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sandytree1 · 6 months

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Criticism of Blue Eyed Samurai

Well, I just watched Blue Eyed Samurai. Been spotting several positive clickbait thumbnails of it, so even though I didn't have high expectations based on the trailer, I gave it a go. And well, it was what I feared it was. I still enjoyed it though! And it's an engaging story, just not what I wish it was. Anyways, I wrote a comment on Reddit about it, which I thought I'd repost here.

Edit: I ended up going in and reordering some paragraphs under headings, as people on Reddit replied to by comment. Noticing people are nitpicking the historical accuracy of my commentary, which wasn't really what I was concerned about. It's more that certain cues in these stories make me expect certain things.

The main point of much of this text is to look into what makes Blue Eyed Samurai a noticeably American story, by comparing it to other jidaigeki stories with a similar setting made for and by Asian people, and stories set in Asia made by Americans (for Americans).

🚧 NB! I'm still working on the text. Text marked in cursive are just notes, so please ignore them for now! 🚧

Overall verdict

I did also think of Ghost of Tsushima while watching, but in the sense that Blue Eyed Samurai lacks what I liked about it. Ghost of Tsushima did a great job with its Japanese localization, and referenced actual bushido conduct, although a little bit off still. Blue Eyed Samurai throws around words like samurai and honor, but doesn't appear to actually understand what these words entails, and only focuses on the superficial badassery of it (...)

But overall, great choreography and compositing, engaging story and characters ... Blue Eyed Samurai is good, but does veer into the uncanny valley for me, which I know was an issue Asians had with ATLA. Guess I felt it a little bit more with Blue Eyed Samurai due how much (unrealistic) violence and (meaningless) sex is glorified, and made me question what exactly the overall moral message of the story was supposed to be beyond simply "revenge plots are cool but also destructive." As somebody else said, it's giving "guts and tits for the people."

Glorification of the badassery of revenge

So, somebody replied that they thought we should be careful about romanticizing bushido, and provided examples of samurai being deceitful. This is my reply.

You missed my point. I did not want Blue Eyed Samurai to romanticize bushido, I wanted it to discuss and explore it, exactly because it throws around words like honor and samurai. A first step towards this is to acknowledge that Mizu is not a samurai.

What is Mizu?

We could argue that she is a ronin, but then she'd technically must've been serving a lord as a samurai in the past, and should be at least be a tiny bit concerned with chivalry (at least enough to discuss or talk about it), which we know isn't the case. Mizu is closer to being a shinobi/ninja, since her goal is to assassinate her 4 maybe fathers. Another thing Mizu shares with shinobi is that both are often criticised by samurai because of their penchant for ambushes and lack of concern for bushido / warriors code. Yet she breaks the mold of being a shinobi, since she doesn't really sneak around in (civilian) disguise and will openly brawl her way through a dojo and into a fort.

Mizu has a lot in common with the titular protagonis of the manga Azumi. Both are female assassins with foreign blood (bluish eyes) fighting during the Sakoku policy. While Mizu's motivation is simply revenge for the injustice she and her mother suffered at the hands of the gaijin faction, in Azumi the motivation is to prune the country like a bonsai tree off individuals which may threathen a new age of peace, and prevent the country from slipping back into the Sengoku period of civil war.

But where characters in Blue Eyed Samurai is heavily protected by plot armor, allowing Mizu to be an almost invincible pin cushion, no one is safe in Azumi and injured characters requires months to recover and heal from cuts.

While writing this, I recalled that in episode 5, they interjected a story about a samurai marrying and fathering a child with a woman who descended from an enemy clan. He kills both her and their son, which turns her into a onryō. Mizu being an Onryō works, but I am left questioning how this fits into the story beyond its symbolism, as there's been no explicit supernatural elements in the story. Mizu is bullied for being the (devil) spawn of a quote "white devil" in childhood, I think it would be more interesting if they called her a "white ghost," since onryos (which could represent Mizu) are a type of vengeful female ghost. Furthermore, Taigen often compares Mizu to a dog, esp. when she does not live up to the samurai standards he holds her to. Not sure where that fits in either..

Orientalism

So the statement about samurai criticising shinobi was called out as orientalist. This was my reply:

As for orientalism, I guess Blue Eye Samurai is being orientalist then, which I was kinda feeling while watching but didn't really put into words. It's pretty stereotypical to connect Japanese with honor and samurai after all, contributing to why I felt the show was very American.

In the sense of samurai simply meaning warrior, then we can consider Mizu a samurai. But Taigen (and Akemi) connects being a samurai with honor and complains about fair play. By making this connection, he invokes bushido/chivalry and excludes people who ambush others like assassins from the definition of being a samurai, and by extension criticises assassins like ninjas for not shying away from "dishonorable" ambushes. To restore his honor, Taigen wants to arrange a formal duel and even writes up a challenge letter (hatashijou), which makes sense in terms of the dojo trope. But well, the series does contradict itself a lot in favor of cool one liners, and what it means to be a samurai or knight has changed throughout history.

"Glory" in Azumi

As I said, the manga Azumi is what I was hoping Blue Eyed Samurai would be. Azumi is a gritty look into (among other things) both shinobi and samurai that does not romanticize either, and has won an award for its exploration of these concepts in relation to buddhism. In fact, everyone in Azumi suffers. The only one who is perhaps glorified is Azumi, who many critics compare to a boddhisattva.

Throughout the story, Azumi works to not become too attached to earthly comforts, but still suffers because of her attachment to her companions. As Azumi completes her pruning missions for her boss (the Buddhist monk Tenkai), she accumulates a lot of bad karma in the form of endless waves of people pursuing her for either revenge, the bounty on her head, the thrill of defeating a master swordswoman, etc. Because of it, 90% of her closest companions SPOILER die, and many of her friends are raped or permanently maimed, and has to deal with the trauma and practical inconveniences of it. Often because they are caught in the crossfire between Azumi's targets or those who pursue her.

By the end of the story, Azumi still ends up making new companions like usual and her boss continues wanting to send her on pruning missions. But she decides to leave them all behind, so that those she cares about will not be affected by her bad karma again. She knows she will have to stay on the road indefinitely and will never really be able to enjoy the comforts of settling down, because of her pursuers. The series makes the buddhist argument that earthly attachment in general causes suffering, and Azumi is enlightened by abandoning those attachments and by facing her karma, although that does not mean she will not end up with a violent death. The story ends openly with Azumi wandering off into obscurity.

Time period

Some people began nitpicking the historical accuracy of my commentary, which wasn't really what I was concerned about. I am open to artistic liberty. However, with BES it was a little bit harder, since they made so many historical references and leaned into the jidaigeki genre, but then broke it in ways that came off as uncanny to me. Looking back, I guess this uncanny feeling was the orientalism letting itself be known, though I couldn't put it into words back then.

As jidaigeki is a subgenre of historical stories, certain cues does make me expect certain things. Like when I see an English-speaking gaijin as the antagonist, I would make the connection that this story is probably set sometime after the Americans forced Japan to open up for trade in the 1800s. Yet this expectation is then contradicted when I learn that no foreigners are allowed in Japan yet due to the Sakoku policy, which makes me wonder what this Irishman is doing here all alone centuries too early and how he even managed to climb to such a powerful position while being so isolated.

Gaijins as antagonists

Why an Irishman as the gaijin antagonist? It'd make more sense if it was a portuguese or dutch. If Blue Eyed Samurai is set in 17th century Edo Japan, it's a long time off when the Americans forced Japan to put down the sakoku policy, and even then, why Britain/London? If anything, Japan and Britain liked each other enough to form an alliance for their shared fear of Russia.

Why not other colonial powers who were actually active in Japan and Asia overall at the time (the Dutch) or the ones who caused Christianity to be banned during the sakoku (the Portuguese).

My first thought of a precedent goes to Konishi Shizune, the Christian revolutionary leader in Azumi who's also mixed race like Azumi, which is based on the historical Amakusa Shiro.

(Depictions of Gaijins: Americans during postwar Japan in Hajime no Ippo. Senator Armstrong in Metal Gear Solid)

Japanese in Europe

With Mizu heading to Europe, I came across people discussing the plot armor and how Mizu wouldn't stand a chance against the guns nor London police. It came off as kind of white supremacist, and the entire thread was locked because of unsolicited opinions from outsiders.

