigate through the jungle because of how heavy the bounty was. 

Putting the ship on auto-pilot, he made his way to the refresher but not before noticing a strange scent fill his nostrils. Looking down at his hands, he noticed a bright purple powder covering his gloves and as soon as he brought his hands up to the edge of the visor, he was hit with many different sensations, all of which he could distinctively place back to you. Your honey-scented soap, the orange tea he saw you constantly drinking, the smell of your sweat on a particularly hot day when you tried to fix the ship...

“Fuck…” He swore before wiping his gloves against his cloak and approached the refresher. 

Knocking on the door, he waited a few moments for a response and breathed impatiently when  you didn’t bother to say anything.

“Open up, Cyar'ika.” He wasn’t sure why he was suddenly using such endearing words to call for you and when he was met with more silence, he groaned in annoyance before warning you. “If you don’t open the door now, I will break it.” Normally, you would have clapped back with a snarky comment that would get his blood boiling but he knew something was wrong when you remained quiet. Throwing propriety out the window, he kicked the door open and walked in, eyes searching the small room until they fell on your unconscious form under the water. 

“Maker,” kneeling to the ground, his heart clenched when he saw a viscous, black liquid oozing out of the gash on your back. How did he not notice this when you left? Quickly reaching for the left knob, he swore when he noticed the hot water wasn’t even on and almost broke the other one as he tried to switch it off. Why would you take such a cold shower when you weren’t even on a desert planet? Wiping your hair away from your face, the Mandalorian tried to wake you and began to feel anxiety seep into his clothes along with the water cascading down your body when he realized this was much worse than he thought. He took off his gloves and pushed you onto your back, trying his hardest to avert his gaze from your naked skin as he bent down and carried you out of the refresher. 

Opening his quarters, he laid you on his covers before grabbing the anesthetic above him and turning you on your stomach to care for the wounds. As he sprayed your back, he noticed the way you groaned in your sleep and forced himself to attend to the task at hand. He hoped to the gods there wasn’t any poison in the wound before he grabbed the bacta spray and slowly made his way down the skin of your back. He sighed in relief when he noticed your skin slowly shifting and sealing itself, trying to calm his increasing heart rate when he remembered just how fragile and naked you were beneath him. Some sick part of him was attracted to you even in such a state and he wished more than anything for you to be awake and willing to-

This is not how he pictured seeing you for the first time.

When you started shifting beneath him, he kneeled away from you and covered your legs, continuing to care for the wound on your lower back until it started to close as well. By the time he put all the medication back in its place, you were turning around and moaning in discomfort and Mando realized it was because you were probably still freezing from the cold water. Taking off his cloak, he barely draped it on your sleeping form when you pushed it off and turned on your back. He felt the fabric of his pants tighten around his crotch and looked away from you.

“Please...too- too much. I can’t-” He couldn’t understand what you were trying to say and moved to place the cloak on you again, head instantly turning to your face when you smacked the offensive object away from him and began to trail your fingers down your skin. He hadn’t meant to and before he could stop himself, he was watching as your fingers made their way down to your hips before dipping into the space between your thighs.

Maker be damned, how were you so glistening and flushed?

“M-Mando?” His eyes snapped to your face and watched as you spread your legs until he positioned between them. “Mando I need...you. I need you please, this is- it hurts. I can’t...it hurts so much. Please h-help me.” Your voice was filled with dangerous requests, and he felt his cock twitch in his pants when he saw the way you reached for his thighs and dragged your nails down to his knees. 

“Cyare, you don’t know what you’re asking.” He forced himself to keep his gaze on your face and nowhere else. But with every passing moment, the need to look at where he’d dreamt of feasting on for so many nights outgrew his respect for you. 

“Mando...I want you, n-need you...please, I promise I’ll be good. So so good for you, just- oh maker I-”

The small part of his brain that wasn’t ruled by his pulsing cock finally figured out what was happening and he growled as he pushed off of you and out to your cot. Grabbing your shirt, he turned it around and saw the same purple powder that was on his gloves coloring the whole front of your cloak. He recalled back to what happened when he left you and remembered where the T'doshok pushed you before he attacked him. 

Of course. The pollen from the spore plants.

Which meant that-

“Oh fuck.” The Mandalorian felt his insides churn when he realized what was taking place not ten feet away from him, and he felt his heart skip a beat when he knew what could potentially happen to you if your...needs weren't properly met. With reluctance, he made his way back to his sleeping cot and felt his chest tighten when he saw what you were doing.

You were on your side, fingers rubbing furiously at your soaking core and whimpering at the consistent and harsh touches passing through your nerves. But it wasn’t the mess you were making that caught his attention. No, it was the fact that you had his cowl twisted between your thighs and around your back. He watched in awe as you pushed your face into the rough material, taking in deep breaths to try and fill your nostrils with his scent. Taking one step closer to you, his eyes bore into your heated skin and he choked on air when he saw you lick at the hood of the cloak before taking your fingers out of your cunt and replacing them with his cowl. He couldn’t believe his eyes and the thought of wearing it around with your scent sticking to it broke him. 

Mando looked around the ship for a few moments in an attempt to think of what he should do. Swallowing the dry lump in his throat, he approached your slowly and gasped when he met your eyes and saw the way you were looking at him.

“M-mando! Please...fuck me. I- I need you to...don’t c-care how. I promise I’ll do anything, wh-whatever you want...ple-please.” Chills ran down your spine when you forced yourself to throw the cowl away. Turning around, you laid on your stomach and took a deep breath before raising your lower half off of the covers. As you rested your head on your arm and bit into your wrist, you looked back to the beskar-clad man, silently pleading with him while swaying your ass in the air. 

“Gota'la…” Before the Mandalorian could talk himself out of it, he was kicking his heavy shoes away and making his way closer to you. A part of him screamed that of the two of you, he was the one less affected by the pollen and was technically responsible for whatever transpired next. And he was close to asking you if you were sure you wanted to take this further if it weren’t for the way you reached beneath you and faintly trailed your fingers through your soaking slit. 

“Ad'ika, gar cuyir mesh'la.” He was speaking to himself more than to you and smiled to himself when he noticed your cunt clenching around nothing as soon as his words filled the silence. “Sweet girl, you like it when I speak to you in Mando’a?” You shivered at his tone and found it difficult to respond to him, especially when you could tell he was definitely not looking at you but at the mess you were making on his bed. A loud cry rang through the small room when you felt his hand come down on your backside before squeezing the flushed skin. 

“I asked you a question Cyar'ika.” His deep and modulated voice only made it worse and you found yourself nodding at him before whispering out a low ‘yes.’

“K'olar,” you squealed when you felt Mando twirl your around onto your back before pulling your naked body flush to his still-clothed one. You were about to beg him to just fuck you already when he shoved two of his fingers into your mouth to shush you. You moaned shamelessly around his fingers, whining even louder when you realized you were sucking on his calloused skin and not on the gloves he almost never took off unless he was alone. 

“You’re going to come just like this sweet girl.” Mando manhandled you until you were straddling one of his thighs, growling impatiently when you tried to push yourself away from him. His arm tightened around your waist, pushing you down on the beskar cuisse until you finally understood what he wanted from you.

“C-cold…”

“Be a good girl and drench my armor little one. Let me walk around with the memory of your cunt dripping on me.” His words hit too close to your somewhat aware mind and you chose to dwell on their meaning later. Softly inching your hands onto his shoulders, you fisted your fingers into his shirt to support your weight before dragging yourself against the rugged and cool beskar in between your thighs. As you threw your head back and sighed in pleasure, Mando couldn’t help but squeeze the heated skin of your hip, knowing very well there would soon be fingerprint marks wherever he touched you. 

“That’s it...could smell how much you want me Cyare. Can’t believe you’re in my arms...look at you, using my thighs to get off.” You barely managed to turn your attention to him, lips still enclosed around his fingers and biting down on them the more he shoved them in your mouth.

“Mando I- I need to-” Before you could finish your request, Mando was wrapping the other arm around hips and violently dragging you against his cuisse, looking down to watch as your juices dripped on his beskar armor. 

“What a sight…” He groaned and turned his gaze towards you again just in time to watch you fall apart on him. He marveled at how quickly he brought you to pleasure and figured it must have been the pollen making you extra sensitive to his ministrations. Wanting to stretch out your pleasure for as long as possible, he threw you back onto his bed and pushed your thighs open, not giving you a chance to question him as he shoved two fingers into your cunt and massaged that spongy spot deep inside you. You arched your back and grasped at his arms, barely managing to look at the visor just as he increased pressure and fucked you with his fingers. 

“M-MANdo oh g-gods-”

“Scream my name sweet girl, and only my name.” Had you actually listened to what he said, you would have sassed back at him and told him you didn’t actually know his name. But you couldn’t care less at the moment, digging your fingers into his forearms as you came around his thick fingers, repeatedly praying his “name” until you couldn’t remember anything else.

“Mesh'la...you’re so tight and warm for me...that’s it, squeeze my fingers like the good little girl you are.” Mando watched as you came around his fingers, his eyes not knowing where to look and wishing he could taste the sweat sticking on your neck as you whimpered beneath him. 

He heard it before he felt it, moaning in blind lust as he took in the sight beneath him. Your legs shook violently as you, quite literally, drenched his thighs and blankets with your cum and Mando didn’t know if he wanted to lick you dry or stuff his nose into your pulsating cunt. 

“Sweet fucking darling, look at the mess you’ve made,” you shivered when you felt his fingers leave your slit, blinking hazily and turning to look at where he was staring. When you saw what he was referring to, you quickly covered yourself and tried to move away from him, embarrassment washing over you when you saw the way he was so obviously staring at the wetness dripping down your. But Mando was much quicker than you, grabbing your thighs and pushing them wide open again before laying in between them and dragging his crotch across your sensitive clit. 

“Never hide from me,” you nodded instantly and the Mandalorian would never admit feeling his chest fill with pride at the lust-filled fear he instilled into you with only a few words. Your chest heaved as you continued to look into the visor, almost whimpering when you were met with incredibly dazed eyes and messy hair staring right back at you. It was quiet for a few moments, the only proof that Mando was very much aware of your state being the hardness twitching against your sensitive cunt. 

Mando wasn’t sure what to do with you. He wanted to simultaneously fuck you into the next system and lick every inch of you until you couldn’t take it anymore. “I can smell your cunt Ad'ika...can almost taste your neediness.”

