#I have no idea where this came from I was just suddenly had to draw it

[robyn-i-guess]

gerrymichael enjoyers and writers i want your opinion 🎤

ok so i have this au fic for gerrymichael where it's college au, and it's a like the whole bad boy/good girl (minus the fact they're both boys, and even that's questionable)

basically, gerry is stereotyped due to his more alternative looks and everyone assumes he's probably doing illegal things or just sleeps around a lot

meanwhile michael is the head of student council "goody two shoes" type, who most are sort of aware of but don't know anything about

gerry thinks about michael. a lot. he sees them in the halls for only a few seconds a day but thinks about him for a lot longer. hallway crush vibes. and when they get put into a painting class together, suddenly they have an opportunity to meet, and gerry is freaking out a usual amount. (there's more to the whole plot but that's just the beginning bit)

putting a short lil concept thing under the cut

Gerard Keay does not know Michael Shelley.

The only reason he knows their name is because they're in the student council, meaning it's not uncommon for their name to be said during school events.

He has only seen them in hallways, passing by in a rush while holding papers or books that always seem like they're going to fall out of their hands. Even in those moments, most of what Gerard is able to catch is a blur of golden curls and eyes that are ridden with exhaustion.

So, it is safe to say that he does not know Michael.

That fact only caused confusion to him whenever Gerard realized his strange excitement once learning that Michael would be in one of his classes for the semester.

It was an art class, one that he had picked due to him already being practiced is painting and drawing. He assumed it would be a fun class, or at least one that wouldn't be too stressful. However, when he had first walked into that classroom and saw Michael Shelley sitting at an area in the back, Gerard had assumed the emotion he was feeling was stress. He couldn't pinpoint why, it wasn't like he was intimidated by their status, but he couldn't shake the feeling of nervousness he felt when he accidentally locked eyes with them. He turned his head quickly in that moment, deciding to sit in the front of the room despite that not being where he'd usually prefer to be. Something about Michael sitting there made Gerard think twice about sitting in the back as he normally would.

The lecture went smoothly, it mostly being an introduction to the professor and what would be happening throughout the classes. So did the next, and then the next one after that. That didn't get rid of the feeling he felt, however, every time that Gerard walked into that room and attempted to avoid looking at the one with golden curls in the back. He knew he'd have to talk to them at some point, it was inevitable, but there was something about them that meant he was more nervous to talk to them than he usually would be. And he very much denied the idea that it could be caused by any... feelings he may have. Gerard ruled it as impossible, as he had never spoken to them, and he wasn't that much of an idiot to fall for someone he'd only mostly seen in hallways.

Michael wasn't one to speak up in class, and instead they'd work silently on any research on the history of art they may have been doing, only giving simple responses or nods when the professor would come around and ask how their work was coming along. When Gerard thought about it, he didn't really know what their voice sounded like because it was always quiet or unintelligible from their distance. That only made him more interested in talking to them.

That day never came, though, much to Gerard's disappointment.

They both went through that class without talking to each other once, and when Gerard left that room for the last time he couldn't help but feel like he had failed at some kind of goal. A failure that had meant he would be left with only seeing the elusive Michael Shelley in hallway rushes again, which annoyed him in a way he didn't understand.

He did talk to them one day, though.

(note this is old as heck lmao i've gotten better at writing since i wrote this)

anyways yeah. should i continue it or is it too basic idk, i want to write it for me but it would also be multiple chapters long and my "1k-words-is-rare-for-me" self probably won't bother to write it unless someone else is interested

[rhinocio]

sincerest form of flattery

[atrwriting]

kisses and other sweet things — billy the kid x cowgirl!reader

ok… i couldn’t help myself lol

also side note i don’t remember what scene this gif was from but i feel like his turned on look and look of disgust/confusion is the same — like if i hadn’t watched the show i’d be like “did he just see a pretty girl walk in?? or did someone just threaten him?? both??? hopefully both???”

but like also if he looked at me like that…,,,… melting. on the spot.

as always, warnings: smuuuuut, dom!billy, brat!reader, i don’t know if you can call it non-con but just to be safe im going to put that, p in v sex, oral, spitting in mouth (yeah i went there sue me), tears, biting, cums inside of reader (they didn’t have condoms in his time but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use them!!!!)

also don’t sue me i don’t know if they had running water (sinks, baths, etc) but also the real billy the kid didn’t look this fine so we’re making it up as we go and going with the flow

ENOUGH TALK — here’s kisses and other sweet things…

you had been working with a crew for some time now, and as you all struggled to keep a cash flow — you had to turn to other things.

like joining forces with another crew.

the idea of joining a crew wasn’t what unsettled you — what unsettled you was being the only woman with a gun with even more men.

it’s just for one job, y’all, they had said. just this one.

one job turned into two. then that turned into three. four, five, six — and suddenly you knew everyone’s back story, drink of choice, and their type when it came to women of the night.

your first crew never asked how you felt, but you also never told them. they were all — including you — in it for the money. at the end of the day, it was all about what you had in your pockets. there was no time for quelling the simple worries, like they’d call the ones in your head.

at the end of the day — you had been doing this a long time. you had taken care of yourself up until this point, and you would continue to do so. didn’t matter who you were working with — you’d get it done.

after a day of success, everyone wanted to blow off steam. you all had found a boarding house for the night where the alcohol ran deep and there was two or three pretty women for each cattle rustler in your large group. you stayed behind a bit to drink with them, but once they started eyeing the women — you knew it was time to go.

sleeping with any of the men you worked with was also a bad idea. you couldn’t afford them seeing you as anything less than someone quick with a draw — and you worried a night of meaningless sex would ruin that.

you would never take the chance.

“have your fun, boys,” you chuckled. “you deserve it.”

“won’t stay a little longer, sweetheart?” your leader asked as a girl licked at his neck.

“another time — bath’s calling my name.”

a few pleasantries were thrown over shoulders, and you returned them. you made your quick escape up the stairway and into the shared washroom between three or four bedrooms. you knew your party had rented those rooms for the evening, so you were very excited to be able to have the bath to yourself for a little bit longer than usual.

you filled the tub with scalding hot water. the steam from the water and the whisky in your stomach made you hazy, but you welcomed it. who knew when you’d have until you had this sort of luxury or privacy again — you weren’t going to waste the chance.

the bath was quite large — fit for two or three people. you stayed on one edge as you washed your dirty skin. you were about to relax against the back when the doorknob began to turn.

you immediately snatched your gun and pointed it at the door.

“shit — sorry.”

it was the bonney kid.

he was holding a towel in his hand and was naked from the waist up. a scared look on his face was present as he tried to avert his eyes.

you put down the gun and raised an eyebrow, waiting for his next move.

“just came to wash up,” he spoke.

you knew he couldn’t see anything from where he stood, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to see below the water’s surface with the bubbles. you could tell him to fuck off — but being mean to some of these assholes sometimes proved to be worse than just swallowing your pride and being nice. you didn’t know billy very well — and you weren’t about to find out while you were naked if he was an asshole or not.

“i’m going to be a bit,” you spoke. “i don’t mind if you come in.”

he looked at you uneasily before nodded curtly, lips parting. you closed your eyes and leaned back against the tub, letting your eyes drift closed. you heard the water running and the sound of soap being scrubbed onto skin, and felt better. the next sound you heard was a razor being pulled out and your eye drifted open.

he was shaving.

he kept his gaze on himself in the mirror as he spoke. “surprised the kid can shave?”

you smiled. “never thought you were a kid from how you were with a gun.”

that made him smile. “never seen a women like you with a gun before.”

you hummed in response, not exactly sure how to respond.

“come up here to escape?”

that made you laugh. you couldn’t help but let your gaze fall on his reflection in the mirror. his eyes were trained on his skin as he let the blade slide down his neck and pull up loose hairs. your mind was hazy with drink and heat, which made you forget to respond.

“some people would say it’s rude to stare, sweetheart.”

you laughed at that — he had you there.

“and some people would say it’s rude to intrude on a woman’s bath,” you countered.

he smiled, but kept his eyes off you. you’d like to think it was out of respect. “…and would you?”

“not with you,” you offered. “you’re the only one who hasn’t tried to make a pass at me.”

“not hard to believe,” he spoke. “downstairs they’ve got a running bet to see who will be the first with you.”

you scoffed. “in their dreams.”

billy didn’t respond. he was almost done with shaving. he was washing more of his upper arms in the sink, and you suddenly felt bad. you were only taking this long because you thought everyone would be preoccupied with the downstairs activities, and because you couldn’t exactly exit with him standing there — able to see you.

“i can leave if you want to wash,” you spoke.

“water will be cold,” he responded. “‘s fine — i’ll wait the hour.”

you weren’t sure why — but that made you feel bad.

“you could join me.”

you weren’t sure what brought that on, and you knew you’d probably regret it later. however, billy’s eyes drifted up the length of the mirror to the edge where you knew he could see the tub, to your eyes. you weren’t sure how you looked — but you knew your curls were piled on top of your head and you looked sleepy. relaxed, even. peaceful.

“i don’t think you mean that, sweetheart.”

you hummed. “you don’t have to. just thought i’d offer.”

he appeared to sigh, and that’s when you thought he would leave — but he didn’t.

instead, he locked the door.

“should’ve done that in the first place,” he spoke before coming towards the tub to unlace his pants.

you turned your head away from him and let out a small giggle, shielding your gaze from his naked form. “how would we have gotten so well acquainted then, mr. bonney?”

you heard him find the other side of the tub where he sat back against. you let your eye line find in front of you and your jaw almost dropped at the sight. billy appeared to struggle to get comfortable as he sank into the warmth of the tub. the water line came up to right under his chest, showing off all of his perfect and trim muscles. with billy’s arms stretched out around the edge of the tub… you got the perfect view of the stretched muscles of his biceps.

“do i need to remind you about staring?” he asked.

you weren’t sure if he was joking — but he was right. if you wanted respect, you had to give it, too.

but you couldn’t deny just how handsome he was.

“sorry,” you said with a coy smile, and let your head fall back against the tub again.

you could hear water slightly splashing from the other side of the tub. billy had extended his legs so they were brushing yours slightly, and you shivered at the thought.

“can you…” he began. “can you get my back?”

you lifted your head and smiled. i can do all that and more if you asked, you thought.

“sure,” you said with a simple smile.

billy turned around and handed you the soap. there were a few cuts and bruises littered on his back, and you tried to be as careful with them as possible. you started on his neck, working the soap and the sponge against his muscles.

he hummed in response. you could’ve died at the thought of the big, bad billy the kid keening into your touch because you were massaging his muscles just right.

“that feels good,” he spoke. “talented fingers i suppose.”

you laughed lightly at that. you kept the sponge on his shoulders, and then worked down towards the expansion of his shoulder blades. it was scary to see such a broad man before you as you were so bare, but also the look of him was so enticing. you drew rough circles on his skin and worked your way down to the middle of his back.

“that’s good,” he replied. “thank you, darlin’.”

you went to hand the sponge back to him, but he turned around in place instead. the tops of your breasts were showing and you knew he could see the wildness in your eyes.

“how’d a sweet thing like you end up with us?” he asked, eyes searching yours for the answer.

“maybe i’m just the only one who knows how to handle you boys,” you spoke, trying to be coy. “actually… one of them i grew up with. we’ve always worked together, but that’s as far as it’s ever gone.”

“and what would he say if he knew if you were in here with me?” he asked.

you scrunched your eyebrows at him. “wouldn’t be his business. he’s also got a pretty blonde in his lap tonight. change of pace from his usual red head.”

“and he missed a chance to get to see you like this?” he asked, tucking a curl behind your ear.

“is his loss your gain, mr. bonney?” you asked, a smile drifting onto your face.

that was bold. you knew it. you could feel it.

“i think you’d have to ask the pretty miss before me,” he responded, inching his face closer. “she’d be mighty sweet if she let me kiss her.”

“she’s pretty pissed you haven’t already.”

he stared at you for a few minutes with his plump and pink lips parted in such a way where you knew thoughts were running behind his pretty eyes. he dipped his forehead towards yours as the intensity of the situation mixed with the hot steam around you and the liquor inside both of you. he dipped his chin once, and caught your waiting lips with ease.

his lips were dry and cracked against yours, but you loved it. billy was the type of man that was hard and worked even harder, and every bit of him reflected that. his dark curls were twirling around his hairline, mixing with sweat and soapy water. you wanted to brush them back, hop in his lap, and kiss him until there was more water on the floor than in the tub.

but you couldn’t — not yet.

billy’s lips folded between yours as if he was just happy to be here — with you. the feeling was intoxicating as there was nothing like sharing intimacy with a sweet man in the comfort of hot water. you couldn’t help yourself in that moment — you brought your hand up to cup the side of his face, and he sucked in a sharp breath in response.

“you can touch me, you know,” you whispered.

“the things i want to do to you, darlin’…” he spoke, shaking his head and trying to catch his breath at the same time. “shouldn’t be wasted in a tub. let me take you back to your room.”

you both left the bathtub and tried your best to dry off as quickly as possible. it was almost hard to believe you were giggling with billy like innocents as you raced back to your room — hoping not to run into any more cowboys.

you immediately pushed him to sit down on the edge of the bed before you climbed into his lap. his thighs were strong and thick — the perfect foundation for a thing like you to hold yourself up enough to grab his cock in your hands, and swallow his moans through another kiss.

“tried not to stare in the bathtub, billy… but can you blame me?” you asked, breathless.

“noticed you starin’,” he grunted, running his calloused hands all over your body. “couldn’t help but stare back. needed to see where the trigger on you was.”

you squealed in delight at his dirty mouth before he threw you off his lap and rolled you over. he immediately started kissing down your body.

“i want you inside me, billy,” you whined. “not that.”

he worked his way back up to you before he caught you in another chaste kiss. against your lips, he spoke, “i’m a gentleman, sweetheart, first and foremost.”

“and what if a dirty little thing like me didn’t want a gentleman?”

he caught your chin in between his pointer finger and thumb and extended your neck ever so slightly. he looked down his nose at your pretty, flushed face. you smiled up at him as he scanned your face. “then i’d tell you — if i’ve got you all to myself, i’m going to do anything i want with that pretty little pussy. planned on tastin’ you, sweetheart — you got a problem with that?”

a wide grin spread across your face as your cheeks became rosier. “can’t say i can argue with you, then, cowboy.”

he pressed a heavy kiss to your lips, your cheek, one on the base of your neck — and then bit down hard on the skin of your shoulder. immediately, your hands came up to lay across his biceps before he began to suck on the spot, sending shock waves throughout your body. he withdrew from you and was in between your thighs in an instant.

he spread your legs and held them down in place. his tongue was strong and thick as it explored the places between your folds. you hoisted yourself onto your elbows so you could get a better look at the angel before you.

you watched as his eyes close as his tongue drew sloppy, wet circles around your clit. your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you watched him bring a hand up to his mouth, lubricate his fingers, and prod at your entrance. billy let out a throaty groan as his two fingers slipped in with ease, exploring for that one special spot.

he watched as your pussy swallowed his fingers, hoping to trap them inside of you. you were almost vibrating at how good it felt to have his fingers inside of you and his drier thumb deliver the most delicious bouts of friction and pressure to your clit.

“yes —“ you gasped, gazing at his fingers.

his eyes immediately flicked up to yours. “still got a problem with this, doll?”

you folded your lips into each other as you shook your head slowly, holding his gaze. you were biting back the moan as he curled your fingers inside of you.

“no, that’s not how this works,” he stated. “if i’m making you feel that good, i should get to hear those pretty moans, don’t you think?”

a deep crease was forming in your brow with the perfect combination of friction, lubrication, pressure, and rhythm you had ever felt. you wanted to respond to him, of course, but how could you?

“i gotta work for it, that it?” he grunted. “oh, sweet thing…”

he shoved a third finger inside of you and you gasped. you couldn’t help it. you fisted the sheets on either side of you and threw your head back in the air. his thumb was working long, drawn out circles on your sensitive clit as your hips bucked up to meet his movements.

“that’s what you needed, baby?” he asked. “break so easily. i’d fit another, but this pussy is so sweet and tight — can’t fit.”

you were practically whining at his words. he would switch between his tongue and thumb every few seconds to show you the type of variety that had your toes curling. his groans against your pussy were the added vibration that kept your hips moving to meet his face.

“tastes so fuckin’ sweet,” he grunted, his eyes closed. “can’t wait to stuff my cock in there.”

“don’t be mean to me, billy,” you gasped. “i want to feel your cock so bad, please…”

“no, baby,” he refused. “not until i make you feel good. you want my cock? yeah, well — you know what i want.”

you whined in frustration at his words — his words, the addition of what was making the heat and pressure build, and build, and build inside you until you were a sobbing mess on the bed.

“that’s it, sweetheart — give in,” he gasped. “i wanna know how good i’m making you feel.”

his voice was so husky it was taking over all of your senses. you hung onto every word as he led you closer and closer to what was your tipping point. he was stretching you so taut — like a string, ready to snap. when he suddenly pulled his hand away, you barely noticed it — until he replaced it with his cock.

you gasped at what came next.

first it was your legs — they immediately began to shake uncontrollably. the immense pressure started at your curled toes, your stretched feet, and worked its way up all the way to your shaking calves and thighs. the warmth coaxed your hips into a soft roll as you rode out your orgasm — blinded by the ecstasy of it all.

you immediately grabbed onto billy for dear life as all of your senses fucking swam. it was wave, after wave, after wave that hit you, arched your back towards the ceiling, and left you fucking breathless. your mouth fell open instantly, parted as whines and soft moans left and filled the open air of your bedroom.

and what did billy do? he grabbed you by the chin, still rutting his hips against yours, and spit in your fucking mouth.

“swallow,” he ordered, eyes boring down into yours.

you gasped as you understood his command, and like the good girl you were — you did as you were told.

“good girl,” he whispered from above you, stroking your chin.

you sucked in a sharp breath of air as you tried to regain your senses. you hoisted yourself back into your elbows, trying to focus — but it was just so hard. your pussy was so, so sensitive and it was like billy’s cock knew exactly out how to drag out your orgasm. you glanced up at billy, and realized your vision was blurry. shattered, fucked out beyond belief — you realized there were tears, literal tears in your eyes.

“no breaks for you, sweetheart,” he spoke, leaning over and holding your hips down. “need to make sure this pussy knows who she belongs to.”

your body refused to stop shaking — but it gave into every touch, caress, pull, and push from billy. you were his to use and you fucking relished in the feeling.

through your dark, thick, damp lashes, you glanced up at him. immediately, his bright, wild eyes connected with yours. there was no stopping the animal before you — not until he got his fix. the pure and pretty girl who always surprised the group with her skill was laying beneath him like a fucked out doll and he couldn’t get enough.

“please, billy,” you whined, biting down on your lip. “use my pussy just like that…”

“my fucking pussy,” he grunted.

“all yours, baby,” you gasped, laying victim to the curling warmth inside your womb once again. it was like an itch that needed to be scratched, and only billy could fix it. the idea of a second orgasm taunted you — teased you, until it was the only thing you could think about. you were close… so close… “billy, fuck — you’re going to make me — you’re gonna —“

“that’s it, baby, yeah —“ his thrusts were getting sloppier now as a light sheen of sweat lay across his forehead. the veins in his biceps and neck were protruding and his eyes were trained on your face. “bein’ so good f’me.”

“billy —“ you cried, tears coming to your eyes again. you reached for him, and brought him down to you. he held you by the back of the head and held your jaw in place with his thumb. through gritted teeth and wet eyes, you sobbed, “driving me fucking crazy.”

“yeah, yeah?” he taunted. “good. boutta make a mess of this fuckin’ pussy.”

with one last thrust, you curled into billy’s neck and cried. actually cried. he held you close to him as he continued to thrust inside of you — pressing fat, wet kisses to the side of your face. you were shaking in his hold, trying so desperately to hold onto reality — but it was slipping. it was slipping farther and farther away with every sweet word that billy ghosted over your ear.

“say you’re mine,” he ordered, with desperation in your voice. “say you’re mine, and i’ll cum.”

“i’m yours, billy,” you sobbed. “i’m yours. only yours.”

an animalistic groan left billy’s mouth as he tugged on your hair. he pulled your neck back and taut, shoving his face into the crook of your neck and biting down on your shoulder. his body pulsed one, two, three times as his orgasm overtook him and you. you were a weeping, crying mess and took everything that billy gave you.

he rut his cock into you a few more times as you both came down for your highs. billy was so commanding in bed — but after? nothing compared to how he was after. he pulled you into his lap, cock still inside you, and began peppering kisses all over your face. sweet nothings were whispered into your ear, but all you could do was whimper quietly in response. he laughed slightly in your ear, his breath ticking your sensitive skin, and dug his nose into your hairline.

“never getting rid of me now, sweet thing.”

- - -

would love to hear your thoughts :)

-L

[kyeomofhearts]

Before the Day Begins | J.WW

+ summary: an interesting way to start an early sunday morning with your boyfriend wonwoo.