To be fair, Japan had guns too at the time. According to Netflix themselves, Blue Eye Samurai takes place in the 1600s. If that's the case, it means that the guns were mostly muskets, rifles and pistols which took time to load, so people did still use swords even in Europe. And only a century earlier in the 1500s, when Dreamwork's El Dorado is set, people would still use firearms and crossbows side by side, and Oda Nobunaga also used firearms in his own warfare during the sengoku period.

Also, the police didn't exist yet, since the UK police were created in the late 1700s. As for the London battalion or royal guards storming her, it'd either amount to when she was stormed by the hand claw guys. The plot armor in the first season was a lot imo even then though. But sneaking up on them depends on the terrain and context, so I can see it happening.

Furthermore, it's not unrealistic for Japanese people to travel to Europe, because there's historical precedence for this. In 1613, Hasekura Tsunenaga was sent on a diplomatic mission to negotiate with the pope and the king of Spain, and some of his men even stayed behind to form the Japon clan in Spain. The expedition took 7 years, and ironically enough, once he returned, christianity had already been banned in Japan. The people who still kept the Christian faith in spite of this came to be known as kakure kirishitan.

Debauchery means it's for adults ..

The way characters (esp. Mizu) will throw out badass oneliners as if on a treadmill, only to contradict exactly what she said as short as 5 seconds later does mess with my suspension of disbelief.

The story also goes into protitution and patriarchy, though it also felt superficial to me. If anything it feels like an excuse for fan service, similar to Game of Thrones in a sense. Like they know that sex sells, and that's what "the audience really wants." That said, again I enjoyed both GOT and Blue Eye Samurai, even though some may laconically break the former down to "dragons and tits" and the latter to "guts and tits".

Token representation

Mizu's apprentice was born without hands, which could have brought about an interesting exploration of disability. But instead, he's relegated to being a quirky sidekick and comedic relief..

BES is an American story

Blue Eyed Samurai has all the visual motifs of a Japanese samurai story (jidaigeki), but the tropes and logic is extremely American. It does get the artifacts and set dressing of a jidaigeki story right (surprisingly accurate at some points), which is why it triggered the uncanny valley for me sometimes. When certain artifacts and set ups appeared, I expected it to follow certain tropes I'm used to from jidaigeki, but it didn't really do that.

Kung Fu Panda

In contrast, Kung Fu Panda is also in the same boat. It has the artefacts of a Chinese wuxia story, but it is ultimately based on Chinatown (a theme park-esque idea of China designed by and to cater to white people, as a Chinese American defense mechanism). However, where Kung Fu Panda is an American love letter to Chinese kung fu films, Blue Eye Samurai isn't really a love letter to jidaigeki, and caters rather to white people's idea of the stereotypical samurai.

My understanding is that Kung Fu Panda is pretty popular in China.

Yes, Kung Fu Panda is popular in China. I also enjoyed Kung Fu Panda, which is why I used it to compare what I felt was lacking in Blue Eyed Samurai. If I had to choose one to rewatch, I would rather watch Kung Fu Panda.

That said, Accented Cinema points out that although Kung Fu Panda is often used as an argument of successful orientalism, it's rather about China's own failure in representing themselves. In my opinion, Kung Fu Panda's perhaps saving grace was that it didn't take itself too seriously, yet still delivered on the serious bits when it needed to.

Patriarchy and gender roles

While I understand and appreciate your critique, I don't think the narrative is grounded in realism. It's more like expressing the need that women do have to see themselves in the shoes of a physically invincible protagonist. Also the motivation isn't simply revenge - what has happened to Mizu has convinced that her very existence is suffering. She's internalized the hate to an extent that it no longer matters whether she lives or dies. She will slowly change as a person and her motivations will also change, which I hope we get to see . All the characters are somewhere trying to rebel against their gender roles, and that I feel is the 'message'. Also as far as the right antagonist to show goes, Fowler seems an indictment of British colonialism a few centuries too soon, but his attitudes aren't unfamiliar. At all.

Blue Eyed Samurai doesn't explore the concepts it references or markets itself with, but seems to throw them around because samurai and honor sounds cool and is a stereotypically Japanese/Sinosphere thing. Instead it'd rather explore gender roles and patriarchy. And the character Blue Eyed Samurai primarily uses to explore these themes with isn't the titular protagonist, but rather Princess Akemi.

But Akemi's struggles with patriarchy, also comes off as more a Western suffragette story than a Sinosphere one.

The Princess as a Caged Bird

Other stories about gender roles and patriarchy in ancient Japan to which we can compare this to is probably Isao Takahata's Princess Kaguya, though this one is probably set long before BES in the Heian period.

Like in Kaguya, the ohaguro set is presented as a symbol of oppression for Akemi. However, instead of being explicitly oppressed by outside forces like Akemi, Kaguya is instead pressured by societies and her father's idea of what a princess should be to become happy. Throughout the film, Kaguya questions what it is all for and even counters against her governess that "a princess is not a human then!"

Princess Kaguya as a roadside flower. To be plucked in a moment of fancy, and neglected once savored and bored. Merely a trophy to be won and stowed away in a display cabinet.

The film explores what makes life worth living, by exploring the difference between humanity and moon people.

Filial piety. Fulfilling your own dreams through your offspring. Showing off achievements to relatives (accumulating merit).

Geisha and maiko in contrast to the Oiran of the red light district. Streetwalkers. Prostitution - the world's oldest profession.

Oda Nobunaga's younger sister in Nobunaga Concerto and Azumi.

Hypergamy. Tradition of men being adopted into the wife's household. The Fujiwara clan of the Heian period, who continuously married their women into the imperial family for generations. Attitudes around cheating and monogamy (Genji Monogatari).

The Fallacy of the Stereotypical Asian woman

Oshin - Resilience and endurance.

Asian women as firecrackers. There's a reason why the stereotype of Tiger Mom even came to be, because Asian women and people in general are not weak and strictly submissive, although they are often mistaken as doormats.

Honne and tatemae

Yamato Nadeshiko

While writing about this, I ended up going on a tangent about Asian women, which you can read here: The Fallacy of the Stereotypical Asian Woman.

Gender roles in Genderbender

Kaze Hikaru

Ryou

Torikaebaya Monogatari, where a brother and sister in the Heian period is gender mixed at birth, to fulfil gender roles they're more "suited" for according to societal expectations. Another Heian period text about a guy who crossdresses as a woman to get close to a woman he has a crush on.

Gender fluidity has been the norm throughout most of history.

A wolf in sheep's clothing

I guess the show is more concerned about gender roles and patriarchy. I'm actually not all that concerned with historical accuracy, but I couldn't help but be thrown off by how it felt like vastly different time periods (and thus different expectations in terms of jidaigeki tropes) were meshed together. I still stand by that the show is a very (overseas Asian/) (Asian) American narrative, which made it uncanny how accurate it still was in terms of getting the artefacts etc. of a jidaigeki right. Sort of like a "wolf in sheeps clothing," though that doesn't make it a bad thing. For example, Akemi feels more like a Western suffragette, rather than an Asian feminist. Yet the ohaguro set etc. may be a reference to Isao Takahata's Princess Kaguya, which is about feminism.

The story came off as stereotypical to me. Yet it does get the artifacts and set dressing of a jidaigeki story right (surprisingly accurate at some points). I did cringe at some points or feel the uncanny valley, but again overall the show was engaging and enjoyable.

I've enjoyed other orientalist stories before, such as Kung Fu Panda and Avatar the Last Airbender. I've also enjoyed occidentalist stories like mohuan and isekai. Yet something with Blue Eye Samurai made me cringe sometimes. Comparing it to the others I've mentioned, perhaps it's because it's set in a more non-fantastical setting as opposed to a jianghu of sorts idk. Blue Eye Samurai is still entertaining though, and may be the start of a new genre.

It's hard to explain what it feels like for people who don't have the same cultural references, so here's an example of occidentalism. I noticed that when Genshin Impact (a Chinese game) released the new Fontaine region where they decided to mix Britain, Italy, France etc., which people claimed is just plain weird haha. But Fontaine has still been well received regardless it seems. On the other hand, I still cringe every time I see Senator Armstrong in Metal Gear Solid.