“Ma-mando I- I want you to r-” You felt so naked beneath him, wishing he’d at least take off his clothes before this went any further. Not a single care was given to his helmet and it was out of the question to even attempt and ask him if he could take it off. You just wanted to feel his skin sliding against yours as he fucked you. Nothing else mattered. Just his scarred and sweaty muscles contracting and trailing over your own. 

“What is it sweet girl?” His voice felt like a thousand needles piercing your soul and you didn’t realize where your hands were moving until you felt him roughly grab your wrists and slam them above your head. You could tell there was a shift in the air around you and ceased to breathe when you no longer heard his moans. 

“This is the way.” Those four words hurt you more than they should have. 

“I- I would never ask you to...I swear I just wanted- I wanted to touch you. Not take it off...please I-” Mando felt his heart shatter into a million pieces because somehow, even in your most inebriated state, you respected him. You put him before yourself. And he ceased to breathe when he sat up and watched as you grabbed at his arms and refused to let go.

“N-no don’t go...I need you- d-don’t leave me pl-” Your breathing was erratic and the Mandalorian feared you’d spiral into shock. Without thinking much of his next moves, he grabbed the nearest item of clothing and ripped a small piece of it, returning to rest between your knees and not giving you a choice as he wrapped the band around your eyes and tied it in the back. You trailed your fingers over the band and pulled away instantly when you felt his the hair on his wrist. 

“I’m sorry…” Mando thought of your actions so far and knew in his heart that if there was ever another who’d look upon him, it would be you. Softly taking your hands in his, he pulled them towards his helmet and rested them at the side.

“T-take it off.”

“I can’t...Mando, you don’t have to- I swear I was only-” As hard as it was to say those words, you wanted him to know that he owed you nothing. And you hated how selfish you were being in that moment because the man was trying to tell you something and you were only worrying about yourself and how much your cunt ached for him. You were so close to pushing him on his back and taking your pleasure from him but something told you it would be worth the wait. 

“Mesh'la, I want you to.” You always marveled at how much the Mandalorian could convey in only a few words and shouldn’t have been surprised when you felt just how much he was willing to put his trust in you. Not wanting to scare him, you slowly pulled on the visor until it was completely off, remaining motionless as he took it from your hands and placed it on the floor. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do with your hands so you kept them to the side, fisting your fingers into the blankets to prevent you from reaching out and touching his face. 

Mando could tell you wanted to touch him. You even told him yourself. So he made the decision for you and leaned down, passing his lips over your forehead and smiling down at you when he heard you suck in a breath. You gasped when you felt his beard tickle your cheeks. He had a beard. Of course he had a beard. But as he continued to leave kisses over your face, you realized it wasn’t really a full-grown beard. It didn’t matter in the end because he was driving you insane with every small pass of his plump lips near where you wanted him.

As he finally molded his lips with yours, you felt him pull your hands up to his face and lay them on his cheeks, the groan escaping his throat letting you know he enjoyed you touching him as much as you, perhaps even more. The kiss grew frantic the more you explored his naked skin, and you couldn’t hold back the long moan that erupted into his mouth as soon as you felt him suck on your tongue. When you pulled on his soft hair, Mando couldn’t help but growl into the heated kiss, not caring for how rough he was being as he grabbed and squeezed your thighs. 

But the kiss was over as soon as it began and you whined after him when you felt him pull away from you. You felt your fingers ascend to your face but remembered why the Mandalorian blindfolded you in the first place. Not wanting to lose his trust, you pushed your arms beneath your back to prevent any temptations from taking place. Unbeknownst to you, Mando was watching every little muscle twitch on your nude form and he almost devoured you right then and there when he saw you quickly moving your fingers from your face. 

He was amazed by how caring you were even when you didn’t hold any proper level of the right consciousness. Anyone else would have removed the cloth and blamed the pollen. But not you. 

You were special. 

Refusing to waste any more time, Mando made quick work of the beskar armor, not caring about the mess he was making just outside his room. He kept his eyes on you the entire time, smiling when he noticed you shivering beneath his gaze. He was on you as soon as he deposited his long-sleeve and pants, devouring your mouth and digging his fingers into your waist as he rutted against you. 

“Ner-” 

The possessiveness was almost palpable and he surprised even himself at the single syllable. Since when was he like this?

“Mando,” you whispered his name as you wrapped your arms around his back and pulled him flush against you, sighing in relief when you felt the hair of his chest tickle your nipples. Mando noticed your reaction and instantly descended on your heaving chest, biting and licking and pinching at the hardened buds until you begged him to slow down.

“Ni'm liser't...taylir norac. You’re so fucking delicious.” The way he effortlessly switched between his mother tongue and Basic shouldn’t have turned you on this much and yet you were. 

“Fuck me.” Your words were dripping with desperation and the Mandalorian wasn’t able to hold any longer. He wanted to take his time with you, commit every little curve to memory. Memorize what made your breath hitch and what made you sigh. 

But the request ended all of his curiosity and before you knew it, you felt him roughly pull down on his boxer briefs. You flushed when you heard the sound of his hand jerking his cock, mouth falling wide open when it jutted at your inner thighs and you felt how fucking hard and thick it was. 

“What will it be sweet girl? You want me to make love to you,” he paused for a moment and took advantage of your distracted expression, rubbing the head of his cock against your wet slit and biting his lips when he felt you arch against him at the simple yet filthy movement. “Or fuck you like I own you…like you’re mine.”

Hearing him say ‘fuck’ in such a vulgar tone did it for you and you didn’t know what to do with yourself except widen your legs more for him and grab the bed sheets beneath you.

“F-fuck me like you own me Mando...ruin me. Take what you want and- oh maker you’re so- so...fu- please, u-use me however you want. Just- I need your cock. Need to cum on your cock...can’t wait anym-”

Mando was sure he broke you with his words, watching in awe as you begged and begged until you couldn’t breathe anymore. There was no warning, no asking if you were ready for him. There was just your wet cunt teasing him until he couldn’t bear the thought of not being deep inside your pussy.

Resting his head against yours, he took his painfully hard cock in his hand and shoved it past your wet lips, letting out a deep growl as he felt you scratch his back.

“Mando, Mando, M-mando…”

You didn’t find the strength to think of a proper sentence to express what you were feeling so you opted to pray his name over and over again. He was shaking above you and you knew instantly he was trying his hardest not to break you.

“Take what you want- I...I won’t break.” 

Just hearing you say those words to him almost made him cum right then and there. You were returning the trust he gave you and he knew there was no way of putting this moment behind him even if he tried. 

Pulling out until only the head of his cock was splitting you open, Mando bucked his hips violently back into you, whispering the filthiest promises into your ears as he set a rough pace that had you seeing worlds you didn’t even know existed. 

“So, fucking, tight...how are you so wet and tight for me Cyare?” It took you a while to realize you were hearing his voice without the modulator of his mask. How had you not noticed how beautifully sinful it was when he first took it off? You wanted to tell him how much you loved hearing his thick and smooth voice. You wanted to kiss down his neck and bite onto his shoulders. You wanted to push him down and force his cock inside your throat. 

So much. You wanted so much. 

But you couldn’t find your voice in that moment. Not when he was railing into you with such an unforgiving force. 

“Made for me...made to take my cock. Such a sweet fucking girl- ah.” You should have known Mando would not be the quiet type in bed. He was a man of few words during his day-to-day life so of course he would take this chance and spill out his innermost thoughts. But it surprised you nonetheless considering how downright dirty his moans and whispers were. And you were sure he was as filthy, if not more, when he continued to speak in Mando’a. 

With every passing moment, you felt a piece of your heart split from your chest and slowly make its way into his hands. He was branding you, his cock reaching so deep inside you that you were sure you could feel him right below your navel if you only moved your hands against your skin. But you couldn’t afford to let go of him, not when he was using you just as you requested. 

“Mando you...maker, you’re filling me so- so good. I- please, can I cum? I want t- to cum. Been so good for you. Need to-” The chuckle that left his lips was sweet music to your ears until you realized he might be laughing at how pathetic you were. 

“Fucking gods Ad'ika...fill you up? Is that what you want sweet girl? You want me to- fuck, fuck...want me to fill you up with my cum? You’re killing me baby.” His voice was hoarse and he realized his mistake as soon as the words left his lips. The last thing he wanted was to scare you away from him. It was his deeped, darkest secret. He swore he would go to his grave with it. Too often he thought of breeding you, fucking you and fill you up until his cum leaked out of you and you couldn’t move. Too many nights he went to sleep thinking of what it would feel like to wake up with your sweet cunt still wrapped around his cock. What he’d give to ensure not a single drop went to waste. 

Too many days were spent dreaming of giving that little womp rat a sibling to run around with. 

Your silence didn’t go unnoticed by him and he was about to slow down when he felt your hands grab his ass and push you closer to him.

“Want your cum Mando...want you to cum inside me, fill me up until I can’t breathe...oh fuck, until I can’t feel anything but your cum hot and deep inside me. Fuck a baby inside me Mando I- oh oh gods I-” Mando couldn’t hold back anymore, violently pushing his cock inside you and swallowing your moans every time they echoed just a little louder than he preferred. He groaned in ecstasy when he looked down and saw pure bliss etched on your soft features. You clenched around him, thighs vibrating around his hips as he somehow drove into you harder and carried you past the point of pleasure. You didn’t know you were coming around him until you heard him whisper ‘good girl’ in your ears. And it sent a jolt down his spine when he continued to rut against you and fill the ship with the heavy sounds of skin slapping on skin. It was almost painful, the way he didn’t let up and continued to rail into you without a single care. 

“Mine...mine, fucking mine. That’s it sweet girl, feel me. Feel me marking your fucking soul.” He was a mumbling mess at this point and he wasn’t sure if it was because you were panting like an animal in heat or because of the way you desperately licked and kissed and nipped at his neck and lips. 

“Yes, I’m yours Mando. Yours...always have been.”

The heaviness of your words struck his heart instantly, and he shoved his cock so deep inside you he swore he could feel your heartbeat. Mando rested his head in the crook of your neck, biting harder than intended on your shoulder as hot spurts of cum coated your inner walls. You feel a sudden warmth wash over you and dug your nails into his ass as he thrust once, twice, three times before stilling completely. 

The two of you continued to breathe heavily against each other and when Mando moved his knees to get comfortable between your thighs, you unintentionally squeezed his cock and felt him twitch inside you.