+ pair: wonwoo x fem!reader

+ word count: 1.3k

+ content: smut, fluff, soft, oral (f.receiving), fingering, edging, penetration, creampie (use protection!), some aftercare.

[ᝰ.ᐟ] Happy Spring Break!! College has been so tiring lately but that doesn't mean I don't have any ideas... >:) Anyways, I hope you enjoy this Wonu fic! ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა

As much as you hated Sundays (they were a bitter reminder that the weekend was indeed coming to an end.), you couldn't help but enjoy the mornings that came with them, especially one like today.

Your eyes were still heavily coated with sleep. You noticed that the room was dimly lit, only a few rays of sunlight could make it past the heavy blackout curtains Wonwoo had purchased a few years ago. You couldn't tell exactly what time it was, but it definitely had to be before 10 am because the light coming from outside was barely visible, even without the curtains.

What caught your attention was the warm hand that was slowly making its way to your breast. It didn't help that your pajamas were incredibly thin, allowing you to feel everything that your lover was doing. Once his hand had made its way to your breast, he began to slowly massage it in smooth circles. Wonwoo's touch was firm yet tender, his sole purpose was to give you pleasure. You let out a few whimpers, enjoying the attention he was placing on your chest. The rest of his body was warm, you couldn't help but push yourself deeper into him. This pulled a low grunt from him, your ass now providing a fraction of the friction that he was craving. It was no surprise that Wonwoo woke up like this, sleeping while spooning you always managed to make him hard in the mornings. Wonwoo eventually grew impatient and decided to take it further by teasing the hem of your underwear, sliding it down inch by inch.

In the midst of his teasing, you decided to have your own fun. With your closest hand, you snaked your way down to his boxers where he was hiding his hard-on. You encased the majority of his clothed cock, testing the waters with a few strokes. Eventually, you started to copy his movements from earlier, drawing slow, tender circles on him. This seemed to work in your favor, considering that Wonwoo had ceased all of his ministrations. He groaned here and there, his voice was awfully deep in the mornings. After a few more minutes of your dangerous teasing, Wonwoo firmly pulled your hand away from him.

"Had to stop you before I blew a load in my underwear," his voice was strained, showing you just how close he was. You lightly chuckled at this.

After a moment or so, Wonwoo began to move around and positioned himself right in between your thighs. He continued lowering himself until he was met with your pussy. Before diving in, he suddenly asked, 'May I?'. As much as he wanted to taste you, he always made sure to ask before giving in to his selfish desires. You nodded quickly but realized he couldn't see so you opted for a quick 'yes'. That being said, Wonwoo couldn't help but feel enamored by you, no matter what, you were always wet for him. He slid both of his arms underneath your thighs, in preparation for keeping you grounded. With that, he landed a few long licks to your slit, the pressure on his tongue being somewhat firm. He took his time with each lick, each one better than the last. Occasionally, he would plant a few kisses on the sides of your lips. His pressure got increasingly stronger the closer he got to your bud, knowing how sensitive you were in that area.

Once he felt that familiar bundle, Wonwoo began sucking on the bud. You couldn't help but yelp at the sudden pleasure he was giving you. He played with the pressure and motions that he used on you, switching from light flicking to harsh sucking within a matter of seconds. You couldn't help but reach over to his head, grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging on it. Wonwoo loved it when you did that because it let him know just how good of a job he was doing. After what seemed like hours of him devouring you, he decided to add his fingers to the mix. He briefly pulled away from you to make room for his fingers, coating them with your juices. Slowly, he slid one finger in, pumping it a few times before adding the second, then the third. His technique was slow at first, allowing you to adjust to all three of his fingers at once. He eventually sped up and started curling them upwards, knowing that it was a gateway to having you come within minutes. Setting a good rhythm, he latched onto your clit, firmly sucking on it once again. Your whines then turned into moans, and you knew you were nearing the end. With just a few more strokes you would feel-

Nothing.

You cried at the sudden loss of his mouth and tongue, god, you hated it when he did that!

"Let's cum together?" He said while smiling, happy that his attempt at edging you was deemed a success.

Wonwoo then sat up and positioned himself right between your entrance. He pumped himself a few times and slowly covered his cock with your slick. With that, he started pushing himself in, bit by bit. He lowered his head and connected his lips to yours, successfully covering up his whines. His pace was slow at first, wanting to give himself time to adjust to your delicious walls (he knows he will immediately cum inside you if he doesn't start off slowly). You let out a few gasps, his thrusts were hitting deeper and deeper the more he went. Wonwoo couldn't help but spread you out even more, loving the way you kept sucking him back in. Although the room was dark, Wonwoo was still able to see the way your pussy was taking him in. He was enamored at the way your bodies seemingly connected with every thrust.

He peppered a few kisses to your neck and chest before pulling away to see you in all your glory. Wonwoo then slid his hand onto your pussy, the pad of his thumb directly above your neglected clit. Alternating from lazy circles to firmer ones, his pace also quickened with each stroke. He knew that you were really close, and with the pace that he set himself, Wonwoo was not too far from filling you up. After pistoning himself further into you, Wonwoo was so close to tipping over the edge. He lowered his head towards the junction where your neck and shoulder met, biting you once his lips made contact with your plush skin. You immediately felt yourself come undone, unable to control the fluttering walls of your pussy, you felt Wonwoo completely empty his load inside you. His groans were muffled by that chunk of skin that he was still latched onto, surely there would be a bruise.

The two of you continued to lay there, limbs tangled between each other. By this point, his cum was already making its way out of your entrance and was beginning to overflow. You didn't mind staying like this but you knew that Wonwoo was eventually going to get up and clean the two of you. By which you were correct because shortly thereafter, Wonwoo scooped you up into his arms and took you to your shared bathroom. He used a damp rag to clean up any remaining cum in between your legs. For the most part, it was quiet between the two of you, only sharing the occasional smile or two. You lived for the quiet moments like this, where you didn't need to say anything because you already knew how he felt. Aside from having only fucked less than five minutes ago, you couldn't help but feel overly domestic with him. Wonwoo handed you a fresh pair of underwear while he slipped on another pair of briefs. You felt a sudden wave of sleepiness take over your body, and as if he read your mind, Wonwoo grabbed your hand and led you to your shared bed.

"Let's go back to sleep, yeah?"

[sleepingdead96]

Prepared for Anything Part One

Danny stared at the ceiling, bored, as the creepy clown laughed manically at a camera. Danny hadn’t been in this dimension for two minutes, (he’d portalled directly into Joker’s hideout) before he was promptly tied to a chair. He could get out of it easily.

Thing was, there were others here, restrained more thoroughly than Danny. They wore colourful, armoured suits and were obviously the vigilantes/heroes of this. . .place—Gotham? Danny’d heard the name mentioned a few times now—This Freakshow wannabe was obviously one of their villains. 

Danny had been hoping someone would show up without having to draw attention to himself. What was this dimension’s stance on halfas? Or ghosts?

But no one had come yet, it had been an hour, and he was getting stiff from sitting here so long without being able to move his limbs.

Danny heaved a loud, exasperated sigh-groan at the ceiling. The guy, face-painted like a toddler who’d gotten into their parent’s make-up, suddenly stopped monologuing. 

Good. It was getting annoying.

“Are you done yet?” Danny complained much like the impatient teenager he was. “I’ve got crap to do, wrap it up, would you?”

Danny came here to explore. He was not exploring. He should be exploring and it was all this dude’s fault.

Danny supposed he could go all ghost on him and bounce, but he came all this way. It wasn’t much of hassle, but still. Danny was stubborn. He knew this.

The warehouse was silent. The creepo wasn’t talking, anymore, he wasn’t doing anything, and Danny deigned to lift his head from where it’d been thrown back on the chair.

The costumed people were looking at him in horror.

Danny wasn’t sure why.

The walking fashion disaster began to cackle with condescending amusement.

Yeah, okay, whatever.

Danny ignored the man’s delve into something about Danny’s impending doom, or threatening him with pain, and something, something, something. Something about broken this, burning that, yada, yada yada, when Danny got an idea.

Behind the chair where his hands were bound, knowing no one was behind him, he quietly broke the ropes on his wrists. The vigilantes—a red one with bandoliers crossing over his chest and one who wore a largely grey and black suit with an R emblem on the left side of his chest—were valiantly trying to dissuade the psycho to leave Danny alone, who now realized the said psycho was coming towards him, carrying a crowbar.

How original.

The Joker, as Danny heard someone call him at some point, he’s not sure when, leaned in close. His breath stank. 

Danny made a disgusted face. “Do you not brush your teeth at all? Gross, dude.”

“You won’t be mak—“

Danny punched him in the jaw. The guy went down pretty easily. 

Danny made an annoyed noise as he bent down to untie his ankles from the chair legs. He muttered to himself. “Stupid villains, always gotta get in the way, why can’t I just have one nice vacation, huh?”

“How did you do that?” 

Danny looked up at the red one. “Do what?” He asked, standing and stretching with satisfying pops.

“Get free.”

“Oh. . .” Danny reached into his hoodie sleeve and pulled out a small hand saw. He guessed he coulda used a knife, but it was the first thing he'd thought of.

The guy spluttered. “You just keep a saw in your sleeve?”

“Yep.” Danny popped the P. No need for them to know he can make portals. As tiny as needed. “You guys want help out of those, or what?” Danny gestured to the chains keeping the two bound on the floor.

“No, Joker’s goons outside probably has the keys, we have back-up. . . .coming. . . .where did you get that?”

Danny didn’t miss a beat as he crouched to get a grip on the chain with the large pair of bolt cutters. “Ah, ya know, never leave home without a good pair of bolt cutters.” He offered. The room they were in was pretty bare, saying he found it “lying around” wouldn’t work. It’d be pretty obvious.

“That is absurd.” The younger one said. “Where did they come from?”

Danny snapped the red one free and moved onto the angry eyebrows one. How did they still emote so well through those masks? “Just had it on hand.”

“But wh—“

“Oh look! There ya go! I gotta go, nice being held hostage with ya’ll.” Danny ignored their calls for him, climbing out of the nearest window and disappearing.

[yoonia]

under the blankets (m) | jjk

➬ Title | Under The Blankets

➬ Summary | Even in the mornings, it is always hard to resist him. His presence alone captivates you, yet there is something else that always catches your eyes, drawing you to touch him. Not so surprisingly, he shares the same sentiment, though he has his own way of showing it to you. And neither of you mind it when things escalate further into something else that is not quite so innocent.

➥ Pairings | Tattooed boyfriend!Jungkook x Tattooed!reader

➥ Genre | PWP, Smut, Established Relationship au

➥ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; explicit sexual scenes, kissing, body (and tattoos) worshipping, sexual stimulation, teasing, edging, begging, hair pulling (Jungkook and his long hair), dirty talk, swearing, breast play, nipple play, nipple biting, biting, biting kink, clit play, fingering (vaginal/female receiver), oral sex (female receiver), hand job, morning sex, overstimulation, orgasm delay, rough sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, post-sex cuddling, aftercare

➥ Word count | 5,9k words

➥ Author/Posting date | @yoonia​ / Nov 17th, 2022

➥ Masterlist

➥ Author’s note | I have no idea where this came from. This Jungkook just came to me while I was in the middle of writing In Motion and I just had to write it down before it would drive me crazy. Actually, I blame @hisunshiine​ for this. All thanks to that incriminating tweet that you shared.

If you could list out all the things that you love the most about being with Jungkook, then you would definitely put small moments like this one right on the very top.

Waking up to his arm over your waist, his warmth pressing on your bare back, and his bare chest rising and falling against you each time he breathes. You have fallen asleep next to him right after having a long, intimate night. 

You can even still feel the shadows of your climax pulsing in various places in your body. With his body heat engulfing you as you are lying pressed to each other, bare skin against bare skin, you still feel every remaining pulse and the ghosts of his touch that he placed on you the entire night.

Still barely awake and slightly drowsy, your gaze is drawn to his right arm that is being laid lazily across your waist in his sleep. The sleeve tattoo that starts from the back of his hand and goes all the way up to his strong shoulder appears in contrast to your skin, and for some obvious reason, you find it hard to look away from it. 

There is an undying need for contact that suddenly overcomes you, which almost makes no sense to you at all, given that you are still connected to each other in a relaxed embrace, and there is also a need to touch the beautiful art you see on his skin, to run your fingers just to feel them under your skin.

Before you can stop yourself, your hand begins to move, and you start running the tip of your fingers along the inkwork on the length of his forearm, tracing every line, every curve, and then circling around the vibrant colours that are embellished on his skin. 

Entranced in what you are doing, you don’t notice Jungkook slowly waking up from his sleep until he slightly shifts, jerking a little when your touch seems to tickle him.

“Ah, did I wake you up? I’m sorry,” you whisper to him with your hoarse voice and glance over your shoulder just as his chest rumbles. He makes a deep, sleepy groan as he stretches out his limbs, though his arm around your waist tightens slightly to pull you back to him before you could even try to get away.

“Hmmm—tickles,” he mumbles against your skin as he presses his lips on your bare shoulder. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” you answer, and a giggle slips out of you when his lips come in contact with your skin in another kiss. “I just love admiring your tattoos. They’re so beautiful.”

“Which one do you love most?”

“I don’t know,” you answer him as your fingers begin to absentmindedly reach down, moving along the lines of ink leading to his wrist, where you can feel his pulse slightly rising under your touch. “I love every single one of them.”

Another groan comes from him when he lands another kiss on your shoulder, moving a bit closer to your neck this time that you inadvertently gasp. “I love yours too,” he says, before shifting backwards and turning you around until you are lying on your back, smiling when he can look at your face to say, “I love everything you have on you.”

Then he bends down, reaching as low as he could get to your hips when he murmurs, “Like this one that you have on your hip,” before planting a kiss on your right hip, where a drawing of a pair of birds is beautifully drawn with black ink. 

He kisses the art a few more times, making you feel warm inside and your body starts shivering before he moves up, tracing his lips on the tattoo of your birth flower which you had gotten done starting from your waist to the side of your chest. 

“And I love this one. So pretty,” he murmurs softly between the kisses that he keeps giving on your skin, as if he is returning the favour of tracing your tattoos, only with his lips. “Just as pretty as you are.”

He doesn’t stop there, even when he has reached the end of the line. He continues tracing along your skin with trails of kisses as he moves towards the underside of your breast, each kiss is followed by light nips that have your heart fluttering inside your chest. 

As your breath picks up, the heat in your body keeps burning and rising, Jungkook moves his lips up, not stopping until he reaches the bare tip of your breast. “But most of all, I love this one,” he murmurs with a groan leaving his lips, before he captures your nipple between his mouth and begins to suck.

“Oh, Jungkook—!”

Ignoring your cries, he holds your hips down with his strong hands and keeps sucking harder, pulling your nipple between his teeth and lapping the abused nub with his tongue once he hears your sharp cry. 

He is relentless, however, not showing any sign of stopping. As if the sounds of your cries and moans and the way your chest is arching up wildly to push yourself further to his face are only made to encourage him to carry on.

“That’s—” you gasp, “That’s not—oh, God,” you keep on moaning when your body pulses, as his touches and kisses have awakened your need. “I thought we were talking about tattoos.”

Jungkook only chuckles deeply. “Were we? I wasn’t sure. I was only talking about everything that I love about you,” he teasingly says, slowly moving his lips to the other breast, ready to start all over again and give it the same treatment until you start losing your mind. “I might have to add that I love the way you are reacting to me. Just like what you are doing now.”

With those words, he takes the other nipple into his mouth, sucking and scraping his teeth around it until it hardens. The moment you feel his tongue brushing against the abused nub, you immediately feel like you are ready to combust as the pain blends together with pleasure. Your body jerks upward, hips rocking with every pulse you feel stirring from the depth of your core.

Seeing your response encourages him to do more, to go further, and he uses this chance to move over you. With his mouth still latched onto your nipple, the hand that he isn’t using to hold your waist down starts making its way up, capturing the neglected breast that he had left behind. 

It only takes a brush of his palm on the hardened tip to send you rocking harder against him, and you start rolling your hips against his torso as he begins stimulating your nipple with his fingers, pinching and pulling it in between while his mouth begins to work the other at the same time.

Your eyes are closed shut with how intense the rush of pleasure he is giving you has become, yet your mouth falls open with a series of moans coming out of you. Jungkook keeps on working on your body, without giving you a chance to rest or escape from his ministrations until there is really nowhere else to go but higher up to your divine bliss.

But there is still something missing. Despite feeling as if you are close to plunging over the edge. Even if your body has turned into a bundle of exploding nerves, they are not close enough to ease the pulses inside you, making you feel empty when the muscles between your legs are contracting against nothing but an empty void.

Your hand finds purchase in his messy hair. His soft curls slip between your fingers as you give them a tight grip just to have something to hold on to. You have no idea if you want to pull him up and push him away when it starts to feel too much yet you need so much more, you just don’t want him to stop. 

Your hips rise up as his teeth come brushing across your nipple, and you quiver beneath him the moment your pubic bone comes in contact with his toned torso. Finding pleasure from the touch, you do it again, and again, repeating it until you find the perfect angle to feel each graze deep inside. Before you know it, you are humping against his body, skin against skin, slowly searching for a way to reach your climax.

But just as you are slowly finding your way to the edge, Jungkook stops. He unlatches his mouth from you with a pop and pulls his hand away. With a whine, you open your eyes, ready to scold him for denying your pleasure, only to find him grinning as he bends down, kissing the soft mounds of your breasts with a grin on his face before he starts making his way down.

“I’m not done yet,” he whispers against your skin as he keeps kissing his way down your torso, making a brief stop once again at the inkwork that you have on your hip. He gives it a light nip, causing you to gasp and finally release your hold on his hair as he continues to move.

Jungkook gazes up as he slides lower, his eyes looking dark and hungry as he stares deeply at your face, gauging your reaction. Your breath is caught when he hovers his lips over your throbbing center, his breath falling subtly on your folds as he stops there. 

Just when you think that he would continue and press his lips right where you are pulsing with pure need, he moves past it, crawling lower to the apex of your thigh when he finally lands a kiss on your skin.

You bite your lips to stop yourself from releasing a desperate whine and start begging him to come back, knowing what game he is playing. And he continues to take his time with it, as he trails his kisses down instead of moving up. The further he moves away from your center, the harder it is for you to hold back, until an animalistic sound slips out from the depth of your throat.

To the sound of your moan, his eyes find your face once again. This time, Jungkook begins to kiss his way up, moving even slower that your body begins to tense, anticipating, and eagerly waiting. This time, your reaction only urges him to tease you further. 

He halts once again just when he is close enough to your center and nips at your skin, leaving a final love bite at the apex of your thigh which causes your legs to start trembling around his head. It lands so close to your folds that you can feel the pulses of need within you rising, yet it still feels too far from the source of your desire that it makes you grow even more desperate, more needy, drawing a helpless cry slipping from you.

“Please,” you start pleading with him when you just cannot take it anymore, the words start coming out before you can stop yourself. “Please, Jungkook. Put your mouth on me.”

Pressing his lips on your skin, merely an inch upward from before, Jungkook softly chuckles. “Do you want me to taste you that badly?”

“Yes,” you answer him, and your body starts moving on its own. Your hips begin to rock on the bed, as if trying to get closer to his face. “I want your mouth on me. Your fingers. Anything. I need you, Jungkook. Please—”

At this point, you really have no idea what you are saying anymore. As if your brain has become a complete mush with how turned on you are. It doesn’t help that your body is still overly sensitive from the rough fucking he gave you last night. 

The ghosts of last night’s release have been awakened and turned into a need. They have been pulsing so fiercely from the first touch and have only been growing more and more intense since.

“So you want me to touch you—” he asks you with a whisper, lips hovering right at your center, “—here?” His soft breath falls on your folds just then, causing you to tremble. 

Not only have you grown sensitive with your need, but apparently you have also grown soaking wet with your arousal, and it is clear that he is enjoying the sight of it when he looks down, staring closely at your pussy with dilated eyes.

“Jungkook—” you gasp, feeling like you can barely think clearly that every other word you are trying to say simply dies in your lips.

“Is that a yes?” he asks, teasing you with a chuckle, while you have tears building in the corner of your eyes.

“Yes,” you answer with a moan. “Yes, Jungkook. Please, I want you to—”

Before you can even finish your sentence, Jungkook slowly leans forward and gently presses his lips on your folds, making you jerk against him. He pulls back, only to bring his hand up to touch your outer lips and start running his thumb and forefinger up and down. 

He starts with gentle strokes, keeping his fingers only on the outer side, yet you can still feel his touch everywhere. Each downstroke he makes gives a light pull against your clit without giving any direct contact, while each time his fingers come back up, he slowly spreads your folds open for him, briefly allowing your slickness to come in contact with the cold breeze of air.

Up and down he continues to stroke his fingers on your folds, each time moving them closer to the center, brushing against your inner folds and picking up your growing slickness. The steady movement of his fingers draws your body to react, your hips begin to roll against his touch, rocking at the same exact rhythm that he is making. 

Unable to find something to hold onto, you bury your fingers in the messy sheets lying beneath you, pulling at them stronger with each strong pulse that he ignites from your core.