Historical references

Random, but here's a list of different artifacts and set dressings that appeared in the show. The little theatre play about the ronin and his wife uses kurogo (black clad actors) to manipulate the dolls, which was novel to see. Previously I've mostly watched kurogo being used to manipulate perspective such as in this Matrix Ping Pong skit and the Tokyo 2020 pictogram opening ceremony. Traditionally, Kurogo is used in Kabuki to create special effects and are supposed to be invisible to the audience.

Mizu's husband uses a naginata, which is basically a spear. Although also used by warriors in general, it was often used by women.

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shearlin · 20 days

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Word count: 2977

An epilogue to 'A Piece of Heart'

First || << Previous

Every journey comes to an end. This one was no different. But there are still somethings to settle before the final farewells. Like items that were rented out that needed to be returned to their rightful owner. Like Legend was going to allow for them to give them back.

Hi :D I was fully expecting to post it in like few months. But as I was working on a different WIP I kept getting distracted writing this instead.

Enjoy :D

Nine portals of swirling white and gold framed in the arches of runes - glistering and icy blue - shone brightly in the middle of the meadow, as nine heroes of courage filled through the sparse trees.

They were allowed some time of reprieve after the final battle, some time to heal, to celebrate, to say their goodbyes.

Small mercies , Legend thought as the little whisper that guided them all here fizzled out to the soft rustling of the leaves. He took a deep breath to steady himself before turning to look around at his brothers, who were talking easily though the final final goodbyes.

This is it . The end of our journey.

He thought he would be angrier. Or more apathetic. That was usually how his journeys were ending so far. Either caught in the staticky fuzz filling his mind, while waiting restlessly for yet another unforeseen catastrophe to happen or in a simmering, directionless anger when faced with that particular kind of loneliness and longing that came with the goodbyes.

Instead he found himself… calm? Tentatively content, even if a bit wistful. It was… bizarre. He scoffed at his own anxiety and rolled his shoulders, willing himself to relax. Seriously, if his mind could enjoy the ‘sweat’ part of the bittersweetness of this moment, it would be great.

They gathered in the space between the time gates and repeated for a hundredth time today the same plans for the future they shared a million times already in those last two weeks. Maybe no Link was good with goodbyes.

[...]

They stood in silence watching the portals radiating with power, all feeling a slight pull reaching deep into their souls. They would need to go soon.

Four broke the silence first stepping towards Legend and reaching into his bag. “Well, I think this officially counts as ‘the end of all of this’ so here.” He pulled out the Rod of Seasons and held it out for the veteran, “Once again, vet, thank you for everything. I dread to think how this journey would look without you.” And somehow Legend knew he meant so much more than just saving him from the worst of the portal sickness symptoms.

He looked at the item in smithy’s hands with furrowed brows feeling his hands itch. He needs it back. He promised Din he will keep it safe and away from any ill meaning person or being, while Farore re-establishes the Secrets keeping the Oracle Islands safe. He should bag it and as soon as he returns to his house, put it in a basement layered thick with protective and masking charms for however long he needs to, until Din sends for him.

He turned away looking deep into the swirling maw of the portal closest to him. Stretching his senses and focusing on the tiny tug on his very soul he had no doubt about it. They were divine in origin. Hylia Herself sends them their way to take them home safely. What were the odds She would put them in danger the first thing when they’re truly on their own for the first time in months?

… You know what? Never mind, better not answer that .

There was no way of knowing what exactly was upsetting Four magic this badly. Were his shattering scars sensitive to dark magic? Or it was the time-space shift itself, with its unnatural stretch and bend and crush and-

“Um, Vet?”

“Keep it.”

Read the rest on Ao3!

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe fanfic #lu fanfiction #linked universe legend #lu legend #lu chain #a piece of heart #my writing

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towriteloveontheirarms · 8 months

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Hi I really loved your Xavier one shot and I wanted to request one if you don’t mind <3 So it’s Wednesdays birthday she invites reader and enid who are her roommates to a girls night out but she was lying to them and turns out she was taking them to the old gates mansion to investigate ( basically the scene were Wednesday and enid get in the car with Tyler and end up at the gates mansion just add the reader ) and once there and the monster attacks them reader gets hurt while jumping from the fence and they meet Xavier and go to Tyler’s house and Xavier helps reader clean her arm and when they go back to nevermore he offers her to sleep in his dorm because he had seen the panic she’s in when enids phone rang and she jumped <3 ( sorry it’s really long and detailed I hope u don’t mind it’s friends to lovers btw )

It´s done, anon. <3 I ended up changing it up a teeny tiny bit, but I hope you still like it!

You could have called me

pairing: Xavier Thorpe x fem!reader

synopsis: You get hurt while exploring the Gates mansion. What comes out of it is something much happier.

warnings: mentions of injury

word count: 1.2k

You suck in a harsh breath as you first feel the sting of the disinfectant on your wound. Your arm instinctively flinching away from Xaviers gentle hands. It isn´t too deep, you were lucky he tells you, but it still hurts like hell.

“I´m sorry.” He whispers in an apologetic tone.

“It´s okay.” You assure him to continue. Your voice barely above a breath as it forces its way through your clenched teeth. Trying to take deep, calming breaths as the alcohol continues to sting your wounds.

“Does it hurt much? The wound?” He asks while taking a bandage to your arm.

You shake your head no. “I can barely feel it. Probably still the shock…”

“Yeah, probably.” Xavier goes back to concentrating on patching you up for a bit.

The silence between you that always had been comfortable now makes you feel on edge.

“Will it look like yours once it is healed?” You let your fingers run over his neck, where his scars stand out from the rest of his pale skin in a pink hue, softly.

“Yeah, I think. It should be deep enough to scar. The monster got you pretty good.” The two of you each huff a laugh.

It feels so good to laugh and as he moves to tie up the bandage you rest your hand on his cheek. His face is so close, that for a moment it feels like you are about to kiss.

That moment immediately gets destroyed by steps coming closer.

“We gotta go.” Wednesday informs you in her usual monotone voice. If tonight has affected her in any way, her face doesn´t show a single bit of it.

You nod, taking your ripped jacket of the chair and heading out of the house. Xavier following close.

The four of you make your way half way back to the school when Enid´s phone rings. The quiet of the night makes the sound seem even louder than it. The suddenness of it, makes you jump.

“Hey, you´re okay. You´re safe.” Xaviers soothing voice brings you back to reality. A reality where you have grabbed onto his arm and your body trembles.

“Sorry…” This time it is your turn to apologize.

“It´s okay.” He murmurs, secretly wishing for you to hold onto him longer as your fingers let go of his arm.

The rest of your way back luckily goes by without any more instances, though you never quite relax.

It´s hard from parting your friends, but especially the safety Xavier´s presence brings you, when you reach the dorms. Wednesday and Enid are quick to leave the two of you out in the dark. In silence.

“I…” You try to say something, but the words die in your throat.

“Do you maybe want to stay with me tonight? Just to calm the nerves…” He speaks slowly. Carefully choosing his words.

“That would be nice.” A thankful expression takes over your face.

He takes your hand and pulls you with him. The contact making your skin feel warm and a sense of calm take over your body.

Xavier leads you up to his room where he lets go of your hand to prepare the empty second bed for you to sleep in.

“Thank you, for letting me sleep here, Xav.” You lay down carefully as to not lay on the wounded arm and hurt yourself more.

“Anything for you. If you need anything else just tell me, alright?” He asks, worry still apparent in his tone.

“Alright…” You echo quietly.

“Do you want the lights on or off?” He looks at you with soft eyes and an even softer voice.

“On, please. If that´s okay.” You hum in response.

“Of course it is. Try to sleep now. Your body will need it to heal.” He sighs and goes over to his own bed.

The lights from his bedside table and desk lamp tinge the room in a soft, warm glow. Under different circumstances you would have thought it to be comfortable or even romantic, but right now as you stare at the ceiling it helps little to lift the anxiety off your chest. The room gets shrouded in silence once more pictures start to flash behind your eyes. Pictures of the gates mention, of running for your life and how those claws tore at your skin.

You don´t remember when your eyes must have fallen shut, but when you look at the time on your phone it hasn´t been long. Your heart is beating out of your chest and a light sheen of sweat covers your body.