“Ni chaabar gar, cyar'ika.” It was such a silent comment and you knew this was much different than everything he’d said thus far. Something about his tone told you he was spilling his heart out and you wished more than anything to ask him what he was saying but knew you shouldn’t...wouldn’t. Not unless you wanted him to continue and speak to you.

You were brought back from your thoughts when the Mandalorian kissed your lips, and you felt yourself drowning in his scent when he rubbed your hair and nudged your jaw with his nose.

“Gar cuyir too jaon'yc at ni. Ni liser't nibral gar.” Slowly, Mando wrapped his arms around you and rolled you over until you were practically sleeping on top of him. The two of you hissed when you felt his cock leave your heat and Mando wished more than anything to spread your thighs and watch as his cum leaked down your thighs. No worries, he’d do that later.

Later…

Oh what he would give for there to be a ‘later’ with you. 

The thought of not being able to have you again snapped him back to reality and he realized there was a very high chance this would never happen again because as far as he knew, this was only a consequence of the pollen.

Not wanting to bother you with his insecurities, Mando pushed your head down onto his chest and rubbed your shoulders, telling you to get some rest and to not worry about anything else. 

Hours later, Mando was waking up to a soft noise emitting from beneath him. As he rubbed his eyes and took in his surroundings, he looked down and noticed you were still very much naked and cold next to him. Pulling the covers over you, he allowed his eyes to feed on your curves before meeting your face. Dread filled his heart as soon as he saw the wet patch on the band around your eyes. 

You must have woken up and realized what happened. A thousand different scenarios flew through his mind and Mando knew that almost each one of them was caused by your regret of sleeping with him. 

“Ad'ika, are you alright?” When you didn’t respond and sniffed loudly, Mando knew he had to brace for the worst. 

“Please...are you hurt anywhere?” Hearing his pleas was what did it for you and you threw yourself into his chest. 

“Mando I- I took advantage of you. I’m so sorry, I- I didn’t know what was happening...I promise I- please don’t tell me to leave. I can’t leave you or the Child. I- I promise I’ll pretend this never happened. Just- don’t leave me. I can’t bear the thought of living without you...without him.”

Of all the things the Mandalorian thought he would hear from you, those were certainly the last to make the list. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten so lucky with you? Not only did you refuse to take the blindfold off when you woke up but you genuinely thought you’d forced him into sleeping with you.

“Cyare, it hurts to see you cry. Come here.” Mando sat up against the cold metal wall, pulling you into his lap and wrapping the covers around you so you weren’t exposed to the cold air of the ship. 

“You didn’t take advantage of me sweet girl. If anything, I- I should be the one apologizing. I was not hit with the effects of the pollen as much as you have been and...and I should have refused your pleas. But you looked so beautiful, Cyar'ika. You prayed for me to have you and I- I was selfish. I was selfish and I couldn’t stop myself from sinking into you. Branding you. Being with you.” To say you were surprised by his words would have been the understatement of the century. 

The Mandalorian wanted you. He wanted to have you. He wanted to be with you. 

“I-I’ve wanted you for so long...spent so many nights dreaming of being with you.” You confessed to him before you could think of the meaning behind your words and you were met with a deep sigh and a kiss on the lips almost immediately. 

“How long Mesh'la?” 

“S-since Tatooine.” 

Mando’s heart skipped a beat at the short yet direct response. He’s only ever been to Tatooine once with you, months and months ago when he needed Peli to fix something on the Crest for him. You hadn’t even been with their group for three weeks then. So busy thinking of all the ways he could have had you since then, Mando didn’t notice how the silence affected you until your fingers twitched against his chest. 

“Mando?”

“That was eons ago.” It was more of a comment than a question and you weren’t sure if he was angry or surprised. 

“Is...is that bad?”

“Bad? No Ad'ika, not bad.” When he didn’t offer more of an explanation, you rested your head on his chest and continued to draw circles on his naked abdomen. 

You weren’t sure how long you sat there in each others arms but the faint sounds of cooing and laughter snapped you out of your haze and you realized you should probably get up and make something for the kid to eat. Before you could move away from him however, Mando was bringing you closer to him and kissing you again. You knew you could never tire from feeling his lips mold and pass over yours and you welcomed his tongue with as much vigor as you could muster up.

As he pulled away, you smiled at him and wished more than anything to be able to see him smile back at you. 

“Din.”

“Hmm?”

“My name...it’s Din. Din Djarin.” 

Mando could see the exact moment you registered what he just said and he smirked to himself at how pretty you looked when something shocking took place. 

“Din.” You repeated his name silently, afraid this would all be a dream and that he didn’t actually just tell you something that was so important to him.

“You didn’t have to tell me…” You traced his jaw with your fingers and marveled at how oddly soft his beard was. 

“I didn’t, but I wanted to.” Din was silent for a few seconds before he flipped you beneath him and took hold of your wrists before slamming them harshly above your head. “I wanted you to know it, Mesh'la, so you could scream it the next time I fucked this sweet and tight cunt.” 

For a man of few words, he sure knew what to say to get you worked up again.

Translations: 

Ni Kelir kyr'amur gar meh gar vaabir not ba'slanar kaysh - I will kill you if you do not leave her.

Ni vaabir not baatir te waadas. - I do not care about the credits.

Gedet'ye. - Please.

Ad'ika - Little one

Ni’duraa! - You disgust me.

Cyar'ika - Darling/Sweetheart

Cyare - Beloved

Gota'la - Maker.

Gar cuyir mesh'la. - You are beautiful. 

K'olar - Come here.

Mesh'la - Beautiful

Ner - Mine.

Ni'm liser't...taylir norac. - I can’t...hold back.

Ni chaabar gar, cyar'ika. - I fear you, darling.

Gar cuyir too jaon'yc at ni. Ni liser't nibral gar. - You are too important to me. I can’t lose you.

#The Mandalorian fanfiction #The Mandalorian x Reader #The Mandalorian smut #mando x reader #Mando smut #Mando fanfiction #Din Djarin x Reader #Din Djarin smut #Din Djarin fanfiction #The Mandalorian #Din Djarin #Pedro Pascal #baby yoda #star wars #star wars fanfiction

[xiaowhore]

secret admirer hcs

albedo

It wasn't as though you were anyone special.

You had two eyes, two ears, two arms and two legs, possessing a single heart and a single stomach. A quick once over of your anatomy suggested you were entirely human—clearly, you didn't need a thorough examination just to surmise you were completely ordinary.

Still, Albedo couldn't bring himself to stop staring.

You were nothing of importance. Nothing like the fascinating creatures he observed on the daily, with unique traits and perplexing behaviors. No. You were a mere mortal with no extraordinary characteristics worth gawking over.

So why couldn't he stop looking at you, then?

(Actually, he knew the answer long ago. He was just too afraid to admit it.)

In spite of the rational part of his brain nagging at him to stop, he studied your figure in piqued curiosity regardless. To the small upward quirk of your lips when you smiled, to the slight furrow of your brow when you felt distressed. The faint sparkle in your eyes when you retold your bravest adventures, and the indistinct tremble of your shoulders when you tried your hardest to keep your laughter.

Yes, your grin of glee was a sight he'd definitely yearn to paint and keep as his greatest treasure.

(Sometimes, he worries if you had already noticed his incessant staring at your lips.)

He admired you, truly. You simply emanated warmth and kindness, subtly drawing people closer to your bright light, until it was too late when he realized his heart had been captured and he's in too deep to discard the blossoming affection blooming into the depths of his heart. It was most likely inevitable, he'd come to know—there was no escaping the feelings that stirred upon him.

And yet it was incredibly unfair how you stole his attention so easily. Your short expeditions left him concerned with each week that passed by without your return, and on the other hand, your nearby presence would heighten all of his senses. His heart would pound startlingly rapid—an actual cause for concern—and blood would rush to his cheeks, coloring it a rosy hue. He prided over his capability to keep a poker face at any given situation, but your mere gaze burning through his skin was enough to destroy the confidence he had and set his face aflame.

Love was... surprisingly frightening.

(But he didn't mind it. He welcomed the feeling. The simple joys of spending time with you was enough.)

He wasn't very vocal about his feelings. However, he wondered if you were aware of them. You should be—his gaze, whenever pinned on you, lingers a little longer than it should, and the smallest of smiles will habitually grace his lips once he spots you within town. Any mention of your name piques his interest, and the slightest grain of insult directed at your person will push him to grow irritated. Signs so devastatingly obvious that even Sucrose and Klee had figured him out, to which they proceeded to bug him about confessing his feelings. Unsurprisingly, his response to their suggestions was a cold, hard “no”—the time wasn't right for either of you.

That said, though Albedo preferred to keep his affections to himself for the meantime, he would never reject any opportunity to see you. Which was exactly why when he learned you would be partaking in a small exploration trip to Dragonspine, he didn't hesitate from “coincidentally” visiting the same area to conduct research of his own.

His (impulsive) decision wasn't a mistake. Far from it, really. He enjoyed seeing new sights with you, and he's guilty as charged for finding you endearing when you shyly asked for his coat to protect yourself from the chilly temperature. (And, well, no one would know his shameful daydreams about huddling for warmth with you by a fireplace.)

A glimpse of your caring nature would present itself whenever you'd come across a troubled fellow adventurer around the icy mountains, seeking urgent help. You don't hesitate to lend a hand, whether it was to defeat a particularly tricky monster or tend to severe injuries. You never quite stopped leaving Albedo at awe to the extent you'll go just to help someone in need. Not once did you lack the courage necessary to face such fearsome mobs, nor did you become any less selfless.

But sometimes, he forgets bravery can become recklessness, and kindness can result into a needless sacrifice.

So when you arrive at his makeshift workshop all battered and bruised, bleeding from your middle section, he shouldn't have felt as surprised as he had been.

Dread pooled at the pit of his stomach as Sucrose guided your limp body to a small bed, your blood visibly seeping through her clothes. “W-we were ambushed!” she informed him, tone frantic. “There were so many hilichurls, and ruin guards, and [Name] tried to protect everyone, but... but...!”

He rushed to check your current state, attempting to shrug you awake. Yet you were unresponsive, eyes still closed tightly, and worry pricked his gut.

But he didn't let it show. Instilling more panic to his assistant wouldn't do them any good. So with the same indifferent tone he always used, he requested Sucrose to find help from anyone who can carry your body back home while he was busy suppressing your blood loss. She complied obediently with a nod, running out of the workshop in a brisk pace, and Albedo's calm facade dropped.

All refined elegance had left him as he hastily pried open your shirt, breath hitching at the gaping wound on your stomach.