“Oh, Jungkook. Yess—” you breathe out, moaning and gasping at his touch, letting him know how good he is making you feel. 

As your voice becomes louder, he begins moving his thumb over your clitoris, using your slickness to give it a few steady strokes. Up and down, then they come rolling in circles. He keeps switching his ministration to each reaction you are giving him.

He continues until the sound of your breath grows faster, and then he tenderly spreads you open, before his mouth comes to replace his fingers and captures your clitoris between his sinful lips. Your body grows still, yet your legs start quivering roughly on either side of his head when the rush of pleasure he gives upon contact goes straight to your head.

Just like how he worked his mouth and tongue on your breasts, he does the same with your clit, as he uses his mouth to suck your delicate petal, switching between gentle and rough. The pleasure that comes from each suck intensifies when you feel the cold touch of his lip piercing grazing against your hot skin, causing you to release a breathless cry whenever it happens. 

You feel yourself rising so fast once again, yet the more you begin to feel the pleasure increasing, Jungkook slows down and rolls his tongue around and over your clit to ease you back down. He constantly brings you up to bliss only to bring you down before your body could detonate into an orgasm much too soon to his liking. 

Again, he is teasing you, pushing you to the edge only to deny your release until the sound of your pleas starts echoing through the room.

With his mouth still latched on your swollen clit, he slips his finger between your folds, once again gathering your slickness with a few gentle strokes. You are too lost in your drunken bliss to notice him watching you with awe. 

He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he finds your wet entrance and starts moving his finger in circles, teasing and coaxing your pussy until he is completely coated with your arousal to make it easier for him to slowly push his way in. He barely has the first knuckle penetrating you when your hips rise up from the bed, so he places his other palm on your lower torso to keep you down.

Your mouth falls open in surprise and your eyes flutter open to look down at him. He unlatches his mouth from you briefly only to ask, “Are you okay, baby?”

Unable to find your voice, you can only nod your head, biting your lip when you see him smile, his lips glow under the dim light with your slickness. “Relax, baby. Breathe slowly,” he whispers with a deep voice, and his face disappears between your legs as he comes back down to your pussy.

Your breath becomes slightly ragged with anticipation as you feel his lips brushing against your folds. But instead of returning to continue what he was doing with his hungry mouth, he simply leaves small kisses on your folds, your clit, while he works his finger in, pulling it out a little then pushing back in. 

He repeats it a few more times, going slightly deeper each time he comes back inside you until his finger is fully buried inside you. It feels so good that the insistent throb of your pussy pulses around his digit as if it was his cock buried deep inside.

Now that you are used to him inside you, he finds it easier to move in and out of you. He curves his finger a little to rub against your pussy walls, causing you to tremble and shake when he hits your sweet spot. Keeping a steady rhythm, he waits until your body is beginning to show him the telltale signs of your orgasm before he finally lunges forward, capturing your clit with his mouth in a tight clasp.

You let out a loud gasp right upon contact. "Oh god. Oh fuck. Jungkook, don't stop!"

You are sure that he can easily tell how close you are to the edge from the cries coming out of your lips, and judging from the intense way he is sucking you, his mouth and tongue working in the same rhythm as the strokes of his finger which keeps increasing its speed, you know that he is done teasing you.

“Touch your breast for me, baby,” you faintly hear him whisper against your pussy before his mouth returns to latch on to your clit again.

As if his words are a spell to entice you, your hand moves to cup your own breast and give it a light squeeze. Through your muddled brain, you almost struggle to find the sensitive tip of your breast, still slightly hardened after what Jungkook did to you. 

You cry out to embrace the rush that rocks through your body before using your fingers to stimulate yourself and start pressing your palm to knead your soft mound. Your other hand automatically makes its way down, once again finding purchase in his hair. The tight clutch you have on his hair is a complete opposite to the gentleness you give yourself, but it is enough to help you hold on as he takes you for a ride, when the work of his mouth and his strong finger in your pussy together is mercilessly pushing you to the edge.

Feeling desperate yet completely high from the pleasure, your hips begin moving in response to his ministrations, even matching his rhythms perfectly. You rise up as he sucks you roughly, and then you roll your hips down onto his face to ride out the wave that he causes when he softens up with his tongue.

“Don’t hold back, baby. Come for me,” you barely hear his words between the strong pulse of your heartbeat that fills your brain. 

But your body listens, and your entire being simply plunges over the edge. 

Right at the same time, Jungkook’s finger finds the spot inside you that triggers the epic release that has been building up from the very first touch. Wave after wave of nearly unbearable pleasure overtakes you, and you embrace it with a long wail while Jungkook helps you ride it out, the strokes of his finger continue with his mouth devouring your sweet release.

“Oh, God,” you whimper repeatedly between your ragged breaths as Jungkook slowly pulls away, easing you down from your high with soft kisses around your throbbing pussy. 

Yet the spasms of your climax begin to pulse into something more when he pulls out his finger, leaving behind nothing but a void. “Please, Jungkook…,” you find yourself pleading with him. “I need...just...something more."

A groan slips out of him. “More, baby?” he asks as he slowly climbs his way up. He is hovering on top of you when you slowly open your eyes. “Are you sure?”

Nodding, you raise your arms and wrap them around his neck. “Please, baby,” you beg him one more time, drawing a slow smile on his face that glistens with your release.

His tongue comes out just then, licking away the slickness on his lips with a hum, enjoying your taste on his tongue. “Tell me what you want,” he says, “Let me hear it.”

Your heartbeat starts pounding in your chest just then, and your skin flushes not with desire this time, but with bashfulness when you finally say, “I want your cock. I want you inside me.”

With a soft chuckle, Jungkook bends down, letting you pull him to you as he presses his lips on yours. The kiss begins gently, but it still draws a soft moan from you when your breasts incidentally brush against his bare chest, causing you to shudder beneath him. You let out a gasp into the kiss when he moves his hand, brushing against the underside of your breast that is still sensitive to the touch.

He takes the chance to deepen the kiss, pressing harder onto your mouth before slipping his tongue out, seeking entrance. You can taste yourself when your tongues brush against one another, which only turns you on even further. The feeling draws a muffled moan from you which he gladly swallows with his hot kiss.

Jungkook takes your hand and slowly brings it down with him between your entwined bodies. He pulls away from the kiss as he guides you to touch his cock. You are not surprised to find him already fully erect, and you love how hard and rigid he feels when you wrap your fingers around his width, feeling its sturdy weight against your palm as you begin to stroke him gently.

His head drops onto the nape of your neck as you stroke gently up and down his length. You enjoy the way he softly moans against your skin and when you feel his body shuddering with each stroke. It gives you a sense of pleasure knowing that you are affecting him so much, and you suddenly feel like giving back everything that he made you feel earlier.

“Damn it, baby. That feels good,” he groans against your skin. He catches your wrist to stop you before you could go further. “I thought you want this cock? Let me be inside you, baby.”

With the reminder of your plea, your pussy throbs. You nod your head and he pulls back, holding himself up with his elbow as he looks down, watching you closely as you start dragging the tip of his cock up and down the length of your slit. 

You know that he can feel your heat, and he clenches his jaw tightly as the slickness of your arousal gathers around the head of his cock, making it easy for him to slide between your folds.

His arm flexes as he pushes himself up and grabs hold onto your hips, ready to take over. Wrapping his palm around his girth, his eyes flicker to your face for a brief moment, making sure that you are ready.

But you have been ready. Spreading your legs wider for him, you reach down, using your fingers to spread your folds open and he follows through by aligning himself right at your hot entrance. 

Wasting no time, he pushes forward. You moan together as he enters you, becoming one as his cock slides into you with one firm thrust. Instead of feeling any pain or discomfort with the sudden fullness, your pussy walls throb against him, welcoming him home. It feels glorious when the waves of your previous climax begin to rise again, growing intensely quicker this time as if you had barely come down from your previous high.

With a groan, Jungkook begins to move. Rocking his hips at a steady rhythm, he slides his cock in and out of you, burying himself deeper and deeper before he slowly begins increasing his speed. 

Your body jerks wildly each time he pushes deep into the hilt of your pussy. Noticing this, he keeps repeating his movement, as he keeps thrusting against the very same spot until your moans grow into cries of pleasure.

Returning the favour and feeling like the edge is near, you push your hips up a little, giving him a new angle while allowing you to push back up, making it possible for his cock to slide in and out of you more fluidly. Your hands reach out to him, holding onto his hips to push him deeper with each thrust he is giving you.

It feels too good, so good that you can no longer hold back from crying out to him, "Harder, Jungkook. Harder!”

Your cries snap him into action and his hands move down to your bottom cheeks, holding you up to him as he starts pounding harder into you. Your head falls back into the pillows as you are suddenly overwhelmed by the sensation running through you. Your body arches with how intense it feels, and just how good the pain that he is inflicting on you from his rough pounding.

The pleasure feels maddening. But you refuse to close your eyes.

Blinking away your tears, you keep your gaze on your lover, capturing yet another moment that you want to remember for the rest of your life. 

Even in moments like this one, he is truly the most magnificent-looking human being you have ever met and come across. The way his arms are flexing as he is holding you up, how his strong fingers would feel silky smooth when he runs them up and down your curves, yet he would still hold you with a possessive grip when he is holding you up to him like this. 

How the beautiful ink work on his skin sometimes looks as if they are dancing with every flex, every contraction of muscles., and with every subtle movement that he makes when he is drawing you even nearer to the peak of pleasure.

You look down where you are joined, watching how his hips move so effortlessly in his constant thrusts and how perfect he feels inside you. His toned torso flexes with each jerk of his hips, and you love the shudders that appear on his body when your muscles flutter around his cock with each deep thrust. 

Your gaze moves upward to his chest which is glowing with the thin coat of his sweat. You feel the urge to run your fingers up his chest and shoulders, needing to feel his heartbeat to see if it is beating just as intensely as yours.

But you keep your hands on his hips, gripping harder with your nails buried into his skin as you take every pounding, embracing every wave of pleasure that he is giving you. He cries out and tenses for a moment under your tight grip, yet his thrusts never truly stop. His jerks become unsteady for a brief moment but he holds himself together to keep his pace, quickening and giving it harder to you when he starts again.

At the sound of his voice, you look up at his face and your heartbeat flutters. His long and messy hair has fallen over, curtaining his beautiful face. It somehow makes him look even more ethereal, and captivating, especially in the way he is clenching his jaw while he is making love to you.

The moment your gazes meet each other, your gaze finding his eyes looking back at you with clear desire, something inside you snaps. The muscles in your core begin to coil, tightening and constricting around him right as the spasms of your climax are starting to make their appearance, pushing through the fog inside your head until you find yourself clinging to the edge. 

Jungkook moves his hand down to where you are joined. His fingers slip between your parted folds, finding your throbbing clit where he gives a gentle brush, causing the first wave of your orgasm to rise from within.

"I think...,” you gasp out. “I’m…close," you try to say in between breaths, just as your body trembles beneath him, ready to erupt into bliss. “I’m going to…”

“Yes, baby. Cum for me,” he growls breathlessly through his rapid pounding. “Cum around my cock. Let me feel you.”

With his words, you let yourself go. Wave after wave of pleasure comes rushing through your body, erupting in the most intense way. 

“Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck!" you cry out as your body convulses, and your body jerks against him once, twice, three times, until his final thrust puts you right at the peak of your climax. "Oh god, oh Jungkook, oh god.”

Between your cries of pleasure, you can hear the sound of his voice, crying out with a voice so deep that you barely recognise it. An intense shudder rocks through his body as his cock brushes against your convulsing walls, triggering his climax on his next thrust. 

You lift your hips one last time and push against him just as the length of his cock pulses and he immediately erupts inside you. His hips continue to buck wildly against you as an unending stream of his climax pours into you. 

You can feel its warmth filling you up, and together you ride the waves of both of your pleasure as the spasms inside you repeat again, and again, each one coming to you a bit less intense than the previous, until they finally come to halt.

With one last shudder and a deep exhale of breath, Jungkook’s hips slow down to a full stop. He releases a deep gasp as he finally releases his hold on you and falls over your body, exhausted and sated. Still buried inside you, Jungkook wraps his arms around you. 

Being pressed against his chest allows you to feel his rapid heartbeat, still racing in the aftermath of his orgasm, while you feel your own subsiding into its normal state when you feel his body heat pressing against you.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he softly asks you, and you slowly shake your head.

“Absolutely not. That was so good. It felt amazing,” you say to him as you look up, admiring his beauty. 

The afterglow of his release is clear on his face, and his eyes are now glowing with so much love that it brings a new sense of warmth inside your chest. You bring your hands up, brushing his long hair back so you can see his face more clearly. They are completely soaked with his sweat that some strands are plastered to his face while some even get stuck on his lip piercing before you brush them away.

Your small gesture draws a smile to his face, then he turns to press his lips on your palm, kissing it as he gently sighs with a sense of relief and pride. In return, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him down until your lips find each other in a deep, longing kiss which lingers a bit too long than what you expect it to be.

As you slowly grow lax beneath him, Jungkook continues kissing you, doing it a bit more gently this time until his breathing returns completely to normal. Then he moves to trace his lips across your chin, down to your neck, before he buries his face in the nape of your neck where he releases another sigh. 

Wordlessly you lay there, body pressing against body, arms and legs entwining together, all while the sounds of your heartbeat join into one rhythm. You feel his smile growing against your skin when you try to shift, feeling the discomfort from his cum pooling inside you while his cock softens as it remains in its place.

He breathes in the scent of your hair one last time before he finally pulls out of you, taking a few drops of his cum in his exit. He is quick to find a forgotten shirt to help clean you up, then make a quick work of tossing it away before taking you back in his arms again as he collapses into the bed. 

Just like always, he pulls you to him with your back pressed to his chest, his arm resting lazily on your waist.

“So—” he says, breathing in your hair deeply before moving to kiss the nape of your neck. “What are you planning to do today?” he asks with his lips pressing into your ear and lazily nipping at your lobe.

“I don’t know,” you answer with an exhausted chuckle. “I think I might need a short nap. You’ve completely drained me. No, wait—shower. We need a shower,” you say to him in your drowsy state of mind, not realising that your fingers have somehow found their way to his arm again, and that you have begun tracing the ink work on his skin absentmindedly while you are thinking deeply.

You don’t notice what you are doing until Jungkook moves his hand, cupping your bare breast until you gasp at his touch. 

“Shower sounds good,” he calmly says, as if he isn’t deliberately rising the shivers in your body with his touch. “I’ll help,” he adds, “I haven’t got the chance to kiss this tattoo you have on your back and the new one you just got on your thigh, have I?”

As if making a point, Jungkook presses his lips right at the back of your neck, about an inch above where your back tattoo starts. 

You nervously laugh, knowing what would entail if things continue to be how he wants them to while trying to hide how he is already triggering your body to react to him. A flutter rises in your chest as he kneads your breast gently, and it begins to surge downwards, past the trails of kisses he is leaving on your skin and ends right between your legs where a pulse rises back up again.

“Oh, boy,” you sigh, knowing that there is no stopping him. Not when your nerves have been awakened to make you want him so badly as well.

— © 2022 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed.

[prythianpages]

Wanna Be Yours | Rhysand x Reader

Rhysand x Reader | When the Night Court and Dawn Court strike a deal, healers in exchange for Illyrian training, you rush at the opportunity to leave your home. You plan to keep a low profile but upon meeting the High Lord of night, your efforts are futile. He takes an instant liking to you and is set on being yours.

warnings: angst, mentions of blood and injury

a/n: This can be read as a stand alone imagine :) but there will be a part two. once again, we have another mini series inspired by a song: I wanna be yours by the Arctic Monkeys. I love when the guy falls in love with the girl first and I feel like it suits Rhys. This takes place before the events of ACOTAR.

The world awakens to a gentle warmth–a tender kiss from dawn. The stars are like a fading dream, bidding their silent farewell and the first tendrils of sunlight emerge, painting the sky in hues of soft pinks and purples. The world seems to hold its breath and so do you.

It’s so beautiful. The way night surrenders to day. The way that no matter how dark it gets, the sun will rise again. It makes you miss home but you don’t miss what waits for you there.

“You don’t belong here.”

You startle and the world tilts beneath your feet. The edge of the terrace offers a daunting view of the Court of Nightmares–a harsh landscape of rocky mountains that seems to promise a swift but unforgiving descent. A hand grasps your arm, pulling you back from the brink, the force spinning you around until you find sanctuary in a pair of strong arms.

As you lift your head, the world regains its focus, but your breath hitches at the sight before you.

 A man, heartbreakingly handsome, captures your gaze. He has sun-kissed skin and short dark hair, reminiscent of a raven’s feather, that frames features that seem almost too perfect to be real. Yet, it’s his eyes that draw you in–a shade of blue so deep it borders on violet. Flecks of silver dance within those celestial irises, mirroring the stars that had bid their farewell earlier. His gaze is intense, sparkling with an allure that feels both familiar and bewitching.

“Breathe, darling.”

His voice, a velvet symphony, wraps around you like the answer to a question you hadn’t even fathomed to think of yet–a revelation that ignites a feeling you can’t quite discern but it stirs the deepest recesses of your heart. 

Suddenly, you’re pushing away from the male with a deep exhale as a delicate pink that reflects the sky above you flushes your cheeks.

“y/n!”

Your eyes widen at the sound of your name being called.

“y/n.” The male in front of you repeats to himself and you never thought your name would sound so beautiful as it does in this very moment. His lips curl into a knowing smirk.

Alette, your guide, comes into your view. She bends over slightly as her chest heaves and she catches up with her breath. She turns to the male, bowing her head in acknowledgment. “My High Lord.”

All blood drains from your face and your heart skips a beat. High Lord. You just met the High Lord of the Night Court and embarrassingly so. You contemplate whether it’s too late to bow your head or not but the thought of Alette scolding you for not doing it sooner stops you.

“I see you’ve met one of our new healers.” Alette inclines her head toward your sorry state. “I do apologize for her entering your palace without prior clearance.”

Cauldron boil you. You caught a glimpse of him pressing his lips together, as if suppressing something. Perhaps a scowl, frown or smile–you don’t know– because you're swiftly averting your gaze. You’re too scared to move, not wanting to draw more attention to yourself than you already have.

“Forgive me,” you’re saying as you drop to your knees and bow your head. “I didn't mean to trespass. I felt a little suffocated down there and I had no idea this was your home.”

“Where are you from?”

Panic steals your voice and it’s Alette who answers for you.

“She’s one of the few healers that came from Dawn, my High Lord.”

You sense the weight of his gaze upon you, an intensity that envelops you with an almost overwhelming power. Your throat tightens.

“And what of her skill?”

“The best of this year’s cohort.” Alette replies with no hesitation. There’s a subtle fondness in her voice that makes your heart swell with pride. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed.

“You may rise.” It takes a while for you to register that the High Lord is addressing you until Alette is awkwardly clearing her throat. You blink and rise to your feet but keep your gaze low. 

“You’re coming with me.”

You lift your gaze, gaping at his back. Does he—No, there’s no way he can know. The High Lord pauses. 

He turns his head over his shoulder and looks at you in an expectant manner. You look at Alette, who nods her head at you, so hesitantly, you follow after him. Your heart races as you hear him tell Alette to pack your things because you won’t be staying in the Court of Nightmares anymore.

**

Velaris, the city of Starlight, is a breathtaking haven nestled within the Night Court. It’s often referred to as the Court of Dreams. It’s a place of ethereal beauty and enchantment. The stark contrast it presents in comparison to the haunting Court of Nightmares leaves you in awe. 

But what strikes you the most is the High Lord of the Night Court–the master of duality. In Hewn City, where the air is always thick with tension, he wears a cold, stoic mask and every calculated step he takes echoes the weight of his stern authority and great power. This is the High Lord you’ve heard of. So when he told you, you’d be joining him in the city of his private residence, you were terrified.

It was a short lived fear because the High Lord you’ve heard of is not the High Lord you’ve come to know over the past couple of weeks. In Velaris, he sheds the shroud of shadows and reveals a different side to him. A softer side. A leader built from genuine warmth and kindness. 

You’ve come to understand he has a complex role as High Lord of the Night Court. He is a blend that is both harsh and dangerous, yet undeniably beautiful and remarkable, constantly navigating through the delicate balance of power and compassion. 

There is one unchanging thread that weaves through both cities. A thread of charismatic arrogance. He carries it effortlessly, employing it in a charming grace. One that he directs skillfully, particularly, when he turns the full force of his charm on you. You’d be lying if you said you were immune to it.

Upon your arrival, the High Lord–or Rhysand as he prefers you to call him– introduced you to the city’s healer. Madja. Though you’ve undergone extensive training in your home court, it felt little compared to the years of experience Madja carried with her, leading her to take you under her wing as her apprentice. You were a fast learner and given the nature of Azriel’s–Rhysand’s spymaster– and Cassian’s –Rhysand’s general commander– jobs, you had a lot of practice and challenges to hone your skills.