With heavy limbs you kick the blanket off and move to the bathroom. The cold water feels nice on your face and helps you think clearly again. Yet, when you step back inside the room, you can´t bring yourself to crawl back into that lonely bed again.

“Xavi?” You whisper. “Xav, are you awake?”

“I am. What do you need?” Comes his answer from beneath the sheets.

“I can´t sleep alone. Can I lie with you? Only for a bit.” You shift your weight from one foot to the other and play with your fingers as you wait for his answer.

His reply comes in the form of wordlessly rolling over to make room for you.

The bed is small and so it forces you into a very close proximity already, but you cuddle up as close to him as possible. His arms laid around your middle and yours on top of his. Your fingertips run over his arms with feather light motions. It´s calming, helps forget the images in your head. Moving up slowly until you reach the side of his neck again. Laying your hand against it, you realize how close you truly are. Xavier´s warm breath fans over your face as you hold yours and then as if you had the same thought at the same moment, you move in for a kiss. It´s languid, but comfortable. It feels like your lips were made for his surprisingly soft ones only. The slow movements never speed up. It´s just you two in your own perfect, safe, little world.

When you eventually do part from each other, your breath comes in heavy bursts. Your eyes switching between his olive ones. Tracing the brown surroundings of his pupil. Neither of them can think of anything to say. Not a single word.

“I could´ve lost you today.” Xavier breathes first. “I love you.”

His confession is overwhelming. “I love you too. You´ll never lose me.”

“No, but I could have. What if that… thing had gotten to you. Or I don´t know something else could have gone wrong. That house is old, you shouldn´t have gone in there no matter for what.”

“Shhh, I know. I didn´t even know where we were going and when I did it was too late to leave. Wednesday was so hellbent on going in the mansion I couldn´t let her and Enid go alone. Not with Tyler. The only one of them wo knows self-defense is Wednesday and even she couldn´t fight off a monster alone.”

“You could have called me…”

Only then it dawns on you both, what you have just confessed with a nonchalance as if you had spoken the words a hundred times before. `I love you´. The three words hang in the air between you. He presses his lips to yours once more. The rest was a conversation for when you had recovered from the night.

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe oneshot #wednesday netflix #wednesday netflix one shot

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anns-works · 1 year

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Ok so i've got something that yall would probably hate me for. But ive been holding this simmering pot of angst for a while and the first thing i was taught is to share, so suffer with me.

New ROTTMNT AU:

Rather than being the only one out of his brothers to survive in the no-good-very-bad-horrible future, Leo is the only brother who dies.

Okay okay okay.

But i personally like to think that after the krang come out everything goes to shit in the bad timeline everyone goes oh fuck and start teaming up right? Human yokai cryptids mutants– none of that matters as long as you got eachothers back.

And after the initial stumbles the brothers start their active participation in the resistance.

Heres the thing.

Leo is genuinly terrifying at coming up with a plan. Kid went toe to toe with motherfucking Big Mama and came out victorious. Big Mama, as if the most terrifying yokai crime boss Big Mama. Kid came out with a smile. Its safe to say his strategies were incredibly effective and it kinda pissed off a couple of people.

Military dude 1: I can't believe i'm following a plan made by a 16 yo mutanat turtle.

Military dude 2: Your just upset the kid called out all the flaws your plan had in less than 2 seconds flat.

But the one pissed off the most were the krang. This tiny insignificant insect was able to somehow keep the resistance 3 steps ahead. So naturally, they went to take him down first.

It took a while but eventually they managed to isolate Leo. His brothers were fighting up a storm but the krang got too much and so they had to leave. Without Leo.

About a week later which involved a lot of crying and screaming, the krang brodacast a live footage of torturing Leo (my boi) before krangyfying (did i spell that right) him.

And now the krang have leo on their side. Leo, who knows everything there is to know abt the resistance (hes a gossipy bitch but thats only cuz its important to have the intel) so they are in deep shit now.

And he was a zombie for a while guys. Fighting against him always had people dying and his fam having a mental breakdown.

Eventually they take him down, but at what cost. (One of the brothers killed him. cuz angst. And now the question is who is the MOST angst) Also, Leo is the first person to die in the resistance. (Ouch)

Casey rools up and has no fucking clue who Leo is (ouch) or why his mom wanted him to take up the role as Casey's dad (HC: Cass took one look at tge record of Leo's victories against his brothers in the lair games, strategy skills and medical knowledge; and declared that he would be Casey jr.'s father. Leo was incredibly touched)

But for some reason. For soME FUCKING REASON. Kid is so much like Leo its scary. His family is near tears everytime they see him act like that. That one time he made a shitty pun and Donnie started crying.

Well its probably due to the blue imaginary friend he has that he calls Bluey. Yes we're going towards that direction. His everything comes from being influenced by the cool older brother figure he has as an imaginary friend. (Cuz of ✨Mystic Shenanigans✨ Bluey is still stuck here. Mikey is the only one who can also see him. But he cant. Cuz hes depressed)

Also without Mr. A-Ninja's-Greatest-Weapon-Is-Hope I feel like shit gets really depressing in the resistance. Everyones sad. Baby casey is sad to see everyone sad. So he asks Bluey's help and picks up his general style of humor. Angst shenanigans.

And. AND. AND. During the whole peepaws time travel back after the movie montage (I am a aimple woman w/ simple need) these depressed hunks see this tiny version of their blue brother still covered in bandages and not fully healed from the krangvasion, and their immediete reaction? Protecc.

Leo is confused abt a lot of things. The future version of his brothers that got spat out of nowhere. Casey and how that worked w/ their Casey. The blue projection of HIS angsty future self (who is pretty cool btw). PTSD. You know, the works. At this point my guy is just vibing, and honestly? The story picks up a pretty chill pace from there. Its all abt healing now baby.

So thats the rough outline of the au. And it might sound like a fucking add but heres more abt this silly little idea that came from my silly little head. -> You'll (Never) Never Be Alone

#rottmnt future au #rottmnt #rottmnt au #rottmnt future leonardo #rise tmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2018 #rottmnt leo #rottmnt disaster twins #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt leo angst #rottmnt angst #You'll (Never) Be Alone

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telli1206 · 5 months

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I Won't Let Go

Happy Holidays @bucket-barnes! I'm your Descendants Secret Santa. I did my best for a little Harry hallucination holiday angst for you. I hope you like it!

Harry is dealing with past trauma in Auradon during Christmas, and Uma and Gil are there to get him through it. Just a little fluff and angst for the holidays ❤❄

AO3

Uma’s hand tightens on the doorknob. Her eyes are tilted downward, following her own movement as if in a trance. She’s trying so hard to focus on the dinged-gold gleam of the metal rather than the words being spoken to her.

“Uma? You get what I’m saying, right? It’s for his own good. T-to, help him, I guess? I just…I want to keep him safe.”

Her chest feels tight, and the next breath she sucks in is borderline painful. But she plasters on the most genuine-looking smile she can muster, looking Ben in the eye with her chest puffed in fake bravado.

“Of course, Ben,” she coos, brushing her hand along his arm in a reassuring way. “If there’s anyone here that knows what’s best for us, it’s you. If you think Harry needs this, I’m in.”

Ben flashes her a grin, the most white and straight and perfect one she’s ever seen still, despite being surrounded by them now in a world of prim princes and princesses. There’s a sadness in his eyes, though. Uma feels like she’s been recognizing it more often. Whenever Ben has to acknowledge how the Isle has made their lives different, she sees it. And she finds she can really appreciate that about Ben in this moment. Neither of them wants to do this, but they both care enough about Harry to know it needs to be done.

“So, you really want to be in there, with him? I’d hate to keep you confined, too.” Ben’s chewing his lip, his brow furrowed with worry. “Once I lock the door it has to stay that way. The clock’s going to start ticking down the minutes to the parade in about…10 minutes?” He tells her with a brief glance to his watch. “And then the bells go off for a full minute after that. I think Harry’s going to need the full night to recover. After what happened at that Tourney game, I can’t risk it. The gash on Jay’s leg isn’t even fully healed yet.”