He did not flinch at the scene of your bare skin; that should be the least of his worries. What he should be worried about was the alarming amount of blood you'd spilled.

With the precision of a skilled medic, he made quick work to treat your injury as much as possible, hastily cleaning the wound and careful not to inflict pain on you if there was any chance of you regaining consciousness soon. Crimson stained his fingers in the process, and with anxiety clouding his mind, he didn't notice his hands were trembling until he had finished wrapping you in bandages.

Albedo stared at his shaky hand, trepidation still in his nerves. Fear shook his heart, and he released a sigh. There was no real reason to panic, he reminded himself. He trusted his own abilities, and he was sure you'll survive, he made all the proper arrangements to keep you from dying, and yet-

And yet he was still afraid, because it was you.

He sat down on the chair residing beside the bed, willing himself to stay calm. Indulging in thoughts he shouldn't delve into wouldn't make anything better anyway, so he shook his head to free his mind of concerns. Glancing at your serene expression, he gingerly clasped your hand with both of his own, and his lips thinned into a firm line when he found it utterly limp in his grasp.

It was far too cold for his liking, and he cradled it desperately to retain its warmth.

“You really...” he whispered hoarsely, pressing it to his forehead—as if to pray for your safety to the Archons. “Drive me crazy...”

#genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #albedo #albedo x reader #albedo imagines #albedo headcanons #kreideprinz #idk where i was going with this #but here you go

[ppersonna]

out of my league - knj | 01

you were out of my league. got my heartbeat racing. if i die, don't wake me, cause you are more than just a dream - out of my league, fitz and the tantrums

✹ summary- Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out about your years-long hopeless crush on him. And he most definitely was not supposed to find out about it in front of all your coworkers in a company-wide meeting.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

✹ word count- 6.6k

✹ genre- angst, smut, comedy

✹ chapter warnings- swearing, descriptions of sex, sexual content, namjoon being a sexy flirt, jungkook being a himbo, awkward conversations, jimin being a protective bff

✹ a/n- hello and welcome to this fic thats lived in my google docs for almost a year now. without @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @chimoona, i would never have posted it. i truly owe so much of my brainstorming and creativity to their incredible brains and thoughts and ideas. i love them very much! i hope you enjoy this first chapter! please feel free to message me, talk to me abt anything!! im always here to chat. ILY!

MASTERLIST

Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out this way.

You planned to confess your undying, unerring love for your coworker at a better time, a classier place. You would wear a dress that highlighted your features, hair cascading down your back, makeup done to perfection and spritzed with expensive perfume. You’d confess, he’d confess right back, and you’d live happily ever after.

You’d also dreamt that Kim Namjoon would have the slightest inkling of who you are before he finds out about your year long crush. He might know you as the mousy girl in the office who doesn’t talk and doesn’t contribute much other than some crunched numbers and apparently the best coffee brewer in the office. But you’d prefer he knows you well—your favorite colors and movies and foods, what makes you happy and sad; things future husbands should know.

You very much did not think it would happen in a company wide conference, full of over five hundred suit-wearing executives. You did not think it would be done by the office bully, Chungha, who carefully takes over the mic and speaks the words clearly as she presents awards of recognition.

“Congratulations to Kim Namjoon for 5 years with the company, over $4 million in revenue, and the object of ____’s lust and affection. I’m sure you two will have the happy life she’s written in her journal about. Make sure you celebrate with her today!”

The room is silent, so silent you could have heard a pin drop from a mile away. Your face is cherry red and you wish the earth would open up and swallow you whole. Your heart feels like someone has ripped it in half and you stare in horror at the girl smirking at the front. Is this what it feels like to be backstabbed? Namjoon looks perplexed—confusion written on his face as he gestures around to no one in particular like he’s saying ‘what the fuck was that?’

Awkward coughing and clapping begins and Namjoon stands to receive his award, a fine wooden fountain pen, and chances a glance around the room. He easily spots you, with your wide, frightened face. His look remains passive, not hinting what he’s thinking behind those stormy eyes, before he turns and sits back down at the table with his buddies from his department.

You seriously contemplate quitting your job. You could find a new one easily, right? Just stand up and tell your boss you quit and you’re out of there before Namjoon ever sees you again and you’ll never have to face the mean girl who’s ratting you out.

As much as the idea rolls through your head, you know you won’t do it. You love your job, love the security and finances it provides you, and you love to look at Kim Namjoon, all day every day.

You don’t understand where things went wrong.

( one month ago )

It’s 9:03 am. You finish brewing the coffee in the small staff kitchen and sigh at the aroma of the freshly ground beans. Coffee is your favorite meal, favorite time of day, favorite snack, and preferred beverage. You drink it constantly. You’re known as “coffee girl” at work, mostly because no one really bothers to get to know you beyond that. You drink coffee like it’s a devoted religion. You could drink a cup right before bed and still sleep like a baby. It was, put simply, your drink.

The office workers deem you to be the one to make the pots of coffee every morning, claiming you were the ‘best’. You didn’t mind—you preferred to make your own coffee regardless—but you believe your coworkers are trying to pass off the twenty-minute job to someone lower in the office hierarchy. And you were one step above the interns.

The coffee machine chimes to let you know it’s hot, and it’s ready for you. You eagerly pour a mug, a large one, and smile as the waft of freshly ground beans (by you, of course) fills your senses.

You nearly knock the cup out of your hand as Kim Namjoon strolls into the office, eyes set on the coffee.

You feel your throat swell up, like he’s an allergen and you’re caught without an epi-pen. Butterflies swirl in your stomach and you can’t stop staring at him. He pays you no mind, tired yet determined to pour a cup of coffee and get back to his office.

You stand in the small kitchen, clutching your coffee like a lifeline, and pray to god you don’t do something stupid.

Namjoon pours his mug, and you watch his muscular hands grip the coffee pot. He pours a hefty amount of cream and sugar into his cup—it appears even perfect male specimens have their faults. 

Your eyes dance on his face before they tango down his body. You wonder what he looks like in the morning, crawling out of bed with mussed hair and a sleepy smile painted on his face. He’d look at you and tell you you’re the most beautiful girl and kiss you deeply despite morning breath. Maybe he’d take you to the shower to press you against the tile as he fuc-

“Oh!” it startles Namjoon to see you, and the coffee in his hand swishes violently. “Didn’t see you there. Sorry!”

Your heart melts. He’s the picture of kindness and politeness. You recognize it’s been a few seconds and you still haven’t replied.

“It’s fine!”

“Great coffee, by the way,” he smiles. His teeth nearly knock you out cold with their brilliance. “Have a good day.”

He turns and exits the room without so much as a glance back at you. Your knees feel weak.

Kim Namjoon talked to you. He complimented you. He told you to have a good day. It’s the best and most significant conversation you’ve had with your secret crush.

You definitely file that away for another day when you need to reminisce on his compliment, and you scurry out of the kitchen towards your desk.

Park Jimin is waiting dutifully at your desk when you arrive, a smug smile still slapped over your features as you sip at your coffee. Namjoon spoke to you today—how lovely.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow. 

“What’s got you so perky this morning?” 

You’re normally quiet and passive, avoiding eye contact or any semblance of emotion on your face.

You look up at the blonde bespectacled boy. Park Jimin is the closest thing to a best friend in the company. He’s who you spend time with at lunch, see on weekends, and text often. You suppose he’s the closest thing to a best friend you have in your entire life.

You send him a smirk and lean in close to whisper. “Namjoon said hi to me today!”

Jimin sends you a pitiful look and pats your shoulder. Your best friend is well aware of your secret crush and while he thinks Namjoon is a nice guy, he thinks your crush is a little hopeless. He’s the most popular guy in the office, often has dates lined up every weekend. Jimin hears the way he and his friends talk in the break room. The man is definitely not hurting for female attention.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, unenthusiastically. “That’s great.” He can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness over how excited you’re getting from a simple ‘hello’ from a coworker.

“I know, right? Anyway, lunch today?” You ask as you settle down into your cubicle.

Jimin pushes his glasses up his face and nods. “Of course! That’s why I came by this morning. I wanted to let you know that Jungkook from marketing will join us.”

You make a face, disgust etched in the lines creasing your forehead. 

“Why?”

Jungkook is well known in the company. He’s a loudmouth, a player, a clown, and everyone’s favorite comedian. He’s just not your favorite.

“Don’t be rude,” Jimin admonishes at your grimace. “He asked to join and well—he’s cute. I can’t say no to him.”

“Oh Christ, Jimin,” you groan. “Not you too! Don’t tell me you have the hots for the serial fuckboy?”

He blushes lightly and shrugs. “Maybe I do! Be nice to him today or I’ll eat all your chocolate ice cream I know you have at home.”

You stick your tongue out, petulantly. “Fine, now let me get to work or else Seokjin will be up my ass.”

Jimin smiles and kisses your cheek before he scurries away, back to human resources.

It feels as if barely any time has passed. You’re working hard, running calculations and updating spreadsheets. You have an eye for numbers, and losing yourself in an equation is just another day for you. You’re shaken from your cheerful place by a vibration from your phone, and a text alert popping on the lit screen.

jimin 12:01 pm- it’s lunchtime!! you better get your butt out here!

You smile and text back an affirmative reply, then move to grab your lunch from the company fridge. Gliding down the steps leading to the fresh outdoors, you meet Jimin at the lunch tables in the grass.

Jimin is sitting with Jungkook. You can recognize your best friend by his hair and glasses, and Jungkook by his obnoxious laughter.

“Hi,” you murmur as you sit down and open up the brown bag lunch you’ve brought.

“Hi!” Jimin is excited to see you, and just a pinch over eager to be sitting next to Jungkook.

“You know Jungkook, right?” Jimin asks, a harsh look in his eyes that reminds you to be on your best behavior.

You nod as you pull out a bag of grapes. “Oh, yeah, hey,” you smile. “I’ve seen you around.”

Jungkook delivers you a signature smirk and you feel yourself roll your eyes internally. “Yeah, you’re Coffee Girl, right?”

You pout and glare down at your brown bag lunch. Will you ever become more than just Coffee Girl?

“Yeah, I suppose that’s me.”

Jimin clears his throat to dismiss any awkwardness. 

“So, Jungkook, I hear you like working out? ___ likes to work out too. She drags me to the gym sometimes. Maybe we could all meet up sometime?” You don’t miss the hopeful lilt in his voice. Jungkook does.

