#barely any service and when he does get the ball he heads it away to some godforsaken inter player | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bubbledumbbinch · 3 years

Note

Are your requests open again? Cuz I've been reading your oral headcanons and they are getting me HOT AND BOTHERED 🔥🔥

If you don't mind can I request some oral headcanons for Malleus, Deuce, Jack, Floyd and Crewel(if you write for the staff, you can make the reader his colleague in his case) with a fem reader? Thanks a lot⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄-⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

Hello anon!!! Yes I will do my best to deliver >:) BTW this is like sooo long and I’m so sorry it took so long for me to get to this!

Pairings: Malleus x Fem! Reader, Deuce x Fem! Reader, Jack x Fem! Reader, Floyd x Fem! Reader, Crewel x Fem! Professor!Reader

This piece of writing is strictly for 18+ audiences. NSFW under the cut. Minors do not interact!!

Warnings: dubcon ish for Floyd? Slight voyeurism too for his receiving, sub/dom elements for Crewel

Malleus Draconia x Fem! Reader

Giving

Malleus is into making things like a ritual - including lovemaking of any kind.

He would probably take you to a forest where flowers are laid out gently onto the soft grassy floor, glowing fireflies illuminating the sky with the moon.

Gently, Malleus would lay you down and kiss you from head to toe, literally. Giving praises, telling you how beautiful you are, etc.

Malleus would strip you bare naked and lick his lips. You feel his glowing green eyes trailing across your skin giving you goosebumps.

When you feel his long tongue against your cunt for the first time, you arch your back in pleasure and a soft moan comes out, making the horned man shudder.

Malleus always cares about not hurting you, making sure you’re okay, he wants you to be vocal.

Lord please don’t grab his horns. Grab his horns. He turns into a BEAST and will probably overstimulate you.

“Nnh- M-Malleus..!” You keened under his touch. Malleus’s fingers grazed your skin lightly as you laid on your back, his head currently in between your thighs. He brought his head up and licked his mouth of your juices. “My child of man, please, tell me if I’m hurting you.” He spoke softly. “N-no, it feels so good… Please, keep going…” you hid your face in your arm, too embarrassed about the situation the fae male had you in. You lightly stroked his horns as soon as his head dipped back down.

Suddenly, Malleus released a growl and his fingers dug deeper into your skin, nails close to breaking your skin. “Mm, Y/N… you know what that does to me.” He lowly spoke. His eyes were now trained on your own as he sucked hard on your clit, tongue abusing the bead. You screamed as he continued his ministrations - you were gonna be here for a while.

Receiving

Malleus would be walking with you near Ramshackle dorm when you see a bench in the distance and lead Malleus to it. When he sits down he expected you to join him, only for him to see you drop down to your knees in between his legs.

You want to treat Malleus for being a lovely boyfriend!! Praises and eye contact is not necessary but makes him go crazy for you

When receiving oral, Malleus isn’t shy but something inside him lets butterflies go absolutely wild in his stomach. The fact that it’s his favorite human servicing him makes him all the more excited too!

Malleus’s thick cock would be hard to take in all at once, so you opt to use your hands to pump the base with your fingers.

Malleus has a lot of stamina, you’ll definitely be there for a while. Moaning onto his length and staring into his eyes with lust will make him come closer to climax though!

He would stroke your hair and tell you how beautiful you are and how good you’re making him feel~

Instead of moaning and being loud, he grunts and hums.

Would want to repay your kindness as well if you know what I mean 👀

The dragon fae hummed in approval as your tongue worked his cock. Malleus’s fingers made its way to your hair to massage your head, making you moan.

“My little child of man, I’m getting close… you’re so beautiful.” Throwing his head back, his thrusting into your mouth was becoming faster and sloppier. When he looked back down at you, he swore he could see hearts in your eyes as you stared back into his green orbs. That and the combination of your lewd slurping sounds and the pleasure you were bringing him brought him to release. You squealed as Malleus’s seed shooting down your throat. He watched in wonder as you swallowed, licking your lips. “Tasty, my prince…” you teased Malleus, kissing his thighs.

Deuce Spade x Fem! Reader

Giving

Deuce has little to no experience, let’s be real. He was a bad boy who wasn’t very popular turned into a wanna be good boy. However, he is very eager to please.

What Deuce lacks in skills he makes up for with determination. Maybe it’s the way he aggressively licks up and down your cunt that turns you on, maybe it’s the way he’s trying his best!

Before you can even say where he should focus, he licks on your clit. Deuce notices how much louder you moan when he does that, so he learns quickly that THAT’S the spot for you.

Deuce would definitely moan when he’s eating a good meal 😋 the vibrations from his moaning goes straight to your clit as he’s sucking and slurping on your wet pussy.

Deuce would also want to use his calloused fingers on you in some way - be it fingering you, tweaking your nipples, or even having you suck on them.

“Deuce, th-there, more, please..!” You moaned, hands flying down to his soft navy blue hair. “You really like it, huh?” Deuce’s soft voice was inquisitive but also you heard joy behind it. You wiggled your bottom closer to his face and whined with the loss of touch. “Then, I’ll keep going.” He dove down once again and licked and sucked with more aggression, knowing exactly how to please you. Sweat dripped down his face as you pulled tufts of his hair, grinding your pussy against his mouth.

Receiving

After tutoring Deuce for so long in preparation for an exam, your efforts would come to fruition as he emerges from the classroom with a good grade.

You wanted to reward your boyfriend for doing so well! Take him back to Heartslabyul and deep into the gardens where you knew barely anybody would be at that time. Roses were painted, animals were fed, etc.

Deuce would be confused but blushing profusely when you offer to reward him by sucking his dick, but he doesn’t say no.

When you lay him down and pull down his pants and underwear, his cock springs to life with a bead of precum already leaking from it.

You like to tease Deuce with your fingers first - rubbing the bead of precum all over the tip with your thumb.

Deuce’s moans are heavenly when you finally use your mouth and tongue on him, softly thrusts into your mouth

Once he’s close though he lets his bad side come through - he’s thoroughly facefucking you while talking dirty, calls you names, etc

Wants to cum on you instead of in you, likes to see the way it paints your body!

“Mmh, Deush.!” You slurped and tried to talk while his cock invaded your wet cavern. “Y/N, I’m gonna- I’m so close..” You sped your movements up, the lewd squelching of your mouth becoming louder. “It’s almost like you want us to be caught, filthy slut.” Deuce’s attitude changed while he barked out his words, making your pussy throb. “Yeah? You want me to cum all over your pretty face? I wanna see you covered in my cum.. fuck!!” Deuce pulled away from your lips with an audible pop, pumping his hot cum all over your lips and cheeks. The sight of your puffy lips and blushing with your messy face made his cock twitch again.

Jack Howl x Fem! Reader

Giving

Jack is a more romantic type, prefers to be in a bedroom when he makes love with you, and certainly wants to give you a good time. He wants it to be private because he doesn’t want anybody else to admire you the way he should!

Jack would have you fully naked laying down so he can fully admire your beautiful body.

Leaves a lot of lingering touches all over your body with his fingers and tongue, loves to taste you~

Jack is skilled with his tongue, aggressive too. He uses his fingers and tongue at the same time to please you

Secretly loves if you reach down to pet his ears and head while he goes down on you - sometimes you can see his tail wag 🥺

Leaves marks all over your thighs close to your sex because he wants to show you’re his, but also has enough restraint to put them in places only you both will see.

Jack lapped up at your pussy, lewd noises filled your silent room. You gasped as he flicked your clit with his fingers, adding more pleasure to your body. “J-Jaack.!” You whined at the loss of feeling when Jack pulled away. “Use your words, Y/N…” he whispered, staring into your eyes. You gulped when you saw his entire mouth and chin were glistening with your juices. “Please, Jack, make me cum, I-I’m so close..” you hid your face away in embarrassment. Jack’s cock twitched in his pants and blushed heavily, his tongue going back to work on your cunt. He’ll prove to be your perfect mate.

Receiving

You and Jack would be finishing up a morning jog, a rare occurrence since Vil couldn’t make it this time. After going pretty far out into the woods, you get tired and decide to pause and stretch.

Jack sees your sweat making your skin glow under the early sun accompanied by your panting from being worn out. He turns to look away, but he can’t hide the growing tent in his pants.

Once you take notice you mischievously start to tease him and take off his pants. He’s flustered because, what if someone comes by?! You tell him not to worry since it’s so early and you were pretty far out.

Back resting on a tree, Jack stands while you’re on your knees looking up at him with doe eyes. You lightly palm his heavy cock until it’s fully erect, making eye contact the whole time while putting it in your mouth.

Jack knows you can’t fit the whole thing in there, and he’s usually really considerate of what you want never forcing it to go further down your throat.

Jack likes it if you fondle his balls as well while you use another hand to pump his base.

Whines slightly when he’s close, also begins to wag his tail!! Good boy!!

Also loves to see you with cum on your tongue, whether you wanna swallow or not is up to you~

Grunting and feeling the rough bark on the tree, Jack is preoccupied with the way your mouth takes him so well. You stare up at him with droopy eyes, tongue swirling around the tip, playing with the slit on his cock. When you combo that with playing with his balls, Jack feels something snap inside him. He’s grunting and snarling lowly, thrusting faster into you, eliciting gags and moans. “I- I’m close, Y/N. I’m gonna cum…” Jack’s voice only made you work faster, pumping harder on the base. You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, his milky seed exploding onto your tongue not a second later. A series of grunts and followed, as well as kisses and “I love you”’s exchanged between the both of you.

Floyd Leech x Fem! Reader

Giving

POV you are working at the Mostro Lounge and you are suddenly pulled away by a tight grasp around your arm or waist. It’s Floyd, your boyfriend!

Floyd tells you how delicious you looked while working and how he could smell you from the other side of the lounge (bro how?)

You know what he means by “taste you” when he drags you to either the nearest closet, storage room, or maybe his dorm room. You’re flustered and telling him to let you get back to work! Azul would be pissed knowing you both left out of nowhere.

Floyd’s grip tightens on your pants as he pulls them down, and he sees your wetness pooling in your panties already. I imagine Floyd would have no patience and start licking up aggressively up your panties, making a bigger wet spot

Floyd would either rip your panties or just eat you out while pulling them to the side - he’s too impatient and he just NEEDS to taste you

His droopy heterochromatic eyes are TRAINED on yours, he loves seeing the way your body reacts to him!

Squeezes any part of your body he can, your tits, nipples, ass, thighs, etc

“Shrimpyyy~ you taste so good! I knew it was a good idea to ditch work to lick you up~” he giggles furiously, licking again on your swollen clit. “F-Floyd! You, you shouldn’t leave work so suddenly like th- Aaahn~!” You keened, back arching off of his bed. Floyd was now squeezing your nipples between his pointer finger and thumb. The stimulation was becoming too much. “Floyd, Floyd!! I’m gonna cum!!” You started moving your hips on your own while hearing Floyd’s laughter resonate on your cunt. “Mm, Shrimpy is becoming so enthusiastic! Cum on my tongue then! I’ll be sure to lick it aaaall up~”

Receiving

Sometimes, when Floyd is in a bad mood all of a sudden, he doesn’t know why. You don’t know why, either. But you do know a way to make him feel better!

When you whisper in his ear, offering to help him, he doesn’t really know what you mean at first. When you explicitly tell him you want to suck his dick, his face immediately brightens! He’ll grab your arm and almost skip on over to a private garden around the school.

When you’re both comfortable, you pull his pants down and his cock bounces back up, already twitching and leaking precum.

Floyd is loud but he does not give a damn. Let people hear how good you’re making him feel! If someone were to stumble by, Floyd would make direct eye contact with them and smirk

Floyd also wants to facefuck you - pulling your head down and thrusting into you when he gets close! He loves the way you slobber and gag all over his cock

He is down to cum anywhere when he’s receiving oral, because he loves cumming in your pussy the most. But when he’s not doing that then anywhere else would suffice!

“Mm!! Floyd, what if someone sees us?” You muttered, suddenly feeling very nervous. You stroked his dick which was covered in a mixture of your saliva and his precum. Floyd suddenly pulled your mouth back onto his cock and kept thrusting, making you squeal in surprise. “Don’t worry, Shrimpy!! I’ll protect you, and besides, I think they should see how well you’re taking MY cock!” As you closed your eyes and kept suckling on his length, Floyd’s eyes narrowed dangerously towards the rustling sounds coming through the bushes. “And, I’ll deal with them accordingly.” Floyd’s tone was suddenly very serious, reassuring you as you kept working on pleasing him.

Divus Crewel x Fem! Professor! Reader

Giving

Your relationship with Crewel was only a rumor amongst students, two teachers dating is pretty taboo even in the magical world! When asked if you two were an item, both of you waved off the question and denied all rumors, saying you were only friends.

After a particularly stressful day of grading exam papers and dealing with unruly students, you go to Crewel’s office after classes are done to unwind, simply to rant.

Crewel offers a more… physical way to destress. He snakes his gloved hands up your thigh inch by inch, fingers trailing closer to your lacy pair of underwear that he bought you himself.

After locking his office door, Crewel seats you on his desk, using some accessories on you. He would blindfold you, tie your hands, etc!

Hiking up your skirt he gently removes your panties and rips a hole in your pantyhose if you’re wearing any 👀

Crewel wants you to use your words~ he loves hearing his favorite professor beg for release, loves watching your face contort with pleasure because of him

He loves your noises and actually would punish you if you tried to hide them!

I wouldn’t be surprised if he liked using toys on you to further your pleasure~

Gives you the sexiest eyes and smirks when you tell him you’re going to cum

“Oh- oh Great Seven, Divus…” you moan. Your arms were tied behind you as Crewel’s signature red tie obscured your vision. As he flicks his tongue over your clit with fervor you can feel how his fingers scissor open your wet pussy. “Oh, haaanh, shit!!!” You closed your legs instinctively, and gasped when he forces them back open. He tsks and stops altogether, eliciting a pained whine from your throat. “Now now darling, you know what happens to naughty girls, right?” You knew. He wouldn’t let you cum, at least not for a while. “N-no, master, I promise I’ll be good, I’ll be so good! Please, please let me cum, I’ve been a good girl for you, master Divus..!” You whined, tears staining his red tie. Crewel knew how stressful your day was so he decided to let you off the hook. “Mm, fine pup, you’ve had a stressful day. Cum on my tongue, if you so wish~”

Receiving

As much as Crewel loves giving oral, he LOVES receiving from you. You would be crouched down under his desk after hours while he’s grading papers.

It all starts with him texting you about how he “needs help grading.” You don’t expect THIS kind of help, but the idea gets you excited nonetheless.

Crewel would be sadistic - stuffing a vibrator into your pussy or ass while he’s having you service his cock. It’s not necessarily for your own pleasure but more for the idea of him controlling your orgasms and seeing you fall apart under him.

Has a remote that controls the speed and intensity of his toys~

Has a poker face the majority of the time when you’re doing it in his office until he’s close~

Oh! He also likes putting a choker and leash around your neck to see how obedient you are ❤️

Divus pulled lightly on the leash around your neck, signaling he wanted you to go deeper. You obliged, moaning around his cock. The vibrator that was plunging into your cunt had you practically dripping onto the floor beneath you. Your bottom half writhed in pleasure as your noises sent vibrations through to Crewel. “My beautiful pet, I’m getting close… be a good girl and cum with me, won’t you?” He suddenly grabbed a remote and raised the intensity of the vibrator to max, causing you to scream around his cock. “Mmph!!” You began to suck harder, tears rolling down your face onto his thighs. When Crewel finally saw your eyes rolling back he suddenly released his hot seed into your throat, making you sputter and gag. You swallowed and proceeded to open your mouth to Crewel who was pleased with your empty mouth. “What a good girl for me…”

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jangofctts · 3 years

Text

Thing for Trouble (boba fett x fem!reader x din djarin) (part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)

Rated: explicit 18+

word count: 7.6k

warnings: threesome, smut, thigh riding, oral female receiving, handjobs, unprotected sex (dont be a deadbeat, wrap that shCMEAT), light choking, throne fucking, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampies, pet names, sub? din? more likely than you think (also lmk if I missed any tags!)

a/n: yall im sorry this is such garbage but kjkwejh here we be. I hOPE YOU ENJOY THE CIRCUS. thank you to everyone who’s encouraged this so COME GET YALLS MANDO MEAT

There isn’t much when he it comes to Tatooine and fun things to do. There’s pod acing, drinking, Sabaac tourneys, more podracing, gambling and scavenging. Unless there’s a festival or some wild event, you’re stuck with boredom and whatever you can scrounge up for fun in the palace.

Now, don’t get it wrong—if you had it your way, you’d spend every waking hour trialing behind Boba, but you don’t want to smother. Fennec too—while you enjoy her company, you know that half of the reason she sticks around is Boba’s order for your protection. Kinda ruins the fun when you know she probably only tolerates you because she’s being paid to. Eh whatever—doesn’t stop you from tagging along on as she runs errands in town—besides, today you actually have a reason to be here instead of loitering like a lost puppy.

Fennec tells you to be safe and com her the second trouble rears its ugly head and disappears into the weapons shop—muttering about her prized rifle being jammed or something. You don’t know, all you hear is that you have the entire afternoon to yourself to hunt down your oh so elusive prize. Star cherries.

The markets are always vibrant. Jam packed with people from each and every corner of the galaxy, hundreds of booths and stalls selling their wares that varies from foods to jewelry to even bounty services. Tempting as is it is to peruse the sparkly rows of dainty necklaces and rings or inspect the vast array of beige ponchos and manilla undershirts—you have a purpose. A once a year chance you refuse to let go to waste.

The shabby booth is tucked near the end of the street, the mountain of the little red fruits looking comical compared to the withered old lady who sits beside them. She flashes you a gap-toothed smile, the crowfeet wrinkles surrounding her eyes scrunch with the movement. “Ah! I was wondering when you’d show, dear.”

“Hello, Mrs. Feraan,” you greet, bending at the was it to kiss her wrinkly cheek. The old vender was one of the first kind souls you met here when you arrived on Tatooine. In return for a couple compliments or an offer to be the lab rat to test her new recipes for pie or tarts, she hooks you up with the best of the cherries—handpicked with love. “How’s business today?”

She waves her hand in dismissal, her silver rings glinting in the sun. “Same as always, child.”

Eventually you work your way through the pleasantries and a couple, long winded tangents. The sort that only old people can flawlessly spin and keep you engaged. Trials and tribulations to earn your prize—you don’t mind sacrificing a couple hours.

Finally you’re allowed to walk away—cherries in hand and exceedingly eager for your sweet snack. Unfortunately, suffering through Mrs. Feraan’s old childhood laments is not the only bump in the road you have to face.

Granted, it is your fault—not looking where your feet are taking you—

Your temple crashes into something agonizingly hard. You swear you hear a quiet bonk when your skull collides with the mystery material and fucking hell—you probably have a concussion from the force of it.

Unbothered by your probable brain injury, you’re far more concerned with the cherries spilling onto the ground and so, as you flail and dramatically topple over—the brunt of your fall is cushioned by your shoulder. Something pops and yeah, ok, maybe you just tore a ligament but—kriffing worth it for the cherries you miraculously saved from their dusty graves.

Your temper flares as you spot the dirty brown boots pointed in your direction. Maneuvering yourself up so you don’t also get trampled by the crowd, you bare your teeth and put on your best impression of a terrifying force of nature despite the fact you’ve been knocked flat on your ass. “What the fuck—“

The words shrivel up and die upon your tongue as your eyes slide up the stranger’s legs, broad shoulders sporting the shiny armor that twinkles in the midday suns. They then settle on an all too familiar helmet. Well, sorta—you’re familiar with a certain red and green one, not the equivalent of a wearable disco ball.