Uma winces at the thought. That wasn’t the first time they realized the Tourney bell could set Harry off, but it was definitely the worst. He had lunged at Jay simply because the boy was closest to the direction of the sound, so he got the brunt of Harry’s swing. Jay hadn’t stood a chance.

She shook her head sternly. “I’m not leaving him alone, Ben. He needs me.”

And I need him. The thought goes unsaid, but the tiny smile quirking at the end of Ben’s lips makes his understanding clear. With a gentlemanly wave of his hand, he grants Uma’s entrance through Harry’s door.

There’s no hesitation in Uma’s step. She charges through the door with the same determination and confidence she always has when she’s coming to see Harry. Like she wants to be here. Because she does.

In this moment, there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

The second he meets her eyes, Harry’s smile gleams so bright. Warm and all-encompassing, reaching all the way to the crinkles of his ocean-blue eyes.

He always smiles that way when he sees her, Uma knows that. Because she always feels that same familiar heat pool in her belly when he does it, like she’s the only thing he ever needs to see again. The only thing he wants in his life, forever.

“Love, you’re back!” Harry proclaims, his arms already outstretched for her. He waits patiently that way, his wide grin unwavering until Uma’s in his arms, her tangle of braids spilling into his face as he envelops her.

“I was hopin’ ye weren’t gonna make me spend Christmas Eve without ya,” he said, voice muffled into the side of her neck. She shakes her head vigorously at that, making him chuckle.

“Don’t be a dolt, Harry. You know that would never happen.” She pulls back to smack him on the chest, the gesture missing all its animosity as she couldn’t fight the smile off her face. Harry ducks into her space, looking up into her eyes with a teasing smirk on his lips.

“A dolt, am I? But I’m your dolt, so what does that make you?”

“Well-“

“CAP’N! HARRY!”

Uma’s eyes whip to the door when Gil comes bounding in, practically toppling over Ben as he tries to open the door. She swallows a snort at the comical way the blond boy rolls over the king’s arm, flipping into a somersault and jumping up to his feet in an almost graceful flop. He flashes a toothy grin when he’s finally standing in front of them, panting audibly as he tries to offer a little bow for them.

Harry bursts out a laugh at that, picking up Uma in his arms to bow them both in return, eliciting a giggle from her while she clings desperately to his neck. Harry stands up quickly though when a loud cough erupts from the doorway.

“Eh, well…I guess Gil…we’ll see you in the morning too?” Ben stammers slowly, his smile halfway curling in an uncomfortable way. “Just, you all have a good night. And Merry Christmas!”

Ben waves as he closes the door, barely nodding an acknowledgment at the way Harry waves wildly back, almost dropping Uma to the ground as he does so. She lands on her feet though, brushing herself off quickly so she can jump on Gil and hug him tightly.

“Gil, what are you doing here?” Uma demands, smiling easily when he hugs her close. He’s sighing happily, and she lets it happen for a few moments before pulling back to look at him.

“Really, you should be out, enjoying the holiday stuff! You don’t need to be stuck inside.”

Gil’s brows knit together as he stares at Uma, clearly dumbfounded.

“Why would I want to do that when you an’ Harry are in here? That stuff doesn’t matter if I don’t have you guys! You know I love you, don’t you Ums?”

Uma bites her lip at that, holding her breath to fight down the swell of tears that’s starting to build.

“Yeah, Gil. Yeah. I know.” She smiles at him, turning to stand beside him to throw an arm over his shoulders.

“And you love our first mate too, right? We both do,” she adds with a wink, relishing in the way Harry beams back at them.

“Course!” Gil agrees, quickly jumping on Harry. They fall back on the bed in a hug, Harry nearly bellowing with laughter as Gil squeezes him tight, tickling his neck when he buries his nose there.

“I was bummed when Ben told me you guys couldn’t come out of this room, so I made him lock me in too,” Gil added in his muffled voice. He lifted his head to look at Harry, his expression changing to confusion when he sees the smile unexpectedly slip from Harry’s face.

“Locked…in?” Harry repeats. “So we can’t get out?” He glances at Uma. “What’s he talkin’ about?”

Uma huffs, but forces a smile back on her face. As much as she loves Gil, sometimes he could really stand to have some sense knocked into him.

“It’s nothing!” She waves it away, walking up to Harry to grab him by the forearms. “I wanted to have a nice Christmas, just us. I told Ben not to let anyone bother us, ok? I’m sick of all bells and lights and singing and that…eggnog crap that tastes like spoiled milk with cake mix thrown in.”

She emphasizes her last comment with a fake gag, forcing a slight chuckle out of Harry. She throws a quick glance over Harry’s shoulder to Gil, who’s just staring at her, eyes blank and confused. She tries to give him a little wink, but she’s sure it’s not enough for him to understand what she’s doing. Still, she tips her head their way, indicating for Gil to join them, and her shoulders relax when he simply shrugs and follows her.

“Can we snuggle Harry? I just need some time with my boys. This winter weather is shit. I’d like nothing more than to lay in bed and maybe watch a movie on the laptop.” She grabs Gil and yanks them both to stand beside her.

“‘Pirates of the Caribbean’?” She adds, pouting her lips hopefully.

Harry grins instantly. “Oh Cap’n, you always know how to get me to do yer biddin’.”

She smiles brightly, pushing Harry back towards the bed. As he crawls into place, Uma is quick to pull Gil close to her.

“Clock ticking’s about to start,” she mumbles quietly, eyes still on Harry. “Make sure you have both arms around Harry as soon as we lay down, got it? The next 10 minutes are gonna be real tough on him. And us.”

She looks up briefly to Gil, relief flooding her chest when his eyes widen in recognition. He nods and scrambles quickly onto the bed, prompting another cackle from Harry when he leaps on top of him, wrapping his arms and legs around him and locking them together on the bed.

Uma manages a shaky laugh at the sight, her eyes darting quickly around the room for a second. She spots Harry’s hook on a high shelf, where Ben had made him set it when they arrived in Auradon. His sword is mounted in a case on the wall, out of commission.

She sighs in relief and crawls her way onto the bed, carefully positioning herself on the other side of Harry. He’s still laughing, and she offers a loving smile as she lays her head on his shoulder, placing a hand over his and Gil’s on his chest. Her grip tightens as the clock ticks its first, and she’s fast to swing her other arm behind Harry’s shoulder, holding firmly as his eyes bulge at the sound.

Harry’s face quickly twists from fear to anger as his fists begin to clench. Uma plants a small kiss to his shoulder before closing her eyes and bracing herself.

“Love you Harry,” she whispers softly, before the silence of the room is lost to a heart-wrenching scream.

#descendants #huma #gil descendants #harry descendants #uma descendants #descendants fandom #disney descendants #descendantsgiftexchange #bucket-barnes #garry #gil/harry/uma #gil/harry #gil/uma #harry/uma

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euphoricfilter · 2 years

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To Build A Home (Part Ten: Final)

Final: How to build a home

Pairing: Ot7 x 9 tailed fox Hybrid! Reader

Fox Hybrid! Jin, Human! Namjoon, Human! Yoongi, Wolf Hybrid! Hoseok, Cat Hybrid! Jimin, Wolf Hybrid! Taehyung, Fox Hybrid! Jungkook

Genre: Hybrid AU || Fluff || Angst || Smut || Strangers to lovers AU || Best friends to lovers AU

Summary: You figure out the world's little secret.

Word count: 16.7k (i’m so sorry)

Tags/ warnings: fluff, minimal angst, comfort/ healing, lots and lots of people in love, smut (three scenes) which include: unprotected sex, she's on birth-control which isn't mentioned (safe sex is cool-remember that), creampies, spit used for various things, handjobs, oral (f. receiving), fingering, implied rimming, manhandling, thigh fucking, cum play, double penetration, belly bulge, knotting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, size kink, dom/sub undertones, spanking, doggy, squirting, dick riding, pre-negotiated safe-words/ boundaries, mild breeding kink, slight dumbification/ slight degradation, cum eating kinda i guess.