“Oh, yeah?” He narrows a sexy look at you, rather—a look he thinks is sexy that you find off-putting. “What do you do at the gym? Little cardio sets with 5 pound weights?”

What an asshole.

“Sometimes,” you state as you take a bite of the homemade salad you handcrafted last night. “Most of the time I’m lifting heavy. I can bench 275 and deadlift 300.”

Jungkook looks taken back. “What, really?” He sounds breathless. “You lift more than Namjoon-hyung.”

At the sound of the love of your life’s name, you pause. Your face heats quickly and Jungkook smirks. Of course, he recognizes this and not Jimin’s obvious flirting.

“Why are you blushing?” He asks. “Did I say something?”

You’re quick to dismiss things. “Um--no. I just um,” you’re grasping at straws. “I’m hot.”

Jimin is trying not to laugh, hiding his mouth behind a petite hand.

Jungkook tilts his head. “It’s not even sunny today.”

You gulp. “Yeah, I must be hot. With a fever. M-malaria… probably.”

Jungkook snorts. 

“You have malaria? Bummer.” He picks at his nails. “I thought for a moment you had a thing for Namjoon.”

“No!” The retort is quick, too quick for normal conversation, and it gives you away.

“Aha!” Jungkook points an accusing finger at you. “You have the hots for him, don’t you?”

Your features melt, and Jimin tries to assuage the situation. “Jungkook, please don’t tell anyone,” he pleads.

Jungkook smiles at you. “That’s so cute. It’s like a little nerdy freshman crushing on the senior class president.”

You bury your head in your hands, suddenly unable to stomach any food.

“Jungkook,” Jimin’s tone becomes more firm, authoritative. “I’m asking you this as a friend. Please, don’t say anything.”

Jungkook holds his hands up to prove his innocence and waves his proverbial white flag. 

“Secret is safe with me,” he promises. “But it’s cute. I know him really well, you know. I could try to hook you two up.”

You blanch, unsure if you want Jungkook saying anything about you to the man of your dreams. 

“I’m good, but thanks,” you offer meekly. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to head back to work, okay?”

Jimin frowns, knowing you’re feeling like a cornered animal, and nods. “Feel better, babe,” he sighs.

Jungkook watches as you leave and turns to Jimin. “Man, he’s way out of her league.”

Jimin slaps the boy in the chest. “Be nice, asshole, that’s my best friend.”

Jungkook promises to be nice, and Jimin is blissfully unaware that others are listening and that the man beside him is easy to persuade.

( present day )

The company-wide meeting adjourns soon after what is likely to be the most embarrassing moment you’ve ever lived through.

You’re grabbing at your things and trying to run out of the room, desperate to get out before anyone sees you or talks to you or laughs at you.

A hand grabs at the coattails of your suit jacket and you’re pulled backwards with a yelp. You turn to seek your captor and find the concerned face of your best friend, Jimin.

“Are you okay? What the fuck just happened?”

Jimin’s concern makes it all real. Until now you could pretend you were in a fugue state, totally dissociated from reality. Now, you realize that everyone in the entire company is aware of your crush on Kim Namjoon.

You can feel your bottom lip wobble, tears threatening to spill. Jimin murmurs an ‘oh shit’ and drags you out of the large room and into the nearest bathroom. He pushes you to sit against the sink and passes you toilet paper to dab at your eyes.

“I don’t know how she found out!” you cry. “God, I feel so stupid and embarrassed.”

It incenses Jimin. He’s holding it back to ensure you’re okay, but in reality, it’s an HR nightmare waiting to happen. He’ll find who did it and punish them accordingly.

They will suffer. 

“It’s okay, babe,” he pulls you into a hug. “Everyone will forget about it soon. They’ll think it’s just a lame office joke, okay?”

You nod, feeling the slightest bit comforted by his words. 

“How could she find out, Jiminie?” You ask with a sniffle. “You’re the only person who knows.”

Jimin sighs and shakes his head.

“I don’t know, but they’re dead. I haven’t told any-... oh, my god,” Jimin stops suddenly. You look up at him to catch what he’s thinking.

He growls and balls his fists. 

“Jungkook knew.”

You let out a sob and bawl your eyes out into the tissue you’re holding. Jimin holds you tighter while he conjures up a hundred different ways to hurt someone and make it look like an accident.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin sighs, trying to comfort both you and himself. “I’m HR. I have to handle this. I’ll make sure they get what they deserve.”

You feel a sting of pain for Jimin. He’s been hopelessly doting on the man who spilled the beans for a few months now, even got to take him on a few dates. It was still nothing serious, but Jimin was clearly smitten.

“I’m sorry you have to do that, Chim,” you whisper. “I know how you feel about him.”

“Yeah, well,” he swallows thickly. “You’re more important than any asshole.”

Jimin holds you tight for a few minutes longer, before you clean yourself up and steel yourself. Ignore everyone, Jimin encourages. Just get to work, he says. Then you can go home and we’ll drink wine and forget about it all, he promises.

You replay his words in his head like a prayer as you walk down the corridors and towards your office. Everyone in the hallways stops to stare at you. They lean towards their friends and whisper. You hear snippets of their gossip, like “Namjoon” and “out of her league”. It drives the sharp blade lodged in your chest even further. It threatens to collapse your lungs and break your ribs.

You make it to your desk safe and sound and bury yourself in work and forcibly ignore the gawking and the stares. 

Just make it home. Just get through the day. You’re almost there.

You could do this.

You nearly make it the entire day before running into the one person you didn’t want to see, Kim Namjoon.

At the end of the day, you’re taking the stairs down to the parking garage instead of the elevator. The elevator is too busy, too many people, and you’re trying to avoid the stares and giggles at your expense. The stairs are always deserted and you figure it’s your safest bet.

You can nearly hear the wine calling your name at home. A delicate glass of Sauvignon Blanc and some chocolate ice cream and a good cry—it sounds like the best and only way to unwind after the worst day you’ve ever had in your life.

The chanting of your name gets louder and you wonder if you’ve finally lost your mind—if you’re actually hearing your wine bottles all the way at home talking to you.

No, wait. The voice is real, and coming from behind you. You turn around to face who’s calling you and nearly faint at the sight.

Kim Namjoon stands on the landing above you, one strip of stairs between you.

“Hey!” He seems glad he’s caught you. “I’ve been calling your name for a minute.”

You swallow and search for an answer. 

“Sorry, I’m-.. I guess I’m just a little out of it today.”

Namjoon grimaces. 

“Yeah, about that…” he begins as he takes the steps down to be on equal ground as you. Your heart is spinning wildly. He’s so close to you. He’s talking to you. On any other day you’d be erupting towards the sky like a firework. But today isn’t any other day.

“I feel like I should apologize,” he states. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t plan it or anything.”

Damn him and his kindness. Damn him and his cute, awkward smile.

“No, no,” you assure. “I know you didn’t. You don’t have to apologize.”

It’s hard to make eye contact with the man. You want to, know it’s important in intense conversations like this, but the thought of him seeing you—really seeing you makes you ache inside.

“It was a really shitty prank,” he begins. “I’m sure you don’t even know who I am, let alone have a crush on me.”

For the millionth time that day, your face heats to a near boil. You stammer and you’re sure you’ve blown any chance at even thinking about a date with Namjoon.

“Oh, uh, right,” you seek an answer, beg your brain to pick something to say that doesn’t make you sound stupid. “I do.”

“You do what?” He’s confused and you widen your eyes at what just left your mouth.

“I do know you! I mean, I do have a crush on you! Oh, fuck,” you shove your face into your hands. “Please, ignore that. I need to go. Sorry!” You don’t give him a chance to reply, you book it out of the stairway as fast as your heels will take you.

Today was the worst day you’ve suffered through in your life.

The next few days aren’t much better.

Not only are you “coffee girl”, you’re now also sarcastically called “Namjoon’s girl”. As much as you hate your initial title, you’d prefer it to the new one they throw at you as you walk by.

Jimin rats out Jungkook and Chungha to the bosses. They get two weeks probation and they have to write you apology letters if they wish to keep their permanent files clean of any reprimands. It’s a slap on the wrist, and everyone involved knows it. Jimin is furious and wants the boss to reconsider. You tell him not to push it. You’d rather this be over and everyone to forget it even happened. Jimin unwillingly agrees.

You’re working at your desk, earphones shoved in your ears to diffuse the gossip in the room, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn and are greeted with the face of Judas Iscariot himself, Jeon Jungkook.

“Hi,” he sounds sheepish, cheeks reddening.

You narrow your eyes at him, sharper than steel. “What the fuck do you want?”

He winces, knowing he deserved that. “Well, I just wanted to apologize. I know they told me to write you a letter, but it seems too impersonal…”. 

You can’t believe Jungkook is sucking his ego up and actually coming to you to apologize. You thought he’d for sure be the one to cop out and send a shitty letter.

He continues. 

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry that all went down. I didn’t mean to tell her. She got me drunk and said she saw me eating lunch with you and Jimin. I think she was jealous or something and it slipped out. I know that’s not an excuse. I fucked up your trust and Jimin’s trust. But I just wanted you to know I didn’t do it to be an asshole. She sort of duped me.”

You pause as you take in the man’s apology. He didn’t have to come to you in person. He could have easily taken the shitty route and half-assed a letter to you. But he didn't, and he owned up to his mistake. God dammit.

“I appreciate your apology, Jungkook,” you sigh and you see his body visibly relax. “I’m still mad, but I guess the anger is at her for doing it in the first place. I’m sorry she tricked you.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and kneels down beside you. “I’m really happy you believe me. I was worried you were going to kick me in the nuts.

“I won’t lie, I thought about it.”

He smiles with you, and you feel like this is the restart of a friendship. “I definitely deserved it.”

You shrug and smile. “Jimin would kill me for hurting you. He might even kill me for thinking about hurting you.”

Jungkook’s smile drops at the name of your best friend. Yikes. Looks like there’s still trouble in paradise.

“I think you’d be in similar company with Jimin right now. He’s not speaking to me.”

You let out a breath through your nose. “Yeah, he’s a little protective of me.”

“For good reason,” he admits. “You’re like a cute little flower. A cute nerdy flower.”

“Jungkook,” you warn. “I just forgave you after I was humiliated in front of the entire company. I’d be careful with calling me nerdy right now.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

It’s hard to stay mad at the boy, no matter how much you dislike his reputation around the office. The fact that he humbled himself enough to seek you out and apologize is proof enough to you of his character.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. I forgive you,” you smile. “Thank you for apologizing.”