You squint as the stranger’s head dips to look at you crumpled at his feet. You dust yourself off and point an accusing finger. “Fuck is your problem standing in the middle of the road?”

The stranger quirks their head. “You ran into me—maybe you should watch where you’re stepping.”

The raspy voice is a striking sound. Mellow and silky even as it passes through the vocoder and dresses it in static charm. Some of your anger melts away—maybe this is the friend Boba was talking about—it’d make sense. They’re wearing the same type of armor…

You shake your head and shove down your pride. You don’t think Boba would appreciate you chewing his ear off. “Sorry—you’re right.”

As you readjust your clothes and precious cherries you introduce yourself with a tiny smile. Yet just as you're about to ask him his name he interjects with a step forward. You flinch away but all he does is sweep back a strand of hair from your forehead, revealing a little nick in the skin. You hiss as his fingertips scrape against it--great, an actual head wound. “Are you alright?”

Maker—here you are, after yelling at him and he finds it in him to be compassionate. You wave away his concerns. “Y-yeah--peachy.”

He apologizes with a dip of his head and words soaked in regret and fuck--now you feel bad. You wrack through your brain and search for last ditch attempts to fix this little mishap and settle with a half baked idea. It’s dumb--but hey, if it works, it works.

“Seriously, it’s fine. But I mean, if you’re so worried, how about you walk me home and we call it even?” You propose, sticking out your hand to seal the deal. If your assumptions are right, he’d just be tailing you the whole way home anyway. “I’m headed towards the palace, so if it’s not too much out of your way then—“

He hesitates and interrupts by taking your hand. “Alright. Deal.”

You smile. “Lovely.”

On the return trip, Din is quiet—tells you his name and responds to your conversation fillers with interested hums—but other than that he remains on the silent end. Intriguing with a rounded softness unlike the armor he wears--a man of mystery much like a certain someone who awaits you back home. Well--Din is less grumpy--by a long shot...but still. It’s easy to spot some of their shared similarities.

-=-=-=-

Upon arriving at the castle you part ways with Din before he reaches the throne room--you’re not too excited about showing off your new battle scar yet and while it was an accident, making an entrance with Din will make it far too easy to link the injury with him. Besides, you don’t wanna risk scaring off your new friend if Boba decides to showcase that tightly sealed lid of anger and brutality.

Instead you take the long way around the palace. Soon, muffled voices carry through the long corridors, growing louder as you work your way back from the kitchens. You round the corner, catching glimpses of Boba and your new friend through the pillars that prop up the low ceiling. You don’t meant to spy, but you do so anyway, hesitant on interrupting.

That is...until Boba cocks his head to the side and settles his eyes onto the pillar you hide behind. “It seems we have a little shadow with us today.”

You suck in a breath as your heart skips in a thrumming pace. Boba addresses you by name and crooks his fingers in a lazy motion for you to step out into the light—revealing yourself to the small party of two. “Come here, little one.”

The low light catches off of Din’s helmet with a glittering sparkle when he swivels his head. The tiny, warped figure of yourself reflects in mirror-like pieces of smelted beskar as his shoulders pull tight with recognition. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the smile that threatens to crack across your face at bay. Boba is no fool—he excels in the subtleties of shifting eyes and clenched fists to hide anxiety or closely guarded information—sickeningly familiar with your own quirks and tells, but—

There’s no reason to reveal Din’s little secret—not yet. Boba called him a friend but you truly have no clue what the depths of that word entailed. Friend could mean anything from a casual acquaintance, to an old childhood bond, and or anything in between. You sigh and brush past him, mentally congratulating yourself for keeping a cool mask of indifference etched into your features. If Din wants to open that can of worms then so be it—you weren’t the one offering to walk random people home.

You step onto the dais and slide your free hand into Boba’s outstretched palm. The worn leather tickles up your forearm and locks over your elbow, silently demanding you to sit on his lap. There’s plenty of room to both sit on the throne but no—Boba prefers you tucked against the cool metal of his cuirass. You grunt as the bowl of star cherries you cradle dangerously dips when Boba adjusts your weight over his thighs.

His fingers pull back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and then spider along your jawline. The ends of his mouth quirk as Boba pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, capturing your undivided attention. “I don’t like it when you lurk in the shadows, little one. You’re allowed to listen.

You huff. “I know—but lurking is fun.”

Boba releases your chin with a scoff. “Foolish, girl.” You dip your chin with a sheepish grin as heat rushes to your cheeks. You briefly forget about the tiny nick adorning your right temple, the only thing you were trying to keep hidden—but Boba is all too quick to notice. “What is this?”

He pushes your hair out of the way of the cut, inspects it, then curls his fingers around your jaw to demand an answer. You refuse to let your eyes wander over to Din—what a dead giveaway that would be—and instead muster up enough courage to hold the weight of his stare.

“I tripped at the markets,” you say—not a complete lie. “It’s just a little scratch—no biggie.”

Boba squints in suspicion and grumbles a soft hm. You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh—he won’t argue about it right now. Not a battle worth his while when you’re keen on keeping the full truth behind a wall of teeth and anxieties. Boba’s hand falls away, gestures to Din who still stands stiffer than a stature, then lays it over the golden armrest. “I’m sure you’ve noticed our guest—“

Din tips his head in acknowledgement.

“The rightful ruler of Mandalore,” Boba continues. “Din Djarin.”

Din Djarin…despite already knowing his name (or half of it, at least) you like the way it rolls off the tongue—like how it’s seemingly made to be repeated and carved into the walls of some ancient script. Your knowledge on all things Mandalorian is…limited to say the least but you know enough about the rumors.

“Isn’t Mandalore supposed to be haunted?” You don’t mean for your words to be a pointy jab to the ribs but regardless, it strikes a tender chord within the Mandalorian. You wince as Din shifts his weight and clenches his palm—a long story. “Sorry—I—I’m sure your home is lovely, all I know about it are dumb ghost stories about evil wizards and laser swords.”

The blood under your cheeks burn red hot. Great. Not only are you a complete bantha brain, you’ve also managed to sound like an impudent child. Boba soothes a thumb over your thigh as you curl into yourself—bastard. He thinks this is funny.

“It’s not my home,” Din responds, albeit tentatively. “Never been.”

Your brows furrow. Alrighty then.

Boba snorts and shakes his head. He mutters something in Mando’a and lazily waves his hand, dismissing the line of conversation entirely. It was turning into a dumpster fire anyway—

With a slow exhale, you remove yourself from the discussion and instead tuck your head under Boba’s chin. The beskar is cold against your cheek but it feels nice against the sweltering midday heat.

Their conversation fades in and out as you rest your head over Boba’s cuirass, listlessly picking through the bowl of fruit for the ripest ones. You sigh—the next cherry you bring up to your lips is intercepted as Boba’s hand clamps around your wrist and redirects it into his own mouth. You don’t find it in you to be grumpy about the stolen treat when Boba’s tongue slides over your sticky fingers. Still holding your wrist captive, he sucks the tip of your thumb into the warm heat of his mouth and curls his tongue around the digit. Your index finger is given the same treatment before your hand is returned. The beginnings of arousal spark to life below your belly, and fuck—that shouldn’t have been so…so…hot.

Din’s smoky baritone fades into background noise as the entirety of your attention zero’s in on Boba’s mouth. You purse your lips and suck in a shaky breath, then return your hand to the bowl to fish out another fruit. You don’t need any guidance this time around as you bring the cherry to his mouth—the crimson juice spilling down your palm and part of your arm as his teeth pierce the fragile skin. You breath hitches as Boba dips his head, catching the bead of liquid running down your arm with the tip of his tongue, then swiping s a slow trail up, and over the lines of your palm. He plants a careful kiss there, then breaks away.

Before you have the chance to reach for another one, Boba plucks a cherry from the bowl and rests it against the seam of your lisp, inviting you to partake in this little game he’s created. A wicked smirk curls over his mouth as you accept—the tart flavor of the fruit spilling over your tastebuds as you chew and swallow. A little wine escapes you as his leather-clad thumb rolls over your bottom lip, bushes past the barrier of your teeth and seats the digit into your mouth—all the way down to the third knuckle.

You hardly notice the moment Din’s voice tapers off into silence—much too enraptured with the taste of leather and the smooth feel of it over your tongue. You gag slightly when Boba’s thumb reaches the back of your throat, then retreats just as slow. The string of saliva that still connects the digit to your wet mouth, drips over your chin and part of your lip, eliciting a jagged, echoey breath that crackles through Din’s vocoder.

Boba grins—something that better belongs on a sneering jackal just about to pounce on unsuspecting prey with needle sharp talons, rather than his face. His eyes drift up to address his guest. “Do you see something you like, Mand’alor?”

Din’s head jerks, averting his gaze to anywhere but the throne. He murmurs a weak apology and shifts his weight to his other leg—acting as if he were to look at you a second time, it’d burn him to a crisp or force him to confront Boba Fett’s wrath. Obviously, neither thing would happen, but Din still remains unsure with his foothold in this situation.

“I see how you look at her,” Boba drawls—not an accusation, just a statement brought to light. Boba’s hand drops to your thigh, the warm weight of it resting just past your knee as Din swallows his nerves and returns his gaze. “It’s alright—a pretty little thing like her is bound to turn heads.”

A blush hotter than wildfire licks up your cheeks as Din nods in agreement. “She’s beautiful…you’re a lucky man.”

Boba’s grip on your thigh hoards you closer to his chest. He is and he’s fully aware of that fact, but there’s no need to admit such a thing when it’s so blatantly obvious. A lull in the conversation creates a palpable tension—nervous energy and a choice to let this is fade into nonexistence or…or breathe life into that flickering ember of unsaid desires.

Your heart leaps into your throat when Boba shatters the silence and addresses you. “You’re awfully quiet, princess…what do you think?”

He’s placing whatever this is into your hand and leaving you to call the shots. You’ve always been a troublemaker and there’s no will or way as to why you’d stop now. You look between your lover and Din as a smile curls over your face. “I think…if he’s so interested—why not give him a show? After all, he did bring me home—he deserves some reimbursement for the trouble.”

Boba’s shoulders jolt with a chuckle. “How chivalrous.” You shiver as he strokes the back of his finger down your cheek. “Fine, as you wish, little one—go play.”

Giddy excitement bubbles through your chest as Boba offers Din to take a seat on the edge of the dais. Din still has an option to escape, to slip through the cracks and pretend this never happened—but stars, you hope he stays. Din takes a step forward, then another—and another until he’s standing before the throne. He studies the raised edge and gingerly takes a seat.

You abandon your bowl of cherries onto the forearm of the throne and slip off Boba’s lap. You drift over to Din, his gloved fingers clenching and unclenching as they rest over his thigh plating. He’s purposefully avoiding your eye as you kneel beside him—still locked onto that niggling fear that this could be some sort of trick or test in resolve.

Smiling sweetly, you skate your hand over his knuckles—guiding his large palm to your waist and then under and up your loose shirt and bra. Din mutters a curse as you place his palm over your breast. “I’m glad you stayed.”

Pleased with his reaction, you peel off your shirt and bra, breath hitching as Din pinches your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Same—I think…”

With a bit more bravery backing his movements, Din pulls away briefly, shucks off his gloves and encompasses both your breasts. They’re warm and calloused, riddled with silvery scars that stand out against his brown skin, a storybook of past battles—won and lost—all equally important to the fibers of his being that stitch him together into a whole. His hand whispers down the length of your ribcage, no doubt feeling the thrum of your heart beating wildly against the cartilage and bone. It tickles over the swell of your hips then—

“You said you wanted to give him a show,” Boba drawls behind you, a sharp twinge of hostility lacing his words. “So enjoy the show, Mand’alor, ’nd keep your hands to yourself."

Din recoils at the verbal reprimand and drops his hands speedier than a flash of lightning. You frown and throw a glare over your shoulder. Bastard. Boba quirks a brow and runs his thumb over his lip, the edged sparkle in his dark eyes taunting you into challenging him. You huff and turn a cold shoulder.

“Sorry, Din,” you purr, scrounging up any and all back up plans to keep you both entertained. “Seems my king isn’t as generous I thought.”

Din withers a bit at the catty remark, keeping his lips sealed tight as Boba growls your name in warning. You don’t pay him any mind.

You puff up your cheeks and release the air in a steady stream, as your eyes scrape over Din’s armored thigh. Ok—you can work with that. It wouldn’t be breaking any rules…not technically. You step away, paw at your waistband and let the breezy fabric pool over around your ankles, your underwear quickly joining the pile.

Now bare, you return to Din’s side, his careful inhale distorted into choppy static as you straddle his thigh. He lifts both hands, intending to grab at your waist, but pauses midair. No touching. You lips tilt with a smirk as he clenches his fists and pins his hands to the cool stone instead, an attempt to curb that urge to reach for you. His shoulders knit together when you mold your hand in the gap between his shoulder pauldron and cuirass to give yourself some sort of balance—obviously not used to a soft touch.

You lower yourself and hiss through clenched teeth. It’s fucking freezing. Goosebumps rush up each limb as the wet warmth of your cunt meets the frigid beskar—the chill much colder than you initially expected. It’s one thing to touch the beskar with an open palm and another thing entirely to feel against such an intimate part of yourself. Din’s visor drops to look between your legs as you give your hips an experimental roll.

It’s different. You’re used to hardened muscle and fabric, or your own fingers while pleasuring yourself. Your breath hitches as Din’s thigh twitches, the smelted seam of the cuisse bumping against your throbbing clit.

“Sorry,” Din mumbles, “Didn’t mean—“

“It’s ok,” you smile, rocking your hips to ease into the sensation. “Just surprised me.”

The pace you set is slow, careful not to overwork your nerves as your arousal blooms and metastasizes like simmering coals low in your groin. With each lecherous pull of your cunt against his thigh, the beskar begins to warm to the temperature of your skin—the wetness between your thighs abating the friction and making the surface slippery. A low gasp escapes you once you find the right ridge and angle that just grinds perfectly against your aching clit. Your fingers dig into the cowl of Din’s cloak.

“Shit—feels good.” Like your voice and little moans jumpstart Din’s ability to move, his large hand drifts to the front of his trousers—an already sizable bulge tenting the dark brown fabric. You squeak as Din's leg jolts for a second time, a burst of dizzying ecstasy wracking up your spine with the choppy movement.

You suck in another raspy breath as your attention drops to his hand that cups his cock and palms himself through his trousers. You chew your bottom lip and clench your fist gripping his cowl, still gyrating your hips over the beska as Din hooks his thumb into his waistband and pulls them down, slow as molasses.

Fucking hell—he’s bigger than you initially imagined. Flushed a rosy brown, and half hard already, twitching as Din wraps his fingers around the thick length. Din lifts his head, gauging your interest or disapproval—but kriff—who the fuck would ever be unhappy with that sorta heat he’s packing? You bite your bottom lip, scouring your brain for ideas to convince Boba into letting you taste Din—but your plotting is abruptly cut short.

Boba sits up and off the throne, his presence looming over your shoulder as he lowers to one knee. You shiver and arch your neck, exposing more of your vulnerable throat as Boba runs the fingertip of his pointer finger down the side of your cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself, princess?”

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as Boba opens his palm and cradles your jaw. You groan and roll your head back onto your shoulders as Boba snakes one hand around your hip and jolts you forward and down—disrupting the slow rock with a catastrophic interference. Unrefined bolts of plasma shoot up your spine as desire licks up thighs—you need more.

Boba dips his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You grunt when his teeth sink into your flesh, worrying a bruise into your skin. Boba laves his tongue over the throbbing area, then licks a wet trail up to the shell of your ear, all the while you continue to grind on Din’s thigh. Boba nibbles your earlobe and whispers your name—the sound sweeter than any symphony could ever hope to make. Like smoke over deep water or the surging crackle of energy just before a thunderstorm high up in the mountains.

“You’re allowed to touch…” he says with a rough chuckle. “Go on.”

Your noise of agreement is quickly muffled as Boba interrupts you with a feverish kiss—all open mouthed and breathless as his tongue curls around yours. Your chest heaves for precious air as Boba retreats just as abruptly as it began. With a satisfied smirk ghosting over his lips, he taps you below the chin and returns to his throne to continue observing.

Dropping your eyes between Din’s legs, his cock, hardened to its full glory and held casually in his calloused hand, is truly a sight. Your pulse thrums in your ears as Din rolls his wrist and pumps his length, the velvety skin shifting over what looks like fucking beskar underneath. It strains towards his navel as you watch with wide eyes, mesmerized with the way he touches himself.

Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you touch your hand to his wrist. Din shudders like your skin is made of sizzling embers that’s broken off the tail end of shooting star—like you’re something too luminous and dangerous to be handled by someone like him. You lift your gaze, smiling into that darkened void of the visor and gracing him with a toothy smile. “Will you let me touch you, Din?”

He nods and utters a breathy yes.

Fuck yeah.

Din sucks in a stuttered breath when your hand circles around his thick length. His hips jolt into your palm as you slide your fist to the base then all the way back up. Precum beads over the tip, dribbling down and coating your knuckles with sticky wetness. It eases some of that friction as you fall into an easy rhythm, matching your rocking hips with each pump of his cock.

Din’s stuttered moans fill the small space between you, dragging you closer to your release that’s suddenly so close. He whines as you abandon his length to chase after your high, your arousal leaking from your center and dripping down the sides of the beskar. Din takes his cock into his hands, fisting himself to your little show of breathy wines and rough jerking of your hips over his thigh.

Din says your name attached with a broken moan and it’s over—

Everything seizes up tighter than a jaw clamp as your tumble off that jagged peak of searing, white hot pleasure. It’s raw, sparking off like a blade to metal, burning you from the inside out as you cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your thighs shaking as you curl inward as if he punched you in the fucking gut. It feels like he did. Maker—the cool beskar against your throbbing clit is like you’ve been thrown to the mercies of an electrical surge.

It doesn’t help either that Din is still pumping his length, hips stuttering as he brings himself to his own euphoric high. The air in your lungs seizes when a fragile groan, light and airy passes through the vocoder. Din rocks his hips into his fist, once—twice and then he’s throbbing and cumming into his hand. Hot ropes of his release splatter up his chest plate and parts of your thighs, his helmet nearly knocking into you as he hunches foreword from the intensity of it.

Too exhausted to keep yourself upright, you smash your cheek against his cuirass, involuntarily twitching as the last little waves of pleasure prickle through the rest of your nerves. You whine as you watch Din move his hand to collect some of your wetness coating his thigh. He brings two fingers stained with your slick to the lip of his helmet, pushes it up with his thumb just far enough to sink the two digits into his mouth. He groans out a quiet fuck, and repeats the action, swiping his fingers through the mess you’ve made and feeding it to himself. Your cunt clenches as you catch a sliver of his pink tongue that twists between his thick fingers.

He groans and rolls his head back onto his shoulders. “Please—can I taste you? Fuck—I-I need my mouth on you.”

Stars—the mere idea of it stokes the dwindling flames into a blaze of want. You look up at Boba and puff out your bottom lip. Pouting and begging hardly ever gets you what you want under normal circumstances—Boba Fett is more stubborn than a rancor—but you hope just this once he’ll be lenient.