Notes: i can't believe i said soft smut in the last chapter... this is also my first time writing anything like this so feedback is welcome! part of one end scene references something in the first drabble i wrote about the m/c and jin, i don't think its necessary to read it but for context it may help.

i also have an extra scene that i'll post that i had to cut out of this chapter because it was starting to get long, called: 'the old man and his wife' which just needs to be edited.

and finally: i want to to thank everyone that's kept up with this fic, i've enjoyed watching familiar usernames popup in my notifications and to everyone that's sent in an ask or commented telling me how much they've enjoyed the series or specific scenes they liked, i sincerely hope you live the best life. i'll continue to work hard on my other works and hope you can all enjoy them just as much as you've liked TBAH!! and my inbox is open to all of you lovelies if you ever just want to chat or requests or anything really!! I hope you're all healthy and happy :D

my full masterlist

this series' masterlist

extra scene : the old man and his wife

+++

“Can’t sleep?” Jimin whispers into the silence of his bedroom.

You lightly shake your head, wary that if you moved too much, you’d wake up Taehyung who was clinging to your tails like a lifeline. And you can only wonder how Jimin knew you were still awake. You wanted to ask him the same question, but the words felt like tacky treacle clinging to your tongue.

It had been two weeks since you’d gotten home, the dull throb of what used to be your tail was no longer there. But sometimes when you were left alone, or like now—in the silence of the night with nothing but your friends’ soft breathing as your company, you could still feel it ache. In your mind you felt like you were being dramatic, that you could feel the lost weight of one of your tails. No one treated you any differently, if anything everyone became a tiny bit clingier, scared that you’d vanish if they ever let you go; a little frantic when you were out of their sights for an extended period of time.

Jimin hums, and you hear him shuffle before his hand softly brushes your hair from your eyes. You close them, hybrid ears twitching as his fingers skim the base where they moulded into your scalp.

You’d like to believe that you were okay, that you weren’t still scared and constantly on edge even in the safety of your own home. You hadn’t stepped outside since you’d gotten back from the hospital, even sitting in the garden was a quick affair, where you’d ask Taehyung to at least sit in the summer house with you. (Which he would always accept, his brows furrowing in worry). You’d seen an article written about the incident online by one of the activists that had helped that day, Hyerin had called asking if you had read it and if you were okay. Worried that you didn’t want your face plastered on an article that had been read by thousands at that point; Jungkook would tell you how the numbers would continue to climb each time he refreshed the page.

You’d told her they didn’t have to take it down; you hadn’t read it and you never planned to scroll past the title and first picture, but if it was informative and showed people the inhumane way hybrids were treated then you didn’t mind if it was publicised. You supposed the more aware people were, the better, even if it meant shedding layers of protection, vulnerable before the eyes of what you can only assume to be hundreds of thousands of faceless people sat on the other side of a screen.

A week after you got home, you’d asked Namjoon and Yoongi to move in with the rest of you. They spent most of their time here anyways, and instead of coming to visit after work and driving home gone midnight they might as well move in. You’d assured them they shouldn’t pressure themselves to make such a big decision and they had no obligation to move in with you, but they were both overjoyed. (You thought you saw a tear or two in Yoongi’s eyes)

They’d both taken a few weeks off work, ready to move their stuff into your home. And slowly everyone had started to fall into a routine over the last few days.

Like any other day, yesterday had started off like the rest; that was until you had skipped upstairs to call Yoongi for lunch.

He had been cleaning his bathroom, and the smell of bleach had flung you into a full-blown panic attack. The producer had been stunned; never having seen you break down so quickly. He worried you would pass out with how quick you were breathing, your chocked sobs flinging him into action. When he asked later, sat at the foot of your bed as you lay there exhausted, you’d told him you didn’t remember it happening. He asked if you remembered Jin coming up and helping and you just shook your head. And then he asked if you remember the other few times you’d panicked over the last week and you’d just looked at him, confused. Because you couldn’t remember.

Jin had asked you last night if you really didn’t remember the evenings where he would startle awake because you’d thrown up or cried until you passed out. He assured you it was nothing to be embarrassed about, that you could tell him anything, but you were genuinely confused because you had no recollection of any of those things happening. The only semblance of those events happening were your drained body and sore throat the coming mornings.

You’d like to think you were strong, that such a common cause of pain—one that so many of your own people faced, wouldn’t affect you as badly as it has. You like to think that because you knew what to expect in those few days that everything would be fine. And you hated to admit that it wasn’t.

You didn’t want to be a burden, didn’t want the pain of those few days to drag on because you were exhausted. Even when sleeping your mind never seemed to fully shut down, you always wondered why even with 10 hours of sleep you were still exhausted in the morning. Dragging your feet out of bed, only to crash on the couch beside Yoongi and sleep the rest of the morning away.

Taehyung had found you the next evening, rummaging through the medicine cabinet. Silently watching as you swallowed a sleeping pill. It had gotten to the point you would do anything just for a decent night’s sleep, just a few hours where you dreamt of nothing, dead to the world; even if that meant relying on tiny little pills in daunting little bottles that stood out like a sore thumb in the bathroom cabinet beside the pink first aid kit and dull boxes of painkillers.

You’d frozen upon seeing him, palms starting to sweat like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t. Technically you hadn’t, but it was the vulnerability of the situation that seemed to put you on edge. A fleeting moment of weakness from you when you acted like your life was peachy, like you were okay. And you could only pray that he wouldn’t ask where you’d gotten the small pills from, unsure Hyerin would be able to ward off the wolf if he got mad.

Taehyung doesn’t say anything, simply outstretching his hand for you to take. You wipe your sweaty palms on your shirt, heartbeat slowly quietening in your ears as you realise, he wasn’t mad, nor did he seem disappointed.

He doesn’t say anything to Jungkook who lazily scrolls through his phone on Taehyung’s bed, simply motioning for you to lay down next to the fox.

You flop back onto the bed, eyes trained on the ceiling, moments away from the sleeping pills kicking in. You start to feel drowsy, body finally taking a well-deserved, and well-needed rest.

Jungkook looks over at Taehyung with a raised brow, the wolf waving him off as he flicks the light on in the bathroom.

They’d all noticed your lack of energy, all noticed how you would try to delay bedtime. Claiming to be on a good page in a book, or you wanted to watch the sequel to a movie they knew you found boring. They’d noticed your hybrid ears that would flicker from the smallest sound, how you’d brush them off when they asked if you were okay, blaming your animal instincts. None of them were insulted that you seemed to think they were oblivious to what you were trying to do, if anything disappointed in themselves; feeling as though maybe you didn’t trust them enough to confide in them during such a hard time.

Jungkook only watches as you curl up by his side, tongue peeking through his lips to wet them as the tap runs in the bathroom; Taehyung brushing his teeth. He asks the grey wolf what had happened, sensing the elder’s mood was worse than it had been before he’d left the room to go and get you.

What was meant to be a fun movie night was suddenly cut short with you dozing off to sleep minutes after your head hit the pillow and Taehyung occasionally frowning at you as you clung to Jungkook’s side.

+++

Six months after the incident you’d realised healing wasn’t a fast process. It was gruelling, and hard and so extremely frustrating.

Healing was never going to be an overnight process; you were never going to wake up days after coming home and feel… normal. And that frustrated you, because why couldn’t you just move on from what had happened over those few days? You felt as though you were walking up a never-ending staircase, the door to freedom on the tips of your fingers, but the climb to the top seemed to stretch on the further you went.

Reflecting on your life had always seemed somewhat awkward; taking time out of your day to just think about your life and how you were living it, but over recent months you found yourself looking back on the past, picking apart the moments of genuine happiness; whittling down events until you could pin-point exactly where everything had started to go wrong.

Maybe your healing should have started years ago when your owner died, instead you chose to blow out the flame of anguish and pretend you weren’t hurting inside. Maybe the event from months ago had finally pushed you over the edge, the final push you needed to start new; start on an empty slate and rebuild your life, one where you’re happier.

And maybe healing was the foundation of this. The first few steppingstones to rebuilding your happiness.

However, it was frustrating. How hard trying to heal yourself was; it felt as though you’d progress miles only to be flung back to the start of the race, the finish line so far away. And you were exhausted, utterly exhausted of being so on edge, always looking over your shoulder when you’d go out, and cowering behind someone in the kitchen when the doorbell would trill throughout the house.

You’d become so reliant on sleeping pills and anxiety-meds you felt like your own life was crumbling before your own eyes. Crumbling between your family’s fingers, like sand as they tried over and over to help you process your own fickle emotions.