A tired yawn escapes from you as you navigate the halls of the infirmary to Madja’s study with the intention of wishing her a goodnight before retiring to your room. Your stops falter when your ears pick up on the distinct voices of Cassian and Azriel and suddenly you’re wide awake.

“–was ambushed by dark forces–”

“–never seen so much blood–”

“–I should make haste then–”

“–he only wants y/n–”

Shadows slink out from the corners, momentarily dimming the faelight in your hand in a silent greeting. The voices, once animated, hush and then cease altogether. Madja is the first to emerge from the study, with Azriel and Cassian trailing behind.

"The High Lord requests your presence.”

**

Not much can unsettle you, given your role as a healer. You’ve tended to a variety of injuries, seen tremendous amounts of spilled blood and have had to navigate through the sorrow of heartbreaking losses. But this. This feels different. This isn’t just anyone. It’s Rhysand. The male, who despite his shameless flirting, has consistently shown nothing but kindness to you. Though the nature of your relationship is uncertain, the mere thought of him being harmed sends a sharp pang through your chest, an ache that transcends the usual clinical detachment you maintain in your profession.

There’s an urgency in your steps as you approach Rhysand’s weak form on the infirmary bed. His body is extremely pale and shivering. A thick layer of sweat clings to his skin. There’s blood everywhere. On the floor, on the bed. It continues to seep out of the wound at his abdomen.

His lids are heavy, laden with exhaustion but he still manages a weary smile when he spots you. “You’re here,” he breathes in surprise, his words carrying a blend of relief and vulnerability.

“I’m here,” you confirm with a reassuring smile as you brush back the dark tendrils of his hair from his face. Though your touch is gentle, the lines on his face seem to deepen.

The air around you begins to shimmer with a soft, golden light. You cast a keen eye over his abdomen, the golden light dancing around you as you assess the full extent of his injury. The wound is deep and not healing as it should and your nose crinkles as the pungent smell of poison drifts up at you.

Rhysand winces as your healing touch meets his wound. Despite his blood staining your hands, you move with practiced grace, drawing upon the healing energies within you. Each movement is deliberate, an intricate crossing between magic and skill as you strive to counteract the effects of the poison.

Rhysand sucks in a sharp breath. He feels like he is dying but he won’t admit that to you. He doesn’t want to scare you. “It hurts.”

“I know,” you respond, your brows furrowing in concentration. The quicker you work, the less pain he’ll have to endure altogether. “It’s the poison.”

His eyes squeeze shut and his face contorts with agony as you press further into the wound. A strangled whimper escapes from his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you frown, halting your movements. You turn your head toward the double doors, where you know Madja waited in her study despite the late hour, in case you required assistance. “Should I go get Madja instead?”

“No,” his hands weakly grasps yours to keep them from leaving him. “I–I’m okay. I only need you.”

You nod and take a deep breath, urging your powers to continue surging through your bones and veins. Charged with vitality, they embody a tender current, eager to breathe life into every fiber of the recipient’s being. You sense the poison recoiling at your touch, prompting another cry from Rhysand. Though you know the poison will put up a painful fight, there’s a sense of relief as you realize it is one you can win.

“It’s going to feel worse before it gets better,” you say, your eyes darting to your makeshift table. “I don’t have anything for you to bite down onto. I’m sorry.”

 “Tell me a story,” he pleads, his voice desperate and raspy. “Anything. Please.”

“Anything?” You say in contemplation, falling into a thoughtful pause as you search your mind for a story to tell.

“When I was a little girl and my parents were separating, my uncle would take me to the countryside,” you begin to share, your voice softening with the weight of the fond memory and in the intimate space between you and Rhysand, a subtle shift occurs. 

“It was my favorite place in all of Dawn. The flowers were always in bloom and the grass was tall and green. We would wake up early to watch the sunrise together. Those were the moments where the world felt so still yet so gentle.”

“One night, as the moon gracefully surrendered its space to the emerging sun, I cried. The realization of the sun and moon being eternal strangers gripped my little heart. The sun, in its golden glory, would never know the tender glow of the moon, and the moon, adorned in silver brilliance, would remain untouched by the sun's warm embrace. It made me sad.”

“My uncle, at first, laughed. He teased me, which made me cry harder. He realized the genuine depth of my sorrow and that’s when he shared something with me,” you continue, a nostalgic smile plays on your lips as you recall the moment. 

Unbeknownst to you, Rhysand’s gaze warms in the gentle embrace of the shared memory. He’s momentarily distracted from the stabbing pain.

"He told me that the moon's glow is but a reflection of the sun's radiance," you explain, the magic of your tale intertwining with the magic of your healing touch. "How beautiful, he said. That the love of the sun for the moon is so pure that he sets down so that people can admire the beauty of her.”

"I was still sad, holding onto that stubborn desire to witness the sun and moon together. That's when my uncle introduced me to the magic of an eclipse—a rare celestial dance where the sun and moon finally come face to face. When the next one arrived, my uncle whisked me back to the countryside to witness it, and for the first time, I felt such overwhelming joy. Tears welled in my eyes but they were tears of happiness. I didn’t know one could cry tears of joy until that moment.”

Still aglow, your hands continue their delicate work. You observe a subtle relaxation manifesting in the features of Rhysand but there’s a weariness that settles over you. You know all traces of the poison are gone because its toxic essence was absorbed by you in your haste to protect him. It takes its toll on you, wearing you down and leaving you feeling slightly unsteady, but all you care about is him.

The gaping wound on his abdomen gradually yields to your skillful touch, and a peaceful serenity settles over his face. His eyes flutter shut, and in the hushed atmosphere, Rhysand's words pierce through, lingering like a delicate whisper in the air.

"I think I might be in love with you." 

The confession tugs at the strings of your heart, urging it to soar, but you swiftly quell the rising emotions. You attribute Rhysand's words to the delirium induced by his pain, knowing he’d forget all about it. You wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot your story as well. You swiftly clean him up and use your magic to replace the bloody sheets with clean ones before taking your leave. Exhaustion tears at your bones and you can only muster a meek smile to Azriel and Cassian, who waited anxiously outside the infirmary doors for an update. You head straight to your room after and collapse onto your bed.

The following night, as you retire to your room from another day of endless work and studying, you find a carefully wrapped gift at your door. There’s no name on it but as you read the note attached, you have an intuitive inkling as to who the thoughtful gifter was. 

To the Sun, in your golden glory, may you always feel such overwhelming joy.

A beautiful embellished trinket box lays beneath the wrapping engraved with two cosmic entities–the sun and the moon. As you open the small keepsake, you're greeted by a soft, ethereal glow that radiates from within. It casts a warm and gentle light and you watch as a projection of the moon and sun dance around you before finally converging into a mesmerizing eclipse. 

**

Rhysand's POV

Like clockwork, Rhysand wakes at the break of dawn with the tendrils of a persistent dream lingering in his mind. A dream that has possessed his nights for weeks. As sleep releases its grasp on his eyes, he reluctantly rises from the bed and decides to get ready for the day, knowing that if he tried, he would not be able to fall back asleep.

He navigates through the familiar halls of the Moonstone palace, mindlessly making his way toward one of the terraces. His steps falter.

There, amidst the soft hues of the awakening city below, stands a feminine silhouette–a vision bathed in the tender light of dawn. You. A sense of cautious curiosity courses through him, eclipsing the remnants of his restless dreams. His gaze lingers on you. There's a nuance in your presence, a fine radiance that hints that you are not from here and though he should be concerned over an unannounced visitor in his home, he can’t bring himself to do so.

 A subtle flutter dances in his chest. He’s speaking before he could even properly think.

“You don’t belong here.”

You startle and lose your footing. You’re about to fall but before gravity claims its toll, he moves with swift determination. He reaches forward and grasps your arm, pulling you from the dangers of the edge of the terrace and into the safety of his arms instead. You lift your head and a gasp escapes your lips. Your eyes widen as they look up into his.

“Breathe, darling.”

His mind is searching yours with a quiet desperation but all you are thinking about is how devastatingly handsome he is. He doesn’t perceive you as a threat. Yet, there’s something hauntingly familiar about you.

He hears a name being called. Yours. And then it hits him like a sudden gust of wind. You’re the girl from his dreams. The one he’s dreamt of nearly every day this week and as he repeats the name, his lips curve up into a smirk.

He found you and realization dawns upon him like the morning sun. You don’t belong here but not because you’re from a different court. It’s because you belong with him.

a/n: this part came out a lot softer than I thought it would. The quote I used about the sun loving the moon so much came from something I saw on pinterest. I am a sucker for the sun and moon and stars lol

[laurfilijames]

Flat To Filled

Pairing: Jax Teller x female reader

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Tig being a bit of a perv. Oral sex (M receiving). Unprotected intercourse. Sex in exchange for a service.

Summary: Your flat tire turns out to be a very happy nuisance, and a scene right out of a porno.

A/N: I got a flat tire a couple of months ago and came up with this idea while waiting for it to be repaired, though sadly not by Jax Teller.

---

"You've got to be fucking kidding," you mumbled under your breath, seeing the low tire pressure light illuminate on your dash.

It didn't seem like that long ago you had finished paying off the loan used to purchase the new set of tires, and as you put your car in park and climbed out of the driver's seat, you prayed it just needed some air and wasn't completely flat.

"Fuck."

The tire was smooshed right against the hot asphalt, and crouching down to run your hand along the circumference of the wheel, your fingers caught on a screw buried into the rubber.

At least you weren't rushing anywhere in particular, you thought, having only been on your way to grab yourself a coffee from the cafe in downtown Charming, laughing in realizing the irony in the situation that you were meant to be saving money anyway. The silver lining was that your flat just so happened to take place about two minutes down the road from Teller-Morrow Automotive Repair, and with the sun shining and feeling pleasantly warm on your skin, you didn't necessarily mind going for a walk.

The gates of the entrance were open as you approached, the yard full of Harley's and various members of the nefarious motorcycle club along with some vehicles actually being repaired by mechanics, your presence quickly being noticed by everyone in the vicinity.

"And how can I help you, sweetheart?" a man with black, curly hair and soul-piercing blue eyes drawled, his pervy tone making you grin and tilt your head in amusement as he stood straight from leaning over his bike and puffed his chest out, his hands securing themselves on his belt to help draw your attention to his crotch.

"I have a flat," you began to explain, hooking your thumb over your shoulder in the direction of where your car sat abandoned on the road. "I was hoping someone could take a look and hopefully patch it."

"Yeah, probably, but there's something else I can definitely help you with."

"Jesus Christ, Tig," another man's voice sounded from inside the garage. "Stop preying on innocent people."

The sight of the man defending you made your heart leap into your throat, and suddenly the mid-afternoon sun wasn't the cause of the sheen of sweat growing on your skin.

Messy, blond hair that rested at his shoulders surrounded his gorgeous face like a halo, and if the blue eyes on the first man were anything to admire, his were like looking into an abyss that would swallow you whole.

He didn't shy away from looking you over up and down, a crooked smile dressing his lips that were surrounded by scruffy, bleached stubble, his smile only spreading more to create lines around his mouth when his friend walked past him and slapped his shoulder.

"See, told ya."

He strutted into the garage while still looking back at you obviously, nearly tripping over his own feet, leaving you and the living incarnation of Helios standing somewhat awkwardly.

He nodded his head behind you, "So, what's wrong?"

"Just a flat. There's a screw in it. I was hoping someone would have time to patch it for me."

"Yeah, let me take a look," he grinned again, squinting slightly from the bright sunlight as he wiped his oily hands on a rag he held.

You took note of his slender fingers and how rough and worked yet soft the skin on his hands looked, curious as to what else they were capable of, and how the way the large rings that adorned them enhanced the appeal to feel them on your body even more.

"Is it just down the road?" he asked, beginning to walk over to the wall where a bunch of keys were hung on hooks.

"Yeah, about two minutes," you confirmed, remaining in place.

He held a set of keys up and tossed them up in the air before catching them, "I'll go give it a lift, then. You can wait here if you want. Despite your first impressions they're all pretty harmless."

His smile had you nearly bursting into flames, and holding out your own keys for him to take, your fingers brushed each other, igniting even more heat within your body.

He winked at you as he walked confidently over to the tow truck parked on the far side of the row of bikes, allowing you the opportunity to eye-fuck him just as he had you minutes ago.

Even with how baggy his jeans sat on his lower half, you could tell he had a perfectly plump ass that would no doubt power some hammering thrusts, and his back and arms were shaped nicely by strong muscles that showed through his t-shirt and mechanic's shirt that had the sleeves torn off, making you bite your lip as you thought how this unfortunate event was proving to be anything but.

It didn't take long for him to return with your car being pulled behind the tow truck, flashing you another smile as he hung his left arm out the window, a cigarette hanging from his inviting lips.

You watched the production as a few other mechanics went over and began helping him, the assistance he received allowing opportunities for glances your way, his silent flirting making you flush and shift on your feet.

Within minutes the tire was off and being carried into the bay of the garage, and as he got closer to you, you were able to see the name embroidered in black thread on the right side of his chest.

Jax.

You mouthed it, the whisper of those three letters feeling like silk on your tongue, and you wondered how saying it out loud and on repeat in the throes of pleasure would make him react; all smiles and that boyish confidence shining brightly as he basked in your praise, or a brutal and claiming side coming to reveal itself after being encouraged by your mantra.

He slammed your tire down on the workbench closest to the door and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, smearing dirt and grime across it, and gave you a smile and a nod as he parted those luscious lips and started talking.

"So, you from around here?"

"Yup," you confirmed, placing your hands in the back pockets of your shorts to force your chest out a little further.

He hummed as he started to work, "I would've remembered a pretty face like yours."

"Do you say that to all the girls you help?"

Jax shook his head, his eyebrows rising on his forehead to crease it. "Nope."

He looked completely innocent despite it being a blatant lie that he could barely get away with, and you knew that was exactly how a man like him was likely to get everything he wanted.

"Well, I really appreciate you dropping whatever else you were in the middle of to sort me out," you thanked. "Jax…" you added, his name sounding sinful from how lusty your voice suddenly became.

He tucked his bottom lip in his teeth, smiling big even with the restriction, his eyes dancing and alight with mischief as his hands paused what he was doing.

"My pleasure."

His words were spoken with such conviction, as well as what you hoped was a promise or at least a hint at a request, and for whatever reason, the more you were in his presence and talking to him, the more daring and confident you felt yourself becoming.

"Is it?" you asked, watching as he leaned against the workbench, his forearms flexing and showing off the tattoo decorating his right one, his glare serious and almost threatening while his lips continued to feign innocence.

"I think it's going to be."

Time passed too quickly for your liking, your very effortless and charged conversations with Jax tempting you into driving the pocket knife that you kept tucked away in your purse into one of your other tires just so you could spend more time with him; his efficient handy-work resulting in your tire being back on your car and good as new in the fastest forty-two minutes of your life.

“You're all set there, darlin’,” he drawled, squinting at you in the beaming sun with a crooked grin as he wiped his hands on the rag he pulled back out of his jeans.

“Looks like it. Thank you.”

“You have somewhere you need to be?” he asked, leaning against your car comfortably.

“Not necessarily,” you answered, part of you praying he would extend an invitation to something that involved you staying longer and having those lips that were still curled into a smile pressed against yours. They were perfectly shaped and full and impossible to stop admiring, and the fantasy of learning how good they would feel refused to quit playing in your mind, deeming him a talented kisser without even knowing.

"How much do I owe you?" you asked, the assumption that this repair would cost the equivalent of at least twenty of those speciality coffees you were on your way to getting making a pit settle in your stomach.

His bottom lip tucked between his teeth and he chewed on it while still managing to grin mischievously, the brightness of it reaching his eyes.

"I think we can work something out."

You swore you had to be dreaming, finding yourself being led through Samcro's clubhouse and down a hallway where you were continuously stopped to be pressed against the wall and kissed until you were breathless, the sound of your bodies slamming against the wood panels and your shared laughs drowning out the loud music coming from the common area.

It always felt good to be right, you thought, your speculations that Jax knew how to kiss exceptionally well turning out to be more than correct, the way his tongue claimed your mouth and his lips sealed against yours making you quickly abandon all morals and sense of reality.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he walked backwards with you into a room, the scent of stale smoke mixed with a bit of weed overpowering the hint of cologne that lingered, and once inside, Jax pushed the door shut and shoved you up against it.

He slowly peeled his face away from yours, taking a deep, steadying breath, his eyes trailing from your chest up to your lust-drunk eyes while his arms braced on either side of you to cage you between him and the door.

"We do accept cash, too," he smirked, his smile growing when you laughed and shook your head.

"I'm afraid I don't have any on me…"

"See that's too bad," he said, his tone falsely serious. "Non-paying customers tend to get fucked in a situation like this…"

The emphasis and double-meaning he put on that one sinful word made you ache and visibly squirm, and you did your best to keep your hands to yourself while you waited for him to move first, only to fail miserably.

You gripped at the edges of his gray mechanics shirt at the same time your mouth crashed against his, peeling it off his arms with his help as you walked forward, forcing him backward into the middle of the room where he ran into a chair, causing both of you to laugh between kisses.

Next came his somehow still freshly white t-shirt, the pure glee that overcame you when you whisked it over his head and laid eyes on his smooth skin and impressively ripped torso making you feel dizzy, and trying to get to the rest of him as quickly as you could, you hurried to unbuckle his belt and send his jeans that were already half-way down his ass to the floor.

You glared at him hungrily as you reached out for his hard cock that strained against his loose boxers that managed to be an even brighter white than his shirt, and stroked it through the cotton appreciatively, watching his head tip slightly back and his eyes close as he succumbed to your touch.

"Fuck," he chuckled, his abs contracting as he did, hooking his thumbs in the waist of his trunks to get rid of them.

"May I?" you asked, the innocence in your request contrasting heavily to how impurely you were looking at him.

"Since you asked nicely," he drawled, holding his hands up away from his body to allow you to do whatever you wanted.

With an excited and satisfied grin, you tugged on his shorts, your mouth instantly watering as his cock sprung free from them and bounced wildly before you, his size and girth and perfectly veiny shaft confirming that the man standing proudly naked before you was utterly perfect.

"Like what you see, darlin'?"

Rather than answering, you wrapped one hand behind his neck and pulled him into you, kissing him madly and desperately while your other hand took hold of his silky flesh and pumped him slowly from tip to base, feeling him flex in your palm.

You basked in this for a couple of minutes until Jax regained control and guided you somewhat forcefully over to lean against the edge of the desk that sat against the wall, his thigh wedging between yours as he gathered your wrists in his one hand and held them up over your head, his other one left to trail up your side, pulling your shirt up along with it.

His mouth attacked your neck while he teased you, the sensation making you roll your hips on his thigh to get some friction on your needy pussy, and when he growled as he got to your breasts that you hadn't bothered to restrict in a bra today, you nearly came undone.

"Fuck, you're hot," he muttered, roughly tearing up your shirt to remove it from you, and he took a moment to appreciate the sight in front of him before diving to your mouth again, his hand squeezing at the fullness of your chest and pinching your nipple between his fingers.

You whined into his mouth and arched your back in order to get closer to his touch, your body begging to be used by him in any way possible, this self-made porno you were suddenly living out making you hornier than you've ever been before.

"Are you gonna fuck me, or what?" you asked, his keen attention making you feel bold and powerful.

He chuckled and shook his head, his blond locks moving with the action.

"Patience, darlin'. You need to remember who's paying who here."

You nodded and smirked, pushing off the edge of the desk to take hold of his cock again while you slowly sank to your knees, looking up at him through your lashes to see a very satisfied and eager look on his face.

Pressing your lips against his smooth tip, you spread the precum that leaked from it across them and stuck your tongue out, that first delectably salty taste of him making you swallow thickly as your mouth watered, your thirst for him skyrocketing. You gripped the base of his shaft as you eased him inside your mouth, taking him slowly inch by inch until you reached your hand and your nose was tickled by his flaxen hairs.

Bobbing on and off of his length and swirling your tongue around his head each time you passed it, you worked him steadily with your hand, the sound of his appreciative curses and groans making you squirm and shift on your knees and moan as well, taking him deep into your throat so he could feel the vibrations on your windpipe.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he hissed. "That's it, baby."

His praise sent a shiver down your spine, making your nipples harden even more in addition to you gagging on him each time he pounded the back of your throat, the way he bucked his hips and lightly held your head in place encouraging you to want to be wrecked by him in whatever way he saw fit.

He laughed in disbelief as he gently held your chin and told you to stop, mad at himself for doing it, but not ready to end this with you yet.

"Fuck, you're good. That pretty little mouth of yours sure has some talent," he purred, using his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth.

"Then you should've let me finish…"

Jax chuckled again as he helped you up off the floor, a sound that made you melt each time, his eyes shining with a playfulness that matched his cheeky smile.

"Oh, no," he said, his eyebrows creeping up his forehead. "Your debt isn't going to be repaid that easily."

Your breathing became shallow as the way he looked at you turned from kind and light-hearted to intense and almost dark, and he grabbed your face and kissed you roughly, stealing your breath from you as he leaned into you in an overpowering way, his cock poking you and reminding you of its impressive size that you were about to have to try to handle.