Boba holds out his gloved hand—summoning you to his lap without a lick of protest on your end. Din however makes a sound akin to a whimper when you leave him. Boba gathers you in his arms for the second time, the leather a strange sensation as it spiders down your ribcage and around your hips. You can feel his hardness poking into your backside once you settle against him—his chest plate a cold shock to your naked flesh. You shiver and bury your nose into the crook of his neck, poking your tongue out to taste him. Boba’s cock twitches under you as your teeth sink into him with a cheeky nip.

“Is that what you want, little one?” Boba rumbles in question. His right hand glides lower, grabbing a handful of your thigh and squeezing. You groan and keen out a whine of affirmation.

Boba cocks his head towards Din. “Well? You’ve got your wish—don’t keep her waiting.”

Din shakily stands—hesitating with removing his helmet for enough time that you notice the silence that follows. The vocoder crackles as Din sighs. “Do you trust her?”

“With my life.” Boba states it without a second thought. Your heart twists, golden light spilling from your lungs and staining your insides with devotion and fuzzy affection. You press a soft kiss over Boba’s jaw.

“Is she…” Din speaks a word in Mando’a you have no hope to decipher—either no direct translation or he’s purposefully left you in the dark.

Based on the way Boba almost imperceptibly tenses, you guess the latter. Boba responds with a grunt and an unsure dip of the chin. The answer is complicated—that much you can gather…you push it to the back of you brain for now.

Din nods, inhales, and steels his nerves. Plastering his hands around the shiny helmet, he tugs it off with a slow reveal of dark, patchy facial, plush lips and wavy brown hair that falls around his olive skin. And oh, his eyes—soft chestnut brown eyes that hold such ache within them—lost things, broken bones, wearing his wounds like decoration upon his chest. Forged in the flames of war, risen from the ashes with murder and mercy rolled into one.

You wish him a kinder future. One that doesn’t end with pain and a blaze of an unchecked wildfire—the same way how all heroes end up as martyrs.

Though—right now—you can be the beginning of softer things for Din. You smile and invite him closer, a vortex of anxiety peppered with arousal as his eyes flit over your naked body. He sets his helmet to the side with care and drifts to the foot of the throne—fuck, he’s broad. Why hadn’t you noticed that before?

Your mental berating is severed when cool air meets the wet heat of your cunt as Boba hooks your thighs over his knees, spreading you wide as far as your hips allow. Din’s unfiltered moan at the sigh of you, sends a volt of electricity through every vein. Din lowers himself to one knee, and then the other, shuffling between yours and Boba’s legs.

“Can I touch?” He asks, soft brows raising in question.

Boba lazily raises two fingers in a motion of permission. Your chest tightens at the sight of Din’s boyish grin—warm palms settling over the sharp bend of your knees. His thumbs trace soothing circles over the skin and right as Din decides to swoop down, Boba catches him by the hair atop his head and yanks. Din grunts—the long, arched line of his neck a tempting sight as he swallows. “No marks.” Din’s jaw clenches, but nonetheless, he agrees to Boba’s command.

Boba hums in satisfaction and untangles his fingers from the mess of Din’s soft curls. Din’s brows pinch together for half a tick but smooth out in the next breath. No use being irritated—especially right now.

As directed, Din leaves not a scratch. Instead he scrapes the blunt edges of his teeth along the insides of your thighs, threatening to catch soft flesh between them—but he knows better than to act on the urge. He laves his warm tongue over each freckle or blemish he finds, leaving no patch of skin undiscovered as licks a steady trail to his prize. Din mouths a warm kiss over the crease of your thigh, and smooths his calloused hands over your hips, settling for a moment to trace little circles with his thumbs onto the soft protrusion of bone there. Seemingly satisfied, he then shifts them closer to your aching cunt. His hot breath fans over your cunt as he uses his thumbs to glide through your folds, almost curious with his exploration. He makes a little hum of appreciation low in his throat when the pads of his thumbs part your soaking folds.

You whimper and bury your face into the crook of Boba’s neck, his warm palms a much needed comfort as they tickle down your ribcage, then sweep back up to cup your tits. You cry and arch— Din’s tongue is scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your cunt all the way up to your clit. Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through your abdomen. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—kriff.

Fuck, you need more.

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are transfigured and molded into a vicious loop—beginning with those adoring brown eyes, the color of freshly tilled earth and the warmth of sunlight over dappled aspen leaves in the balmy summer afternoons. It ends with soft lips—rose petal pink with devotion crystallizing in his mouth like sugar—madness and uncertainty and lovesick desire is all that he is and you’re not sure if you’ll come out of this unscathed.

He sinks two deliciously thick fingers into your clenching hole and curls them, only to retract them a moment later to shovel more of your wetness onto his tongue—as if simply using his mouth wasn’t enough for him. Like he needs to savor every drop of your arousal like the golden ambrosia the gods feast upon in their palaces of cloud and endless twilight.

That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade away like a hand through fog—but you’re going nowhere. You’d stay here, suspended in time forever if the choice were up to you.

You whine and arch off Boba’s chest plate as Din strokes and curls his fingertips, plucking little gasps and moans from you easier than breathing. He zeros in on that little spot that makes your leg go all jittery and forces out high pitched mewls that echo through the throne room. You’re careening towards another high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure.

“Stars—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must sting—at least a little bit. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth.

Your release zips through your body like a flash flood—quick and fatal that leaves you gasping for air and struggling not to let your head dip below the waves. Your high seeps into each limb until they feel heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to work through the muddled thought and remember where exactly you are. You groan and toss your head back as Din keeps going.

“Another one—let me—“ He moans, opening his mouth as wide as it’ll go so he can devour more of you. You can feel the mixture of saliva and your own arousal dripping down your cunt and over your thighs, some of it pooling on the throne or onto the floor. Your thighs shake as Din pushes you towards another high.

You squeak as Boba’s palm sweeps up your sternum, locking his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. The tip of his nose nuzzles into your cheek—silently demanding a well earned kiss as his hips rock into your ass, grinding his cock for the barest scrap of friction. You moan into his mouth as Din doubles his efforts, raw and bordering that serrated edge of overstimulation and ecstasy.

Goosebumps rush over your arm as Boba places his lips right beside the shell of your ear. You feel the sticky heat of his breath fan over your throat and shoulder, and the way his lips skim your ear when they move to form the syllables of his words. “Such a filthy princess…”

You clench around Din’s fingers and moan a half garbled, “Boba—“

His weathered palm encompasses the entirety of your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “If only you could see yourself…dripping all over my throne and another man’s tongue.” Boba clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Depraved creature—cum for your rightful king.”

Wildfire chars your insides as it begins in your core and sweeps through your body. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you buck and squirm in their arms—no mercy as the prickly waves of your orgasm make you hypersensitive to each touch. Even the hold on your hip, while innocent in nature, is blistering as if you suffered from a fever. You shudder as a salty tear rolls down your cheek. Boba catches it with his tongue as your ears pick up Din’s raspy praise—thanking you while spattering reverent kisses up your thighs.

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you do spot the apparent wetness soaking through the front of Din’s trousers. Fuck—he—he came again while eating you out. You whimper and rest the back of your head over Boba’s shoulder.

Your belly flinches under his scratchy facial hair as Din travels up, seizing and worshiping every inch he’s freely given before intercepted. He catches your nipple between your teeth, tugs a bit then moves to the other, lavishing equal attention with adoring lips and sweet whispers. When he reaches your collarbone, you’re boxed in against his chest plate and Boba’s. A blush blooms under your cheeks hotter than stare fire as Din gingerly sucks your earlobe into his mouth and breathes out a muted moan of your name—committing the very essence of you to his memory for the rest of his days.

Your heart squeezes tight like a clenched fist when he mumbles another thank you. Plucking up a smidge of courage, he risks planting a kiss right on the corner of your mouth. You blink—despite the sweetness of the gesture you wince as Boba snarls a curt phrase in Mando’a. Din peels himself away with a minuscule frown and slinks away.

Yet before you have the chance to remedy the situation of wounded pride and territorial jealousy—Boba tightens his hold on your hips and flips you both, so that now your back is smashed against the seat of the throne, a bit crumpled and sorta folded in half. Your hips hang off the edge as Boba holds the majority of your weight, grinding his clothed cock between the apex of your thighs.

“Don’t forget, princess—” Boba barks, slithering a hand up the column of your throat. You breath hitches as he lightly presses his palm down. “—what belongs to me.”

Reaching between you, he slides his gloved fingers through your slick folds and sinks two of them inside of your clenching center. You jolt as his thumb scrubs over your clit, still sensitive and edging towards too much.

“You want me to fuck you here?” He asks, shifting his hold to grip your jaw instead—the rounds of his fingertips digging firmly into the flesh and bone. “Say it.”

You gasp and scrabble weakly at Boba’s shoulders as he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit. “Please, Boba! Please fuck me—I need it.”

Boba folds over you, his breath fanning hot and hungry against your cheek. He devours your mouth with a discordant edge, like he’s trying to prove to the entire galaxy you are unmistakably his despite the fact you’re already wound so tightly around his fingers. Boba wrenches himself free and tears at his robe and trousers to free his thick length, leaking and flushed a rosy brown at the tip. He doesn’t keep either of you waiting as he removes his fingers and replaces them with something bigger.

You both groan as he lines himself up with your entrance and sinks into you, a delicious stretch that leaves you shivering beneath him. “Fuck—so wet for me.”

The first roll of his hips makes an obscene noise that showers shame down your throat, but it’s quickly kicked to the back of your brain as he slams back into your cunt—obliterating all thoughts save for him. Boba’s lip curls over his teeth as he claws at your thighs and yanks them over his shoulder, crushing you even further between the throne and the weight of his body. Each stroke is a liquid fire, tearing you apart at the seems while at the same time stitching you back together and leaving your body begging for more. Like this, it’s as if he’s reaching the deepest part of you, pounding into your cunt and hitting every nerve with deadly precision. Your legs prickle with the stretch as you squirm beneath him, stuck with the brunt of rough thrusts and violent stamina with nowhere to go.

“Bein’ such a good girl for me." He hums into the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulders. He sucks a mark there and tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of you neck, forcing you into a steeper arch. “Maker, you look so fuckin’ pretty stretched around my cock.”

Your walls clench tight around him as you dig your nails into the fabric of his cowl. You voice cracks with airy moans—attempting to work through the haze of lust and respond. All that tumbles from your lips is a pathetic whine of his name—so close to that precipice again.

The friction of each thrust scraping against your clit, the way he fills you and the possessive hand curled over your throat. You wiggle an arm between your bodies and rub the little bundle of nerves in a frenzied half-circle. You wheeze as Boba increases the pressure over your throat.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demands as devastating ripples begin to spark through your core, a live wire an inch away from a puddle of water. “Tell me—“

“You! It’s you—“ You sob, desperate for another release only he can give. “I’m yours—“

Boba snickers and gives your throat another squeeze. “Cum on my cock.”

There we go.

You seize and cry out, violent shivers forcing your back to arch high off the throne and into his chest plate. It tears through your being, quick and deadly through your core, spreading to every nerve and shredding through it with molten pleasure. Boba’s voice is a gravelly scrape that vibrates next to your ear, sprinting towards his own deserved euphoria. Your climax still boiling through your blood, is dragged out as Boba continues thrusting—an endless echo that leaves you incredibly oversensitive sore. For the next few moments, his thrusts are too sharp, the grip he has on you too abrasive—but then he’s cumming too. A couple more rough jabs and then he’s seating himself deep inside your cunt, his warm release coating your insides with thick ropes.

You’re panting breaths fill the air between you, settling like fresh snow over a silent wood. By the time Boba pulls out, leaving behind a sticky trail of his cum and your arousal over the throne, you’re toeing the line of hazy unconsciousness.

“Such a good girl,” Boba praises, threading fingers through hair and tracing the lines of your face. The the soft drone of his voice mixed with Din’s gentle baritone, murmuring something you don’t catch, casts a dreamy haze over your reality. You’re not afraid that this could back fire and blow up in your face—to move inches from two serrated blades, each seeking for a taste of blood and flesh, is always a risk. But yet, the calloused hands and the sweetness of brown eyes reach through chaos and silence to offer you salvation. You take it with a smile.

You should invite Din over more often…you think, as you slip into content sleep.

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sorry if I missed you AH!!!!

#well yall im #bucket fucker supreme right here I guess #enJOY #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #boba fett x reader x din djarin #din djarin x reader x boba fett #star wars fanfiction #my writing

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doctorstethoscope · 3 years

Text

In the Garden || A. Hotchner x Fem!Reader

hello babes! Something a little different today-- I didn’t have time to write a request that I was going to be pleased with, so this is something that’s been sitting in my drive for a while. Hope you like it!

Submit requests here!

contains: sexual innuendo, gun mention

wordcount: 2.4k

You can’t remember the last time you wore a dress, much less a gown like the one JJ was zipping you into now-- dresses weren’t practical for field work with the BAU, and even when you’d worked in the counterterrorism unit, you’d much preferred a professional blouse and pair of slacks. But the First Lady had decided to throw a ball in the White House to celebrate federal employees, and the Bureau was receiving an award, which the Director had hand-picked the BAU to accept. So, gown. Even though you’d much prefer to be changing into a pair of sweats-- you had been called on a case two days before the ball, and Garcia saved the day by running to everyone’s apartments and grabbing their nice clothes so you all wouldn’t be late. Which is how you found yourself squeezing into a sleek off the shoulder number in the Batcave, with Emily batting at your face with a makeup brush and JJ tugging at your zipper.

“Babe, you look hot.” Penelope says as Emily and JJ step away from you, admiring their work.

“All Emily’s work,” you deflected with a shy smile.

“We’ll have that fight when we’re not running late,” Emily said, pulling you out of Garcia’s office, she and JJ not far behind.

Derek let out a wolf whistle when he saw you all approaching, and you heard JJ’s windchime laugh from a few steps behind.

“Hello ladies,” he said with an exaggerated leer.

“Derek Morgan, you’re lucky that my thigh holster doesn’t go with this dress.” Emily spits out, and all of you burst out in laughter.

“Chocolate thunder, you clean up good,” Garcia says, crossing to Derek, who moved to put his arm around her shoulders as Reid emerged into the bullpen.

“Speaking of cleaning up good,” JJ says with a small smile, and you catch Reid blushing.

“Did you know that balls like this can cost American taxpayers up to a million dollars?” He asks the group, and you smile.

“Maybe don’t mention that when the first lady gives us the award, yeah Spence?” You tease, and he treats you to a little chuckle.

You hear Hotch before you turn to see him and Rossi. “Alright, let’s go,” He says, leading the group out of the BAU and towards your SUVs. You end up in the passenger seat of the car Rossi is driving.

“You doing okay, kid? You’re awful quiet this evening. Invitations to Federal Government Prom don’t come often, you know.” He smirks, and you half-ass a smile in return.

“Yeah, I’m okay, Rossi. Just tired, you know. Would have preferred to get a night’s sleep in my own bed before we did this, you know?”

He nods, but there’s no use in lying to a profiler.

The food, you have to admit, is leagues better than the instant ramen you would have cooked up if you had gone home tonight. And the conversation isn’t half bad either, you admit to yourself as you lazily flirt with Paul, a junior fellow from the Department of Health and Human Services, just barely putting in enough effort to seem interested while allowing your mind to wander.

The sensation of a warm hand in between your exposed shoulder blades distracts you from your train of thought.

“Excuse me,” Aaron’s deep baritone interrupts Paul’s nervous tenor. “I’d like to cut in for a dance, if you don’t mind.”

Paul sputters, and you laugh, because you know that Aaron was asking you, not this early-thirties politico type that he towered over, both physically and morally.

“We’ll catch up later?” you said to Paul, with absolutely no intent to catch up later, before Aaron led you out to the dance floor.

“Hotch, I’m gonna step on your feet.” You warned.

“No you won’t,” he assures you. “Follow my lead.”

You do as you’re told, and you’re surprised to realize just how easy it is to follow him, anywhere.

“Aaron Hotchner, when on Earth did you learn to ballroom dance?” You asked incredulously.

“Boarding school,” He answers with an easy smile.

“You’re joking,” you accuse.

“Ah, yes, something I’m known to do.”

“You remain a mystery, Hotchner.” You tell him.

“I don’t know. That might have been my last secret.”

You roll your eyes, content to continue dancing, and finding yourself getting distracted again.

“What are you thinking about?” Aaron asks, and you mentally curse yourself for letting your guard down in front of your boss.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just tired. But really grateful to be here, of course, and--”

“I wasn’t asking as your boss, you can stand down,” He smirks, dipping you quickly and it takes your breath away. “You’re thinking of leaving.” He says as he lifts you back up, and it’s not a question.

“How did you-- I can’t believe-- Damn profilers.” You harrumphed.

“You’ve been distant, the past couple weeks. You’re in your early twenties accepting an award at the White House, by all accounts you should be ecstatic. That’s when I knew something was wrong. And when I saw you with Peter, or whatever his name was, who you couldn’t be less interested in, that’s when I knew it was us.”

“See, and that’s exactly why I need to leave. Because I’ll never be able to do that.” You tell him, finally looking him in the eye.

“You will,” He says in a self-assured tone that does nothing to assuage your anxiety.

“I don’t know,” you sighed.

“I do.”

“Maybe I’m not good enough, Hotch.” You confess carelessly. He’s already figured you out. Might as well fess up to your deepest insecurities while your boss holds you and stares you down with his deep brown eyes in the middle of the East Room.

“You are,” he says in that same tone, that you’re sure is supposed to be calming but is only infuriating.

“But maybe I’m not! Maybe I’m one of those people who always wanted to do it, who always wanted to be an agent, but it’s like a pipe dream for me. I don’t contribute to the team the same way everyone else does. I don’t pick up on the things that seem so obvious to all of you, and it sucks. I can still do good work, but you know-- you change your dreams and you grow up. Maybe I’m one of those people and I’m just not supposed to be here. I just can’t stay knowing that I’m not supposed to be here-- I have to leave.” You’re not even sure if your soliloquy makes any sense, but Aaron pulls you a little closer, so he can speak the next few words lowly, directly into your ear.

“You’ve been here eight months. It takes time. You are an incredible agent, and an asset to this team. I don’t need another profiler that sees the same things we all see-- I need you, and your observations, the things we missed-- those are the things that solve cases. I can’t-- I can’t allow you to change your dream. I can’t let you leave. I need you here.”

You let his words hang in the air for a moment before he speaks again.

“The, uh-- the team needs you. We all need you, and your observations, is what I meant.” He stammers.

“Hotch?’ You ask, confused by the sudden change in tone.

“Do you want to go get some fresh air? Get away from the crowd?” He asks, pulling away to look at you, and there’s an invitation in his eyes. Maybe a more seasoned profiler would know exactly what it was, but you were excited to find out nonetheless.

“Yeah, I think I do.”

You’re certain that you’re breaking some sort of law as Hotch pulls you out of the ballroom and down a hallway, his fingers interlocked with yours. You try not to think about it too much. Your heels click against the marble floors as you follow Aaron’s brisk pace, and eventually he finds a door outside, opening it up and allowing you to pass through it first. It takes a minute to place yourself, especially under the cover of night, but after a moment you realize you’re in the rose garden.

“Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore,” You say under your breath with a little laugh as you look out over the sprawling display of flowers and plants.

“It definitely beats the Quantico courtyard,” Aaron agrees.

“Never thought I’d make it there, either.” You confess, not looking at him.

“But you did. It wasn’t meant to be easy, but you made it, and you’ll grow. You just need time.” He tells you.

“How can you be so sure?” You ask, feeling your eyes well up.

“I was young once, too.” He tells you with a self-deprecating grin.