Reflecting on your life had become an easy pastime, your memories playing like an awfully scripted movie behind your eyelids as you lay in bed, wishing you could turn back time to when everything was okay. When you were naïve, uncaring of the real world and all its problems because you had Jin by your side and your owner keeping the two of you safe. Some may argue that’s ignorance, and you wouldn’t deny it because that’s exactly what it was. And no matter how overused the term ‘ignorance is bliss’ may be used, it was true. You were happiest when you were an ignorant child that had no care or knowledge of the world and its big problems.

And by no means did you want to become an ignorant human being; people must grow up at some point and you are no longer the naïve little person you once were. You can be well versed in the world while still being happy. You can try to create change while still being happy. Finding happiness as an adult is always going to be different than when you are small, you can still be responsible and happy; so, it felt a little desolate comparing the past of your happiness to looking at the future and building up that same bubbly feeling.

You’d started to wonder how much would change if you and Jin had gone against your master’s wishes and helped more around the house when he was clearly too ill to work. You wondered if you saved up your monthly allowance and paid for the best medical care your city offered, would he still be alive? Would you and Jin live your lives as a three, the perfect little family you’d always dreamt of as a child. Fantasising about having what seemed so far out of reach, only for the world to bless you, handing Seokjin and your owner on a silver platter. Only for the universe to drag one of them away from you too soon.

If your owner lived you probably wouldn’t have met Taehyung, or Jungkook. You would have never stumbled across Namjoon on that rainy afternoon, and you would have never known Yoongi existed; maybe finding him online, liking the songs he produced but that was as far as your knowledge of him would be. If you hadn’t met Taehyung, Hoseok would have been another pitiful case that worked hard to earn their stay in the restaurant. And maybe Jimin wouldn’t have stumbled into your garden, you doubted he would have stolen from you with a human in the house.

You felt guilty, imagining a life without the people you’ve come to love so much. Each day the 8 of you learning new things about each other. Falling deeper and deeper into the bliss of love and adoration for one another.

You’d seen the way Hoseok would linger by Yoongi’s side. The older producer uncaring as Hoseok clung onto him while cooking. How Jungkook and Taehyung had stopped bickering constantly, hands on thighs, never keeping them to themselves, or prolonged gazing across the room that always ended up with them sneaking off into a bedroom when they thought no one was looking. Always in each other’s little bubble.

And if you caught Jin and Namjoon kissing in the kitchen late one evening, you didn’t say anything until said fox came to bed with flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips that stretched into the biggest smile when he gushed about how perfect of a man Namjoon was.

You felt guilty when you imagined a life without the others. You didn’t know what sort of relationship you all had; but you never thought to ask. A mutual understanding that you were all in a way—exclusive.

You suppose you and Jin had been skipping around labels for years, simply laughing when your owner would ask what you were to each other. Siblings wasn’t right, siblings didn’t get handsy, didn’t kiss with so much fervour with bare skin and wandering fingers in places that siblings shouldn’t touch. But neither of you had exactly been dating, merely living under the same roof, growing up by each other’s side. Neither of you ever working up the courage to ask the question that could make or break your relationship.

+++

12 months after the incident you feel as though your life was slowly getting back on track.

Naturally you didn’t always feel like you had progressed from that day, it was easy for unwanted thoughts to weave into a person’s mind and plague their emotions; but you had 7 boyfriends to help you when bad days felt like a little too much.

Yep. Boyfriends.

Plural.

Because it seemed everyone in your household had enough love to go around.

Taehyung had gotten sick of tiptoeing around everyone, sick of having to drag you into a room for a long kiss, out of the way of possible prying eyes or walking in on Hoseok and Yoongi rutting against each other like pre-teens in the laundry room.

So, he sat everyone in the living room one night and confessed his feelings. From that point everyone’s own emotions were spilled like dominoes; and it wasn’t all that surprising when the feelings seemed to be mutual. Happily whispered confessions with rosy, red cheeks and dopey smiles on all of your faces. That weird high of being confessed to by the person you really like fizzling through all of you, buzzing off the knowledge that you were just as loved as you had love to give.

From that point it was a slow process of being more openly affectionate. The unspoken rule—that just because you weren’t dating meant being openly affectionate was a little weird—that shrouded the house still ever-present even months after your confessions. But once everyone had gotten over the initial unease of starting a relationship, with multiple people; something new for all of you—life seemed a lot more fun to live.

Easy kisses shared between sips of sweet hot chocolate, tongues tangled during movies, and hands held on top of the table during dinner. It hadn’t taken you very long to learn of everyone’s love languages; noticing how from the very moment they had stepped into your home; small acts of love had been shared between all of you.

Having known Jin the longest, you knew his love language was buying gifts. And it warmed your heart whenever he would come home with a small gift bag, explaining he couldn’t just leave the small trinket that reminded him so much of his little loves; and it would sit proudly in the living room on display. A reminder that Jin loved each of you more than any words would ever be able to explain.

Unsurprisingly, Yoongi’s love language was quality time. With work being demanding, he’d started to value his time with each of you, individually or as a group. Although embarrassing, he felt as though spending time with all of you was healing, something so soothing and joyful having you all sat close to him. He liked helping Jin and Jimin in the kitchen, even after a long day in the studio, he’d let Namjoon drag him on long bike rides of an evening, and he was more than happy to brush yours, Taehyung’s and Jungkook’s tails while the three of you played video games in the living room.

You’d noticed how the lyrics he wrote had also started to merge into something sweeter, the usual harsh lyrics that stained the pages of his notebook feeling a lot lighter and airier these days. Far from cliché love songs that you heard on the radio each morning, raw emotion that only Min Yoongi could make sound so poetic and pretty, and maybe he didn’t realise himself that as he would play you a song he’d been working on recently, backtracking to demos he’d kept hidden in files on his computer; the more recent songs had small parts of your family weaved into each song.

Instrumentals that had similar aspects to the songs Taehyung adored, lyrics that were vague enough that it wasn’t obvious the song was being written for a specific person—or people in this case. But you spent so much time with you new family that you could point out the small quirks Yoongi mentions in a few of the recent tracks, like how Namjoon loved the outdoors, how Jimin could come off as defensive but was just a small ball of fluff in reality, how Jungkook was hard headed but ever so passionate about what he did—a work ethic that many were jealous of—how Hoseok’s smile could light up the whole room (arguably cliché, but Yoongi called him his sunshine so you gave him bonus points) and how everyone in your relationship was far from perfect but perfect in their own unique way that Yoongi adored.

You believed Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook had similar love languages, each of them thriving off physical touch. It wasn’t an uncommon sight for Taehyung to have his legs hung over Jungkook’s at the dining table, or Hoseok shielding Jimin with a back hug while they danced around the kitchen as the moon spilled in through the double doors in the kitchen. You liked holding Jimin’s hands while you whispered secrets to one another in the silence of the night, with no one but the stars to eavesdrop on your conversation, you liked when your knees brushed against Hoseok’s when you both built Lego, and you absolutely adored when Jungkook and Taehyung would slip into yours and Jin’s bedroom past midnight to sleep with the two of you.

Namjoon’s love language was veering towards words of affirmation, never one to shy away from sending you all texts on how he missed you as he worked. Always remembering to tell you all he loved you before you all slept. Occasionally you’d find small notes around the house, little poems about how much he admires each of you or words of encouragement when he knows you’re having a bad day. Namjoon was always so patient, uncaring when the younger hybrids would roughhouse him after a long day at work, watching with fond eyes as everyone settles down for dinner kindly prepared by Jimin; your family finally complete, with the 8 of you all chatting away about your days, aspirations, plans for the future. And Namjoon would listen intently to all of it, mentally noting down the snippets of new information he would learn about each of you.

And you always felt warm, the good kind of warm when everyone’s future seemed to include each other. And it was reassuring that what you had now was long-term. No one was going anywhere, and this house—one that had so many bad memories, was slowly but surely being washed of those bad moments, this home filled with more love than there ever had been.

8 hearts intertwined, brought together by fate—maybe to help each of you heal in your own ways. And healing had started to feel easier when you were surrounded by such lovable, understanding people. Healing felt worth it when you bared your heart with no added layers, shedding away walls like a butterfly breaking free of its cocoon, being handled delicately by those that admire your beauty. And maybe having people that encourage your wings to sprout, unfurling into something so beautiful is the final push you needed to start running towards your future.