He snuck a hand between your heaving bodies, cupping between your legs where an intense heat radiated, and began to rub your pussy through your shorts with a taunting pressure.

"This pussy's gonna feel good, isn't it?" he asked, dragging his hand harder over the material that kept you from him, the whole act and his question driving you mad. "I bet it's nice and tight…"

"Fuck, yes…" you whined, grinding against his hand even more, your head tipping to the side in an offering for him to kiss your neck.

He did, granting you one of your many wishes, sucking and nipping at the tender skin where your pulse hammered frantically.

After another minute or two of torture, you raked your nails up along his back, feeling desperate for him to give you what you so badly needed.

"Please, Jax," you begged. "I'm so wet."

He pulled away from your neck, kissing your swollen lips sloppily as he removed his hand from between your legs.

"Yeah? Lemme see, sweetheart…"

With deft fingers he ripped open the button on your shorts and tugged them down your thighs aggressively, his pupils blown wide when he noticed how your slick had darkened your panties and soaked them through completely, the corner of his lips curling upward menacingly.

He leaned in and kissed you again, a little sweeter this time, a display of his appreciation for how ready you were for him and how much he was enjoying this game with you.

That only lasted for so long though, the more he danced his tongue with yours the more he felt completely out of control, the need to drive his cock into you coming to the forefront of his mind once again just as it had since the minute he met you.

He released your cheeks from his gentle hold and used both of them to grab onto the side of your thong, tearing them off of you barbarically, the sound of ripping cotton making both of you more feral than before.

You sat up on the desk, holding his head to keep him kissing you as he settled between your legs, his cock nudging your inner thigh dangerously close to your center. It was all heavy, panting breaths and the sound of teeth clashing together as you went at each other furiously, your fingers making a tangled mess out of those gorgeous blond tresses, your nails no doubt leaving red scratches all over his pale skin.

With a sharp inhale to catch his breath, Jax broke the messy seal of your lips enough to look down at you naked and spread beneath him, slipping his fingers slowly through your wet folds to gather your slick on his fingertips, admiring you before slamming them inside you deep enough that his rings prevented him from going any further, pumping in and out before hooking them to massage your g-spot.

Your cries filled the room, the build-up to this making everything feel more intense than you could bear, your hips moving to meet the tempo of his hand enthusiastically and instinctively.

"You want that dick?" Jax asked breathlessly, his cock throbbing and ready to explode if he held off any longer, the sensation of your pussy clenching his fingers and coating them with your juices making it worse.

He was always diligent about wrapping up when it came to sleeping with new chicks, but something about you made him want to bury his bare cock deep inside you and drive into you again and again, the thought of seeing your cunt leaking with his load sending him into a fury.

"Yes…fuckkkk!" you screamed, your consent barely past your lips as he pushed into you, stretching you out over his thick girth.

A shuddered breath escaped your lips as you sought to adjust to his size, Jax giving you no mercy as he immediately started hammering into you with ruthless force.

By the time he had rammed himself into the deepest part of you, you were both so close to falling apart, not taking long to get each other right back to the edge where you had been left hanging, the rhythm chosen by him and matched by you one that was sure to put this desk through the wall in no time.

It shook precariously beneath you, and it seemed the threat of breaking the damn thing only spurred Jax on more, his brutal thrusts increasing as he worked even harder to ruin you.

His skin became slippery as he began to work up a sweat, your hands gliding over his shoulders and up the column of his neck as you tried to hold on to him as best you could.

His praise at how good you felt was broken up by a variety of curses, the way he sounded as he got so lost in you making the pressure in your core erupt rapidly, and you strangled his cock through your release, soaking him enough for you to hear the lewd squelching through your mind-numbing euphoria.

"Fuck!" he roared, his last thrusts slowing in pace as you coaxed out his end, his cock pulsing inside your choking walls and filling you up with his hot cum in vicious spurts.

His sweaty hair was stuck to his forehead as he leaned it against yours, chuckling while he fought to catch his breath.

"That was…"

"Yeah…" you panted, hardly able to believe just how incredible it was, your whole body tingling and alive with pleasure.

He smiled against your lips before kissing you sweetly, humming into your mouth while he remained inside you, wanting to relish in the after effects for as long as he could.

You made out until he eventually slipped from you, the loss making you whine and you both to slowly cease your kisses.

“I've never done anything like this before,” you admitted, feeling totally liberated in your behaviour as you watched his sweaty, naked, and absolutely perfect form step away from you, his smile beaming at you once again.

He winked at you, “Me neither," and ran a hand through his hair to try to fix the mess you had made of it.

“For some reason I don't believe that," you chided, tilting your head as you remained in your spot, his cum starting to drip out of you.

“You shouldn't," he purred, strutting back over to you, his eyes fixed between your legs where you could tell by his expression that he enjoyed what he saw.

He held your waist, his head tipping to the side as he looked down at you, his voice low and lusty when he spoke.

"Still have nowhere to be?"

---

Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90 @paintlavillered @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @theesirenteller

I went ahead and tagged everyone I have written down for my Charlie/Will Miller taglist so my apologies if you're not interested in being tagged in Jax fics and I will happily add or remove anyone as they wish!

[ponderingmoonlight]

what if you were a sorcerer who was dating nanami and when you came back from some mission abroad you got to meet itadori and watch nanami be all dad-like (and itadori obviously loves you)

I LOVED this idea and I thank you in the name of everyone reading this fic for suggesting it before what happened last episode 😭 Please let me know what you think!

Nanami's girlfriend watching Nanami being in full dad mode with Yuji

Pairing: Nanami x girlfriend!reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: After finally coming back home from a mission far away, all you want to do is seeing your precious boyfriend Kento again. But instead of a afternoon of cuddling him, you get to see him act like a real dad towards a new student.

Warnings: Really none, mild language here and there, Nanami being the best dad ever, this is the comfort we all need

It’s been a hell of a month. A month of desperately fighting against countless curses, a month away from the love of your life. At first it was like a punch in your face, realizing that you won’t be able to see Kento within the next weeks. And even though you texted every free minute and he called you every night, you missed him more than anything. But now, you’re finally on your way back. Back into your normal life, back into the open arms of your boyfriend.

Your feet carry you down the path to Jujutsu High on their own, remembered with every fiber of your being. Despite all the horrible things you had to endure, being a jujutsu sorcerer feels like your unshakable fate. Even better that Kento is right by your side every step of the way.

“(y/n), is that you? Haven’t see ya for ages! Heard you did really well at…wherever you were”, Gojo shouts from afar.

Your heart jumps up and down in joy, turning around and waving at him frantically. Oh, you never thought you’d miss seeing his stupid grin every morning this much.

“I’m just glad it’s over. Hey, did you see Kento? I’m searching for him”, you reply.

Please, let him be at Jujutsu High. When he called you yesterday, he wasn’t sure whenever he’ll have to leave for a mission today or not. Maybe he’s still here, maybe you’ll be able to help him out. Fighting by his side definitely sounds better than waiting another second to see him, even though all you want to do right now is lay down and sleep for 15 hours straight.

“Oh, he���s in the main building, talking with a new student. You should pay them a visit, I’m sure Yuji will love you.”

Yuji, huh? You haven’t heard his name before. To be honest, the only new student you know of his Megumi Fushiguro. Were you really gone that long? You sign to yourself before shaking your head, a smile forming itself on your lips.

Other than your boyfriend, you love to greet the new students with all your heart. After all, they are your future, the ones who will look after everything when you are gone. It’s your responsibility as well to make them feel welcomed, right?

“In the classroom?”

“Yup. I have to leave now, send my best wishes to precious Nanami!”

You giggle to yourself with a wide smile, moving towards the main building of Jujutsu High, Gojo’s dumb grin still present in your mind. Despite the fact that Kento tells you over and over how annoying that white-haired man is, you know that he still likes him deep down.

Deep deep down.

“Kento?”, you gently question into the biggest classroom in the building, eyes peaking through the door ever so slightly.

Your heart jumps in confusion. Huh, he’s not there. But Gojo sounded so sure of his words. Also, he just came back from the main building, so he knew for sure…

“Where the hell are you”, you mutter to yourself, roaming around the different rooms like a lost puppy.

Until suddenly, your ears perk up.

“Nanami-sensei, I’m looking forward working with you!” a young male voice announces with so much passion that you just have to draw closer.

Wait, did that boy just call your boyfriend Nanami-sensei?

“I’m not a teacher here, don’t call me sensei.”

You giggle to yourself at the annoyed tone in Kento’s voice. Oh, you just know that this touched his heart, without any doubt. Even if he’d never admit it.

“Sorry, it’s just that I think I can learn a lot from you. Gojo-sensei told me about your abilities and I want to be as good as you someday!”

Your heart melts in an instant against the wall, a gently smile plastered on your face. What a sweet boy. Is he the one Gojo talked about earlier, the new student who just arrived named Yuji?

“I’m just here to do my work, Itadori”, your boyfriend remarks dryly.

You bet he crossed his arms in front of his chest, his tall figure lingering over the boy as if he wouldn’t care about his words at all. But you know him better than that. You know he’ll tell you about all the things this student said just before drifting off to sleep that night. Your fingertips begin to tickle, body aching to move closer to the door, to enter it, to finally see your boyfriend again. It’s been so long since you last saw him him, months without sinking into his opened arms.

Fuck it.

“Kento”, you breathe out, body stumbling through the door when you finally catch a glimpse of him.

Oh, he looks just as good as you imagined. Hair neatly trimmed as usual, broad chest covered by his dark blue shirt with his sleeved rolled up ever so slightly and his strong arms crossed.

The eyes of the boy in front of him widen, a bright grin forming on his lips when catching a glimpse of you.

“You must be the new student. Welcome at Jujutsu High! My name is (y/n) and I am a grade 1 sorcerer and this man’s girlfriend. If you have any questions don’t hesitate to call me”, you interduce yourself warmly along with giving him a soft clap on his shoulder.

“You are Nanami-sensei’s girlfriend?”, he repeats without thinking twice.

“Don’t call me that”, Kento grumbles.

“It’s so nice to finally see you again, sweetheart. I missed you”, he continues, placing his hand around your waist in a way that makes you see stars.

Your heart skips a beat, body falling against his in an instant. If he only knew how much you missed him too, how much it touches you to finally be able to lean against his shoulder again. But you will have to put your longing feelings aside until the evening. After all, Kento still has work to do as it seems.

“It’s an honour to meet you, (y/n)-sensei! I hope to work with you someday.”

“Oh, you definitely will”, you giggle at the sweet boy with pink hair in front of you.

“I’ll leave now for my mission.”

“Wait”, Nanami interrupts immediately.

You look up at your boyfriend in surprise. Why is his jaw suddenly so tight?

“There is no way I will let you go there alone.”

“But Nanami-sensei-”

“Don’t call me that. As far as I know, this might be a grade 1 curse. I won’t let you go on your own.”

Oh god, he’s worried. Despite he tries to hide it so miserably, it’s written on his slightly scrunched up face.

You desperately try to hide the grin that starts creeping up your facial features from your boyfriend, covering your cheeky mouth with your hand. It was rare for you to actually see him around his students. And while you know very well how much he cares for him, you never thought he’d sound like a full-on dad while talking to them.

“So you’ll come with me?”

The eyes from the boy in front of you light up immediately, jumping up and down in joy while your boyfriend signs next to you.

“Come on, show a little mercy”, you mutter into his ear amused.

“Get going, Itadori-kun. I don’t want to be late for dinner.”

“Of course, Nanami-sensei. Oh, it was really nice to meet you, (y/n)-sensei, I really hope I’ll see you again someday.”

“Come on or we’ll be late”, your boyfriend protests.

-later that evening-

“How are you doing, love? Does it still hurt?”

Gently, you rub the ointment on the minor wound that is left on his right side, eyes locked with his gorgeous ones.

“Don’t worry, I’m alright. It’s Itadori-kun I’m worried about.”

“You seem to really care about this boy”, you comment softly, hands busy with bandaging him up.

“Not in the way you suggest”, he immediately replies, serious eyes locking with yours.

Pictures of your first encounter with Yuji flood your mind, how your boyfriend spoke to him and refused to let him go on his own. And even now, he seems to have this boy on his precious mind.

“You kinda act like a dad though.”

His eyes widen in horror, hand grabbing your shoulder faster than you’re able to react.

“That’s not true.”

“I doubt it”, you challenge him with a bright smile, bursting out in uncontrollable giggling.

With a swift motion he places himself on top of you, staring down at you in all seriousness with a minor spark of humour glimmering in his eyes while you can’t catch your breath from all the laughter.

“I’m not acting like a dad.”

“Oh, you totally do”, you press out, the sheer weight of his immense body on top of yours making it hard to breathe along with snickering your heart out.

“I just don’t want him to get hurt. He’s still in his first year and new at Jujutsu High. Also, I’m not fully convinced that Gojo takes good care of him”, Nanami explains briefly.

“Well, that’s exactly what good dads do.”

“(y/n)”, he warns you.

He wraps his arms around you so tightly that you aren’t even able to see his face anymore, dying of laughter against his chest while making a few miserable attempts to free yourself out of his grip. God, how much you love that man. How much you love the way he cares about others while not admitting to himself, how he looks after people before thinking even about himself. Kento Nanami has a heart made out of pure gold that he shows far too rare.

“But do you…do you really think I’d be a good dad?”

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny

[belokhvostikova]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Oral (female receiving) and a really bad joke.

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

It had been an hour of nonstop, "Eds... Ed... Eddie... Edward?"

But no variation of his name could pull his concentrated eyes from his beloved journal, tormented with the indenting stabs of a pencil, as the gears in his brain were proffering idea after idea for Friday's upcoming campaign.

Hunched, and creating a divot at the end of his bed where his body weight dug into, a whirlwind of wicked sorcery, turned dark wizards, eventually leading to battling evil cultists had captivated his attention, sparing him from the fact that girl laid naked his bed.

In his defense, his freckled back had been turned to you, where you sat perched by his pillows, homework in hand. But when angular momentum and torque became boring, and sprinkled moles on his skin suddenly became enticing, as your teeth sunk into your puckered lip at the moistening realization that Eddie Munson had a strong back.

Large expanse, kissable skin, moving muscles toning at any flexion of his upper body; just oh so utterly, hypnotizingly, leg clenching worthy. So can you really be blamed when the bright idea of being rid of your clothes suddenly came about? No, you can't. In fact, a horny finger could always be pointed to the man, himself, for the reason as to why your underwear got sticky when completing your Mrs. Wilson's physics homework.

Because it surely wasn't rotational statics.

As quiet as could be, your thumbs dipped below the waistband of your shorts, hooking onto the elastic cotton of your underwear, where both articles made the journey down your legs, lifting your ass to make the movement smoothly. Your t-shirt quickly followed, nothing of any trouble, letting your breasts fall free as the universe intended.

You could audibly hear the pencil scribbling the chicken scratch that was your boyfriend's handwriting, when you sat up to feel your knees shove into his lumpy mattress; probably some fantastical enchantment that you wouldn't understand, but so deeply care about if it meant seeing Eddie's shining face whenever he'd tell you about it.

Hushed movements led you towards him, where the gentle touch of your fingertips upon his broad shoulders elicited a hum of activation from him. But it hadn't been until your grip tightened, pulling his body back, that his attention was pulled away from his notebook, as he was abruptly being met with the surprise of your cunt hovering over his head, as he hit the mattress.

A book and pencil dropped, as no time was wasted when your body sunk onto his welcoming mouth. Eddie's large hands were quick to snake a hold onto the fat of your ass to have you seated on his lips, encouraging your hips to hump what was yours. That lingering fear of potentially crushing him that he hated was no longer being accepted on his terms.

You were sat.

"Mm, just didn't want- ugh," you gasped, as the sharp tip of his tongue parted your slick folds to pour your juiced into his mouth, "didn't want you to get tunnel vision- fuck, Eddie!"

"Uh-huh!" His moans vibrated through your pussy, as his lips latched onto your pulsating clit, only to abuse it with the suctioning shake of his head. Yours fingers clawed at his bare chest, where your palms found the support to gyrate your hips. "Only vision I see is me in your tunnel."

Unbelievable. Airy chuckles escaped your mouth, as your fingers were brisk to pinch his growing bulge through the stretching material of his sweatpants in retaliation. His legs jolted, attempting to squirm away, as he laughed into your pussy, only drawing more moans from you atop, as his boyish cackles only gave way for more tremoring sensations against your oozing cunt.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Short smut while I find the will to write long smut.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 16

Jason Todd + leather or Latex

I had like, no ideas what to do with this prompt ngl, so I just kinda went with whatever came to me when writing.

Crime lord Red Hood has always had a special place in my heart

Kinktober 2023 masterlist.

Working for The Red Hood wasn’t too bad, especially compared to the other rogues you’d had to work for in the past. With Hood you didn’t have to fear suddenly being shot because Two-face suddenly felt like it, or being eaten by whatever plants Ivy had conjured up, or answering whatever riddles the Riddler came up with that day.

Best part was probably the uniform though. All rogues put their people in specific clothes. For the joker it was clown masks and all that junk, Riddler wanted you in stuff with question mark print, penguin wanted you well dressed in suit and tie, the list went on. For Hood just wearing red seemed to be enough. Most seemed to just resort to wearing a red hoodie under their jacket, and that was enough.

Interestingly enough, working for Hood also came with some benefits, like being allowed to keep stuff from different conflicts as long as it didn’t cause issues for Hood. That was where you found your first leather, some rich guy from Metropolis tried to set up in Gotham and was quickly dealt with. If Gotham hated anyone more than each other, it was outsiders trying to barge in and make a name for themselves.

The guy had been wearing a sturdy but not too flashy leather jacket, so after checking the pockets and for bullet holes and seeing it in one piece, you tucked it over your arm and brought it home. You had to cut the tags out and changed the inner fabric to something cheaper, and most importantly, into something red, but the quality was no lie.

You realized you might have had a thing for Leather one night when you had needed to go out for some small run for Hood, and you’d been too tired and lazy to put on a shirt. You ended up going out in a pair of low waisted denim pants, some well worn boots, and your jacket. No one batted an eye, at all, seeing a shirtless guy was far from the weirdest shit in Gotham, but the feel of leather on your skin seemed to have lit something inside you.

After that you might have subconsciously started looking for the stuff whenever you went on raids or into fights for Hood and his territory. Who cared if you stole some hotshot from star cities leather west and hat, or that guy from Texas whose black leather boots you stole right off his feet. You didn’t touch the pants though, even though you really really wanted too, you just didn’t trust them not to be contaminated by all kinds of junk.

You honestly thought you hid it pretty well, your draw to leather that is. Everyone had their thing, and you always wearing your jacket and boots was just something you did. If you went home to get dressed all the way down to just your jacket and boots though to jerk off was another thing entirely.

But it seemed your draw to the last targets pants hadn’t gone fully unnoticed by your boss. Imagine your surprise when he shoved a package into your arms one night and told you to only check it when you got home, the modulator of his helmet making him seem way more serious than he probably was.

You wouldn’t say you were outright friends with Hood, no one could really be friends with their boss in the criminal world, but you cracked jokes with the guy and even got him to laugh on the regular. You patched him up when he needed it, and he dragged you to Leslie’s clinic when you got knocked around a bit too hard, which happened more than you liked to admit.

When you got home you had almost assumed that the package would hold weapons or maybe even drugs, even though Hood didn’t personally deal the stuff. But instead, you found what you immediately noticed was leather, a card placed on top of the neatly folded leather. The letter was in Hoods writing, and you felt your face heat up a tad at the words on the page.

“Next time just let me buy it for you instead of stealing it off bodies” it said, and when you unfolded the leather, you felt your insides flutter. It was pants, they seemed even better quality than the ones you had been eying the night before. But it wasn’t just pants, there was a newer jacket, it was brown and heavy and was very well worn, and when you held it out in front of you, you could see it was one of Hoods own jackets.

You could feel blood running downwards, leaving you fumbling with your clothes as you got undressed, feeling almost desperate to pull the pants up your legs and hips. They were tight, but not too tight, and there was no question about the quality. Your original jacket fell to the ground with a heavy thud, your fingers quickly grabbing the heavy well-loved leather of the brown jacket and pulling it on, a shaky breath leaving you as the smell that was so clearly Hood filled your senses.

It smelled like leather, gun oil, the cigarettes he smoked when he was annoyed or on edge, and something undeniably Hood, and it had you tenting your new pants. Or tenting as well as one could in leather, which meant it was more a visible bulge running down the inside of your thigh. It had felt so good on your skin that you had found yourself grinding against your hand on your couch like some inexperienced fool. Your back had arched off the couch as you stained the inside of your pants, the leather growing slick against you as you groaned.

It was only later when cleaning the leather that you noticed the writing in the waistband, near the back so it would sit near the bottom of your spine. “Red Hood” it said, like some kind of statement of ownership, and you had shivered and exhaled shakily, rubbing a hand over your face to dispel the thoughts it awoke in your body.