He rubs the back of his neck anxiously as his cheeks flare red.

“Yeah, it felt pretty shitty to just… do anything else. Plus, you seem really cool.”

“You seem great, too, Jungkook.”

He smiles and pulls you in for a hug, catching you off guard. For the fuckboy type, he’s surprisingly sensitive and soft. You like that about him.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” He says as he pulls away from you.

“Maybe you should apologize to Jimin, too?” 

His smile drops, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, maybe I’ll go find him now.”

“Good luck,” you offer with a pat on his shoulder.

With a sad smile, he turns and heads down the hallway towards the HR department. You pray Jimin shows mercy to the handsome boy.

A few weeks go by, and you’re sure that everyone has forgotten about you and your most embarrassing moment to date. You make the coffee, you calculate the numbers, everyone ignores you. Things return to relative normalcy.

Until it doesn't. The moment you think you're safe is the moment your guard comes down and everything falls apart around you.

It's when you're in the staff kitchen, grinding fresh beans to brew a second pot of coffee, that it happens.

The kitchen is fuller than usual. You normally try to wait until the lunchtime crowd dwindles and leaves to make your second pot, but you're so desperate for the caffeine that you can't find it in you to care.

You trudge into the kitchen with your handy coffee mug clutched in your tired hands and head towards the cupboards to grind up the beans.

There's a few groups of coworkers lingering in the room, and as your grinder whirs the beans around into a powder, you chance a look around to see who's among the crowd.

Your eyes flick immediately to where a hearty laugh erupts. It makes your heart still in your throat. Namjoon sits with his usual crowd of friends, hand gripping a homemade sandwich while the other assists him in telling his story to his friends. He pays you no mind—why would he?—and you can't help but stare at the way his dark brown hair lays perfectly against his forehead, and his eyes crinkle so cutely at the edges when he smiles.

You nearly forget about the coffee grounds—you're snapped out of your Namjoon-induced trance when suddenly a woman's laugh echoes around the room.

"Look at her," the voice states.

You peer up and see a girl you vaguely recognize. Is she from Marketing? Or perhaps Sales? You’re not sure, but she’s staring at you with a sneer.

“She’s so weirdly obsessed with Namjoon. It’s so creepy.”

Your face turns cherry red and you’re sure your lungs stop functioning. The air your body needs to breathe freezes and your chest aches. 

Namjoon turns to look at the girl before he looks and sees you grasping your coffee grounds tightly.

“Chungha was right—it’s so weird. Namjoon, you should talk to HR about this!”

Namjoon turns back to the gossiping coworker and frowns. “Can you leave it alone? She wasn’t even doing anything.”

The girl huffs and crosses her arms over her chest and looks back at Namjoon.

“How can you stand to be in the same room as her? She clearly thinks she has a chance with you.”

Her words come out like a bite. She punctuates her point with a harsh laugh and the group around her mumbles and chuckles in agreement.

You’re desperately grabbing at anything you can, wanting to leave as quickly as possible before you’re embarrassed further.

“Well, she does!” Namjoon replies loudly, annoyance written in his features. “I was actually going to ask her to dinner this weekend in private, but since everyone is so fucking interested in my love life, I have to do it publicly.”

The room falls silent, and your favorite mug falls out from your hands and shatters on the floor. All sets of eyes stare at you while yours widen with disbelief—you don't even care that you’re standing in a pool of old coffee and shattered ceramic. 

Namjoon stands and heads over to you, bending down to pick up the shards of your coffee mug. You take a few stunted breaths to kneel and help. 

His eyes peer into yours. They’re warm—a chocolate brown color that makes you feel safe.  

“What do you say?” He asks with a smile so gentle it nearly breaks your heart. “Will you let me take you out this weekend?” 

You’re gaping like a fish and the surrounding room is silent—bated breath waiting for your reply. 

“Yes, I would l-love that.” 

His smile turns even brighter, and he stands to throw the broken mug away. 

“I’ll email you the details, okay?”

Your head nods dumbly without thinking. His eyes sparkle as he smiles at you, and he extends his hand down to you to assist you off the floor. As your hand slips into his, you can’t help but feel how soft and strong he feels. You wonder what his hand would feel like caressing your face, smoothing down the expanse of your bare back, running down the length of your body.

The thoughts shake out of you as he winks and kisses your hand gently, causing the gossiping coworker to grunt her disapproval and for murmurs of shock to echo around the room.

“I’ll talk to you later, doll.” Namjoon winks at you before he grabs his sandwich and leaves the room, gesturing to his crew to follow along.

The place on your hand felt warm where his lips once lingered. You no longer cared about the angry glares from the rest of your coworkers. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, and you leave the kitchen nearly floating on cloud nine.

Email from: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 3:06 pm

Subject: Hey good lookin ;)

Hey! 

Just wanted to see how you are! I’m sorry about what happened at lunchtime. That was super petty and uncalled for. I really wanted to ask you out, and I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much by doing it in front of everyone.

I was wondering if you’d like to go out this Friday night after work? Say around 7? If you send me your address, I’ll pick you up.

Let me know!

Xoxo, Joon

You’re sure if you weren’t sitting in your tiny cubicle, you’d be screaming your lungs out.

The second the notification of the email came through, direct from the man of your desires himself, your body froze.

You re-read the message, over and over and over.  

The winky emoji, the xoxo, the nickname ‘joon’. It’s all so much and makes the grin on your face threaten to split your lips in half.

Your fingers press the “FWD” button and you quickly send the message to Jimin, before you stand demurely, attempting to give off an air of professional confidence. You need to talk to Jimin, now.

As soon as you’re out of the eyesight of suspicious coworkers, you bolt down the hallway towards Human Resources. Your high heels click loudly on the tiled floor, but the sound doesn’t even register in your mind. All you can think about is Namjoon, the email, the press of his lips on your hand, the way his smile made you feel as if you could fly.  

The door to HR swings open with your tight grip around the doorknob, and you open your mouth to call to Jimin, the lone employee, when you’re startled by the sight ahead of you.

Jimin sits on the edge of his expansive desk with his arms thrown around Jungkook’s neck and is clearly engaged in a deep, sensual kiss. At the sound of the door opening, they quickly break apart, with matching cherry red blushes on their cheeks and mused hair.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp. 

The men are silent and you can’t help but giggle after a moment passes. “I’ll take it you two made up?”

Jungkook flashes you a dopey grin, one that gives you an answer, while Jimin smirks haughtily.

“Jungkook and I were just discussing, umm… his 401k.”

Jungkook looks at the blonde boy for a moment, confused, before he gets it. “Yeah! Totally. Retirement. Love to t-talk about it?”

You laugh out loud and walk towards the couple.

“I’m sure it was a titillating discussion,” you tease. “I have good news though, if it’s okay to interrupt this retirement planning session.”

Jimin nods and Jungkook rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I should leave?”

“It’s okay,” you smile. “I trust you.”

Jungkook smiles as if he’s just won the lottery. He looks between you and Jimin, face pure and excited like a puppy.

“What’s up?” Jimin asks as he moves to sit down at his desk.

“I forwarded you an email. Read it.”

Jimin nods and logs on to his posh computer, scrolling and clicking before narrowing his eyes and reading.

“Oh, my god.” Jimin’s face is shocked—it's written all over his features. “Namjoon asked you out?!”

Jungkook’s child-like grin turns into one of shock himself. He runs around to stand behind Jimin, eyes seeking over the words of the email.

“Well, hot damn,” Jungkook whistles. “He asked her out.”

Jimin exchanges a look with Jungkook, one that you’re not sure you can read. It quickly slips your mind, however, as you’re more focused on the task at hand.

“Can you come over tonight after work and help me pick out something to wear?” You ask excitedly.

Jimin smiles at you, a touch of sadness in his eyes, before he nods.

“Of course, babe,” he assures. “We’ll make sure you look nice and hot for the date with Mr. Kim.”

“Thank you!” You squeal as you wrap your arms around your best friend. He hugs you back before you scurry out of the office and back to your cubicle, itching to reply to the message.

Jimin sighs as the door to his office closes behind you.

“Kook, please don’t tell me he’s going to break her heart. He’s asking her out to make himself feel better about this, isn’t he?” 

Jungkook slips his hand into Jimin’s and squeezes. 

“I’ll find out, baby.”

Jimin smiles and nods appreciatively at the boy, before leaning up and kissing him.

Jungkook smiles against his lips, and is determined to ensure the young HR specialist never hates him again, even if he has to go behind his hyung’s back to ensure his new boyfriend’s happiness.

Jungkook has one mission now, and that’s ensuring Namjoon takes you on the greatest date known to man.

He grills Jimin with questions about what you like over dinner one night. Jimin finds it endearing that Jungkook is so eager to rectify his mistakes, but he still can’t help but worry that Namjoon is doing this to save face—not because he actually likes you.

“So, what does she like doing?” Jungkook asks as he spins his pasta around his chopsticks idly.

Jimin smiles as he takes a bite of the ramen Jungkook has thoughtfully prepared for their stay-at-home date.  

“I’ve told you already! She’s easy to figure out.” Jimin pats Jungkook’s hand gently. “She loves cooking and baking, working out, daydreaming about Namjoon.” 

“Cooking, hm,” Jungkook looks thoughtful as he takes a bite. “I think Namjoon can work with that. I’ll let him know!”

Jimin tries to hide the anxiety brewing in his stomach. He’s had to plaster on a fake smile for you while you tried on different outfits, wondering which will be the one to finally convince Namjoon he is the one for you. It’s hard to fake it around his boyfriend, too—but something tugs in his stomach that flares the cynical side of him.

Namjoon went from not knowing of your existence, to watching you get publicly embarrassed in a matter of minutes. While Namjoon isn’t a terrible guy, Jimin knows he doesn’t like anything to tarnish the gentleman reputation he’s built in the office. And as much as Jimin likes him, and surely likes his friend Jungkook, he can’t help but feel skeptical.

Jungkook hurriedly pulls out his phone and types away, letting his elder friend know of what he’s found out. Jimin swallows his food, and his pride, and hopes to god his growing cynicism is wrong.

Friday comes slower than you’d like. You wake up every day during the week, one day closer, and your eagerness hits peak levels. Namjoon sees you in the hallways during the week and winks at you, hands shoved in his tight slacks that make you salivate.  

He emails you again Thursday afternoon, confirming things and getting your address. You reply in nanoseconds, uncaring how overeager you come off. 