“You can’t play up the wise, ancient elder with me, Hotch. I’ve seen you chase Jack across a soccer field like you’re still in your twenties.” You laugh, but he can hear the emotions behind it.

“Hey, come on, I mean it. I’m not Rossi, but I’ve got my fair dose of wisdom to share,” he says, moving closer to you and placing a hand on your arm, trying to comfort you. “Let’s keep dancing. If you want to talk, you can talk. But you thought you couldn’t dance, and you could dance, right? So we can keep doing that until you believe me.” He said, pulling your hand up in his and placing his other on your waist.

The two of you moved slowly, the orchestra from inside only barely audible from where you were standing. With Hotch’s bad ear, he could really only hear it when his body was angled just right in the direction of the East Room, but somehow he had perfect rhythm regardless. You move in silence for a song or two or three before Hotch speaks up again.

“I lied to you, earlier.” He confesses, still guiding you effortlessly through a simple waltz.

“How do you mean?” You ask, suddenly nervous that you were right, that you’re a complete failure of an agent, and that you need to pack your bags and head on back to Kansas.

“I lied when I said that I’d told you my last secret.”

“Oh,” you said, too caught up in your own head to try to understand what he was saying.

“And I lied when I told you that I meant the team needed you--” you felt that bone-crushing weight on your soul again-- “we do, of course, but that’s not what I meant.”

“Hotchner, what are you talking about?” You finally asked, no longer able to tolerate the emotional whiplash of his conversation.

“When I said I needed you, I meant it.”

“Oh,” you say, your face a portrait of shock and confusion, even though you understood him completely.

“That’s selfish of me as a person, and wrong of me as your superior, and maybe that means that I’m outing myself as the kind of fucked-up person that isn’t worth another second of your time, but I needed you to know.” He stops dancing now, tries to hedge a bit of space between you without letting you go entirely.

“Aaron,” you whisper, clinging to him more tightly as he pulls away, feeling his jacket wrinkle under your fingernails.

“Yes?” he whispers back.

“I’m glad you told me,” you tell him, and that’s all the permission he needs to take your face in both of your hands and kiss you, with a gentleness that makes you feel like spun gold, with the reverence of a man who knows that love is not a game, with the hunger of one who has been starved for months.

He pulls away from you, too soon, and your eyes are wet. “My resignation will be on your desk by Monday morning.”

He takes a step away. “What do you--”

“Goodnight, Aaron,” You tell him with a sad little smile, turning around towards the door you came from and leaving him in the garden.

You’re drowning your sorrows in a pint of Ben and Jerry’s when the doorbell rings the next day. You swing the door open grumpily, to reveal Aaron.

“It’s Saturday, and you can’t turn in your resignation until 9am Monday. What can I do in the next forty eight hours to convince you that you belong here?” Aaron asks, still standing in the hall of your apartment complex.

You sigh, stepping aside to let him in. You can’t give him what he wants, but you won’t have this argument where all the neighbors will hear, either. “It’s too late, Hotch.”

“It’s not too late,” he argues, checking his watch. “I have forty six hours and thirteen minutes.”

“I’ll still be the girl who got this job on her back forty six hours from now.” You tell him, folding your arms.

“You’ll be what?” He asks, incredulous.

“I know that you heard me loud and clear.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know that you slept with Erin Strauss. I didn’t think you were her type.” He says, and you let out an exasperated sigh.

“You’re absolutely incorrigible!” You cry out.

“Who implied that you got this job on anything other than your own merit?” Aaron asks, a glint in his eye that lets you know that they’ll be handled just as soon as he gets you to shred the letter of resignation you drafted last night.

“Didn’t I? You didn’t clear my promotion because you were attracted to me?” You asked.

“I cleared your promotion before we even met-- your interview was a bureau formality. Your reputation and the glowing recommendations from your peers in counterterrorism spoke volumes.” He assures you.

“Oh,” you let out, your anger deflating.

“If you want to leave because of my inappropriate behavior, please reconsider. I’m incredibly sorry for--” He starts, but you cut him off, placing your hands on his face and pulling him in for a kiss.

“Nothing to be sorry for. Please continue to be inappropriate,” you tell him in between kisses.

He smiles as he continues to place kisses across your face, your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. “Right now?” He asks, slipping a hand underneath your shirt. “You want me to be inappropriate right now?”

“If you’re really good at it, I’ll let you tear up my resignation yourself.”

@romanogersendgame @wanniiieeee @zheezs14 @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner @ijustwannaread2k19 @rexit-mo @shmaptainhotchnersmain @qtip-blog @averyhotchner @the-modernmary @itsmytimetoodream @choppa-style @hotforhotchner11 @infinite-tides @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @bakugouswh0r3 @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @rousethemouse @scuttling

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner one shot #criminal minds fic #criminal minds one shot

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vergess · 2 years

Text

Had a neighbor claim she called the cops to take away my service dog as a loose, dangerous animal who bit her boyfriend/husband since I was "in violation of leash laws."

There is no leash law in this area.

The animal handling law she cited, which does NOT require leashing but rather that the animal "not be at large" and be "under control," also only applies to public property. Not private property like the yard of the apartment complex that I have the owner's explicit permission for my service dog to play fetch in.

Even if there was a leash law for pets, service animals do not need to be leashed if it can interfere with their duties which it can. His trained tasks are to alert me before an episode, guide me to safety if I become delirious, and wake me after an episode. If I can't be woken he is trained to find a nearby person for help, usually my girlfriend. Having a leash interferes with this trained task. If I were to pass out while holding his leash or on top of his leash and was injured in such a way that I didn't wake up, he would not be able to find human assistance.

My dog never bit or threatened her husband in any way. The 'incident' being described involved us playing fetch on private property we had the owner's full permission to be on, and my dog trying to bring his tennis ball to the man who was walking through the same yard. As soon as I told my dog to leave the man alone and head inside, he did so. At no point was my dog violent, threatening, or in any way out of control.

When our landlord pressed her on this issue, she admitted that my dog never bit her, her husband, or her pets, but that my dog "had the opportunity [to bite], even though he didn't actually bite."

This fucker's own pet dog actually has bit people, but since said dog is 9 lbs of chihuahua obviously no one has ever tried to call the fucking cops

When I tried to explain that he is a service animal, her husband demanded I prove it by getting his 'service vest.'

When I refused, explaining that service dogs do not need to wear vests, the woman screamed that I was threatening her, that she had been recording our whole conversation, that the police were on their way to take my service dog into custody, and that I was trespassing on her private property by standing in the parking lot between our apartments.

It's been 8 hours now and I'm still barely clinging to the edge of sanity and trying so hard not to have a second panic attack over this.

Everything, rationally, should be fine. The law is on my side. Witnesses who saw that I only ever stood in the parking lot with my hands above my head (because that's what you do when a deranged white woman is threatening you) are on my side. Our shared landlord who owns the private property my dog plays fetch on is on my side.

But god, I am so scared. One bitchy white woman is jealous that the dog she keeps indoors without enrichment or training for 23 hours a day isn't as well behaved as my medical equipment. And she's willing to weaponize her whiteness to destroy my life and I'm just so.

I just.

Fucking hell.

On my landlord's suggestion, I bought a packet of those service dog registration papers and a vest for him, so that if she ever does call the cops, I have paperwork on my side too, but.

I just.

I'm so scared.

I am so scared and so full of hatred.

It's literally dangerous for me to cook or walk through town alone because if my stimulants wear out, I could pass out in traffic or on the hot stove unless my dog alerts me to find a safe place. And I can only be on stimulants for 8 hours a day anyway, which means the other 6-10 waking hours, I'm always at risk of passing out suddenly.

And this stupid white bitch doesn't like that I have a well trained animal who obeys every applicable law and several that don't apply, and I just.

I am filled with hatred and fear for my dog, fear for my life, fear that maybe I actually am in the wrong somehow, because even when I'm being attacked by them I'm still socialized to think of white women as victims...

I'm so scared.

I am so so so scared.

#negativity #ableism #white women being wretched

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

Text

What's One More?

WC: 3204

Rated: M

Tags: brief mentions of crime/mental illness/child abuse and neglect/substance addiction/theft, fluff, family dynamics, mentions of aging, mentions of difficult pregnancy, softness, anxiety attack

🧠

The harsh vibrating of a phone on the nightstand breaks your slumber. Still half asleep you toss your arm back to thump against your sleeping husband's side. With a groan he answers. You try to settle back into your pillow and the warmth of the blanket. Whoever has the balls to call at this hour has another thing coming - but later because your priority is going back to sleep.

He can't have been on the call more than fifteen seconds before he sits up in bed suddenly, turning on the bedside lamp; his movements grab your attention. You roll over. The light blinds you and you rub at your eyes to adjust. You can't make out what's being said. Looking at the clock to see that it's barely 4 am you know something bad has happened. Quietly you slip out from the covers.

Making your way down the hall you peek into your daughter's room, grateful that she's still fast asleep. Her soft snores punctuate the calm. Your nerves abate knowing she’s safe. By the time you get back to the bedroom Laszlo is up and getting dressed. "What's going on?"

He doesn't answer at first. You wait until he's finished buttoning his shirt to ask again. "Sara was called to consult on a triple homicide case - she's asked for me to come down to the police station. I don't know much yet, but it's something involving a young boy and she wants me to speak with him."

“Did he…?”

“No. He was not directly involved, that much we know.”

You nod, leaning against the door frame. This wasn't the first time that Laszlo had been called in by law enforcement and social services to assist with children and teens that needed psychological help. He had become more active around the time you graduated with your doctorate. After Sophia was born Laszlo helped fund an after school program for kids that focused on support for mental health and behavioral issues. He was so passionate about being able to help these kids. But it was never at this ungodly hour. "You'll call or something when you know what's up?" you ask through a yawn.

"Of course, Bärchen." He gives you a chaste peck. Gently he guides you back towards your bed and sits you down. "Go back to sleep, there's no need to worry. I love you." With that he left.

Your sleep is fitful with him gone. You worry over things that you aren't even aware of, over who is hurt, over how severe a situation it could be to have been called in the middle of the night, over the poor boy that needs Laszlo’s help. When your daughter tiptoes into the room around 6 you welcome her into the bed with open arms.

"Why are you up, baby bug?"

"Where's Papa?" She climbs up on his side of the bed and rubs his cold pillow. On her face is a deep frown.

"He had to go help some very important people early this morning. He'll be back to see you soon, I promise."

"I miss him. He always helps me with my shoes."

You can't help the smile that crosses your face. "I know, baby. But it's still early so let's take a nap before we have to get ready, hmm?" The two of you snuggle under the covers. With her curled into your side you do find rest, even for the short time before your alarm chimes.

The day moves sluggish as you wait for word from your husband. Little work was to be done today at the museum, so there wasn't much to keep your mind off the wondering. You considered calling. You considered texting. But you knew that when the time was right he would let you know. No news is good news, you think.

Finally the day came to a close. You picked up Sophia and stopped by the store on the way home to grab supplies for dinner. She insisted that she carry one of the bags inside - little miss independent that she was. “Careful not to drop it, okay? Use those muscles of yours to hold the bag tight.”

“Mama I know, I help Papa carry all the time,” she explains matter-of-factly.

The townhouse is quiet as you begin to unpack. You do a quick glance into the dining room and parlor to no avail. "Laz, honey? You home?" A few seconds later you hear movement from the stairs.

Your husband rounds the corner into the kitchen, swooping down to scoop your daughter into his left arm, peppering her face in exaggerated smooches. Her giggles light up the room from the dim atmosphere. He perches her on his hip. “How was your day my little dove?”

“So good Papa - I practiced my counting today at school. I can get the biggest in the class! Mommy said I must be the most smartest," she prattles on.

“Wunderbar!” he praises her before turning to you. “I didn't hear you come in." Laszlo kisses you.

Pinning him with a look you say "you also didn't call me today? You said you would and I've been worried all day."

Sophia crosses her arms and harrumphs from her father's hip; "me too Papa." He quirks an eyebrow at her before speaking.

"Yes… there is something I wished to speak with you on but didn't think it was suitable for the phone." You raise your own brows but continue to put away groceries. "I do not wish to discuss certain aspects of the case in present company-" he nods towards Sophia minutely "-but we do have a houseguest for the foreseeable future."

"Oh?" Your brows dip in confusion. This is not what you were expecting.

Laszlo peeks around the doorway and calls out "Stevie, would you come join us in the kitchen please."

Stevie? You don't know a Stevie...

A moment later a lanky boy with scruffy dark blond hair shuffles into the room. He can't be anymore than 15. His clothes are too big on him and his shoes are worn beyond belief; nevertheless he gives you a slight smile. “This is Stevie Taggert, he’s going to be staying here with us in the guest room for now.”

“Good evening Mrs. Kreizler,” the boy says nervously, his voice cracking.

You spare a look at your husband before turning to the teenager with a smile. “Ah, no need for that, kid. You can just call me by my name instead. And welcome to our home. You like spaghetti?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Awesome! And I’m certainly not old enough to be a ma’am,” you give him a wink. You set up a pot to boil the water for the pasta. Laszlo excused himself to spend some time with Sophia, leaving you and Stevie in the kitchen.

He clears his throat behind you. “Would um… is there anything I can do to help?”

"I would love that, thank you."

The two of you get to work on making dinner. Stevie doesn’t say too much, but he is very polite and does his best to be useful. Once the food is nearly finished your family has returned ready to eat. You send Stevie and Sophia to set the table.

“Should I be worried?” you ask Laszlo quietly, watching the doorway the two left through.

“I don’t think so. I just felt that I would rather he have a familiar face to adjust with instead of being placed in a group home like many end up.”

You study his face. “You’ve taken a liking to him haven’t you?”

“Well…" his face reddens at your question. "He reminds me a bit of myself when I was his age.” The conversation is cut short by the kids returning.

The rest of dinner and the evening goes smoothly. You make it a point to not bring up any questions that could trigger the teenager, especially before you’ve spoken with Laszlo about the situation at hand. When Stevie nearly eats his weight in pasta you say nothing, wondering how long it's been since he's had a good home cooked meal. He insists on helping clean up the dishes afterwards. Without even knowing what the boy has gone through your heart aches for him.

You set him up in the small renovated basement downstairs while Laszlo puts Sophia to bed. Handing him one of your husband’s old Harvard t-shirts to sleep in you tell him “I’m sorry you’ll be down here by yourself, but if you need us for anything don’t be afraid to come get us - no matter what time it is, okay? And if you get cold there’s an extra blanket right here for you. I know it's July but….” you shrug. “Tomorrow after I get home from work we can go to the store and get you some stuff to use, some more clothes, that kinda thing.”

“Yes ma’am.” At the teasing look you give him his ears burn red with his mumbled “right sorry.”

“Alright Stevie. We’ll see you in the morning, sleep well.”

Laszlo is in bed reading when you enter the room. Nothing is said as you ready yourself for bed. Slipping under the covers you face him. He sighs and closes his book.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I became caught up in the day and only arrived home with Stevie maybe half an hour before you did.” He sighs a second time. “Most of the case I cannot talk about, but what I can say is he was living with his mentally ill father, whom was also an addict. He missed the last few weeks of the school year and has been regularly stealing food to get by. He has no other family. I just… it didn’t feel right to let him process his experiences away from someone properly trained to deal with these sorts of things, in addition to how traumatic entering foster care at his age can be. I spoke with those in social services and was granted temporary custody until we find another more permanent solution.”

“Of course.”

He takes hold of your hand. “You aren’t upset with me?”

“I mean it would’ve been nice to have a bit more warning… but I get it. He can stay as long as he needs to. He’s a sweet kid,” you reassure him. “I told him that I would take him shopping after work tomorrow, so if you could pick up Soph from preschool that would be great.”

“Perhaps instead we can all go? I was thinking that I would bring him to the university with me so that he’s not alone all day. You could get her and then we could meet somewhere, get dinner afterwards?”

You lean closer to him to curl around his arm and rest your head on his shoulder. He always thought so much about others, especially children. Laszlo had such a heart of gold and it honestly left you in awe of just how much he was willing to give so that others could find peace and happiness. Like the older he got the more he had to give. The thought warms you. “How are you literally the best person I know? And to think you used to be so worried about being able to be a good father and now you’re the best of all of us.” He huffs a little as you nuzzle into his chest.

“I have you to thank for that, Bärchen.” He drops a kiss to your head. “But it’s getting late and I’ve been up all day. We should get some sleep.”

Soon after you're both dreaming.

___

Stevie had been with you for three weeks. It only took him a few days to start to settle in, and you discovered that he was quick with his wit and far smarter than he let on. He was a little bit of a sarcastic smart-ass at times, but all in good nature. He was endlessly entertaining. Laszlo sat down with him almost everyday to talk about what he was feeling, the things he experienced, and ways to deal with the loss of his family. Already you both saw improvement.

Even Sophia got on well with him. Most teenage boys wanted nothing to do with little kids, let alone a 4 year old that loved playing 'spaceship barbie'. But not Stevie. On his fifth day you'd found him sat on the floor playing with her and going along with her childlike imagination. When she insisted he play the barbie that needed saving he went along with it, high pitched voice and everything. He even encouraged her to pick up her toys before bed - a feat you and your husband struggled with at times. It struck you how much Stevie became a big brother of sorts to her.

Laszlo grew even more fond of the boy. He wasn't really one for TV, but every evening he sat and watched some show on Netflix about racing with the teen and didn't complain once. Laszlo had tried to explain the role of adrenaline in racing drivers as a psychological function, but Stevie just brushed it off and said it was the driving so fast that made it "cool".

The two did bond over an unlikely subject - punk rock. When you got home from work two weeks into his stay and heard the music blasting in the parlor you worried someone had broken in. Whipping into the room you saw Laszlo in his chair tapping his foot to the intense guitar and singing; Stevie nodded along to the music as he held an old album cover. It didn't take long for Sophia to start jumping along to the music too.

"What is this?" You yelled out over the bass - you couldn't recognize it and it clearly wasn't English.

"Die Toten Hosen, a band I listened to growing up in Germany. Stevie found the record and asked to listen."

"Listen? I think you mean blow out your eardrums!" Even with needing to shout to be heard you had to laugh at the situation. How your husband had a secret love for German punk you'll never know; yet you would never let him live it down.

And when Stevie came and woke you both up in tears three nights ago you made him hot chocolate while Laszlo sat down with him. He confessed that he had never been treated or cared for like he was in your home. How he wished he could stay because he felt wanted. Your heart broke for the boy. To be so young and so lost, craving someone to simply be there for him.

Yet everyday he grew more open. He broke out of his shell. He had goals and ambitions; he wanted to amount to something bigger than he had thought he ever could. It almost shocked you at how much fire was within him.

At how much he fit in with your little family.

At how it was like he was meant to be there.

___

Laszlo was oddly quiet when you got home. Sophia had run off to find Stevie, and you tracked your husband down to his office. He listened as you talked about your day for a good ten minutes; he said almost nothing the whole conversation.

You move closer to him. Placing the back of your hand to his forehead you check to see if he's feverish or sick. He didn't feel warm. "Laz, are you feeling okay?"

He gently pulls your hand down and leaves a kiss on your palm. "The department of social services called this morning to inquire about what we want to do with Stevie. This would be the third time they have asked."

He hadn't mentioned it to you at all that they were calling already. "Okay. What do you think we should do?" You pause for him to continue.