Next time you saw Hood you had worn the pants, but the jacket was left at home. The worn jacket didn’t go well with the newer shinier leather of the pants, so it was your normal jacket and boots, which had some of your friends joke a bit about you being some kind of leather daddy because of your interest in the stuff. You had let the jokes run off your back, joking along every now and then.

You hadn’t even noticed Hood being there until he had appeared behind you, his gloved hand grabbing your ass and giving it a squeeze. Youd almost snapped around and decked him, assuming it was someone else, that was until you heard his modulated voice. “You’re wearing my gift. You like it?” he purred obviously enough that you could hear it even through the voice changer.

You could feel your skin growing clammy as you gave a small nod, not even daring to look at hood as he pressed his crotch against your back, his erection obvious even through all your shared layers. “Good, you look so hot in it” he rumbled, giving your thighs an extra squeeze before he stepped back and wandered off, leaving you unsteady on your feet as you tried to force the obvious hard shape in your pants away, for once cursing how tight they were.

It continued on this way for a while, Hood leaving you presents, and you would wear them around his headquarters. It was never expensive or high quality enough for anyone to target you, but Hood seemed to enjoy it very much. It felt almost like having a sugar daddy or some kind, but he had never demanded much sugar, only grabbing your ass at times, or rubbing his hands up and down your torso that time you’d worn a leather shirt under your jacket.

He was a tease, and you could hear the shit eating grin through his helmet as you ground against his thick thigh one day. You felt so wound up from his lingering touches that you had found yourself in his office one day, or what you guys called his office anyways. Maybe you wanted a fight of some kind, you weren’t sure, but one thing led to another, and you pinned up against the wall, his thigh between your own.

And now you were grinding against his thigh like some kind of pervert, your fingers digging into the worn leather of his jacket as you gasped into his shoulder. You didn’t even notice as he pulled off his gloves or spat on his fingers, it was only when one of his hands was shoved down the back of your leather pants and between your cheeks that you realised. A groan left you as he rubbed the pad of his finger against your pucker, his voice cocky as he asked if this was what you wanted.

You tried to glare at him, but it only seemed to fuel him more as Hood pushed his finger inside, letting you adjust before he started moving to the best of his ability, your tight pants not leaving much room to move his wrist. The stimulation was driving you crazy, the tight leather of your pants doing nothing to lessen the experience as you ground forwards into his thigh, before you pushed back onto his hand.

Running your hands down his torso and up his shirt, you could keep the moan from leaving you as you felt something too smooth and slick to be leather. It was Latex, he was wearing a latex shirt under everything else, maybe it was even a full body thing as it continued as you thumbed at the waistband of his pants.

Your exploring just seemed to fuel him more as Hood added not just a second but a third finger at the same time, letting you just barely adjust to the stretch before he started moving his hand once more, causing you to grind harder against his thigh.

It was impossible to fight back the orgasm that rocked through you, thoroughly slicking up the crotch area of your leather pants as there was no fabric to soak it up, letting it splatter against your thighs and lower body. You could feel yourself twitch a bit as Hood removed his fingers, instead grabbing onto your hips and lifting you up, making your legs wrap around his waist.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to ask what he was up too as he walked backwards, plopping down on his chair with you in his lap, sighing softly as he started rubbing his hands up your torso, flicking your chest through the leather shirt you had chosen to wear. “You alright baby?” he asked, voice warm and caring, leaving you feeling all types of mushy.

You just scoffed and leaned forwards, resting against his broad shoulders and coiling your arms around him. Hood rubbed your back for a while before rolling his chair close to his desk, the taping of keys letting you know he was working on one thing or the other. In the end you found yourself with both your hands up his shirt, rubbing at his latex covered torso as you rocked lazily against his thigh, no hurry in your movements as you knew you had all night, and it would happen soon if the twitching bulge between Hoods thighs meant anything.

[nothomegal]

ITS CHRISTMAS EVE (or at least where I live bc timezones) and I would like to gove Pyramid Head smoochies under mistletoe pls 😌

Aww I was having this idea too! And since it's Christmas allow me to bless you with a drawing!...

...And a lilttle one-shot!

"Mistletoe"

(Pyramid Head x GN Reader)

Warning: suggestive implications by the end, but mostly fluff!

Word Count: 1k

Christmas was always a funny holiday for (Y/N). Either because they never truly felt connected to it or because they haven't felt the 'magic of Christmas' since childhood. Don't get me wrong, they would still put some decorations when they could, but ever since they came to Silent Hill such tradition was lost.

Not like they mind it too much though, they already have the absolute best gift and company they could ever ask for! Just tell me, who in their right mind would be upset about having a nearly 8ft tall demi-god creature as your forever partner? You have to be chronically insane to turn down such blessing!

And speaking of the creature, (Y/N)'s daydream was interrupted when a large hand curled around their arm and stopped them. They shoot a curious glance to their lover, who was already looking at whatever got his attention.

Right above them, placed on the old metallic door frame with, what they suppose is duct tape, were hangign a bunch of oddly shaped pieces of paper. Some pieces where green, others painted green, and all of them where kept together with a piece of damaged red cloth that was tied as a bow.

(Y/N) stares at that weird construction with furrowed brows, really trying to grasp what the hell they're looking at. Pyra was still as well, but his head tilted towards his human as he curiously observes their reaction. Seems like they too have no clue what is this-.

However, (Y/N) manages to make out the shape of it and instantly burst out laughing.

—"No way! No way someone actually made one!"— you say between laughs.

The beast simply observes them, letting out a low wondering rumble. Is that another pointless joke humans have? (Y/N) is laughing hard so it must be something very funny or very stupid.

After the laughter had ceased, (Y/N) takes a look at their monster and suddenly remember what he wanted in the first place. Oh, right. They were supposed to explain what is that.

—"Okay, okay."— you say between giggles as you point at the object. —"That thing over there is supposed to be a mistletoe. Remember when I told you about Christmas and how people decorate that one fuzzy tree? Well, this thing is also kinda a Christmas tradition. People hang it somewhere high and when two step or pass underneath it, they have to kiss."—

While (Y/N) explains, Pyra listens to them carefully. But the second they mention the kiss part, the air between them shifts and becomes... Odd. And Pyra himself still, way too still.

(Y/N) of course feels the change, and is quick to start clarifying.

—"But of course, it's optional. It's not like you're forced to kiss anyone. If anything, I never did! So I suppose this will remain as a silly tradition some-"—

Their speech is replaced by a tiny gasp when the monster suddenly grabs their jaw, gently lifting and moving their gaze where he needed. Their eyes narrow slightly when they noticed a tongue peek out from his helmet and slowly, almost shily, wiggle towards their face.

—"Aww. What a polite guy."— you chuckle as a little blush creeps on your cheeks. —"Well of course I'll give you a kiss."—

Ever since they introduced this new method of showing affection, it wasn't rare to witness Pyra ask for a 'kiss' once or twice. It's kinda funny to see how shy he gets, always taking it slow and giving them enough time to stop or pull away. Do they do that? Nuh-uh! Do they think it feels gross? Weird, yes. But (Y/N) is deranged so it's fine.

The pink muscle soon presses against their lips, and they respond by giving it a kiss while holding it in place gently, totally unbothered by its wet and slippery texture. They could feel Pyra practically melt into the gesture, he does it every time. It's small, but is the closest they can get to an actual kiss, and the intimacy and specialness of it seems to get the beast to his very core.

After some second, when (Y/N) attempts to lean back, a pair of big arms gets a hold around them, cementing them in place completely and pulling them closer to the monster. The said beast lets out a low menacing growl as his tongue licks their cheek and part of the jaw. The message was clear...

M̵̞͔̥̏̌̊o̷͕͒̓͑ͅŗ̷̭̝̓̾e̵̠̤͓̅̒̋.

He wanted more.

Despite the apparentaly hostile growls, (Y/N) showed no intimidation and simply chuckled as they roll their eyes.

—"Someone is feeling frisky, huh?"—

Another, and a bit louder, growl resonated from inside the beast's helmet. His grip around them tightening and the tongue sliding along their lips, almost begging for them to kiss it again.

—"Calm down tiger. We both know if we continue you'll get too carried on."— you coo, sliding one of your hands along one side of his helmet.

He groans with certain displeasure, but his grip soon losens as he slightly tilts his head into their touch, yet he doesn't let go neither.

—"If you're really feeling like doing it then let's go somewhere else. You don't want anyone to see me naked, don't you?"—

This time their answer is no longuer a growl or a sound, but the same pair of big hands lighting their form up and swinging over a broad shoulder.

Before starting to walk however, the monster reaches up and snatches the little paper mistletoe. (Y/N) of course notices that and can't hold back the little laugh.

—"Well well, see you really liked this particular tradition."—

They get no response as the monster resumes his walking. But the small squeeze on one of their thighs was enough proof to know that they got it right and it won't be the last time the see the little item.

After this little interaction, and probably after what's about to come, (Y/N) doubts to ever be able to feel that magic of Christmas again.

However, they realize that they still experienced something new. The magic of the mistletoe.

Is that an actual thing? Who knows.

But it worked on Pyra so it must be a thing, right?

It worked well after all.

...Too well.

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Six - Splendid

♡♡♡

"Eloise Bridgerton."

Benedict calls his sister when he finds her smoking on the swing set in their garden. He sounded stern, as if scolding her.

Eloise groans softly as she turns on the swing. "Go on, then." She lifts the cigarette to her lips. "Chastise me."

"Spare one for me?" He asks.

Eloise is surprised by his question. He comes and sits on the other swing beside her. She holds a cigarette out to him, and he takes it, putting it between his lips and lighting it.

"Suppose I desire something different." Eloise says.

"How do you mean?"

"Just different. I watch Daphne prepare for these balls with all of those dresses and the many suitors, and I am exhausted. Suppose I want a different life, Benedict. That I truly believe I am quite capable of something more, even when I'm not allowed to have anything else."

"Then I would say... that you're not the only one." He looks at her. They smile at each other.

♡♡♡

With the next edition of Whistledown comes fascinating gossip. You find yourself, for once, clutching the paper with the need to read more.

It has become apparent that Lord Berbrooke has a child out of wedlock, and not only that, with a maid he had sent away before the child was even born. He pays nothing for the child, it seems.

Your mother had been gossiping about with the other ladies she had over for afternoon tea. In turn, their maids had gone off to gossip further.

Word spread like wildfire.

The next day, Lord Berbrooke had left town suddenly.

You made it a point to go visit Daphne. You were taken up to the drawing room where she awaited you, a smile on her face as you came in.

"It's nice of you to visit."

You take a seat with her. "I wanted to see how you were."

"I have expected you come see my brother," she admits.

"Benedict? As much as he has become my friend, I felt the need to come see you. Are you alright?"

"I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders." She smiles softly. "I am glad he is gone."

"As am I. Wretched man, he was."

You both giggle softly.

"So, the duke? He is still on your favour?" You ask.

Daphne goes silent for a moment, and then her face twitches. A realisation. The realisation she must still pretend.

"Ah, yes." She smiles.

You smile in return and take her hand. "You make a most handsome couple."

"Thank you." Her voice wavers.

You do not bring up Hastings or Berbrooke again as you have tea with Daphne. The conversation becomes pleasant. Daphne finds herself talking to you about anything that comes to mind. Not once has any of her siblings sat down and listened to her like this.

It felt nice. Really nice.

An hour passes, and you find the teapot has been emptied twice in that time. There are no more biscuits to share either. You rise from the soft sofa and gather you purse.

"Thank you for letting me visit."

"Oh, nonsense. You are always welcome." Daphne smiles.

"I shall visit again then."

Daphne looks pleased by your words.

"Benedict will be so disappointed you came by and didn't stop to see him."

You chuckle. "Let him suffer. It may humble him."

Daphne chuckles and sees you out.

♡♡♡

The next ball is as dazzling as the others. You swear with each one, Daphne gets more and more beautiful. She enters with the Duke. Of course, everyone sees.

You entered with your mother, no one paying you any mind what so ever. Not that you minded any more. You had come to terms that no one would visit you.

As Simon and Daphne dance, you decide to take a walk. You have no idea what it is they discuss when alone together.

You keep your eyes peeled for any familiar faces. Yet, no one else is present in this current room.

Meanwhile, Daphne parts from Simon and is approached by another gentleman. Her wish to find a husband and have a family may very well come true.

As you enter the next room, you find Anthony in there talking with some others. His gaze lands on you, and he excuses himself from the current conversation. He approaches you.

You smile and bow your head. "Lord Bridgerton."

"Anthony, please. You call my brothers by their name."

You smile. "Anthony."

"Benedict isn't here, I'm afraid. He has elected to sit this one out. May I have the honour?" He holds out his hand.

You take a moment to take in his request. Anthony was head of his family. A viscount. Dancing with him would surely bring you attention.

You place your hand in his. "You may."

Anthony takes you back into the other room and leads you to the dance floor. He holds you as a gentleman should while dancing with a lady. You both move with the music.

Anthony look very firm as he dances with you.

"I must say, this is an honour."

"Is it?" He asks.

"I never see you dance."

"No. I suppose not. I am not beyond dancing with friends." He says kindly.

"Then I am even more so honoured to be considered such."

You both continue dancing until the music ends. You curtsy, he bows. Anthony takes your hand and leads you back to the side of the room. With swift ease, he marks his name down on your dance card.

"I shall see to it you are never left without a dance partner, my lady," he says with a bow.

You smile.

As Anthony returns to the party, you find yourself now being looked at by others. There are gentlemen looking your way.

Could it be true that Daphne is not the only one who can shine?

Soon, you are dancing again, and a few more names are scribbled across your dance card.

You think, perhaps, Daphne Bridgerton is your good luck charm.

It makes you giddy.

Safe to say, your night was splendid indeed.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd -

@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @captainlunaxmen - @winchestersimpalababy -

[canmom]

How do you live?

I (finally!) saw Miyazaki's new film 君たちはどう生きるか (How Do You Live?/The Boy and the Heron)! It's been out in the States for a while, and in Japan considerably longer, but it took a while to make its way over here.

I remember at the time it came out, people were having fun riffing on the incredibly cryptic marketing campaign, which consisted only of this rather abstract poster...

In the spirit of this, I resolutely avoided watching any trailers or knowing anything at all about the plot of the film. I picked up a thing or two here and there - I knew to expect some amazing Shinya Ohira animation for example, and you couldn't really avoid seeing the bird with teeth! - but overall, I had no idea.

There's plenty of great writing about this film in English already, such as kvin's fantastic sakugablog piece which discusses the physicality of Ghibli's animation, its weight and springiness, as a throughline. The stuff that kvin talks about really stood out to me as I watched this film. You can likewise read detailed interviews with Toshiyuki Inoue (fantastic interview for sakubutas) and Akihiko Yamashita on fufuro.

First up, the credits of this film are pretty much a who's who of the greatest jp animators of the last 30 years, and they've had some 7 years to cook it, so naturally this film looks fucking amazing. This is absolutely the kind of film that only Miyazaki could direct - its design language feels so familiar and yet it's iterating in all kinds of visually imaginative directions that show that yeah, the old bastard's still got it.

And like, god, man. This film's animation is really something special. Its real-world scenes in particular are full of shots that require an unbelievably strong sense of space, of both subtle and broad acting, the classic Ghibli attention to detail on mechanical objects and everyday tasks. It's full of bouncing and squishing and squeezing and oozing things. It loves to draw crowds and swarms of people and animals. It's the kind of film where any given shot would be the absolute star-of-the-show sakuga moment in just about any other anime film. If you wanted a complete statement of the Ghibli school of animation, it would be hard to do better.

And yet, for all that Miyazaki's known for his tight control over animation and heavy corrections to animators, in this film he had to step back from that kind of role and hand over the sousakkan reins to Takeshi Honda, who steps up admirably - as kvin writes above, bringing in more realist elements to the bouncy Miyazaki style to create a really effective unity that grounds all the big fantastical elements of the film and fills the first act with tension.

Alongside all that excellent key animation, the film's colour and photography departments evidently understand that well-chosen colours and good highlight shapes beat all the digital gradients and overlays you can imagine - the drawings get plenty of form from the strength of the animation, and the flat shading really pops. The backgrounds are as delicious as ever, skyscapes and vegetation and opulent interiors with the just-slightly desaturated and harmonious colours that just kind of remind you that oh yeah, it is still possible to do it this way.

Basically it's a Ghibli film lol. You know how it is.

But what of the story...? What's all this technical magic in service of?

The film's story has something of the feel of a serial story, perhaps reflecting Miyazaki's (in)famous process of working out the film gradually as he draws the storyboards. Certain ideas, like the parakeet empire, arrive in the film rather suddenly and then become fairly central to the plot. There's a clear emotional throughline, but this is not a film that is in a hurry to explain itself more than it absolutely has to. It wants to keep its magical elements numinous and mysterious. I would say, though, it's generally more satisfying in this approach than some of Miyazaki's other later films like Howl's Moving Castle, and resolves a lot more clearly.

So what is it like, About? Well, Miyazaki has been pretty open about channeling a lot of his personal relationships into the film, and a lot of it seems to reflect more or less obliquely on him. It's what they call a 'personal film'. The protagonist's position as the son of an aeroplane factory owner during WWII is straight-up from life. What about the old sorcerer, haphazardly stacking blocks to keep a world alive, and looking for someone to succeed him? The reading's kinda obvious, even if Miya himself says this guy is based on his memory of Takahata. Well, he can be both...

To say more I'm gonna have to delve into the spoiler zone. See you below the cut.

OK so! Let's try and get some thoughts in order.

first, a plot summary type of thing

Our first act introduces us to Mahito at roughly the moment his mother Hisako dies in a hospital fire. This is midway through the war, which is present mostly in the background - now and then we see soldiers marching around, and of course Mahito's dad runs a factory producing warplane parts, not entirely unlike Miyazaki's own father although seemingly a bit higher up the ladder.

We jump forward a little and Mahito's father remarries - to his deceased wife's sister, no less, and she's already pregnant. This is Natsuko, who does her best to play the role of mother, but Mahito still has big traumas and he is understandably not entirely on board with the idea of welcoming a mum 2 who looks almost exactly like mum 1. He moves with Natsuko into a huge old house complex, a mix of older Japanese architecture with a more recent Western wing where the family currently sleeps - and staffed by a small army of colourful old ladies who are eager for any canned meat or cigarettes they can get their hands on.

Also there's this freaky heron that keeps bothering Mahito. It seems to have something to do with a mysterious tower which turns out to have been built by his great-uncle. Mahito visits the tower, but can't make his way inside. Natsuko tells him not to go into the tower.

Mahito goes to school, but naturally they don't much take to the new rich kid on the block, and so after being attacked by his classmates on his way home he injures himself with a rock. (His dumbass dad is like, who did this to you son, I'll fuck 'em up.) For the rest of the movie, he has half his head shaved to accomodate a bandage, which is the sort of attention to detail this movie loves.

The heron has started growing teeth and talking to Mahito, telling him to come to the tower. Mahito is convinced it's a trap, and after a maybe-dream sequence in which Natsuko shoots an arrow to drive off the heron, he steals cigarettes from Natsuko in order to get one of the servants to sharpen his knife, and then constructs a bow and arrow out of bamboo - using a couple of the heron's feathers. Constructing the bow and arrow is shown in immense, loving detail.

In the process, he witnesses Natsuko walk into the forest, and also stumbles on a book: How Do You Live? by Genzaburō Yoshino, which contains a handwritten message from his mother. He looks at this book briefly... and this is about the extent of the connection of the film to the book, beyond thematic parallels.

The maids notice that Natsuko is missing. Mahito tells one of the maids, Kiriko, that he saw her go into the forest, and they follow, finding an old road that gives another approach to the tower. They're greated by the heron man, who is increasingly emerging from the heron's beak to reveal a big warty nose. He's some kind of like... heron selkie or something, a gnome in a heron skin. There's some wonderfully grotesque animation around this guy.

Heron dude taunts Mahito with an illusion of his mother Hisako. Mahito threatens him with the bow - the heron guy is like, do your worst, not realising it's a maaagic arrow. The arrow chases him around the room and pierces his beak, fucking up his magic. At this point, the tower master shows up and orders the heron to guide Mahito. Heron guy sends everyone through the floor into a fantastical world...

Mahito arrives in front of a huge, sinister tomb. He approaches the gate, and a swarm of pelicans walk up behind, crawling all over him and pressing him through the gate. This causes a storm to start brewing, since opening the gate seems to piss off the stones or something...

A fisher woman resembling a much younger Kiriko runs up and chases the pelicans away. She takes Mahito under her wing, explaining that this world is inhabited mostly by dead people, but there are also these little round guys called the wareware, who gain the ability to fly when they eat a fish's guts.

Kiriko, uniquely in this world, has the ability to kill, so she catches fish to sell to the other inhabitants and feed to the wareware; she and Mahito butcher a huge fish. Mahito fairly quickly figures out that she is somehow the same Kiriko that entered with him. She has tiny charms representing the other maids, which serve an apotropaic function.