By the time your alarm clock rings on Friday morning, you’ve already been awake for 4 hours.

All you can do is daydream about the date, the way his hand fits into yours, the warmth of his eyes when he smiles at you.

It’s what fuels you through work.

You hope to god the numbers you’re attempting to work during the day come out right, because your mind is elsewhere for more than most of the day. There isn’t enough coffee in the world, but also your body feels as if you’ve overdosed on caffeine already.

The clock eeks towards 5:00 pm and you’re bolting out the door at 4:56 to head home and get ready for your date.

Jimin attempts to meet you before you leave, but your desk is cold and empty by the time he gets there.  

He sighs and heads back towards his office to gather his things, waving bye to various coworkers as they file out of the corporate building.

He turns the corner towards his office but stops in his tracks as he sees Namjoon’s back to him, phone pressed to his ear.

“Baby, I’ll come over later tonight, okay?” Namjoon speaks into the phone.

Jimin feels his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. He retreats and hides behind a wall, ear carefully peeled to listen to the tall man’s conversation.

“I’m going on this date with that chick from work,” he sighs. “It won’t last more than a few hours. Poor girl has a crush on me and you know the usual assholes won’t leave her alone.”

Jimin bites his lip and clenches his fist. Namjoon thinks he means well, but he knows his suspicions have been confirmed, and he’s torn inside. He wants to tell you, to warn you not to get too invested in the man, but he also has no interest in popping the bubble you’ve been in since the day he asked you out.

Jimin lets it simmer for now. He decides he’ll monitor Namjoon and cut things off if it appears the man strings you along for fun.

Namjoon finishes his phone call with a promise to see whoever is on the other end of the phone later that night, and Jimin quickly pulls out his phone and fakes a conversation with no one when he hears the man approach.

“Oh, Kookie,” Jimin giggles, leaning against the wall casually. “I can’t wait to see you tonight, either, babe.”

Namjoon walks towards Jimin and makes eye contact with the HR specialist.

“Bye, Kook! See you tonight, baby.” Jimin finishes up the fake phone call as Namjoon arrives next to him, and he plasters on his best fake smile.

“Congrats on you and Jungkook,” he speaks sincerely.

Jimin hates how nice he is, hates that he’s a nice guy who gets too wrapped up in his own good looks and reputation.

“Thanks, Namjoon,” Jimin smiles uneasily. “You too! Have fun on your date tonight.”

Namjoon’s face lights up and Jimin desperately wishes he could go back in time to 30 seconds ago, before he heard the conversation, and believe that Namjoon truly wanted to date you.

“Thanks, should be fun, huh?” He winks and nudges Jimin, before he waves a goodbye and continues out the door.

Jimin pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials the number of his boyfriend.

“Hey, baby. We’ve got a problem.”

tag list! - @jimidol @aretha170 @dearbambideer​ 

#kim namjoon smut #kim namjoon #bts smut #bts fics #namjoon smut #out of my league #knj #knj smut #rap monster smut #JOOOOOOOOOONie

[kkusuka]

I’m so proud I’ve been here long before 2k💁🏼‍♀️ N E WAY CONGRATSSSSS!!!

Can I have fluff 16 with a twist tho, like “My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see." with Gojou, Fushiguro, Itadori and a fem reader? If 3 characters are way to many you can keep only Gojou. Keep being amazinggg<3

thank you so much!! <3

“My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see."

Gn!Pronouns, but you are implied to be female! 

Cw: an itsy bitsy hint of angst, slight confessions, reader panics, 

a/n: these were almost criminally fun to write, I love these three so much 

Gojou Satoru 

Words: 700 

You had no idea how a simple piece of paper could make you feel. Awkward, confusion, shock, all from one note that you thought was a bill. 

‘Y/n L/n save the date!’ was the last thing you had expected, from your ex-boyfriend nonetheless. The same guy who dated you for a whole three years before telling you over text that it wasn’t going to work out. 

Well, the both of you never had a bad relationship after, but you were a severe level of butthurt. But what made you really freeze was the plus one invitation, if you showed up to your ex’s wedding you would look like a loser. 

Since you were clearly going, you’d never miss on free food and a chance to have a day off, you needed an outfit and a date. The outfit was pretty easy to figure out, you’d go shopping on the weekend and buy something then. 

But someone to go with? You had about three friends whom you knew could not afford any days off and that you just didn't want to take. (at least you had some last resorts) Then, another problem, if they weren’t part of the Jujutsu world it would be harder to explain if you had to abruptly leave, which was a huge possibility this time of year. 

With that, your options were cut down to two- Nanami and...Gojou, of all people. 

Obviously, you tried, emphasis on tried, Nanami first. But after 24 missed calls and a 15-second conversation where he basically told you to shove it, you were in full-on panic mode. The wedding was in three days and you had to do something about your inevitable loneliness. 

You had to get over yourself, the worst Gojo could do was make fun of you or say no. But, he never passes up the opportunity for sweets, just lay on the dessert y/n!

“To what do I owe this sweet phone call Y/n? Confessing your love for yours truly?” his voice laughed through the line. You just had to ask him in a way that would compel him to want to come with you. 

“My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see." you blurt not even thinking about the words falling from your lips. 

You come to realize your words from the ringing silence in your ears, “I’m sorry I just-” 

“I’ll come” he answered, cutting off your apologies. He’ll come, you didn't even have to say anything about sugar or bribe him into coming. 

“You’ll come? Really? Why-wait Thank you! It’s on Saturday at 3 pm, we can go together if that makes things better! Thank you so much, you just saved me Gojo! How can I make it up to you!” you were just spouting whatever you could to thank him, listening to his daughter from his side. 

“Why wouldn’t I want to spend time with my little Sugar? You can make it up to me by wearing your prettiest little dress so we’ll be the hottest couple at the wedding.” he teased, continuing ranting about how you should match colors to add ‘flare’. 

“While we’re there we can start planning our own wedding! Doesn’t that sound fun Sugar!” 

Fushiguro Megumi 

Words: 700 

“What even is that” Megumi’s voice rang through the office hallway. You’d like to know too, you haven’t spoken to anyone from your hometown, save for our family, since you moved away six years ago. 

“I’m not totally sure, you want to open it with me?” you question opening the door to your office as he silently follows you in. 

Settling the rest of the mail down, you take a closer look at the suspicious envelope noticing the name on the return address. There's no way! Why the hell was your ex sending you things to your official workspace?

“What’s wrong? Is it bad?” Megumi doesn't know what to do, your face went pale and you looked super confused. 

“Oh, nothing really. I’m just surprised, it’s from my ex” well now he was frozen, was it a love letter? Why was he sending you stuff, he just hoped that it wasn't bad, you had enough on your plate and you didn’t need more. 

Opening the envelope to see flower patterns and script lettering; you know exactly what this letter will be telling you. Just as you suspect a date plastered on the card along with two all familiar names flood your senses. 

“He’s getting married!” you couldn't believe it, why would he invite his high school ex to his wedding, it was an odd choice, to say the least. 

“That’s cool I guess, anyway I gotta go, have fun,” he murmured leaving the room and letting to wonder if you were even going to show up in the first place, but at the moment you send an email and reserve a spot for yourself and admittedly a plus one that didn’t exist. 

You would figure it out in due time!

 ❍❍❍

You did not figure anything out and the wedding was tomorrow. No one in their right mind would drop everything to come to some random wedding. Your point proved when Itadori explained he had plans to go see a movie marathon with Jumpei that he just couldn’t cancel. 

Not even Nobara would spare you some mercy, she and Maki were having a pre-planned girls' day, one that you would be going to if you hadn't agreed to go to some random wedding. 

Now you could only pray that Mehgumi felt enough pity that he would go with you. Deciding that a call would be too impersonal and would be easier to say no over, you make your way to his apartment with a box of dumplings that you knew he loved. 

“Gumi-chan? Open up please!” you knocked on the door waiting for him to come, him appearing a few seconds later; hair messy in sweatpants and a black tank-top. No- this isn’t about his body, it could be, but you had to get this settled first. 

“Uh? Did I miss something? Why are you here?” his questions break you from your stare as you shove the food in his arms, gathering all the courage you could muster. 

“These are for you and all you need to do is hear me out, please? I would really like you too!” you beg, watching as he silently commanded for you to continue. 

“As you know, my ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see." you kept your head low as you explained to him what had happened, “I really need you to do this for me, I'll give you anything I swear! Just help me this once!” 

“Why do you need me?” he mumbled, commanding your attention back onto his face. 

“Because it’ll be fun and you need to get out.” ‘and this is my way of asking you out but not asking you at the same time’ goes unsaid.

“Fine, but you have to come to dinner with me the next time my dad asks.” that was it you, ultimatum, an easy one too. 

“Deal! Now we have to match or it’ll look stupid, and we have to practice dancing and-” 

“Dear Lord, what did I get into” 

Itadori Yuji 

Words: 600 

You’d pinned the invitation above your bed as a constant reminder that you had to do something. 

Not that you cared what your ex thought of you at their wedding, but something deep inside wanted to show him that you were happy without him. 

And the only way to do that was to shove a hot guy down his throat; better yet, a totally hot guy that was into you. Now all you needed was a hot guy to be into you. 

Well, you had a hot guy to go with you. In a desperate plea, you had asked your good friend Itadori, formally known as the vessel of another somewhat friend Sukuna, and he had agreed. 

Just thinking about it made you cringe a bit; you had been freaking out and ran to his apartment, drenched in rain. 

“My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see," you explained frantically, waving your hands. Watching his face contort into every human emotion you could think of, before spreading into a smile. 

“Of course I’ll come with you! It sounds like a blast!” of course Sukuna had a few choice words to say about that, something along the lines of, ‘you're not dragging me to some stupid event because you're lonely! I refuse!” 

And he continued to complain throughout the night of planning and the next morning when you told him he was going whether he wanted to or not and he told you he’d rather die. 

“This Wench will not dictate my life!” he spoke through a mouth on Yuji’s cheek, eye slit glaring in your direction. 

“And I’m not letting some lame demon tell me what I can and can’t do with my friend!” you argued back. 

But he didn't have a say anyway. 

Now you were standing before a mirror, admiring how your dress wrapped around your body, waiting for Itadori to come to the door. 

Hearing the knocks on your door, you grab a small bag and your invitations and your plus one, opening the door to Yuji in a three-piece black suit, staring at you with wide eyes. 