"I told them I would need to speak with you before any further decisions were made regarding him…" His fingers tap against the wood of his desk. "I'm not sure I have an answer for them. Nor for you." He swallows. "I'm afraid of what might become of him should he go into the system. Or that he will not get the support he needs given his past. Any option involving allowing him to stay for a bit longer is a commitment I won't make without your full support, of course. I could never ask that of you." As he speaks you can hear the frustration pouring from him, feel the irritation radiating through the room. "I refuse to give up on him- I- I just don't have the answers on what to do without them hounding me and he deserves better than this, dammit."

"He does… Do you remember on your 50th birthday, what you told me?" Laszlo looks up at you confused. "You said that you had wished you were ten years younger so you had the energy and time to do all of it again. That if you were younger we would've had a whole gaggle of kids - brothers and sisters for Sophia."

"Wishing I was younger doesn't make a difference in helping Stevie-"

"Laszlo - let's adopt him." Your words stop him in his tracks. You had decided not to have any more after your daughter was born. Laszlo was nearing 50 and the pregnancy had been hard on you. But regardless you knew that you both had the means and the love to give another child, probably five or ten more children if you really wanted to. So why not start with one that's already wormed his way in to the family? "I've seen how fond you are of him already. You've taken him under your wing as if he was your own. And how good he is with Sophia? Hell I couldn't ask for a better older sibling for her - and she loves him already. And honestly, Laz, I do too."

"You think we should adopt Stevie?"

"I think we should ask, yeah. He deserves a good home and a strong father figure that's going to put him first. He looks at you like you hung the stars, Laszlo. He needs us, and truthfully I think we need him. So yeah - what's one more added to this little shindig we've got going for us?"

"Have you-"

"-thought it through? Yes. Completely."

You can see the smile he fights to hold back. "We should call tomorrow and see what the protocol is for stating our intent to adopt and getting the paperwork."

"Um…" You shuffle your feet. Nose scrunched, you confess "I may have already called them. On the way from work I asked about what would need to be done if we wanted to pursue that route, but since they already know who we are from you working with them for years it can be fast tracked." You pull him out of his chair to stand before you. "All we have to do is say 'go'."

He has no hesitation.

"Go."

Laszlo doesn't hold back his smile or his laughter as he spins you around his office floor. You're certain your children downstairs can hear your giggles.

Tag list

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puppypeter · 3 years

Text

✨ All fics are complete! ✨

He Loves Me Cause I’m Cute, He Thinks I’m Pretty Funny | 2588 words 📱

He watches it back one more time after it posts, checking for typos in his subtitles and captions, and has to laugh again.

Steve fucking Rogers? His brain thought he could pull Captain America, literal superhero and America’s favorite sweetheart?

“Hello I’m a 35 year old amputee living in New York and I think that I could get Steve Rogers.”

the one where bucky posts a tiktok and steve is utterly smitten.

Summer Slipped Us Underneath Her Tongue | 10712 words 🧳

Bucky is a tour guide who enjoys sharing the rich history and culture of each city they pass through with a bunch of early-20's college students who just want to know the cheapest place to get drunk.

Except for Steve, who asks Bucky for a personal tour around his hometown.

The rest is, as they say, history.

You Make My Heart Skip A Beet | 3853 words 🧑🏼‍🍳

“I made soda bread.” Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.” The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

Ollie Meets Bagel | 5517 words 🥯

He was a skater boy, Steve said let's get bagels, boy.

Steve wants to start doing this twenty-first century thing properly. He gets help in the form of skateboarding, skateboarders, bagels, and Sam Wilson.

Taxi | 5113 words 🚕

Bucky Barnes was, he hoped, a good taxi driver.

He's so good, he actually tries to return lost property that ends up left in his car and... well. It has some unexpected consequences involving a National Icon.

Enough said.

Leg Day | 12157 words 🏋️‍♂️

“So talk to him,” Sam says.

“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”

“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."

(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)

Love In Aisle Four | 2127 words 🛍️

When Bucky needs to swing by the supermarket after a long, hard day of work, the last thing he expects is to meet a cute grocery clerk named Steve…

Coming Up Easy | 45515 words ✍🏻

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Steve says, his face open, eyebrows raised in a tentatively hopeful expression. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I’ve got an office that I barely use, and a change of scenery might do you good, right? Help you beat that writer’s block?” With a crooked smile, he adds, “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”

While Bucky would normally crack a joke about how that’s exactly what a serial killer would say, right now, all he can do is blink at Steve in surprise, heart tripping over itself in his chest. Steve wants him to come and stay at his place. In Massachusetts. Just the two of them.

"Oh," Bucky croaks. "I- Wow."

“I mean, no pressure,” Steve says hastily. “Totally fine if you don’t wanna. I just thought I’d offer, in case it might help, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Bucky ignores the little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot Nat and Becca, telling him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. “I mean, if you’re sure, that would be amazing.”

Anywhere The Wind Blows | 8845 words 👨‍🚒🎖️

After a catastrophic fire that shakes him to his core, Steve Rogers quits his job as a Brooklyn firefighter and relocates to a cabin in the remote Canadian wilderness, wanting quiet and solitude and to maybe never have to speak to another human being ever again. He gets his wish, more or less, until a recently injured Bucky Barnes is discharged from the Army and rents the cabin next door.

The Safer Course | 7918 words | Part 1 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡

When Steve moves to the suburbs in 2033, he intends to retire from superhero life.

He does not intend to fall in love with his pain-in-the-ass neighbor.

Every Year I Have You | 7064 words | Part 2 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡

Steve set the bar pretty high, as birthday presents go.

Bucky is determined to outdo him when July 4th comes around.

Beneath The Mistletoe | 21203 words 🎄

Bucky had a bet with his sister that if he didn’t have a boyfriend to bring home for Christmas by the time he was 25, he had to give her $200 and go blonde for a year. But now he's 25, it’s nearing December, and not only is Bucky as single as ever, but he’s also running low on cash. He doesn’t exactly want to bleach his hair, either.

At least Steve is willing to upgrade their relationship from best friends to fake boyfriends.

The Settler | 52203 words 🍞

“What do you want to do?”

Steve pauses and looks at them.

What he wants is to stay with them. He doesn't have any family left, they all died before he even joined the war and became... this. Captain America turned whatever he is now. But Natasha and Sam have become his family over the years. Not just because they're on the run together, fugitives and vigilantes, but way before that too.

He doesn't want to leave that.

But he knows that, realistically, he can't stay with them and they can't stay with him.

So he looks at them with a smile and lies. “I don't know.”

OR; In which Steve retires and finally finds a place to call home.

You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory | 1148 words 🐈

"Alright, Bucky," Steve slows his steps, watches his neighbour stop at the bottom of the next flight of stairs. There's a canvas bag in his hand that Steve didn't notice earlier, cream coloured with the figure of a sleeping, black cat painted on it. "Have a good day."

He thinks Bucky's cheeks pink up a bit right then and there, but Steve can't tell. He's too distracted by his pounding, foolish heart, by the way Bucky smiles bashfully, and ducks his head. The way he seems like he wants to stay.

To Believe In Tomorrow | 3959 words 👨🏻‍🌾

Bucky's mornings at the community garden get a little more interesting when the new guy shows up.

Maybe This Christmas | 24873 words | Part 1 of Maybe ❄️

Bucky’s not going home for Christmas. But it’s fine. He’s spending Christmas alone in his apartment, but it’s cool. He’s not feeling up to seeing his family after his accident anyway, plus he has to work. He’s totally fine with it. But then he runs into Steve, literally, and suddenly his Christmas isn’t looking so empty after all.

-----

Hurrying was a bad idea. Bucky’s foot hits a patch of ice and slides out from under him in what would have been a comical cartoon banana-peel-like trip, if it wasn’t happening to him, and he braces himself to hit the ground. This is going to hurt.

“Fuck,” Bucky screeches, but as he lands on his back, it’s not the cold hard concrete he expected, but a solid mass beneath him. Oh god, Bucky thinks as he realises he smacked into the person behind him and took them down with him.

Maybe This Year (Will Be Better Than Last) | 133868 words | Part 2 of Maybe ❄️

Last year, Bucky Barnes met Steve Rogers. Well actually, he slipped and fell on him. What followed was the best Christmas either of them had ever had. But what happens when Christmas is over and life returns to normal? What happens after the Christmas miracle?

-----

Bucky should have known. He did know. When things seem too good to be true, they usually are. And Steve is the best thing that has happened to him in a long time, possibly ever, so of course it couldn’t last.

Maybe This Time (I Hope I Get The Chance To Say Goodbye) | 34561 words | Part 3 of Maybe ❄️

Steve and Bucky Barnes are happily married. They've made it through some hard times and come out stronger and happier, together. Then Steve gets called on to come out of retirement for the most important mission of his life and everything changes. Everything.

-----

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas…” Steve starts singing along softly, and Bucky chuckles, before leaning his head onto Steve’s shoulder, always happy when he’s in Steve’s arms.

“From now on, our troubles will be miles away…” Bucky joins in.

Dancing round their living room, just as in love as ever, their troubles seem light-years away, if not non-existent.

Sadly, they’re closer than they think.

The Unexpected Gift | 9504 words | Part 1 of When Winter Comes 🐕

Steve Rogers is fine.

After ending a long-term relationship with Sam Wilson, Steve moves back to New York. He's tired and lonely but depressed? No. At least, that's what he thinks.

From the window of his apartment, he watches a dark-haired man and his service dog sitting in the park, wondering what his story is.

The Winter Storm | 2218 words | Part 2 of When Winter Comes 🐕

"If I could give you one thing in life, I would give you the ability you see yourself through my eyes, only then would you realize how special you are to me."

After Bucky and Steve confessed their feelings for each other, life has its own twisted way to challenge the most profound love.

One January Night | 4213 words | Part 3 of When Winter Comes 🐕

Before going back to work, Steve Rogers still has things to learn: 1- Depression is a bitch and the battle against it isn't an easy one. 2- Dating a person with disabilities comes with its share of challenges.

Bucky Barnes Has His Shit Together (And Other Lies He Tells Himself) | 14159 words 🔒

You’d think a guy who owns one of the most successful bakeries in Brooklyn, has a million-dollar smile and that antiquated good ol’ boy charm, blond hair and blue eyes and biceps for days, would know what’s what.

But don’t let that fool you: Steve Rogers is a mess.

Obvious | 917 words ☕

"Oh, I have a prompt! So, it makes me laugh how painfully obvious Steve and Bucky's feelings are to everyone when they're in that pining, slowburn, does-he-doesn't-he phase. But imagine Steve and Bucky working in a coffee shop together and constantly bickering, nudging and playfully flirting with each other. And all the employees and patrons are so invested in their relationship and just want them to kiss already but no one realizes that Steve and Bucky have been married since they got out of HS."

#stucky #steve rogers/bucky barnes #bucky barnes/steve rogers #stucky fics #stucky fic #stucky fic rec #stucky fic recs #stucky fics rec #stucky fics recs #stucky fan fiction #stucky fiction #stucky ao3 #stucky complete #stucky au #adorable stucky fics

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yinses · 3 years

Text

B R A N D E D

| he would make sure that everyone knew who you belonged to |

tattoo artist! sukuna ryomen

rating: t

a/n: this is going to be a three part series. it got too long because i couldn’t shut up. thank you to @teoran for beta reading !!

you should have never informed yuuji that you were thinking about getting a tattoo, because of course his first response would be hey, sukuna owns a shop. why don’t you stop there. as if you didn’t already known that. your other friend, unfortunately had not known how to be subtle about it.

its when you go to hand off your card that they gasp audibly, drawing the attention of both yourself and the woman behind the counter.

“you’re not going to ask for a discount? i mean you know the owner, right?”

she jumps back quick enough to dodge the errant elbow you throw her way.

you knew you would regret telling her.

the woman is undeterred as she take your card, looking bored with the news. “so you know sukuna, huh?” the way she said it implied that it wasn’t the first time it had been made known to her.

you had known the man long enough to know where her thoughts were going with that assumption. sukuna wasn’t only popular for his art. a shudder rolled through your body at the idea of being categorized as one of his flings.

it wasn’t as though you were intentionally shaming the women. but it was sukuna. the same guy who locked you and his younger brother out on the patio whenever he was meant to keep an eye on you. and then blamed you for hiding from him when the responsible adults got home.

in hindsight, maybe you should have chosen another location. but now your card has been charged.

you scribbled your signature on the receipt, “uh yeah, awhile now. im not requesting him or anything.”

“his appointment book is full anyway. he doesn’t take walk ins.” its not said snidely, just matter of fact. as if she was seasoned with dealing with these kind of customers.

the man of topic strides in then, carrying a few bags of take-out that he drops carelessly onto the counter. he doesn’t m look unlike any other day, a loose white sleeveless shirt with a low hanging v-neck that just invited attention to his skin. the swirls of black ink made permanent by his hand only. though that was the advantage of this field and owning your own business on top of it.

sukuna was prepared to ignore the clientele planted at front desk, until he did a double take. those vermilion eyes took you in, morphing from speculation, to shock, a pinch of awe, then back to postulation.

“what are you doing here?”

a small frown mars you face. you didn’t actually consider that perhaps sukuna wouldn’t want you here. it was one thing to know the guy, but whether you wanted to accept it or not, you weren’t just another customer. so you unsurely respond with, “getting a tattoo?”

the snort he gives isn't one of annoyance. in fact its almost comforting to see the minuscule curl of his lips until they start to part, “yeah, missing something aren’t you?”

you realize with a frown that he’s referring to his brother.

“i have other friends.”

that slow smile wides as he gives your friend a brief look of appreciation. suddenly all those years of witnessing him cart his flings around rise to the forefront of your mind. really nothing rarely changed. “ i can see that.”

his gaze cuts back to you, “what are you getting? your boyfriends name?”

you cant tell if he’s teasing, fishing or a combination of them both.

he turns to lean over the counter, arms flexing at the action and pinches the fresh design still hot from the printer. you resist the urge to shuffle in place as he inspects the image with more interest than there were lines. it was hardly all that complex, just as you intended.

sukuna finally voices his opinion, to no surprise of your own. “yeah? kind of small isn’t it?”

“its my first sukuna,” you drawl.

you realize too late that the wording isnt best around him.

“no kidding.”

he tugs a styrofoam box free from the plastic bag before gesturing to you with a tilt of his head.

“alright, lets knock it out.”

you look to the woman expecting her to complain about his pending appointments but she only returns it with a pointed look. when it came down to it, what the boss wanted goes.

right then.

turning, you address your friend who seemed more invested in watching sukuna’s departure. “are you coming?”

her gaze snaps to you and she doesn’t even bother to pretend. she shrugs, “you may not be squeamish about needles but i am.” her hand waves vaguely towards the lounge area near the coffee station and stack of assorted snacks. “i’ll come running if you scream though,” she teases as you turn down the hall.

sukuna’s voice carries from the right in guidance where you find him setting his food off to the side. the room is neat. though you don’t know what you were expecting given the health expectations lining his work. then again, you’d spent the better part of the decade watching him cart week old pizza boxes out of his room so it was hardly a baseless assumption.

aside from the desk of tools and variety of inks the only other defining feature was the wall at the back. there was no rhyme or direction to the madness. the once white wall was littered with varying penmanships and messages. almost like an autograph book. some derogatory, others genuinely thankful for his work - you think you see a few numbers too.

the cushion of the seat protests under his weight as he rolls to the center of the room. he has the stencil of your chosen art held up in expectation.

“where is this pretty little thing going?”

“oh my rib- here on the right.” you think nothing of bringing up the hem of your shirt to expose the skin just under the curve of your breast.

he almost looks impressed, though there is some doubt. he wheels closer and gives no warning as his hand palpates the area. “over the bone? that’s daring for your first tattoo, princess.”

the name was nothing new, an accompaniment to yuuji’s ‘brat’.

part of you actually grateful that its sukuna. the entire shop had good reviews but it was best known for his talent. besides, the charge was already sitting on your card.

“i can handle it.”

he’s still squinting at your side, fingers tickling at your skin.

“yeah?” he answers absently. nimble digits you didn't think had any taste for delicacy carefully peel the plastic from the stencil. he doesn’t second guess himself in the slightest before pressing it to your skin.

when he pulls away, the chair follows him as he collects a hand mirror from his desk to reflect the design back to you.

“double sure?” he’s still rallying your resolve, but there is a hint of warning to his voice as professionalism seeps in.

with a firm nod you seal the deal,” yeah.”

“aright, pin up your shirt out of the way. tuck it into your bra if you want.”

you were expecting this already, given the location you’d decided on. with sukuna that action comes effortlessly without thought. it was no different than the times he’d seen you in your bathing suit, your brain reasoned. at least you still had your pants this time.

sukuna rests back into a lean against his small desk. absently you note that his eyes haven't left you once since you’d entered the room.

“eager little thing aren't you?”

but its sukuna.

you shrug.“ i guess. kind of been saving up for this one.”

the noise he makes is non-committal as he nods to the angled chair.

without your shirt there was no barrier between yourself and the leather. you expected the cold chill but the lack of stickiness kind of surprised you. once again you were reminded of the indisputable list of reviews at your fingertips.

sukuna goes about collecting the materials to disinfect your skin, angling the bottle and cotton over the trash can to catch the excess drops. satisfied with the saturation, he slides back.

you try to absorb the brief shock you feel when he applies the alcohol to your skin. it was hardly a substitute for actual bracing to come but it was good practice. when you look up, you catch his gaze again.

he’d been more observant in these last few minutes than you could ever recall sukuna caring before. maybe it was the job. though the thought of him excelling at customer service has you fighting a snort.

“cold,” you supply and he gives another grunt.

he chucks the cotton ball into the trash with all the efficiency of a man who has made a sport out of it and probably keeps score.

deciding on a solid color eliminated the need for him to break away to change shades, eliminating any surplus time keeping you in this chair.

a gloved hand braces your side, pinching the skin, while the other holding the gun rests against your sternum. when the motor starts you take a careful breath in. sukuna’s eyes raise at the sound.

“not nervous?”

you blink, expecting him to just get to it.

“uh, not really? i’ve never really been afraid of needles.”

he pauses. just when you part your lips to ask what wrong the buzzing starts.

its impossible not to tense at the first bite of the needle. but you fight the urge to jerk. it stings. the vibration of the motor is uncomfortable against your ribcage but it's not unbearable. you certainly wouldn't cry.

sukuna seems to notice it as well.

“not going to lie thought you’d be more of a cry baby? weren't you the one sobbing after you stubbed your toe.”

you latch onto the idle chatter even if it's a jibe.

“i was eleven and i sprained that toe.”

he gives you a quick glance. “sure, princess. completely called for the waterworks.”

you snort. “yeah well it made me stronger. im barely affected today.”

your words are followed by a shift of his hand as it turns to follow a line, the movement pressing firmly against the underside of your breast. you're too attentive to the needle pinching at your skin to take notice.

but sukuna does, eyes narrowing without your awareness.

“yeah, i can see that.”

rather than closing your eyes to block out the pain, you find a more comforting distraction in tracing the lines of his tattoos with your gaze. you can hardly make out the first tattoo he’d gotten at the age of seventeen after forging his parents signature.

the abstract design had now branched out, interlocking with new styles to map out the formation of a sleeve. it was almost like his own branded language. a dialect of bold shapes and bands. you’d never thought to actually ask what his tattoos meant. nor did you expect an honest answer.

sukuna works rather quickly and efficiently while your mind wandered. even if he hadn’t squeezed you in during his lunch break this felt like the usual pace for him. he looked so in the zone as he followed the pre-made lines to perfection.

you weren’t the model customer, still having your brief moments of weakness but he rolled with the interruptions better than you expected. sukuna was brash growing up and didn’t tolerate nonsensical people. you’d had your fair share of opportunities to be chewed out by him.

and earned a reasonable amount of them, though your returning attitude said otherwise.

but this sukuna was softer, if you could put it like that. he knew the right time to give you breaks but didn’t let your nerves settle too much. when he wasn’t adding a layer to permanency to your skin, an errant finger would smooth over the swelling flesh.

more than once you heard him throw out a quiet good girl. that you knew was meant to be encouraging but it came with additional implications that tickled your skin.

he tells you that you should be grateful that the artwork doesn’t need any shading. that it was never a good fit for beginners.

your chest expands the furthest it had in the last half hour when he finally rolls back.