That night, staying on Kiriko's huge derelict ship of a home, they watch the wareware rise into the sky to be born as humans in Mahito's world. They're attacked by the pelicans, but a fire-wielding magic user called Hisa (hmmmmmmmmmm) drives the pelicans away. Mahito shouts at her not to harm the wareware, but Kiriko assures him that more of the wareware will survive thanks to Hisa's intervention.

Later, a singed and dying pelican explains the pelicans' predicament to Mahito in a scene that calls to mind the animals in Mononoke-hime. The pelicans are foreigners in this world, they don't have anything to eat, so they take it as their role to eat the wareware. The heron man arrives on the scene too, offering to help Mahito find Natsuko as Mahito - coming in to his own as a protagonist more - buries the pelican. Mahito distrusts him but eventually Kiriko persuades them to give working together a try.

Mahito and the heron set out. As they pass through a forest, the heron reveals that thanks to Mahito's arrow, he can't fly and do heron shit anymore - and by magic law, only Mahito can fix the hole. Mahito applies his new woodworking skills to fashion a bung for the hole. The heron tries to stage a top 10 anime betrayal, but then the bung needs more work, so Mahito fixes it, and from that point on, the heron joins the party and he and Mahito are fast friends.

(You might wonder why I just call him 'the heron' and not by a name. He never gets named! He's just the heron man.)

Mahito and the heron arrive at the house of a blacksmith who's supposed to help them find Natsuko, only to find it guarded by big buff parakeet men. The parakeets are splendidly goofy round guys - they remind me of the heedra in Nausicaa. The heron draws the parakeets away, and Mahito enters the house, only to find, uh oh! More parakeets. The parakeets prepare to eat Mahito, who is not carrying a child and therefore fair game unlike Natsuko, but Hisa shows up and burns them with fire magic. She looks just like a young version of Mahito's mum! Funny that. Hisa helps Mahito escape into her house through the fire, and then takes him to infiltrate the parakeets' empire.

In the human world, the maids explain the backstory of the tower to Mahito's dad. It's a weird meteorite that came from space, it turns out, and Mahito's great-uncle built the tower on top of it before eventually disappearing inside. Mahito's dad overprepares in an elaborate getup complete with katana, and goes to try to rescue everyone.

Hisa leads Mahito to a corridor full of doors which open into all the different worlds, including his own world. Mahito briefly glimpses his dad coming to try and rescue him - the two see each other briefly, but the parakeets catch wind of the whole thing and attack, and so Mahito and Hisa have to flee back into the magical world. We see that the parakeet guys turn into regular parakeets when they come into the human world. Mahito's dad becomes convinced he turned into a parakeet.

Mahito and Hisa make their way to the delivery room where Natsuko is resting, waiting to give birth. On their way, lightning starts emerging from the stone - Hisa explains that the stone is sentient and pissed with them. Mahito insists on approaching Natsuko despite this being a huge taboo. They have a heart to heart - Natsuko's mask breaks and she tells Mahito she hates him, while he finally starts calling her mother, as he's assaulted by paper charms that tear at him violently. They part, with Hisa burning the charms to free Mahito, but it's too much and they both pass out.

Mahito dreams of meeting the sorcerer, who stacks irregularly shaped wooden blocks, and explains that stacking the blocks is necessary to maintain the world, buying a few days at a time. The sorcerer reveals the huge flying rock that is the source of his power; he also shows Mahito some blocks, but Mahito somehow divines that these blocks are 'stone for building tombs' and stained with malice. The sorcerer approvingly says this is a good sign for Mahito's ability to succeed him.

While they were asleep, the parakeets have captured Hisa and Mahito. One of them is preparing to eat Mahito, but the heron arrives just in time to save him. They Metal Gear Solid their way through the kingdom while the Parakeet King - a big swaggering guy very like the colonel in Castle in the Sky - goes to press a claim on the wizard, using Hisa and Mahitos' taboo act of entering the delivery room as a bargaining chip. There's some very funny scenes where the parakeets cheer for their king.

Mahito pursues the parakeet king, but the king destroys the staircase behind him, and talks to the sorcerer. The sorcerer is inclined to wave away the transgression, because he wants to let Mahito succeed him, but the parakeet king seems to be bringing him around. I kind of forget how this part went, but the parakeet king goes away from the sorcerer for a bit while Hisa is freed from her prison thing.

Mahito climbs back up with the heron man's help, arriving in the sorcerer's little subplane. The parakeet king quietly follows him, after telling his aides to inform his subjects he was a good king. Mahito approaches the sorcerer, who reveals he has found a new set of blocks, unstained by malice, and again invites Mahito to succeed him. Mahito says that his self-injury is proof of his malice, making him unfit for the job.

At this point, the parakeet king intervenes. Angry at all this sorcerous malarky, he desperately attempts to stack the stones himself, but when they don't stack, he flies into a rage and slices them with his sword. This naturally causes the world to start collapsing, and everyone runs to the doors to escape into the human world.

Mahito has by this point figured out that Hisa is his mum, and he asks if she really wants to go back to their world, knowing that she will very definitely die in a fire not much later. But she is naturally on board with this. Young!Kiriko goes with her, suggesting that she and Hisako entered the magical world at the same time. Meanwhile, Mahito returns to his own time, with Natsuko and the heron. All the various parakeets and pelicans come out through this door too. Old!Kiriko is restored from her apatropaic charm.

As everyone celebrates their safe return (and the appearance of a fuckton of birds), the heron tells Mahito that he ought to forget what happened in the magic world. We skip forward again, with Mahito - now with a baby sibling - setting off to Tokyo. Roll credits!

now let's comment on it

This is not a film that necessarily prioritises an internal logic playing out - new elements enter unexpectedly even quite late in the film. The sorcerer's motivation is murky until late on; the parakeets become major antagonists despite entering only halfway through the film.

There is a certain temptation, knowing how autobiographical this film is, to take it is a roman à clef. Mahito is of course a young Miyazaki; the old sorcerer's concern about finding a successor might be about Miyazaki wondering who should take over Ghibli or if it should just be allowed to die. Under this schema, the parakeets might be Ghibli's legion of fans, or the merchandising empire that prints their designs on every possible product. kvin's article develops this kind of reading, finding some angles I wouldn't have even considered, such as how the idea of weight communicated by the animation factors in to such an allegaroy. It's also something suggested in Miyazaki's own comments about the film, where the sorcerer is Takahata, the heron man is producer Toshio Suzuki...

It definitely helps to know a bit about Miyazaki's background when approaching this film. However, I think it would be reductive to go too far with this kind of reading, and take everything as an allegory for something in Miyazaki's life. The film still has to stand on its own feet!

'Coming of age' is the spin put on it by some outlets, like the BBC. And this is accurate to an extent. The arc of this film is similar to Spirited Away: Mahito starts out sullen and traumatised, but like Chihiro he transitions over the course of his journey in the magical world into the kind of determined Miyazaki protagonist we're used to. On this coming of age angle... well, also like with Chihiro, I don't find the Mahito of the first part of the film especially unsympathetic, his alienation is extremely natural given his situation. Mahito's dad kinda sucks! Living in wartime Japan also really kinda sucks, even if you're the son of a rich dude. But definitely over the course of the film Mahito has a change of heart towards Natsuko, and forms friendships that motivate him to try to protect them. His character arc definitely sees him become 'more prosocial'.

However, there's another angle that's pretty important - the idea of the weight of 'malice', the cursed existences of the pelicans and the like, and the fantasy of building a utopian world that is free of these things. This returns to a theme of Nausicaa, the manga in particular, where Nausicaa discovers that the world she knows - the toxic forest in particular - is actually an elaborate artificial system for cleansing the world of pollutants, that the clean world on the other side will be uninhabitable to her and her people, and that the architects of this system wait in stasis to replace them in this utopian future world. Nausicaa destroys them, commiting instead to an uncertain future.

In Mononoke-hime likewise, we encounter the lepers and former sex workers of Irontown clinging on to the 'cursed' world. Their extractivist project proves incredibly destructive, but the film still regards them sympathetically, and the resolution sees them perhaps finding a new way to live - and San, the feral girl, reconciling herself to the idea of humans.

Here, although the parakeet king forces the decision, Mahito has already declared that he doesn't believe he's fit to oversee a utopia, but instead that his place is in the awful, violent human world.

The film, and the book it's vaguely based on, are titled How do you live? In Japanese, that's a plural 'you' (君たち). There's a lot of ways you could read it, depending on who you take as 'you' - a child asking an adult how to live, or equally a future question of how will you live. This is a lot more explicit in the novel - which I have not read, but here is a summary courtesy of wiki:

Junichi Honda is a fifteen-year-old junior high school student, known by his nickname Koperu, after the astronomer Nicholas Copernicus. He is athletic and academically gifted, and popular at school. Koperu's father, a bank executive, passed away when he was young and he lives with his mother. His uncle (on his mother's side) lives nearby and visits frequently. Koperu and his uncle are very close. Koperu shares about his life and his uncle gives him support and advice. His uncle also documents and comments on these interactions in a diary, with the intent to eventually give the diary to Koperu. The diary writing, which is interspersed with the narrative, provides insight into the ethical and emotional trials that Koperu shared with his uncle. The diary entries, which cover themes such as "view of things", "structure of society", "relation", etc. are in the style of a note written to Koperu.[8]

Thinking like Copernicus that our Earth is a celestial body moving within the vastness of space, or thinking that our Earth is fixed at the center of the universe, are two ways of thinking that, in reality, are not only related to astronomy. Even when we think about things like the world around us or our own lives, the truth is that we are still revolving around them after all.

In the end, Koperu writes a decision on his future way of living as a reply to his uncle, and the novel ends with the narrator asking the question "how do you live?" to the reader.

The author of the novel was a socialist, who had been imprisoned by the nationalist government, and wrote the book intending to impart lessons on ethics. The version of his book published after the war was heavily edited to strip the book of political content. But it's also, perhaps paradoxically, a book that centres on very wealthy characters, aimed narrowly at educated boys, though it became a widely read classic.

Studio Ghibli's films, from both Miyazaki and Takahata, have a habit of being framed as imparting something to the younger generation - something the pair seem to have seen as a mission all the way back in the days of Panda Kopanda. For example, while Grave of the Fireflies is seen as the classic tragic war movie, for Takahata it was also aimed at criticising what he saw as the careless, consumerist generation of the 80s; the stubborn arrogance of the protagonist supposed to reflect on this. It's an attitude that also emerges in their comments about Chihiro. And, indeed, one of the first things we heard about How Do You Live? was that it was aimed towards Miyazaki's grandson - and more broadly towards that generation.

So what does this film have to say to the younger generations? Let's have a look at it from Mahito's POV.

For Mahito, the adults in his life are all pretty complicated. His father is enthusiastic and well-meaning but incredibly oblivious to what his son is going through (we might recall some of what Miyazaki wrote about his father in Starting Point, describing him as basically a grifter). Natsuko is masking pretty hard, trying to play the role of Good New Mum and connect to her newly acquired son, but there's an intrinsic distance. It is understandable that Mahito would want to reject them.

Mahito is... not entirely a passive character, he goes to some efforts to for example fashion the bow and arrow and repair the heron man's beak, but mostly he is pulled around by the plot into a strange world he doesn't understand. At first, his instinct is to retreat, even to the point of self-injury. Once he arrives in the magical world, he has acquired something of a purpose (finding Natsuko), but he gets pushed into near-disaster situations (the pelicans piling up to push him through the gate at the tomb) or stumbles into circumstances where something is expected of him (hey kid, gut this fish!). Gradually though his exposure to this world pulls him out of his shell. He runs into conflicts and injustices that seem intractable - the wareware and the pelicans - and has little power to intervene except to bury the bodies.

Eventually, he gets to carry out his main objective - finding Natsuko - but despite finally deciding to accept Natsuko as his new mother, he finds himself rejected, not just by her but also by the earth. Perhaps feeling responsible for getting her into trouble, his new objective becomes rescuing freshly-damsel'd Hisa. But now new adults want things of him - his great-uncle has decided he'd make a fine successor. Mahito has to make a decision here about what relationships he wants to commit to, what sort of life he wants to build - and he chooses the world he found so alienating at the outset of the film, the one which hurt him by taking his mother, not to the secondary-world fantasy.

It could be a 'this world is all we have' sort of statement, perhaps. But also the last act of the film feels like it gets a bit caught up in Castle in the Sky-style adventure-story beats.

I do feel like some aspects of the film ended up a little underbaked - which is an odd thing to say because it's not a short film and there is so much in it already. But Hisa for example - she's got badass powers and all, but I feel we barely get a chance to get a sense of what motivates her. Why did she enter the fantasy world? She acts at first like she doesn't know Mahito is her future son, but rapidly becomes incredibly devoted to him (in a way that reads a little romancey lmao). So much of her screen time is dedicated to having her convey the secrets of the world that it's hard to get a bead on her as a person.

Likewise, Natsuko - why did she enter this world to have her baby in this special ritual delivery chamber? She clearly knows more than most of the characters, but she gets kind of sidelined after Mahito confronts her, with wizard shit becoming more central. The animation does such a fantastic job of selling her feelings in the first part of the film that it feels like a shame that she drifts away at the end.

The progression of the film feels rather like a dream, where everything is arranged by symbolic significance to Mahito. It makes sense... on a magical level, where the secondary world is shaped primarily by parallels in the real one. So the tiny apatropaic statues of the old ladies protect him because they represent the role the real old ladies have in his life. Hisa has fire magic because Hisako died in a fire. Once Mahito has come to his personal resolutions about returning to the world, the magical one is no longer needed, and it collapses.

This is not such an uncommon role for magic in a story. In Miyazaki's own works, we have Totoro and Spirited Away, where a magical world provides direction or relief to a child's real struggles. Or take for example Okiura's film A Letter To Momo, in which the three yōkai recognise taking care of the grieving Momo as their explicit purpose as spirits. This magical world comes to Mahito to help him come to terms with losing his mother, and reorient himself towards living in a painful world.

Meanwhile, the sorcerer, whether he be Miyazaki or Takahata, is quite a distant figure. He may maintain the magical world by stacking his blocks, may be the authority which factions within it must plead to, but he also rules from afar in a vast empty palace full of long halls and open air spaces. His main company seems to be a big fucking rock, with which he made a 'contract'. He's generally handling it a bit better than, say, Ushiromiya Kinzo - he receives the parakeet king with good humour - but he's a pretty flawed god of his little world. So much of this world seems to pre-exist him, it's not something he constructed. Still, when he shows up, you pretty much have to do what he says.

If this is about Miyazaki's relation to Takahata, it seems like quite a sad portrayal. But 'unapproachable patriarch' does sorta describe their role in the studio from what I understand (c.f. Oshii's infamous article comparing them to the Kremlin).

When it comes to the question of who should succeed Miyazaki, we should probably consider the matter of Yoshifumi Kondō, who was being set up as the next big Ghibli director until his untimely death - which allegedly Takahata was willing to accept the blame for. The mythology built up around Miyazaki and Takahata is double-edged.

Here are some rather startling comments from Toshiyuki Inoue's interview. Inoue is one of the most impressive animators who ever lived in my book, the other star of the realist line besides Okiura. Just have a look at his booru page: iconic scenes from GitS, Akira, Millenium Actress; even in more recent films, he pretty much carried Maquia, and steals the show with his scenes in Miss Hokusai.

And yet even he was intimidated to be working alongside Miyazaki when he first came on board for Kiki's Delivery Service, fresh off Akira:

I believe you’ve always been a fan of Miyazaki’s, why were you scared to work with him? Toshiyuki Inoue: I had heard quite a few scary stories. A lot of acquaintances had worked on Nausicaä, Laputa and Totoro before that, so I knew how scary he could be when he got angry – I had heard stories of people being fired mid-production, things like that. How was it actually? Toshiyuki Inoue: Not as scary as I had imagined. He’d only rarely scream in the studio. But he did get angry. I’d sometimes be called to some separate room and lectured alongside Kōji Morimoto and Masaaki Endō. It felt like being in school all over again.

'Only rarely'. Honestly. Inoue describes how difficult it was for him to adapt his logical, analytical style to Ghibli's stretchy, bouncy characters - and how Miyazaki would disparage him if he, for example, drew a ship inaccurately.

For Inoue, coming back to How Do You Live was something like a 'return match'. He talks about how an older Miyazaki was no longer able to strictly correct the animation, and in general age was limiting him, but he still feels that Miyazaki is fundamentally superior:

Toshiyuki Inoue: I’ve always wished for a return match or a way to redeem myself. But even if I say that, I know I can’t even pretend to rival Miyazaki. I just can’t win. He’s extremely smart and learned, and on top of that, as an animator he always transcends common sense: he’s so talented that I know very well there’s nothing I can do against it. The more I learn about him, the more I realize I’ll never be on that level.

Miyazaki's genius is undeniable, but man... it's not a good mindset to cultivate if you want to find a successor lmao. If even Inoue doesn't feel he can measure up, who the hell could?

Mind you, it does rather seem that Miyazaki had mellowed out by the point of How Do You Live?. Here's Yamashita:

Akihiko Yamashita: As I said, the core of an animator’s job is to follow what the director asks, so whenever I had trouble with that, I’d go see Miyazaki to show him my roughs. He’d advise me on the things that were missing and reassure me about those that were good. He really helped me to gain more confidence in myself.

Reading these interviews underlines pretty hard that we shouldn't get too caught up in the mythology of Miyazaki the mighty auteur. While the story may be all on Miyazaki, and most of the character designs (with the notable exception of Natsuko)... so much of the details of the animation, the stuff that really makes this film land, is primarily shaped by everyone else - Honda in particular, but also the individual key animators who interpreted his scenes. I really need to get my hands on a copy of that Industrial History of Studio Ghibli book to get a less Miyazaki-centric perspective on the studio's history.

I do not feel, having come out of this film, any closer to knowing the answer to that eternally pressing question of how do you live - I guess I'm still working out my answer to that one, and I will be until I die. And maybe that's rather the point. I think this film still carries some of the flaws of Miyazaki's later films - despite having so many iconic scenes, it doesn't quite seem to know where it's going. But I am so glad to have seen this in the theatre (I saw it at the Prince Charles theatre in Soho with friends, the theatre was completely packed!), and glad Miyazaki managed to get this one out before he goes. Whatever happens to Ghibli without its sorcerer, it's been a hell of a thing to witness.

[monimccoythings]

Alastor x daughter!Reader (Platonic)

So, I finally gave in and watched the series. It was cool but the pacing was a bit too fast for me and sometimes i felt like it was deviating way too much from the original plot for such a short series. But wow, y'all were right about Alastor. He stole the show. I wanted to write something for him, but I was not sure how to proceed given that he is aroace (tremendous irony considering that I might be aroace irl). Nothing seemed to fit, given that this dude has never had a bit of romance in his life and refuses to do so. But I came accross a wonderful fic about Alastor having an adopted daughter who became an angel, and everything made sense to me. I saw the light. Whoever you are, I will find your fic again, like it, and reblog it.

Big reminder: Alastor is in hell for a reason. TW: gory elements, blood, near decapitation, implied death threat towards a child.

This is not proof read. So please excuse any grammar and vocabulary mistakes.

Part I (You are here!)｜Part II｜Part III

This deer man has never shown interest in neither romance nor sex. So the only logical conclusion is that he adopted you when you were just a baby.

He found the idea of having that much power and control over someone amusing, molding them just the way he desired.

How unexpected it was for him to suddenly find that it was you who had him wrapped around your little finger and not the other way around!

But how could he not adore you! You were delightful! You were his little fawn, always so sweet and loving, he would have thought his own beloved mama had been secretly raising you from the afterlife!

Oh, with how much joy your eyes filled when you saw your papa return home after a long day at work! He was your everything, always smiling and fun loving, but also knowing where to draw the line.

He absolutely loved singing to you, his tunes filled with rythm along with the smoothness of his voice were enough to give you a full night of sleep filled with sweet dreams.

And while you dreamed... Your dad was outside, creating nightmares.

He made sure you never got to see that side of him. You were too naive and pure, your light could become corrupted.

Very overprotective father. Always subtly controlling who are you hanging out with and how much time (he would despise having to share his beloved child's attention with someone else) "Darling, I think you have already played enpugh with X I'm sure their parents miss them." (and if they don't, they WILL).

Finding about your Papa's double life would be entirely on accident. One day, he would take you to his job at the radio station, and some drunk and racist asshole would harass you on the streets, terrifying you out of your mind. Your dad kept a calm and collected expression never once losing that charming smile of his, but you could tell something was off. He quickly brushed it off, casually reminding you that it was just your terrified imagination playing tricks on you.

That night, your papa was taking too long from the station, so you decided to come and get him (dunno how safe the streets would be for a child that time because reader is about 13-14 years old). You wished you had waited and stayed home. Because the only light was coming from the recording studio, and peeking through the small opening, your blood froze in your veins.

Your Papa was pushing off himself the dead body of the same man that had assaulted you early that day. His pristine white shirt that he always made sure to keep in perfect conditions was drenched with blood that was quickly drying up.

You quietly tiptoed your way back to the entrance, wondering how you weren't heard given how loud your heart was hammering in your chest.