“You look great-” 

“You look crazy beautiful-” 

Both of you freeze at the word mix-up, then breaking into laughter as you loop your arm through his outstretched one. 

“Seriously you look great, y/n. You have that guy wishing he’d never let you go! Wait then you wouldn’t be with me, so just make him miss you a bit but not too much!” he stammered out as you continued your way to his car. 

“You are the worst two humans in existence.” 

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x reader fluff #megumi x reader fluff #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader fluff #megumi fushiguro x reader #itadori fluff #itadori yuji x reader fluff #itadori yuji x reader #itadori yūji #itadori x reader #itadori x reader fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[call-me-aesthetic]

If Twisted Wonderland was an American Public School

WARNING: There are some slight sensitive topics that are featured in here! Reader discretion is advised!

Part 2 can be found here

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts:

- That one preppy girl who takes all honors and AP classes 😑

- Wants everyone to know that he’s becoming a doctor one day for his strict parents or he’ll dishonor the family

- Reminds the teacher about homework, knowing well that he’ll get slander for it

- Complains about how he got a 90 on his test or a B on his report card, a try hard much?

- Wears a cardigan with thicc but cute glasses since he’s one of those people with can’t see shit on the board so he has to move to the front of the class

Ace Trappola:

- The SoundCloud rapper, that’s it

- “Wanna listen to my mixtape? It’s pretty fire, my guy.” 😩🔥

- You will not miss him BLASTING out some song on his Bluetooth speaker, that shit be echoing through the hallways

- Tells you to stop what you’re doing only for him to either sing horribly or do a backflip, thinking that he’s so cool

- Wears a Supreme jacket with AirPods and waves on his head

Deuce Spade:

- Assuming that he’s still a delinquent, he’s that kid with the most fucked up school record

- Not much of a bully but will still talk shit to your face without caring, might even throw stuff at you during a lesson and you would be the one getting in trouble instead of him 🗿

- If he ever gets mad, it would be overdramatic like kicking the desks, punching the lockers, or walking out of the classroom unannounced and everyone would look at each other wondering wtf happened

- Covers the entire desks with drawings of skulls and those “s” if you know what I mean

- Wears Champion hoodies, wants you to know that he’s broke and rich at the same time

Trey Clover:

- The guy that’s not really popular but everyone knows him since he’s in all their classes

- Most people might have a crush on him because he’s REALLY nice 😳👉👈

- Gives off “older brother” vibes based on the way he looks and acts, like offering you a ride home if you beg ask nicely

- Secretly bakes creme brulee but doesn’t want to mess with the flow so he sticks to the status quo

- Wears the school’s hoodie just because he thinks it looks good on him, and the fact that he doesn’t know what else to wear

Cater Diamond:

- Hot Cheetos girl 🥵

- Has a whole buffet of food in his backpack and will not hesitate to eat them during a lesson, no sharing either sorry

- Excuses himself to the bathroom or full on skips class just to film a Tiktok

- Has about 100 followers on Instagram Magicam and brags about how he’s famous

- Wears a Thrasher hoodie with large hoop earrings and his hair in a bun

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar:

- The kid who flunked their freshman year that also sort of vibes with new classmates

- Always gets mistaken as a teacher by people since he looks and sounds old

- Knows the lessons but still fails them anyways, didn’t really give a damn either 🙄

- Captain of every sports club you can think of, never actually plays but has a lot of knowledge on them

- Wears the school’s letterman from years ago since it used to be his brother’s and that he’s too lazy to buy a new one

Ruggie Bucchi:

- That one kid who NEVER has money for the book fair or any other school event

- Always has to ask his classmates for some cash

- If he somehow does, then he’s one of those kids who buys Diary of the Wimpy Kid or the World Record books

- If he’s feeling cheap, he’ll buy the “cool stuff” like the chocolate scented calculator or fruit snacks 😭

- Wears oversized hoodies and basketball shorts that are clearly hand-me-downs

Jack Howl:

- That one athletic kid who’s both scary good and competitive when it comes to school games like football or soccer

- Literally the best player on his team and without him, they’re trash as hell 💀

- Tries his absolute best to support his teammates without yelling at them for how dumb they are

- “KICK THE FUCKING BALL! DO YOUR LEGS EVEN WORK?!”

- Wears the school’s jersey just to show off his “school spirit”

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto:

- The kid who sell snacks for “charity” but everyone knows he’s keeping the money to himself

- If you don’t have cash or try to negotiate with him, the only thing he’ll do is raise the price up

- “What do you mean you don’t have ten bucks? I can see it in your pocket.”

- Just bring nothing with you, he’ll doing anything to steal your stuff 🤭

- Wears a collar shirt with a tie and khakis that have pockets to keep his glasses and money in

Jade Leech:

- The kid who puts on a goody two shoes facade but is actually a stoner

- Only does “safe” drugs like vape but occasionally smokes weed, mostly in the bathroom or behind the school 🌬

- Can play it off and hide the scent when he’s high, teachers never suspect anything from him

- No one really cares to stop him unless he gets caught or something idk

- Wears clothing that either makes him look like a businessman or a junky, there’s nothing in between

Floyd Leech:

- The kid that’s plays basketball or volleyball just because he’s hella tall, and is actually good at the sports but doesn’t put much effort into them

- Always stays behind after gym, even though the teacher tries to make him leave for his next class 😬

- “I swear after this one shot, I’ll go to class.” *He never made that shot*

- Will jump you no matter who or where you are, and will get angry if you step on his new shoes

- Wears the jersey of any famous team with the latest pair of Jordan sneakers

Scarabia

Kalim Al Asim:

- VSCO girl at best, don’t lie to me now 🤡

- The only words he knows are “And I oop– sksksk.” and “Save the turtles.”

- Walks during a track meet while everyone else is running and sweating hard, the teacher doesn’t care either

- Doesn’t really do anything in gym but talks to his classmates and stands near the water fountain to refill his Hydro flask

- Wears tie dye shirts with cute scrunchies

Jamil Viper:

- That one quiet kid who everybody thinks is a serial killer but he’s actually not, I swear

- He just wants school to be over and spend the rest of his summer relaxing 😔

- Although he shouldn’t abuse his “power,” he‘ll move his hands in his pockets or backpack to make it look like he’s about to pull a weapon out.

- “Chill, I’m just grabbing a pencil.” *Everyone in the class started crying*

- Wears dark colored hoodies that intimidates people but are actually comfy

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

- The baddie popular girl 😌💅✨

- Arrives to school late with a Starbucks in hand from his local Target

- Fixes himself every 5 seconds like reapplying his lipgloss or spraying Bath and Body Works cherry blossom perfume

- Uses acrylic nails and long hair extensions as weapons during a cat fight

- Wears a crop top with ripped jeans and those clout sunglasses

Rook Hunt:

- That creepy guy in the hallways who tries to get your attention, even if you don’t know him

- Scares people when he says, “Ayo, where my hug at?” 🥶💯

- Uses at least 10 cans of Axe body spray a week after gym class, which stinks up the locker rooms

- Waves at you if he passes your class, even walking into the room just to say hi

- Wears literally anything but always include a hat

Epel Felmier:

- The artist girl who just wants to be alone 🧑‍🎨

- Purposely draws in front of you but pretends like you’re not looking

- If you complement him, he’ll just brush it off and proceeds to diss himself

- “Thanks but I’m not THAT good at drawing, teehee.” *Insert Radio Rebel face*

- Wears a hoodie or a cardigan with big pockets to put his art supplies in

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud:

- I don’t even need to tell you who he is, y’all already know ahaha 🥴

- Sneaks a whole PlayStation in his backpack so he can play with it during lunch

- Is on his phone 24/7 even in class to the point where teachers don’t care anymore

- Tries to get people into anime but only to little success

- Wears a shirt of any anime character or that damn ahegao hoodie, girl bye

Ortho Shroud:

- The nerdy kid who’s known for destroying others at many games

- Plays classics like D&D, Yugioh, Pokémon, the whole shabang

- Daily Beyblade battles during recess with everyone surrounding him, the menacing aura radiates off of him

- Will steal your things if you lose to him but gives it back a week later cuz he’s sweet 🥰

- Wears light up Sketchers shoes and those Minecraft shirts you find at Old Navy

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia:

- The theatre kid who also goes to band practice, change my mind 👁👄👁

- Takes his role seriously when it comes to school plays and concerts, even if he gets casted as a damn tree or doesn’t go solo

- Remembers the songs and their lyrics to any musical you name, a really good singer at that too

- Plays almost every instrument, you definitely know this since you can hear him down the hallways during a test

- Wears a white button up shirt, black pants with fancy dress shoes, and top it all off with a fricking Rolex watch

Lilia Vanrouge:

- The weird guy who pranks people and vandalizes school property in every way possible

- If you ever get a textbook with a message that tells you to go to a certain page only for you to found a picture of a dick, yeah that was him 😒

- When using a Chromebook, he’ll leave a tab open on YouTube so when the next person uses it, pray that your ears will still work by tomorrow

- During lunch, he is a literal DEMON that mixes milk with chicken nuggets together and having the audacity to eat it too

- Wears an oversized raincoat or a windbreaker but idk wtf kind of things he has hiding underneath

Silver:

- That guy in class who consumes Monster energy drinks and falls asleep 99% of the time but somehow manages to pass the class 🤷

- Whenever he’s awake, he’ll talk to the teachers since he’s basically friends with them for some reason

- Writes his name out of boredom on any desk you sit on but in different places, sometimes around the corners or the sides

- Has a sixth sense because he’ll wake up if you try to draw on his face and if you did get something on him, it’s on sight

- Wears those colorful hoodies that zips all the way up to cover his face with a matching backpack, it’s pretty cool ngl

Sebek Zigvolt:

- That kid who literally knows everything about historical wars and will show it off during class

- Also has knowledge on weaponry, which has people questioning him but he’s just very dedicated on serving his country and people

- Knows how to fight and defend himself from a bitch since he spent his summer at a military boot camp, put respect on my man’s name 😤

- Honestly a great partner for a group project, actually does the given work but not the whole thing for you

- Wears anything that has camo pattern and chunky combat boots

I only made this because me and my friends were talking about our school memories so yeah. This is based from my experience so they might not be exactly accurate. Might even be a part two if you want.

#anime #twisted wonderland #twst #riddle rosehearts #ace trappola #deuce spade #trey clover #cater diamond #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #kalim al asim #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #epel felmier #idia shroud #ortho shroud #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #twst silver #sebek zigvolt #twst headcanons