“alright, princess, go ahead and take a look.”

you take the offered mirror again and angle it to take in the fresh piece. the reflection you get back is- amazing. you’d been so concentrated?? on micromanaging the pain that you failed to take in the little details he’d added along with the original design.

as if reading your thoughts, he snorts. “it's not my art if i don't leave my mark. you can tell me it looks good you know.”

if you didn't know any better, you’d say he was authentic in his attempt to bait your approval.

and you had no reason not to provide.

your legs are a little shaky but you manage to balance yourself before brining the eldest itadori into a hug. sukuna goes stiff for a moment before returning the embrace and doesn’t resist when you press your face into his shoulder. there’s an awkward pat before they release each other from the hold.

sukuna .. before he’s shrugging you off.

“god, what a noob. at least let me cover it up. you’re going to irritate the skin.”

when he turns back to rummage through his desk you note the hint of a flush creeping up his nape. you know better than to mention it, instead just smiling at his back.

there is a scowl on his face as he applies the cotton square to your skin and tapes it in place.

“please do not itch this shit. i don’t care if you feel like your skin is going to fall off.”

he presses a small tube of antibiotic into your hand.

“and apply this daily. you don't need it drying out. “

you’re grateful for the little slip of printed instructions that follow. you were able to remember the sensible directions but it couldn't hurt to have additional guidance when you started to question the progress.

“oh and no sex.”

that was definitely not on the list.

sukuna raises a brow in all seriousness. “what? if you get your blood pumping too much.”

you call him on his bullshit,” this small? hardly. “

he raises his hands in mock surrender. “alright, try it yourself if you want. i charge for touch ups though.”

the two of you size each other up. just like old times.

with a sigh you relent, “fine, no sex.”

“good, see me in two weeks.”

his words stop you short. it wasn’t as if you needed anything added and he wasn’t a physician checking on your progress. if anything, you would only revisit your artist if there was a problem.

“what for?”

the dawning grin would follow you for the next fourteen days.

“to make sure you didn’t have sex.”

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna blessings #sukuna ryomen

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naoyas90dayfiance · 3 years

Text

+18 | Pleasant surprise | Naoya Zen'in x Reader

NSFW

Naoya Zen’in x GN!Reader

Summary: Naoya didn't expect his spouse being so eager to please him.

Content warning: very explicit description of a blowjob, the reader is his spouse/servant.

Word count: 2.6k of pornographic content.

Author's note: I’ll suck Naoya’s dick.

The small plates clicked when you put a teacup on each of them, there were about six of them on your tray for the Hei Squad.

You had put an elegant plate of fruit in the center. It was for your husband, who asked you to bring some cherries, banana, papaya, and kiwi to him.

As you were giving the tray some finishing touches, you felt sweat dripping from your forehead to your white robe. You cleaned the droplets with a cotton handkerchief you carried with you.

The kitchen was too warm for everyone's good. There was no question on why the men never went in there. You bet they hid their disgust for the cooking area by saying it was a place for only the servants of the family.

You placed a few rose petals on your tray, giving a pleasant touch to it. Even if your new life was to be a servant of the Zen'in's, you still did your best to enjoy it. Your cheerfulness wouldn't die down, even if you were in such a harsh environment.

You snapped out of your thoughts and fixed your hair, face, and uniform. Then, you grabbed the wooden tray by the handles. A small smile was on your face as you exited the kitchen.

Your eyes were fixated on your delightful placement of the teacups and the decorations you put near them, you felt proud of yourself.

As you approached the room where the strongest members of the clan were reunited, you noticed the seductive voice of your husband debating with what it sounded like Jinichi. You hoped he appreciated the effort you put into serving him and his family.

You smoothly slid the door and blessed the room with your beautiful presence. Everyone turned to look at you, but then went back to their conversation. Your eyes peeked through your lashes to see if your husband noticed your presence, but he was entertained with his pen. His expression was of boredom even if his uncle was talking to him.

The only man staring at you with a shine of joy in his eyes was Ranta. He was mesmerized by your presence since the first day you entered the Zen'in estate as Naoya's future spouse.

You took small steps when strolling to the table, then you kneeled to serve tea for each one of them and place the biscuits at the center; while doing this, you heard a soft "Your tray looks beautiful today." Your eyes followed the voice and found the beaming face of Ranta, looking at you and your work as it was the most magnificent thing he has ever seen. You shyly smiled and propped yourself up.

You walked to your husband, hoping he will notice the arrangement of fruits you did for him. You even covered it with a fine line of chocolate syrup. You kneeled next to him and placed the plate in front of him. Naoya took a look at it but then went back to gaze at his pen and barely hear the conversation in front of him.

"Wow! You're so talented with your arrangements! Can I get one like that in the future?" Ranta cheerfully commented on the dessert you made for your husband.

"Yes, my lord," you replied. Naoya didn't respond to his sibling’s comment.

You lifted yourself once again, leaving the room with eyes to the floor and delicate steps. You arrived in the kitchen and began washing the dishes.

After a few minutes passed, you heard how the Hei Squad finished their meeting, and each of the men made their way around the house to different rooms.

You were placing the clean cutlery in a drawer but the sound of the sliding door interrupted you on your duties. You quickly turned and got ready to bow down. Naoya was standing in the entrance and saw how you reclined to greet him

"Be in my room in 20 minutes," you replied positively, and he left.

"His room?" You thought. "Aren’t we married?" You turned your eyes and went back to placing the expensive forks and chopsticks in their respective drawers.

"Does he want to be with me? We haven't been together since our wedding night," you kept talking to yourself. Suddenly, a naughty idea came to your mind that made you bite your lip.

"Well, finally I get to do something fun. After all, we only accepted his proposal because he wasn't over 45 like the elders." You shivered at the mental image of the elders wanting to wed a young sorcerer like you.

"What if I go there earlier?" A wide smile crept on your face when picturing your husband naked, waiting for you. "No, I better go at the time he said. Maybe he's preparing something." You finished your duties with a smile on your face.

You looked at the clock in the kitchen and noticed you still had some minutes left. You ran to the nearest restroom and took a few minutes to put on some drops of your soft-scented perfume in private areas of your body and fix your looks. You left the room and made your way to your shared chamber.

You softly slid the door and found your husband sitting on a chair in front of the vanity. He was facing towards you. The room was well-lit from the open windows that let in the orange light of the afternoon. You bowed when meeting his gaze and closed the door behind you.

"My lord," you greeted him.

"Come here," you got near to his figure. His legs were spread wide, and he was wearing only his inner white robe.

"Kneel", he commanded when you were in front of him. You complied.

Your knees met the floor and your gaze was fixed down, never daring to look upwards if he didn't address you.

Naoya stared at your figure with a pleased smile on his face. His hand moved to the left panel of his robe and moved it to the side, revealing his hard cock standing upright against his defined abdomen.

"Look up," a surprised expression took over your features when you looked at your aroused husband showing you his needy cock.

"So?" He was satisfied with your reaction but felt confused when a cheeky smile showed on your face. Your body moved forward, and your hand took his pink dick in a soft, exploratory grip.

"My husband had some naughty thoughts," Naoya's breath caught up, but he released it unwillingly when you used your other hand to caress his heavy balls.

Naoya opened his mouth, ready to reply to your comment, but he had had forgotten how to breathe when your hand gripped his cock harder; making a fist that you moved up and down his shaft. The lack of lube made it uncomfortable, but your initiative had him subconsciously parting his legs a little bit more to make room for you.

He wished he could tell you to stop, but the reality was that he hadn't gotten any release since your wedding night a few weeks ago. He was desperate, and his cock showed it. He couldn't control his rock-hard member from twitching in your hand when you took a faster pace when you picked up his pre-cum and started to spread it around his shaft.

"I'm glad my services are pleasing you," you happily said. Naoya looked at you straight to your eyes; his expression was one of frustration.

Your beautiful lips got near his aggressively flushed head, and you placed your tongue underneath his ridge. You flicked it where his shaft met his head.

You felt the warmness of his cock against your wet muscle and smelt his salty pre-cum. Naoya released a moan from his lips.

Naoya kept his eyes on you working on his cock; he struggled to keep a calm façade when you had such loving gestures on his shaft. His gaze was fixed on how your lovely hand stroked his shaft from the base to the middle of his length and back.

Naoya finally resumed his breathing when you pulled your hand and mouth away. He opened his mouth to give you a command, but he couldn't form a coherent phrase when your tongue moved from his cum-filled sack to the well-defined vein on his underside, and made its way up to his slit. You coated his cock with your saliva. At seeing this, his dick twitched under your wet muscle.

Naoya released a moan when you took him again with your right hand and uncovered his pinkish mushroom head to put it inside your mouth. He didn't expect to enjoy the wetness and hotness of your hole trapping him.

Your hands went to his lap as a way to keep his thighs open and use them as support. You pulled yourself up so the head of his cock aligned with your throat.

In slow motion, you moved down his shaft, taking inch by inch on his mouth. Naoya's mouth was agape. He couldn't believe his beautiful spouse was taking his cock completely in their throat.

When you felt his excited head in your throat, you pulled back but then pushed it in again. You repeated the motion enough times to have your husband throwing his head back. His squinted eyes were glued to your lips.

You fucked your own throat with his cock. You pushed more of his cock into you until your nose was on his base. You held your breath for a few seconds. Naoya only kept his gaze on you, invested in the show you were putting up for him.

You pulled back and felt his cock exiting your mouth, but you stopped in the middle of it and pushed it in one more time. Your saliva and his pre-cum were dripping out of your pretty lips, and they made a small puddle on his crotch.

Naoya couldn't handle the erotic display in front of his eyes. Your little mouth fucking itself with his cock was too much for him to handle.

You felt how Naoya moved his left hand and grabbed the hair on the back of your head. He began pulling it, but he quickly stopped when he felt the delicious feeling of having your throat caress his veins. He also noticed how seductive your lips looked when his cock was sliding out of your mouth.

Naoya sensed he could cum right there, but he remained focused and pulled you out of your loving embrace with his dick. He looked at your naughty and dripping mouth. His gaze went to your eyes.

"What are you doing?" He said in a low tone.

"I'm pleasing you," Naoya clicked his tongue inside his mouth. His expression changed into an angered one.

"Have you done this with other people?" His voice was demanding but had a sad undertone in it.

"No," you responded.

"And how do you know how to do that?"

"I watched videos about it," Naoya raised an eyebrow. You felt how his grip relaxed on your hair.

"Very well," he flashed you his signature cheeky smile.

Naoya let you go. He made himself comfortable on his seat and spread his legs even further. His cock had gotten softer.

"What else did you learn?" He looked at you, amused.

"A lot of things," you bit your bottom lip.

Your hands went back to his cock. You placed your left near his base and the right on the middle of his erection, just where his cock curved to his abdomen.

You stroked his cock in two different motions, the first hand went clockwise and the second one doing the opposite, the motion had him curling his toes under your touch.

Naoya's sweat was forming on his forehead. His nostrils were flaring as he felt how you played with the foreskin of his cock, stimulating his raging boner in different directions. His tip was oozing more and more pre-cum, making it easier for you to pick up a faster pace. He let out another moan. His face was turning red out of frustration at his lack of self-control.

You took his head in your mouth. You caressed his defined mushroom head with your tongue, making it wet with your saliva. When his pre-cum coated your muscle, you sucked his sticky and bittersweet arousal. The wet sounds were filling the room again and got into Naoya's now-red pierced ears.

His breath became agitated. You could see how his abdominal muscles pulsed when you licked around his pink and warm head one more time. You were enjoying it as it was about a brand new Popsicle, the difference was that instead of having the sweet liquid dripping and falling out of your hands, it was your husband's excitement and your drool.

Naoya's muscles were clenching harder as you worked on his cock. His breath was erratic. You felt how he started to get bigger in your hands.

That's when you heard it, a low but long moan escaping out of Naoya's pretty and parted mouth. Soon after, a shot of his cum hit your throat. The bittersweet flavor was all over your mouth.

Your hands and mouth kept caressing his cock as he shot rope after rope of his warm cum in your mouth. You swallowed them as they filled you up.

You had to close your eyes and concentrate on making sure his cum didn't slip out of you, as he was shooting a lot of his seed into you, more than you had expected.

After his cock stopped oozing cum in your mouth, you made sure to lock eyes with him and give a soft and loving kiss to his dick; then, you softly put his still hard cock on his thigh.

You pulled back and sat on your knees. Your hands rested on your lap, and you looked at your husband. His forehead was sweaty; his mouth was agape, trying to get more air into his lungs. He looked at you with squinted eyes.

Before you could smile, you heard a bell in the distance.

"I have to help to prepare dinner," you said worriedly.

You stood up, approached Naoya, and gave him a peck on his lips. You cleaned your mouth with your cotton handkerchief and exited the chamber quickly.

Naoya was left with his soft dick on his thigh and memories of what you have done to him. He never expected this side from you. He closed his mouth and licked his lips. The taste of his cum took him aback.

You were finishing preparing the tray with the second dish for the male members of the Zen'in family.

Your head was still repeating what happened with your husband earlier on, but right now you chose to focus on making your way to the dining room.

You walked the hall until you arrived at the doors that shield the men from you. You gracefully slid them open.

You didn't expect to see your husband there. He had changed his clothing. You didn't pay much attention to it as you needed to elegantly serve the table.

When you finished, you placed the same sweet you made for Naoya a few hours ago in front of Ranta.

"Thank you so much. This looks so delicious!" He thanked you with an excited face. A smile showed on your features.

"They're my spouse," Naoya replied coldly, interrupting your interaction. Ranta snapped out of his in-love state, and you deeply bowed to your husband. You caught the displeased look on his face.

"My love, would you join me for dinner?" Naoya's features changed drastically when addressing you. He looked like charming man. You nodded and made your way next to him. When you kneeled to join him, you noticed that this time he was looking at you in your eyes, and had a smile on his face.

#naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #zenin naoya x reader #naoya zenin #zenin naoya #naoya

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poppywrites41 · 3 years

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Captive Love Chapter 1

Prince!Yoongi x Maid!Reader

AN: this MIGHT turn into an ot7 fic. honestly depends on my mood, i dont rlly have a plan for this so it might not even be completed itself. Here is the first chapter for it. lmk what y’all think!!

If y’all like it, i will keep posting, but I will be busy until May with university assignments.

WARNING: Implied death, cursing, sexual references. There will be more smut and violence to come in future chapters. If anyone is triggered by smut, non-con, death or violence, DO NOT INTERACT ANY FURTHER IN THIS BOOK.

The man watched with cold eyes as the young female body fell from his hold to the floor with a thud. He kneeled down and places his hand on her neck to check for a pulse. When he found no signs of life, he sighed in annoyance, “Fuck...I didn’t even get to try her out yet.” What was her name again? He didn’t know. Well, he didn’t really care. If he is feeling frustrated, there is usually one in his vicinity doing her chores where he can just grab them and do as he pleases. They don’t fight and he likes that, but it has started to get boring. This girl was different. She was probably new and didn’t know what to do, so she had a tiny bit of fight to her. But, she apparently didn’t know how to clean his desk properly, so she got herself a little too hard of a squeeze to the neck.

The prince huffed and went down the hall to let the guards know to remove the body that was in his chambers. They immediately took action, rushing with haste to remove the inconvenience from their majesty’s room. The man walked into the banquet hall where his parents and 6 brothers were eating their dinner.

“Yoongi my daring!” his mother called him over to her, taking his hand, “you must try the elk! Jungkook killed it today and it’s the biggest one anyone has ever shot! It is absolutely delicious!” Yoongi looked over at his youngest brother who had two servant girls on either side of him, begging for his attention. It annoyed Yoongi that Jungkook could just bat an eyelash and would have 5 women at his feet ready to suck his cock. Why the fuck was he so popular? “Nice kill.” he said to the youngest as he sat down next to his second younger brother, Namjoon. Namjoon was one of the brothers he tolerated well. He was a smart man and handsome at that. If he had been born first, he would have been a good king. He also had good luck when it came to fucking.

“Mother,” Yoongi said as he was served a piece of elk with roasted vegetables, “I need a new bedchamber maid.” His mother sighed, “Did you dispose of another one already?! Didn’t she just start last week? Yoongi, this is the 4th one in the past month and a half!” “She couldn’t do her job properly. I did what I had to.” The second eldest prince huffed.

“Mother,” Jimin, the third youngest spoke up, “where are you finding these women? What’s their status?” “I think this last batch came from Hearthfield. A few of the girls were daughters of the noblemen whom we paid handsomely for.” she recalled. Jimin laughed, “That’s your problem! You’ve been getting girls who don’t do that stuff. You need to go to Seaport to find the best girls. That’s were I get my bedchamber maids from. They know how to work, and they know how to properly serve a man.” The queen smiled warmly at her third youngest, “Thank you Jimin. Yoongi, I will send out the guards to Seaport to find more women to work at the castle. You may come down to the courtyard and inspect them. Though you may not pick yet, for they need to be trained.” “Thank you mother,” Yoongi said as he dug into his meal.

“Y/N!” an older male voice called to the girl staring at the sea, “Go help your brother with the crab traps. Remember, females with eggs-“ “get thrown back, males as big as the palm can stay. Got it!” the young girl finished for him, jogging along the dirt path to their dock.

Y/N and her family are fishermen. Well, her stepfather and stepbrother are. Her mother passed away 3 years ago when she was 18 and she never really could recall her own father. Her stepfather wasn’t a bad person. He treated her like a human being, but there was always a wall that she felt he put up around himself. She and her stepbrother tolerated each other when it came to working. He wasn’t the worst person in the world, but he always made it known that he was superior to her. Sometimes she felt like she didn’t belong in her own home, but she enjoys working by the sea. She walked onto the dock where her stepbrother was already going through one of their crab traps. “Hey,” he said, not looking up at her, “you know what to do. Better go fast so we make it back before dark.” Y/N nodded and went to the next crab trap, opening it up and sorting their catch. The sun had begun to set when they finished. Y/N and her stepbrother loaded the wagon with buckets of crab. Her brother got on and started the horse towards the village where the best crabs will be picked to be taken to the royal family. “You go on back. I’ll take them.” her stepbrother said. She nodded and began walking back home. Y/N never thought much of the royal family other than being jealous that they get the best of what they caught. She sometimes wonders what they are like. As she walks back, she closes her eyes and feels the sea wind on her face. She can practically taste the salt in the wind. She’s happy here. She doesn’t need to worry about some royal family. Her life is good.