You felt like your entire world had come crashing down, and as you returned home, you tried your best picking up the remaining pieces.

Your beloved father would never do something like that, right? There had to be a misunderstanding. That was it. That man had viciously assaulted you earlier that day, maybe he came back and tried to attack your dad at his job? It had to be self defense. That was the only option.

Your dad seemed to be breathing heavily, probably from the adrenaline rush from having had to take a life in self defense, but had you not been so shocked and scared, maybe you would have noticed the manic glee in his eyes and the way his smile had widened into something outright demonic.

You decided you would never tell anyone. Yes, it was horrifying that it had ended up like this, but telling anybody could get your dad in serious trouble and in this case he was not the one to blame.

So you kept quiet. Tried to act as normal as you could in front of your father and everyone else. If Alastor noticed, he never told. Everything seemed back to normal, until...

Until one day someone knocked at your door. A police officer. He seemed to be asking questions about the guy you saw your dad kill, protect himself from, a week ago. He was the son of some big shot from the city. A very important one. Rats.

He had come knocking on your door because some witeness had said that the very same day of his murder he had saw him in an altercation with your dad. Double rats.

It was amazing how your father didn't lose composure at all, not even for a second, always keeping a calm smile on his face while he patiently described the events of that day. You could barely refrain from shaking, how was he so relaxed?.

You knew your father was lying, he had to. What else could he do? Confess that that man had assaulted him again at his studio at night and he had to fight for his life? He would be hanged. No one would believe his word against that of a rich white man.

When the officer left, you thought that would be the end of it, your father's charms having won him over as always.

Nothing could have prepared you for what happened a week later.

The first red flag would have been having your father letting you stay at a friend's house for the night. That never happened. Your father always insisting very dramatically that if he were to be apart from you for an entire night he would surely die of grief!

But that day something seemed... Weird. Your father had a determined look on his face and gave you no explanation when you asked if there was something wrong.

You couldn't sleep, there was this nagging at the back of your head that was practically screaming at you that you should return home right now.

You quietly sneaked out of your friend's house in the middle of the night and made your way back home. That unnerving feeling growing inside your mind. 'Just a quick peek, just to make sure he's alright and I'll go back to my friend's'

The lights at your home were on, but it was so dim you could barely make out anything. It was coming from the basement. Someone was humming a tune, you recognized your father's voice.

There was a terrible smell coming from there, like rotten fruit mixed with burning trash. It made you gag, but at the same time you needed to know what was going on there.

Curiosity killed the cat, that was your father always told you.

On top of the wooden table, laid a dead body that you sadly knew too well. It was the police offcer that had come home to interrogate you a week ago. His chest had been cut open and some organs seemed missing. His head had been nearly torn from his body and was only hanging by a few tendons in his neck. The blood was forming a sticky puddle on the floor.

If that wasn't horrifying enough for you the worst part had to be the look on your father's face. Joy. Pure unbridled joy and elation. It chilled you to the bone.

You tried to take a step back, tried to return to you friend's house and forget everything, pretend this had never happened. But your shoe got stuck. And you fell backwards.

That caught Alastor's attention. His joyful expression changed into one of confusion, but never once losing his smile.

"Y/N?" He asked flatly.

You bolted. You didn't know what to do where to run, but you knew you had to escape before he caught you.

You could hear him giving chase, calling your name. You could see him getting close, reaching for you.

What you didn't see was the truck that ended it all.

[kindasleepywriter]

An Unexpected Visit (Cal Kestis x Mechanic!Reader)

Summary: You find a little metal friend in your lonely workshop on Koboh and you have no idea where he came from. The answer to that question brings you more hope than you thought it would.

Warnings: Small blood mention.

Words: 3.8k

Note: Thought I'd post a little something while I work on the next few chapter of BoP! Pretty sure this is gender neutral, but if im wrong don't hesitate to point it out!!

Koboh was a hot planet to live on even on its coldest days. There was no such thing as frost here, and snow was out of the question. The native population of the planet was used to it, buildings designed to keep out the sweltering air and clothes made of the thinnest materials.

You, however, hated it.

You’d been warned the planet was warm, but no one had quite mentioned how high the temperature really was. You regretted trusting the Ihi Tib that had brought you here more than anything, but you’d used up all your credits on that trip and there was no way in hell to make that money again to leave, not while working here.

You longed for Habo, the little planet you’d decided against in favor of this one. No raiders, no empire soldiers, just nature and its shy inhabitants. No droids either, but there wasn’t any here either, so you didn’t care. Sometimes, you dreamt of reaching its lush forests and mountains and feeling cold drops of rain on your skin.

The metal roofing of your shop did you no good either, heat waves often visible above it. Its only room felt like a furnace even at the best of times, and you weren’t a stranger to the feeling of sweat-soaked clothes sticking to you uncomfortably anymore.

You tinkered with a metal detector that some prospector had brought to you, taking the opportunity of the night’s barely detectable coolness to work on a project. Apparently, it had stopped functioning properly after it’d been dropped into a chasm. By the looks of it, you were surprised it even was in one piece. Well, mostly in one piece. Maybe the revenue you’d make from this might be able to pay for new boot soles, yours having almost completely disintegrated because of the burning sand that covered the entire region.

The only sound in your workshop was the harsh grating of your screwdriver against the detector’s metal, as you tried to pry open its chassis. The thing just wouldn’t budge, and you considered whether the boots were even worth it.

A whistling sound startled you, the old screwdriver slipping and taking a chunk out of your palm. You swore and tugged a rare oil-free cloth from the toolbox beside you, hitting your head on your work lamp in the process and swearing again. You pressed the cloth against the wound to stop the bleeding and looked towards the open room to determine where the whistling had come from. The door to the shop was locked, you’d triple-checked it while closing. Was this one of the raider lackeys trying to draw you outside again? You’d fallen for it exactly once and promptly learned not to investigate strange noises you might hear outside, but this sounded like a mechanical whistle, not a breathing being.

The strange whistling sounded again, this time from behind you. You spun on your heels, tied the cloth around your hand, and reached for the rusty rebar you kept by your workstation. Nothing seemed amiss at first glance. Had you imagined the sound? Maybe the heat was getting to you, you hadn’t refilled your water canister since this morning. Dehydration hallucinations were rare for you, but you’d still had your fair share, especially when you’d just arrived to Koboh. Getting used to this planet had been a challenge.

Suddenly a flash of red and white crossed the room, hiding behind a wooden bin you used to store your own unfinished projects. The whistle came again, followed by a few beeps. A droid, you realized. He’d been speaking binary! You’d hardly recognized it, not having heard it since your arrival. Lots of droids, the Ihi Tib had assured you, the bastard.

“Hey little buddy, can I help you?” you called, slightly lowering the rebar but still holding it tightly with your free hand. A series of beeps followed in response. It was mostly unintelligible, but you could make out the meaning of some of it.

“Yeah, I’m the mechanic here, do you need something fixed?”

A scared whistle. You crouched, putting down the rebar at reaching distance from your hands.

“I’ve let go of the iron, I won’t hurt you as long as you don’t hurt me, deal?”

You received no response, but the droid tentatively stepped out from its hideout. It was a cute one, you thought, a little flat head and cubical body supported by its two lanky legs. You could see his eyes focusing and zooming on you, no doubt examining you for any sign of aggression. You raised your hands as a peace gesture, and he stepped closer. He emitted a green light from his position. You laughed at the sudden scan but didn’t move.

From up close, you could see the damage he carried. The side of his left leg was blackened as if burnt, and its small body had a gaping hole that revealed his inner components. No wonder he’d been scared, one more hit and he’d be fried. He looked mostly intact on the inside, but you’d need him in your hands to determine if that was the case. You went to speak but got cut off by the loud noise of your door slamming shut behind you.

“Beedee, I told you to wait while I left to find a spare-”

You squealed at the man’s voice, grabbing the piece of rebar again, wincing as it rubbed against your clothed palm, and jumped to your feet.

A man stood at the entrance of your shop, only a few feet from you. You shakily held up the rebar between the two of you as a threat, the droid incoherently beeping behind you and hitting you with his little leg. You ignored him, and the intruder raised his hands, showing you that they were empty. You could see a metal baton at his side and a pistol strapped to his thigh, but he wasn’t reaching for them despite the threat of your rebar.

“Whoa, easy,” he exclaimed rapidly, “I’m not here to attack you!”

“What do you want?” you called, “Shop’s closed at this hour.” It was fairly late in the night, and not many people were still up at this time apart from you. No one with good intentions, at least.

He took a less defensive stance, increasingly unimpressed at your choice of weapon, or your unsteady hold of it. “My name’s Cal, I’m just here for beedee.” He gestured to the droid. “Come on buddy, we’ve got to get back to Greez.”

The cantina’s owner?

“How do you know Greez?” you asked with narrowed eyes. You’d never seen this man, and he’d never been around here. News spread fast in a village this small, you would’ve heard about it in less than a day. The cantina sometimes welcomed suspicious or dangerous individuals, and you wondered if this new guy was one of them.

“It’s a… long story. I’m just visiting. Beedee, let’s go.”

You examined the man closer, as he was clearly only interested in the droid. Now that the adrenaline had mostly run its course, your mind pointed out how attractive the man was. Sure, his armor-looking leather garments looked like they had seen better days, but it was hard to ignore his soft-swept hair, scatter of freckles and sharp jawline that his stubble didn’t quite manage to hide, not to mention his lean yet muscled build.

The droid, beedee, didn’t make a move to leave. Instead, he pushed into your leg again and emitted a series of noises you couldn’t understand.

“Is he always this unclear or is my binary just rusty?” you asked the man hesitantly, keeping the rebar in hand and taking a few steps back to put space in between the two of you.

“He got shot in the middle of a fight, his vocabulator got damaged,” he said. Your grip on the metal tightened. A fight? “I was going to fly to a relay point to find him a new one, but this guy,” he shot a reproachful look at the droid, “Won’t stay put long enough for me to go.”

The droid continued his monologue. The only word you could make out was ‘Mechanic’.

“I’m a mechanic, beedee, is that why you came to see me?”

He near-violently nodded his head.

“I’m sorry he disturbed you, like I said, we need the new component to fix it.” Cal said, shrugging.

You crouched and took a closer look. You could view the injured piece now, its main area intact but its outer edge clearly burnt out. You shook your head. “You don’t need a new one, actually.”

Cal looked at you like you’d grown a third head. “Have you seen the chip? That thing is as good as dead.”

“Not if you reroute the circuit towards his internal commlink instead.”

He blinked. “You’ve worked on droids before?” he asked cautiously.

You nodded. “It’s what I trained for as a teen on my home planet, but I had the great luck of finding a dishonest pilot who promised me there were a lot of droids here.” You gestured to your near empty workshop, embarrassed. “As you can see, not quite the reality of the area. The only ones here are those the raiders keep, and I’ve made it quite clear to them on multiple occasions that they could shove it. Being on their bad side isn’t the greatest, but at least I’m not helping them loot and kill people. Used to work on ships too and loved that, but those are also lacking here.”

He looked at you as if evaluating your body language. You weren’t exactly hard to read; you wore your emotions quite visibly. “Why haven’t you left?” he asked.

“A droid mechanic on a droid-less planet doesn’t exactly have the revenue to jump on a hyperspace voyage. Maybe in a couple years, but at this rate the raiders will have found any stash of money I could keep. Anyways! what I’m trying to say is I can fix beedee if you want.” The droid beeped approvingly from where he stood, jumping up and down in triumph.

Cal seemed to weigh the risks. You didn’t blame him, some unknown mechanic on a near empty outer rim planet didn’t exactly inspire confidence, but you knew you could make the repairs easily.

“Alright,” he said defeatedly, “but if a single electrical filament is damaged, I’ll know, and you won’t get a cent.”

You shrugged, his threat not scaring you. The droid already had enough injuries as is, you weren’t planning on adding to them.

Beedee jumped up to the worktable you’d been working at earlier and you pushed aside the metal detector with a wince. The movement pulled on your palm painfully. The droid didn’t miss your reaction and pushed on your injured hand with a foot.

“Just a cut, little guy, nothing to worry about.” You said, perhaps unconvincingly. The screwdriver you’d used was a bit rusty, and you knew you should get a bacta patch to keep an infection from spreading, but you couldn’t afford one. You’d wash it out with water later and hope for the best.

The droid didn’t miss a beat at words and a little vial was suddenly flung up in the air. You didn’t manage to catch it, not having the reaction time you might have with more rest and water in you, but a calloused hand caught it before it could hit the ground. Cal stood next to you, offering the tube in an open hand

“A stim?” you exclaimed, picking it up and examining it, “I haven’t seen one of those in years, they cost a fortune.” You glanced towards Cal.  “I’m not sure the cut warrants using one.” you added.

The man just folded his arms and leaned against the table. “If beedee says you need one, I wouldn’t argue, or else you’ll be arguing with him all night.” he said.

You mumbled a soft thank you as you injected the stim, your hands already feeling much better after only a few seconds. You took off the cloth and despite the dark red that coated your hand, the cut had all but disappeared, leaving only a thin pink line behind. You scrubbed the dry blood off as best you could and turned towards the droid again.

He sat in front of you, presenting his exposed wiring. You picked up your smallest welder and started working, self-conscious of your beat-up tools. You could feel Cal leaning in with each detailed movement you made, unquestionably watching the process to learn how to do it himself. You worked as diligently as you could despite your focus trailing occasionally to the man that held close to your side. The slight reprieve the night air provided seemed gone, his warmth seeping into your skin.

It wasn’t a complicated job, you just needed to reroute the processor to the commlink to translate the droid’s processes into clear binary code to then bypass the burnt translator located on the edge of the vocabulator. It was a trick that was specific to this type of vocabulator though, so it wasn’t a well-known process.

You finished with the rerouting, satisfied by the clear binary beedee could now emit as he properly introduced himself to you. And idea shot through you and you slipped out from Cal’s side to reach for your spare parts bin. You rummaged through it for a moment, the droid sending you a questioning whistle.

“Wait a minute! I know I’ve got it somewhere here…” you grumbled. “Ah-ah! Here it is.”

You held out a grey piece of thin durasteel as you sauntered back to the waiting duo, grabbing your heat gun along the way. “I think I can give you a temporary fix for your casing, let me just… There! It doesn’t match your colors, but it should do the trick.” You slid a newly shaped metal plate over the spot where the casing had melted away, grinning at its sturdiness. “This won’t fix it forever; I’d need a little more time to make an entirely new one and to make it the right color, but this should keep your components safe for a while!”

BD-1, as you now knew him, spun around in circles as he tried to check out his new part. You took out a small mirror from a drawer and held it up to him so he could see. He let out a string of excited beeps and whistles, repeatedly asking Cal to look at his ‘cool looking patch’. You glanced to the man on your side and discovered him watching you intently with a small smile. You felt your cheeks heating under his stare and scuttled back a few steps.

“Uhm, I hope this all works out until you’re able to find new parts, you guys! I could get started on a new custom permanent case too, so beedee doesn’t lose his usual flair.” BD-1 whistled in approval. “Shouldn’t take me more than a few days, maybe 5 at most, if you’re interested.”

Cal nodded, his intense gaze not faltering. “I think that’d be perfect. How much for today’s work?”

“Oh no, consider it as a repayment for that stim and for the opportunity to work on a droid again. Honestly, I had forgotten how much more interesting it is than working on the prospectors’ tools. As for the pickup, if I’m not here when you come back to get it, that means I’ve gone out to trade for parts. I’ll leave the finished casing in this drawer here,” you pointed to the right one, “and you seem to know how to get past the locks. Just close it back up when you leave!”

He laughed at the remark and thanked you for your work on BD-1. The droid gave you a sharp farewell whistle despite its clear disappointment at having to leave already. He climbed onto Cal’s back as the man moved toward your shop’s door.

“Hey,” you called, “if you come around this corner of the galaxy again after picking up beedee’s casing, don’t hesitate to swing by! It’s always nice seeing someone new.”

He turned on his feet, walking backwards for a few steps. “I have a feeling we’ll see each other again, don’t worry.” He winked at you, leaving you at a loss for words, and turned back to walk through the door.

After you calmed your elevated heartbeat, you locked up after him, deciding the two unexpected guests were enough for one night. You leaned back against the door and sighed. Maybe you should’ve accepted the money. Cal seemed like a nice guy, but Koboh was getting harder every day. Habo was still on your mind, but you’d settle for anything other than this damn planet. Kriff, you’d even be willing to join a crew of wandering space pirates if that meant you actually got to do something other than retrieve and fix the same old tools over and over again. Maybe one day luck would favor you, you thought, or maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

-- 9 days later ---

The walk back from trading was always exhausting. The prospectors that held the best materials were currently residing on a high cliff that hid a cave’s opening. Getting up there was arduous, but if you left early enough it was manageable despite the climbing you had to do. By the time you made the trek back, however, there was no escaping the sun’s rays, and the only thing keeping your hands from the burning rocks as you scaled down the cliff was an almost ruined pair of leather gloves. They wouldn’t last another climb, you thought, and neither would your boots.

You’d have to find something to barter with the one villager who made most of the prospectors’ equipment. You didn’t even have money for food this week, but you’d make do, like you always did. Maybe you’d go back to the cantina tonight to offer maintenance on Greez’s bartender droid. His cantina was apparently bringing in more customers this week, so maybe you could find some other work there too.

You were also looking forward to hearing more of the village gossip. You’d heard rumors of a Jedi taking down raiders all over the region when you’d gone for a drink the night before but given that the source of that information was Turgle, you were far from convinced. A Jedi would be hunted down in a minute by the Empire, especially if they used their famed weapon and left witnesses. The fisherman you sometimes saw hanging around the streams, Skoova, had however confirmed that there was indeed a newcomer hunting down raiders for sport.

He hadn’t been very talkative, only describing him as a short-haired man of average height that fought in a poncho. You didn’t know how you felt about someone wearing a poncho on a desert planet, though you did find humor at the idea of the raiders getting their ass kicked by some new guy in a raincoat. Either way, if there was a chance that this not-a-Jedi-even-though-Turgle-says-he-is guy had arrived here by ship, you wanted to find out more no matter his unusual taste in clothing.

You entered your workshop after the long walk back from the prospectors, bracing for the intolerable heat of your metal cage. You stored what little you’d brought back in its rightful place and dragged your feet to your worktable, ready to start working on another tool a prospector had given you to fix. You remembered distantly that Cal still hadn’t swung by to pick up BD-1’s new case.

You peeked inside the drawer and found it empty of the custom case. There were a few credits in there, thankfully enough to cover the material you’d used for the case, plus a couple more. Despite the much-needed money, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Of course, the one day you left your workshop had to be the one when he decided to come here. You sighed and pushed the drawer away, rubbing your eyes with your palms, hoping (and doubting) that he would visit again. You didn’t even know what region of Koboh he was from, you didn’t recognize his accent at all.

A glimpse of white caught your eye before the drawer shut completely. You reached towards the unknown object and found a folded note that you were sure hadn’t been in therebefore you left. You opened it and didn’t immediately recognize the handwriting.

-

Thank you for the case, BD-1 is practically begging for a couple more designs (to match my ‘rizz’ - I have no idea what that means. He convinced me to wear an old grey poncho I had just so we matched and I fear giving in to the different colored cases will be the start of a slippery slope, but how could I say no to the little guy?)

I’ve gone off-track – What I mean to tell you is that if you still want to leave Koboh, there will be a ship (it’s mine) at the landing pad until 1500 tomorrow. Bring what you need, but I have all the essentials on board. Food and water I mean, and maybe I have a spare toothbrush somewhere too?

Anyway. We’ll figure it out.

I can drop you off somewhere if you want, but I wouldn’t mind a mechanic on board if you’re interested. Can’t guarantee regular hours or absolute safety but hey, still more interesting than metal detectors, right?

This might be my last visit to Koboh in a while.

P.S.: BD-1 wants you to know you’re the only one allowed to fix his leg, and that he ‘requires you on board’. His words, not mine. He shot an electric dart at the last person who tried to repair it (me).

Cal

-

You couldn’t help but let out a loud celebratory shout as you read. He had a ship, and you were finally getting out of here! No more prospectors whining at the time it took to fix their tools, no bedlam raiders trying to kick through your door in the middle of the night, no need to refill your water supply from the well that stood well over a mile away.

You’d happily make BD-1 a thousand little metal outfits to match Cal’s ponchos if he wanted-

Your mind screeched to a stop. Hadn't that been the outfit Skoova mentioned?

You remembered what Turgle said about the second newcomer, the one he had called a Jedi. You didn’t remember ever reading about that order using guns, but… Cal had been carrying another weapon. The metal handle, you now realized, that was hanging at his side.

Oh kriff.

Had the idea while building the BD-1 Lego set. I meant for this to be just a little 1k meet-cute oneshot, Of course, me being me, i wrote 5k. Edited it a little, and it's as short as I can tolerate lmao

My first time posting for Star Wars! Still not over Survivor despite having played it more than 100 hour in the first two weeks i got it, and having done reruns since. The double-bladed stance has me in a chokehold.

Tell me what you think, and check out my masterlist!