When Y/N was finally able to spot her home, she saw a group of men in armor with horses in front of her home, conversing with her step dad. She thinks nothing of it and continues her walk. She then notices the head guard hand over a sack of what looked like money to her stepfather. Y/N got excited thinking that maybe the royals were paying their subjects extra money for their good food and ran toward her stepfather. When she arrived, all of the men looked at her. “Is this her?” the guard asked her stepfather. “Yes sir,” he replied, “she does not have much to pack that she would really need there, so she is ready to go whenever.” Y/N looked at her stepfather in confusion, “Where am I going? What do I need to get?” Before he could answer, the guard spoke, “The king and queen sent us out to find young women to serve them in the castle. We seem to have had a drop in servants recently and are paying families to hand over their daughters.” “But you surly must have enough!” she said, sending a pleading look to her father, “we are happy here! I wouldn’t be much help! I only know how to fish!” “Y/N!” her stepfather’s voice increased, “You must go. We have barely had enough money to feed three mouths since your mother died. She would have agreed to this.” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her family was giving her up? After all she had done for them? Tears began to well up in her eyes. The guard was the next to speak, “I will give you three minutes. Grab what you can carry, come back out and get into the wagon. We leave for the castle.” Y/N barley nodded and slowly walked into her home to her room. She got a small crossbody satchel and put her small stuffed bear her mom made her in it, her favorite shell and her notebook. She found her mom’s necklace and put it on. It was a simple necklace; a silver pendant that had the words “my love for you is as great as the sea” etched into it. When she came out, her brother had just returned. She looked at him and he avoided her gaze which broke her heart. “Come girl,” the captain said, “We haven’t got all day. We must return this evening.” Y/N nodded and followed his horse to the wagon. When she hopped on, there were only 6 other women. They were very pretty so she felt left out. Granted, Y/N didn’t really have the luxury of having a mirror so she never really knew if she was pretty, not that she cared anyways. She looked back at her home as it slowly disappeared from view, already missing her life on the sea. After what seemed to be a few hours, the group arrived at the gate of a great stone castle. Y/N thought the castle came straight from a fairy tale book.

The wagon was brought into the courtyard where there was an older woman waiting. The girls were lined up in front of her. She walked down the line of young girls, inspecting them. She sighed and turned around to face them all. “Welcome, ladies, to the castle of Bangtan. My name is Lilith and I am your head maid. You all have been chosen to be servants of the royal family. These duties include cleaning the interior of castle, serving food to the royal family at meals or guests during balls, doing their laundry or fetching anything they ask for. There are a few rules you MUST follow; NEVER look a royal in the eye unless told to by one, NEVER speak informally to a royal, only speak when spoken to and NEVER refuse service to a royal. Do what you are told and life will be easy. Now, your training will begin at 7 AM, I will take you to your quarters. I will show you where to meet me in the morning. Come along and do not fall behind.” The girls looked at each other in confusion as they followed the head maid into the castle. Y/N felt someone staring at her but when she looked back, she saw nothing. She quickly followed the group into the doors so that she won’t be left behind.

“So my darling,” the queen said to her second oldest son, “what do you think?” Yoongi huffed as he watched the girl with h/c hair rush to catch up to the group. “She looks like work,” the queen sighed, “hopefully she will last longer than the one who was disposed of three days after arriving.” Yoongi on the other hand was intrigued by the young girl. He couldn’t get a good look at her face, but her posture was different from the other girls. They were making themselves small while she stood tall. She seemed strong, like she had some fight in her. Yoongi is intrigued by that. The queen could see the wheels turning in his head, “Has one already caught your attention my dear?” “There is one that is particularly interesting,” he said folding his arms, “but we will have to see.” “Do not mess with them immediately,” the queen warned, “they need to train and get used to their new environment. Give them a week.” With that she pressed a kiss to his cheek and walked back inside. Yoongi went back to his room and lay down on his bed. He couldn’t get that h/c out of his head. He knew he was not supposed to interact with the new servants until they are properly trained, but what’s training without an actual royal? A smirk played on the prince’s lips as he thought about the next day until he fell asleep.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #bts yoongi #bts royal au #poppywrites41 #yandere yoongi #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fic #bts x reader smut #yoongi x reader smut

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monodipita · 3 years

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There's a Fire in My Heart (Yandere!Rengoku x Reader)

Hello! I wanted to start this post off by saying that I am aware that shorter reader-inserts often garner more attention, but I don't mind that my longer reader-inserts don't garner as much. I hope you enjoyed this piece as much as I enjoyed writing him! And a shorter version may come out soon.

Word count: 4,010

Warnings: YANDERE CONTENT. MENTIONS OF SELF-HARM/SELF-MUTILATION.

Everyone knew about Kyojurou Rengoku. He was the kind, sincere, hard working Hashira who worked his way into the hearts of many. He was handsome and elegant despite being so hardy, with the callouses that adorned his hands like a second skin, and the scars that littered his body. He was able to sway the hearts of many, including your own. You'd been a secret admirer for a while now, writing him cute little notes and leaving them at his post every sunrise that always seemed to make the man smile brighter than the charming smile he always held on his lips.

You knew this because you overheard him talking about the notes with his fellow Hashira Mitsuri Kanroji. "I'd love to meet my secret admirer one day." He told her. One day.

He was always busy, so it became hard to capture his attention... or, rather, it was.

It felt like a stroke of luck so strong that you were going to have bad luck for the rest of your life when you twisted your ankle—because Kyojurou wasn’t looking, and you tripped. Purposefully, yes. You immediately regretted it. Your body came clashing to the forest floor, and the wood inside your basket spilled out onto the ground below you. "Ah!" You whined aloud as an instinctive reflex.

"I'm so sorry!" Kyojurou shot to your side. "Here, I'll grab your things, and then I'll take you to the Butterfly Estate. I'm so sorry!"

You were unable to talk because of how dazed you were, from hitting the forest floor, to the fact that he was now so close to you. You stared at him through bleary eyes as he picked up the long logs of wood and put them back into the basket that was once on your back. He slotted his arms into the straps and helped to hoist your body against his, wrapping his right arm around your waist while his left arm held onto your right. "Stay close, okay? Let me know if I'm doing too much for you."

Shinobu revealed the unfortunate news of being bedridden some few hours later.

”Oh... that’s awful,” he put his right hand over his lips and furrowed his thick brows with worry. His fiery golden eyes looked down at you and caused you to look away before your blush became obvious. “I’m so sorry... [Y/N], was it?”

He knew your name...

“I’ll make up for it somehow, I promise.” He told you. “For now, I must go, I have other matters I must attend to. But I will return, every day at the same time, until you’re better. Okay?”

"Okay."

DAY 1

"I took your wood to your home." He started off the conversation now that he was in the room. "You live alone, [Y/N]?" Alone... if that was a way to put it. "Recently, yes," you admitted aloud, "my family moved away after I passed the The Final Selection. They couldn't agree with my decision to become a demon slayer. I miss them." You smiled wistfully as you recalled the day they cast themselves out of their own home.

Though Kyojurou looked saddened by that answer, he didn't comment on it much further. "I brought your breakfast. Kocho-san was too busy to bring it herself." He set the tray down on your lap. You cringed at the hot feeling, visibly enough to draw his attention—but that might've simply been because you yelped short after. You fought the feeling to reach down and grab at your propped up, sprained ankle, as pain ricocheted through your leg.

"Oh!" He quickly lifted up the tray off of your legs. To your surprise, he didn't spill the contents of the food anywhere around you or on the floor. "I'm sorry, was it too hot?" He asked, causing you to look up at his face. He was blushing out of embarrassment! He looked so cute!

His eyes bulged wide with worry, and the same, saddened frown appeared on his face from moments before. "Just a bit... I wasn't expecting it." You chuckled wryly. "Sorry, you can put it back down." You reassured him and gently pat your lap. "No, it's fine, I'll hold it. I don't want to put any unnecessary strain on your ankle." Kyojurou stated. "It'll be fine! I won't leave until I know you've eaten breakfast."

A blush spread across your own features. He was a selfless man and it showed in every action he performed. How could people not fall in love with him? "Oh, okay," your breath was taken away, clearly. He even went through the act of holding the tray out for you so that you could eat your food. You looked down at what you had to eat—miso soup and onigiri. It smelled delicious. "The cooks here are fantastic." Kyojurou remarked. "I'm sure you've had to spend a lot of time in here, haven't you?" You asked him.

"Mm? Oh, yes." Kyojurou nodded his head. "If I don't come back from a mission with some type of injury, then something is wrong." He chuckled.

"How are they?"

"What is it?"

"I'm just asking, how are the missions? I haven't been able to go on one yet," you admitted, "I've been dealing with a lot of training. Ooyakata-sama says that I'm not ready to go out on my own yet."

Kyojurou looked more than surprised by that answer. "When you live out so far on your own?" He furrowed his brows. "Are you at least training yourself when you cannot attend daily training sessions?" You nodded your head. Of course you tried, but sometimes, training could be too far away. You wouldn't tell him that—you feared that he would pull something out of his sleeve and try to— "eat please, [Y/N]."

"S-sorry," you squeaked. You didn't waste any time digging into your meal. First with the onigiri that seemed to fill you up almost immediately upon biting into the second one. "I don't think I can finish these," you looked up at Kyojurou. His eyes were already on you, as if he was watching you eat. You didn't think anything of it. "Would you like one?"

"I shouldn't... but..." he trailed off as he thought about it, before nodding his head. "I'd appreciate it. I haven't ate, so watching you eat has made me hungry."

"Never starve yourself!" You gently scold him. You reached down and took the rice ball into your hand to give to him, smiling gently at him... until your smile dropped when you realized that you couldn't give it to him. "I-I'm so sorry!" You sputtered. "It's fine. Just feed me," he spoke casually, much to your surprise. You swallowed thickly. Your lips parted to say something, anything about what that man just said, but nothing came out. Your hand instinctively drifted toward his lips, while his head met you halfway. The bite into the food made you jump, your eyes wide as if you were a deer in headlights. You tried not to pay too much mind while you fed him, but it would eventually become apparent that you were embarrassed to do something like this for him. He didn't seem to mind one bit... maybe even he was enjoying it? You had to stop this somehow!

"Do you think the soup has cooled off enough by now to set the tray on my lap?" You asked. The onigiri were delicious, and you weren't joking about it possibly taking up all the space in your stomach. But food was food, and you didn't want to get rid of it all.

Kyojurou hummed and pressed the tray onto his lap. He hovered his right hand over it. "It does seem to be that way." There was the slightest hint of undetectable disappointment in his voice. Had you been better at picking up facades, you would've been able to catch up on it. "Here you go, [Y/N]." He sat the tray down in your lap, engulfing it in warmth. He took the rice ball from you and continued to chew on it while you dug into the soup.

The meal was finished, even though you didn't want it to be. It was filled with eerie silence, because you didn't have anything to say, and Kyojurou was... well, eating. "It was a fantastic meal!" Kyojurou beamed, "I'll be sure to thank them on my way out. Now—" he stood straight, “I have to go. It was nice eating with you, [Y/N]—“

The two of you were interrupted by the sound of a shoji opening. You were surprised to see two butterfly attendants making their way into the room with a room service cart. “What is this?” You asked, “I thought Rengoku-san had the breakfast covered for me?”

”I believe there’s been some sort of mixup. We just finished making breakfast ten minutes ago—but this tray does look like ours.” They picked up the tray and observed it. “Maybe we—“

”There’s no need to conduct an investigation.” Kyojurou spoke up. “I lied about the breakfast. To tell you the truth, I am the one who made that breakfast, and I hoped that we could eat it together.” He smiled apologetically and bowed, “I’m sorry for the confusion I’ve caused, but I truly must take my leave. I’ll see you tomorrow, [Y/N].”

H-he wanted to eat with me?!

Your heart couldn’t stop pounding a furious beat against your chest. You just couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth! Eat with you?! You barely knew each other! “Bye,” you weakly called to him while he left the room. If this was going to happen every day? Why, it didn’t feel too bad after the initial impact...

DAY 2

Hours poured into the morning. It felt unusually past the time Kyojurou said he was going to show up... not that you had a way of knowing. Breakfast had already been served, and you were left with the displeasure of eating it on your own, in the silence of your room. You thought you would've been used to the quiet, after all, you lived alone now—but he seemed to dull that pain. Now you missed him.

“[L/N]-san. Are you busy?” Shinobu’s voice was a break in the thick silence, and very much welcomed. The presence of another person was soothing.

You glanced up from your lap and nodded. “Not at all. Please, come in.”

Shinobu slid the shoji shut behind her and stepped over to the bed. She sat down in the bedside chair and elegantly folded her limbs atop one another while she addressed you. There was a warm, inviting smile on her face, much like the one Kyojurou held. “How are you feeling?”

”I’m feeling alright.” You responded. “My foot seems to be doing better than before! I think I’ll be able to get back on my feet by the end of the week.” At least you hoped so. As much as it was nice to be able to have the Flame Hashira see you in personalized visits, you had a life that you needed to live outside of these four walls.

“You’re right about that,” Shinobu started, “but that doesn’t mean I want you to immediately start hopping on your feet and walking around one-legged. In order to make a full recovery, I want you to stay for another two days. Is that fine with you?”

You winced. Two more days of staying in this bed? What if Rengoku-san didn’t show up again? Was it worth it? “That’s fine,” you weakly respond. No it isn’t. But did you have a choice? Not exactly.

”Thank you.” Shinobu stood. “With the more important information out of the way, I’ll allow visitation now—after what happened yesterday involving the mishap with Rengoku-san, I shortened your visitation hours. I didn’t like having to dispose of a good meal just because someone wanted to be friendly.” There was scorn in her voice. You nodded your head slowly in scolded understanding. “I’m sorry about that.”

”You don’t have to apologize,” Shinobu said. She walked over to the shoji. “Please, be well.”

As soon as she left, Kyojurou emerged from the shoji. He looked radiant, as usual, like the sun on a beautiful day with clear skies. His smile acted as the ray of sunshine that would blind your eyes, but at least you welcomed this form of sunshine. A smile bled onto your own lips as he fully made his way into the room and shut the shoji behind him. Alone, the two of you.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.” He let out a sigh while he walked over to the bedside chair. “Kocho-san is strict, but with good intentions.” He said aloud, as if to convince the two of you of that fact. "I know that. I'm still appreciative of what you did for me, even if we might've gotten into trouble."

You reached over and gently grabbed his forearm—noticing that he winced from that feeling. “Oh, did you just come back from a mission?” You asked. There must’ve been a cut under his uniform’s sleeves. Come to think of it, you could see a faint spot of blood where your hand pressed against it. "Does it need to be patched up?" You frowned with worry.

”Oh; no, that’s not it. I happened to get into a bit of an accident earlier this morning while I was cutting wood,” he explained, “I’ve already patched it up. No need to worry—it just hurt a bit, that’s all.” He smiled reassuringly, one that nearly melted you. You smiled back at him just as much. “I see.” You responded, “well, I have exciting news.”

He perked up. “What is it?”

”I’m going to be discharged in two days.” You told him. “You won’t have to worry about me anymore.”

”Two days?” Kyojurou’s face contorted. He looked... worried. He was quick to voice his thoughts about the decision. “Are you sure that’s going to be all you need? I thought sprained ankles needed more time to heal,”

It was so cute. How could he be so worried about someone he had just met? You found yourself giggling at him. “Relax. I feel much better now than how I felt yesterday. If I could, I’d even try getting up and walking around to see how it felt.” Being able to walk around would’ve been a relief. As enjoyable as it sounded before, being bedridden felt much like a nightmare. “I definitely don’t recommend it,” he said, clearly half-joking. “Please take care of yourself. Well—I have to go.” He rushed to get out of his seat. He stood tall, reaching over to gently pat your leg before he half-turned to face the shoji to leave.

”So soon?” You frowned. You were going to be lonely for the rest of the day...

”Visitation hours were cut short; remember, silly?” Kyojurou chuckled. “I’ll try to see you and stay for longer tomorrow.” He stepped out of the room as quickly as he came in, leaving you in the silence.

DAY 3

No sign of Kyojurou—just another quiet day. He said he would come... was there something wrong? You wanted to ask someone so badly, but you didn't even know how to voice it. For now, you would just stay quiet about it. Maybe he had to go on an actual mission. Aww... that would've meant that you couldn't see each other when you were discharged...

DAY 4

Discharge day. You couldn’t wait for this day as much as you dreaded it. It would be fantastic to finally get out of this room, out into the world, where you could go home and be in the comfort of your own bed. You awoke early to catch Shinobu just in time, who stepped into the room with the same, happy go lucky smile on her face. “I know you must be excited about today, [L/N]-san.”

”I am,” you beamed while you began to sit up. You slowly, steadily raised yourself off the bed and met her halfway. The sensation of walking... felt strange, after not doing it for so long. Your legs felt partially asleep, and there was a dull pain in your ankle that was sure to become annoying after a while. “How are you feeling?” She asked. “If I need to change your compression bandages for you, then I can.” She held out the gauze for grabs. ”I’ll be fine. Thank you for your magnificent service, Kocho-san.” You bowed to her and took the gauze out of her hand.

"[Y/N]-san!"

Kyojurou's voice grabbed your attention and made you nearly squeal with excitement. You hurried as best as you could to reach the shoji and thrust it open to eagerly meet the sight of him. He smelled faintly of burning wood... "did you just get done with doing something?" You asked. "Maybe something important?"

"Not important, no," the beaming, fiery-haired man shook his head and continued to smile. "I wanted to walk you home." A walk home? That sounded so sweet of him. "Oh," a blush spread thinly across your cheeks, "that's very nice of you. Thank you, Rengoku-san." The two of you stepped out of the Butterfly Estate. The walk was a quiet one... Kyojurou seemed so fixated on simply walking, and your mind was occupied by the fact that you were even having the chance to walk home with him made it so exciting.

It came into view. It took longer to get there than what you normally remembered it taking, but you shrugged it off, merely thinking of it as nothing more but a slow pace. He was just so considerate, after all.

You stepped in behind him after he opened the shoji for you. Home sweet home... it smelled like it, felt like it. Everything looked unchanged—but there was something off about it all. You could tell. "Wait... this isn't my home," you narrowed your eyes. Bewilderment seeped into your brain while you tried to make sense of it. "Why are all of my clothes and belongings here? Where are we truly at, Rengoku-san?"

Tricked. You were almost tricked, but you recognized your home anywhere you were at. These walls weren't the same. You didn't have an irori...

"I thought long and hard about it, but... I can't keep hiding the truth from you, [Y/N]-san." Kyojurou reached over to grab one of your hands, pulling the limp appendage into his own and giving it a gentle squeeze. What is he talking about? "For some time now, I have admired you. I liked watching you take your daily walks. I liked seeing that you were healthy, I liked seeing you take care of yourself."

What?

"I liked the notes that you left on my engawa—seeing you play dumb as if you weren't the one who put those notes there. The cute little smudge-marks your fingers would make when you were finished with the ink," he gently squeezed your hand.

How did he know?

"When you told me that you lived alone, it only confirmed my suspicions. You don't have anyone else to go to. I would hate such a life for someone who is so deserving of any love that comes their way."

Why was he talking about it?

"I did what I thought was the best thing to do..." he trailed off to take your other hand in his, squeezing both of them as he made his way in front of you. "You don't have to love me, all you have to do is trust me."

"Why?" Your lips were trembling. You felt sick. Yes, everything or what you could see of everything from your home was inside this single room, but it wasn't what mattered. You grew up in that home, and he... and he... "You took everything away from me. Y-you burned my home."

"No... no, don't think about it that way." Kyojurou looked all over your expression for some sign of comfort. His hands dropped yours to cup your cheeks, staring into your own with a worried expression. "That's not how you should think about it, [Y/N]-san. Don't you understand? This will be the opportunity to start your life anew with me."

It was so deranged, so sick. You barely had the physical power to shrug him off, but you managed to pull through. You needed to go back, you needed to see what he did to the only place that reminded you of your family that you had left.

"No... please, [Y/N]-san, you don't want to do this," Kyojurou tried to reason as he trailed behind you, off the engawa and into the barren yard, "you're going to see things that you don't want to see. You don't have to subject yourself to that torture." His hand touched your forearm and gently grasped it. You lashed out at him and ripped your arm out of his grip. "Leave me! Don't you see that you've ruined my life!?"

Kyojurou stood still. "Y-you don't get it," he stammered, "[Y/N]-san, I need you too. You have the energy I want in my life!" He raised his strained voice as he ripped both sleeves of his uniform up on his body to reveal scars. Plenty of them. It was alarming, but in your mind, it couldn't have hurt as much as seeing your childhood home burn down. "You're speaking like a madman," you scolded him. "I don't even know why I'm entertaining someone so delusional."

"...I'll do it."

The blade came as a shock. Your eyes widened, how did he get his hands on one so quickly? You thought you couldn't even see his arms moving... "I deserve it for being a bad significant other, don't I?" He sounded so creepy. His voice sounded off; desperate, but loving. "I've hurt you, so I must hurt myself, right?"

"..." you grimaced. How did you respond to an emotionally taxing situation like this? "You wouldn't...Rengoku-san, I don't even know you!"

"But you do!" He blurted back at you. "I'll do anything for you, [Y/N]. I just ask that you come back! Walk back to me... you don't have to see what happened to your home, you can just be with me," he pleaded.

But you didn't listen. No, you wouldn't. You turned and ran as fast, and as hard as your feet could take you into the forest, into the direction of your home. The scent of something burning helped with your path-finding, but it didn't matter. Your ankle started hurting. Hurting, hurting, and hurting. You'd forgotten that it was even strained until just now, where the pain became so severe that you ended up toppling over your injury.

"AH!"

You fell to the forest floor and squeezed your eyes shut out of pain. "Hoo... oh fuck," you hissed, clenching your teeth and bowing your head. What a painful feeling to come across, it was almost excruciating. But you needed to keep going... he was coming after you. Even if he threatened to do whatever he did back there, the pain of going through it wasn't going to stop him.

"[Y/N]-san... please."

He was already on you... maybe he was even behind you the entire time and you were under the foolish assumption that you'd escaped his line of sight. No, not at all.

"Get-get away from me!" You yelled at him. "Please!"

You stifled a gasp and a sob as his bloodied hands caressed your face. His hands trembled while his thumbs pressed directly into your cheeks while his thumb smeared the blood from his hands onto your poor cheeks. His blood. You knew what he did to himself. "Finally," he whispered, "I've finally caught you...and you can't leave me anymore. Please, [Y/N]-san, for our sake... think of this as our new life together. How I've waited so long for this opportunity, and now that I have it..!"

#yandere #rengoku x reader #rengoku kyoujurou #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #gender neutral insert #reader insert

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 3 years

Text

#222

“Hey little boy come over here. I saw you checking out my cock at the urinal. No no no, don’t run. I ain’t going to tell anyone. If you want to see it up close, let me see your ID. You are a cute little faggot, but I ain’t going to jail over you....

“Well, it looks like you just turned 18 a couple months ago. Let’s go into my truck. No, I’ll hold on to your ID. I need to make sure you don’t steal from me. You here alone? Answer me boy! Now let’s get one thing straight, you are a pansy-assed pussy fag boy begging a real man truck driver to use your holes. I ain’t got time for your bullshit. If I ask you a question, don’t think about it, answer it. If I give you an order, you immediately comply. That’s how it works in here. Now you here alone?…

“Hitchhiking hunh? See? That was easy. What you running away from?… Aww fuck. Faggot, I need to know, is anyone going to come looking for you if I were to pick you up hitchhiking?… Ok. Get the fuck naked. Now climb on the bed, lean on the back wall. Spread your legs wide. Look down at your tiny little toothpick dick. Don’t look up until I tell you. You understand? Good. I just got to get something. NOW! Look up. Ok. I just took a pic of your ID with your naked faggot ass in the background. I don’t believe for one bit that you are 18. You look younger, but your ID tells me otherwise, and that’s what I’m going with.

“Now kneel in front of me. You wanted to see my cock here it is. It’s a big piece of meat hunh? Much bigger than yours. This is a real man’s dick. You suck dick before?… Well let’s see if you learned how to please a man. Suck. I said suck. Oh for fuck’s sake. How many men have you sucked? Just one. I can tell. That was pathetic. With one hand hold on to my shaft. Let me explain something to you. If you are going to pick up truck drivers—hell! any man—you are going to have to know how to suck cock. 99% of the drivers just want head. We’ll get to butt fucking and ass eating in a bit.

“That piece of meat in your hand is the most important part of a man’s body. I ain’t talking about a faggot’s body here, a real man. It’s what give him pleasure. Blowjobs are about you giving him that. In most blowjobs, not all, you are the one doing the work. Butt fucking is the other way around. So when you put a man’s cock in your mouth, he’s trusting you with his pleasure. It’s your job to give it to him.

“No two men are the same. Some want a slow rhythm. Others want fast and aggressive. Still others want a combination. Then there’s the deep throat versus the head. When you just have the man’s cock head in your mouth, use your tongue to work it. There’s a spot right below the piss slit that gives instantaneous pleasure. Run your tongue over it whenever possible. If you are bobbing on his knob, and you barely have the dickhead in your mouth, right before it lunges back down your throat firm up your tongue. That way his piss slit and that magic spot rubs your tongue and gets stimulated on the way down.

“Now taking a man to his nut is difficult, and it can be quite electric. But when your throat resists, it can be annoying. Some guys love making a fag gag, others want a throat to open up and accommodate. Your job is to determine what it will take to make that man shoot his load on your face, in your mouth, or down your throat.

“Speaking of which, if you aren’t willing to take a load from a man, then don’t even bother. You are here to do the thing their wives or girlfriends won’t do, or don’t do well. So figure out what gets the man off. Initially vary your technique. Pay attention to everything he does, especially his responses. A sigh, a change in position to relax into it, running his fingers through your hair, or whatever. Also, run your hands over his chest to his nipples, brush them. Tickle or hold his balls in your hand. Grab his asscheeks. Or, and don’t you dare try this on me, play with his ass crack. Run your finger over his shithole. Some guys, and even the straight ones, will want you to stick your finger in there. Do it if he tells you to.

“These are all additional things you can do to intensify your blowjob. Looking up at him to see his eye are closed, or his head is back, these are clues that he’s enjoying what you are doing. Speaking of looking up. Do it. Often. I don’t know a single man that doesn’t get turned on more seeing a fag with puppy dog eyes sucking on his hog. Also, not only do you make eye contact, but you see him getting pleasure from you. Knowing that and seeing that should give you the biggest hard on. That is your drug.

“You should become addicted to pleasing men, even at the expense of getting physical pleasure yourself. When you reach the point that you would rather get a man off than yourself, that’s when you become a true faggot. And I’m saying that as a complement. Now for me, a blow job always ends in a skull fuck.

“When a man grabs a hold of your head or your ears, he wants to control the blowjob. You fucking let him. He’s most likely going to the nut. Do what you can to breathe around it. Should his cock fall out of your mouth, do what you can to get it immediately back in and back into the rhythm of throat fucking you.

“You got all that? There’s a lot of information there, but the faster you do it effectively the more cock you will have. Now I’m going to skull fuck you. I get off on raping a throat. Then I’m going to bring you into the shower room to practice servicing other drivers. Tomorrow night we’ll discuss taking a cock up your shitter. Then the next night is all about eating ass and drinking piss. Don’t look grossed out. Trust me, you get all these techniques down and you will make a damned good faggot. You said you were hitchhiking, well, I don’t care where you were going, you are coming with me. Now, take my cock in your mouth and do your best to breathe. I’m going to be raping your throat for a while.”

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years

Note

raven-san, can we please have a wedding crashing where jade needs to marry this girl from another crime family to consolidate power and become the next head of the leech mob :)) but floyd's like I'M BORED and annoyed that his brother's being snatched up by a random chick, so he asks basketball bros, and azul, to help save jade?

This one is super long, so I added some extra sections and placed the rest of the wedding crashing below the cut!

***Spoilers for Jamil and Floyd’s Unique Magic!!***

"I object to this wedding...!"

Pre-Wedding Jitters

A call comes for the twins in the dead of night, without warning. It’s their parents with exciting news: they’re naming Jade as the next Don Leech. The catch? The Leech mob’s in the middle of a merger with the Worm mob, and he’ll have to marry Don Worm’s daughter to secure the deal.

Jade, ever the dutiful son, is honored by his future title and calmly agrees to the arrangement. On the other hand, Floyd’s annoyed by the idea, and can’t keep quiet about his irritation. He calls out to his twin in the darkness.

“... Ne, Jade.”

“Ee, Floyd?”

“Are you really okay with going through with this? You’re just gonna do what they said? Even though you don’t know the Worms at all? Even if you’ve never met that girl before?”

“It is a request coming directly from father and mother. How could I refuse them? And, furthermore... If I do not undertake this task, then it would fall to you, the next choice to inherit the title of Don Leech. I cannot allow that to come to pass--fufu. You do so enjoy your freedom, yes?”

“... Jade, you’re so dumb sometimes. What’ll happen to your freedom, then? Will you get so busy with being the big boss and being married... that you won’t have time to play anymore?”

“... Perhaps. But that is a sacrifice I am willing to make.”

That thought doesn’t sit well with Floyd--not at all.

“I trust that you will make your own fun of the situation,” Jade reassures him. “You always do.”

As the weeks pass, Floyd sees less and less of Jade around, since he has to prepare for the wedding. Jade reassures him that he’s doing just fine, but Floyd can see right through his lies. He can tell that Jade’s more frazzled than usual--there’s a lingering to his words, and a longing in his eyes, savoring every last bit of autonomy he has before his fate is forever sealed.

Floyd hates it. He hates being lied to by his own brother, and he hates feeling powerless to stop the wedding. Floyd’s so angry that he develops this murderous aura in the weeks leading up to the wedding, which makes everyone around him shy away.

One day, he gets sick of being in the water--it’s a reminder of the wedding to come--so Floyd plays basketball on land to vent. He ends up chomping down so hard that he deflates a ball, then dunks another basketball so hard, he breaks the net.

He sprawls out on the ground and angrily shouts at the sky. His basketball bonks him on the head... and that’s when an idea hits him: maybe he can’t stop the wedding alone, but no one said he couldn’t phone some friends.

Assembling the Dream Team

Floyd first dials up Azul, who agrees to help after some whining and signing a contract agreeing to pay Azul handsomely for his services (... although truthfully, the octopus does want to help Jade, but doesn't immediately agree to do it because of his pride as a businessman).

Floyd also calls his old basketball buddies for help! Jamil and Ace are much more adamant than Azul, but Floyd strongarms them into pitching in. ("Umihebi-kun, Kani-chan, if you don't help me rescue Jade, I'll get suuuper mad, you know? I don't think you'll like me when I get mad. Moray eels are strong hunters, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem for me to track you guys down and give you a good squeeze~" "OKAY, OKAY, WE'LL DO IT!!")

Together, the four boys meet up to scheme of a way to disrupt the wedding without jeopardizing the Leech mob's future. Floyd actively leads the discussion, allowing his hidden genius to come to the surface.

Ace doesn’t contribute much to the strategy (laid out by Azul), but he does keep the spirit up with some jokes. Meanwhile, Jamil provides snacks for them when they work late into the night (though he keeps passing semi-glares to Azul whenever the octopus compliments him or tries to be friendly).

In preparation for the crashing, Azul brews some potions to give Jamil and Ace so they can take on temporary merforms. After all, the wedding will be underwater, in the Coral Sea, and they’ll need tail fins.

The date of destiny draws ever closer... and Floyd's never been so excited to cause chaos in his whole life.

The Crashing - Team Azul & Jamil

They split into two pairs on the day of the wedding—Azul and Jamil, and Floyd and Ace. Floyd uses his position as the future son-in-law to Don Worm to arrange a meeting between himself and the don... except Azul and Jamil will show up instead.

Don Worm shows up to the meeting in his finest clothes (which is very little, given that he’s a merman), sounding a bit annoyed the sudden summoning. “Make this quick, I’ve got to go see my baby girl’s big day... Wait. You fellas aren’t the F. Leech boy.”

“No, we aren’t, sir. We are his representatives... Proxies, if you will,” Azul insists, giving his warmest and most welcoming smile. He uses a tentacle to tug on Jamil’s tail, forcing him to smile too. “You see, there is an important business matter we needed to discuss with you on behalf of Floyd.”

“Hoh? And what would that be?”

“I believe my business associate would be better off explaining the matter than myself.” Azul gestures to Jamil, who has his head down.

“Oi, what’s with you? Don’t you know who I am, boy? It’s rude to not look your elders in the eye when they are speaking to you!! Show me the respect I deserve, from one professional to another!!”

“My apologies, sir.” Jamil looks up, locking eyes with the mob boss. “... Is this better?”

“Yes, that’s...”

“Snake Whisper.”

Don Worm suddenly goes glassy-eyed and slack-jawed. Azul claps at the sight, showering his partner with compliments. “As expected of the talented Jamil-san! Even one look from you can bring a mafia lord to his downfall. Truly, your Unique Magic is most impressive!”

“Save your flattery for later.”

Azul’s lips curl into a smirk as he whips out a golden contract from his briefcase and offers it to the don. “Now then, if you wouldn’t mind, sir... sign on the dotted line.”

The Crashing - Team Floyd & Ace

Ace and Floyd rush to the wedding venue, their tails cutting through the water like knives as they swim at a breakneck pace. Ace can barely keep up with Floyd, who surges far ahead.

“H-Hey, should we really be barging in like this?! Don’t mob families have weapons and other dangerous stuff? Is there a backdoor we can take instead? Hello?! Floyd-senpai, are you listening to me?!” (He isn’t.)

The open, underwater comes into view, and Floyd barrels in without any hesitation, tearing right through some decorations and knocking over the wedding cake with his tail. A loud CRASH! echoes through the waters, drawing eyes to him.

Jade stares at his brother from the altar—wide eyed, but a mirthful smile on his lips. Floyd waves to him, and then to his mom and dad in the crowd of guests. “Hiii, Jade! I’m here to pick you up now.”

The Worm girl starts sobbing, wailing something about how her special day’s been ruined, and where is her papa to put an end to this? At her signal, security guards, and some of the rougher looking guests—Worm family associates—lunge at Floyd, claws and teeth out. A few of them have produced wands, and what seem to be guns—loaded with harpoons.

“Bind the Heart!” Objects and stray magic go flying in all directions, hitting both people and wedding decorations. Cloth tears, columns crumble—but it’s one man against many, and he can only bind so many hearts before the blot starts to stack.

Ace makes it just in time, sending their foes and their weapons hurtling through the water with a blast of wind. “This is why I said to be careful, dammit! Your Unique Magic’s such a crapshoot—don’t just use it whenever, or you’ll be sushi!!!”

“Ahahahah! Kani-chan’s being all heroic today! That’s so cute. Don’t worry, I can play my part, too...!!”

Using his tail, Floyd hooks around a drifting merman and chucks him straight into another. They collide with a CRACK!—but Floyd barely registers it. He’s already bolting off, grabbing heads and smashing them together, slicing through others like a knife through butter.

There’s a crazed, frenzied look to him, gleeful laughter cutting through the waters and mixing with the Worm bride’s screeching. I forgot how scary Floyd-senpai can be, Ace realizes. (Jade and Floyd’s parents are cheering for him from their seats.)

Jade looks quite proud of his brother, even laughing along to the brutal slaughterfest. His bride stares at him incredulously. “Stop that brute! He’s ruining MY special day!!”

“No,” Jade replies calmly. “I don’t think I will. This is far too amusing to let it end so soon.”

She lets out a frustrated scream and launches herself at her groom, hands going for his throat. The Worm girl is slammed back with a strong hit to her gut, courtesy of Jade’s tail.

She flies back, slamming into a column—and feels a tail wrapping around her and squeezing tight. Constricting her to the point where it was difficult to breathe. A livid mermaid glares down at her, teeth bared in a snarl.

“No one lays a hand on my children,” Mama Leech declares. “No one.”

From the corner of her eye, the Worm girl can see that Jade has cast off his bow tie and flitted over to Floyd, embracing happily in a battlefield adorned with red ribbons trailing through the water. Her vision is abruptly blocked off by a broad-shouldered merman wearing a grimace.

“Now then, what shall we do with this one?” Papa Leech wonders aloud—though from his tone of voice, he has nothing good in store.

The Aftermath

“You’re all fish bait when daddy hears about this...!” the Worm girl warns, her words raspy. “Th-The merger won’t go through...! There’ll be war between the Leeches and the Worms...!”

A loud throat clearing comes from behind. “Fortunately, that won’t be happening.”

Azul and Jamil make their appearance, the octopus merman smugly showcasing a contract. “Ashengrotto—Azul Ashengrotto, legal and business extraordinaire at your service, Don Leech and Lady Leech.”

Papa Leech grunts. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

“This?” Azul’s smirk widens. “Why, it’s a prenuptial stating that, in the case that an act of violence is enacted by the bride toward the groom, the marriage is considered null and void... and the bride’s family assets are to be claimed by the groom. Signed by Don Worm himself.”

“Wh-What?! Impossible!! How did you get daddy to sign such a stupid deal?!”

“Oh,” Jamil says nonchalantly, “we have our ways.”

“So... Uh, Jade-senpai’s still gonna be the next Don Leech?! And he’s gonna be in charge of an even bigger and richer family... How is that any better than the situation before?! You’re just giving him more resources for committing crimes!”

At that moment, two hands come down on Ace’s shoulders, causing him to freeze up.

“Kani-chaaaaan! Everyone!! Thanks so much for your help~”

“Yes, you have my sincerest thanks, Ace-san, Jamil-san... Azul.”

“It is my pleasure to assist such VIP clients. Ah, but there remains the matter of my promised payment—” (Jamil and Ace internally groan at Azul’s words.)

“Payment?” Don Leech scoffs. “After the ballsy operation you boys pulled off today... I’m more inclined to give you job offers instead of a one time sum. How do you lads feel about being hired as the Leech family’s personal lawyer, interrogator, and... well, whatever the heart one is good at.”

“My, my! Such a generous and lucrative offer—“

“There is no way I’m accepting that, especially if that means working with Azul.”

“Oi, I’ll have you know I’m good at lots of stuff!! I’m the one that saved Floyd’s tail fins, is no one gonna acknowledge that?!”

“You did amazing, sweetie!!” Mama Leech chirps—her tail grip tightening until the Worm girl passes out. Ace leaps back in fright. “As a reward, why don’t you let me give you a hug?”

“S-STAY BACK!!”

“Ahahahah! Everyone’s getting along so well, Jade. Isn’t this fun? You wouldn’t be able to enjoy this if you had gone to get hitched.”

“Fufufu. You are correct, Floyd. How sad it would have been if I were to miss out on touching moments such as this. From the bottom of my heart... I thank you for thinking of me, and for rushing to my aid. I could not have asked for a better brother.”

... What Floyd doesn’t know is that this was all according to keikaku Jade’s own machinations. He would never take the order to marry lying down—but he couldn’t outright defy it without immediate consequences, either.

Thank the Great Seven Jade has reliable puppets friends to help him out of a pinch. I’ll be certain to put the additional funds we have gained to good use... Perhaps to start a little mushroom farm.

#Floyd Leech #Jade Leech #Azul Ashengrotto #Ace Trappola #Jamil Viper #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #wedding crashing #spoilers

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