+++

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you whisper to Taehyung, trying your best to keep your huge smile at bay as you lay facing one another.

But it’s useless at his reply, “Because I really love you” he whispers back—and you can see it swimming in his eyes, a love so pure that he doesn’t know what to do with himself, his own body drawing closer to yours like you were two sides of a magnet; an unseeable force pulling you towards one another. Not that either of you were complaining, with Taehyung’s large hand rubbing tight circles on your hip, and your fingers tracing his prominent collarbones—there was no place either of you would rather be. Isolated from the outside world, with nothing but one another as company.

Your own eyes soften at that, hand coming to caress the soft skin of his cheek, stubble prickling at the tips of your fingers as you trace his jaw. Taehyung leans into your touch, eyes closing momentarily as he basks in the comfort of this moment. Selfishly wishing that time itself would stop so you could stay like this forever.

You’d both snuck out of the house, a wave of déjà vu washing over the two of you from the first few weeks of knowing each other; hiding away in the summer house where the outside world would be forgotten while you learnt more about each other, and you’d live in each other’s affluence; curtains drawn closed to cocoon the two of you from what may live in the real world. The loud chatter of the other 6 parts of your family shut off behind varnished doors and sheer curtains; the expanse of the garden feeling a lot bigger when it was just the two of you hidden away. Hundreds of thousands blades of grass acting as a barrier to your hideout while the rest of your family joked around in the living room.

“I love you too” you’re able to whisper before Taehyung is leaning forward, his lips slightly hovering over yours before he closes the gap, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. A beautiful, innocent kiss that has you melting into Kim Taehyung, his lips tasting faintly of the iced tea you’d had that afternoon, sun-kissed skin melding into one another.

You hum into the kiss, mouth parting when the strong muscle of his tongue flicks from between his lips to prod at the seam of your own. A silent question, asking for permission to explore you further. You oblige, head feeling hazy with love—and slowly growing arousal. You figure you’re not the only one who has slightly obscene thoughts plaguing their mind, as Taehyung’s hips jut forward rhythmically—bulge of his slowly hardening cock nudging the sacred mound between your thighs.

Taehyung’s fingers tangle within your hair as he pulls your further into himself, his head tilting just enough for the kiss to deepen comfortably. You feel his tongue lick at the roof of your mouth, a low grunt reverberating from his chest as he takes his time exploring, tasting what he can only describe as something so wholly you.

This wasn’t the first time you’d kissed—nor was it the first time you’d kissed like this. But to Taehyung, every time he shared such an intimate moment with you; it felt like the first. Like each time his tongue would slip past the seam of your lips, he’d get to explore you all over again. Slowly relishing the feeling of you. You who was so perfect, pretty, smart, kind, everything that has ever been good in the world. Taehyung liked you so much it was hard to contain himself sometimes. And no matter how hard he tried to engrave each and every ridge of your body, how your tongue felt lapping at his mouth, or your plush, kiss swollen lips pressing against his own—every moment Taehyung spent with you always felt new. Always refreshing, bold but equally as innocent and exhilarating.

Two lost souls finally intertwining into one, two pieces of the puzzles sitting snug by each other’s side.

Taehyung feels complete when he’s with you.

And often times he feels guilty, for the all the lewd thoughts he has of you when only the moon is there to witness the sinful acts he plays out in his bedroom—but you were so pure that he couldn’t help but imagine all the ways he could claim you as his own. A primal instinct, but Taehyung’s learnt to embrace his animalistic tendencies.

Sharing you with 6 other people was hard, and Taehyung wasn’t going to admit he was perfect. Jealousy was common at the start of whatever you all had at the time, the ugly, green feeling fizzling up his spine until he couldn’t help but snap at his Hyungs; because he just wanted you all for himself.

Guilt had played a large part of his life when he first moved in with you—jealous of what you and Jin had, jealous that it wasn’t him that had been in your life for so long, experienced new things with you like the fox had. Jealous when Jimin had joined you, your attention suddenly divided by three. Jealous when you spoke so fondly of Yoongi and Namjoon—betrayed even, that you had trusted human people so easily. The very beings that hated, shunned, belittled your kind when they were the ones to blame. Guilt consuming him because you cared for these people and he couldn’t help but act like a spoilt brat who didn’t like to share what he considered his.

But Taehyung had learnt that your heart was so full of love, you didn’t love him any less now that you had more people in your life. Stretching your heart out enough to fit everyone inside, making sure everyone was loved equally. If he was a musician, maybe he would write a song about how you were the epitome of love, so lovable with so much love to give.

Love, love, love.

He loved the word love. Because it reminded him of you—pretty little you, who he couldn’t imagine his life without. All thoughts of his future including you sat by his side. His pretty little baby.

You both release a shuddering breath, lungs greedily gulping for oxygen when you finally decide to part from the kiss with a lewd pop. But it’s only moments before Taehyung pushes himself to lean on his elbows, bringing your lips back to his own for another ravenous kiss.

This kiss is less leisurely, more feral this time, no care for teeth clashing or your saliva being shared from one mouth to the other as his tongue pushes to meet your own. Taehyung caresses what he can only assume to be his and your own spit from your chin with his thumb, mouth leaving yours to push the concoction of your own saliva onto your waiting tongue.

Your plush lips close around his thumb as he pushes down on your tongue.

Taehyung groans, “You’re always so messy, baby” he pulls his thumb from your mouth, caressing your spit over your bottom lip, his own quirking up into a cocky smile as he watches it glisten in the dim lamplight of the summer house.

You whine at that, “You’re fault that I get messy” you argue and Taehyung grins wide at that—enamoured by how cute you could be, even in such a compromising situation.

“Open wide”

You do as your told, lips parting with your tongue falling past your bottom lip. Just how Taehyung likes it.

You watch carefully as Taehyung gathers a wad of saliva in his mouth, his fingers gripping your chin to make sure your mouth stays open, and your panties damped when he spits into your mouth, rivulets of slick pushing past your hole, staining the cotton material in your steadily leaking essence. You make a noise in the back of your throat as his spit slides over your tongue.

Mockingly, Taehyung shakes your face—grip on your jaw tightening slightly as he leans down to press a kiss on your bottom lip, teeth nipping at the swollen skin, with what he deems to be the prettiest shade of red; and he can only imagine his own lips were a similar colour to your own.

“Swallow” he finally let’s go, your own finger come to caress your aching jaw, “Good girl” he groans when you open your mouth to show him.

Your hands slip under his shirt, fingers lightly trailing over his happy trail before they skim over his stomach—not as toned as Jungkook or Jimin’s but so perfectly Taehyung you rush him to pull his shirt over his head.

You sigh, happy as you take in his naked chest; pushing yourself to sit up so you could kiss over his collarbones—rightfully worshiping his honeyed skin. A little tanner than it had been that morning, but you’d both been lounging in the sun all afternoon.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume Taehyung was sculpted to rival the beauty of Adonis. A bold claim, but you stood by the statement. Because not only was his face the most beautiful piece of art you’ve ever seen, but his body was so soft, well taken care of, and just ever so pretty you never knew what to do with yourself.

The grey wolf doesn’t shy away from your ogling eyes, expression morphing into something a little cockier as he lets your eager hands roam the expanse of his torso. Eyes clearly avoiding the evident bulge in his pants, and he wonders if it’s because you like to tease him. Or if you really were just distracted with your hands trying to hold any piece of bare skin available.

“Taetae?” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes.

And Taehyung feels his sweatpants grow incredibly tighter as you look up at him so innocently—so obliviously pretty and so, so delectable. He wonders if you know the hold you have on him, how you have him and the rest of the guys wrapped around your pretty little fingers, the same fingers that inch closer and closer to the waistband of his sweatpants. He wonders if you know how he would do anything for you; all you had to do was ask.

“Yes, my love?” he brings a hand to come and softly caress your cheek; he’d always liked slow loving more than the feral fucking that the other guys enjoyed. That didn’t mean he didn’t like it a little messier though, the primal, more feral part of his brain liking the idea of knocking you up and keeping you safely by his side until you both grew old, precious little children running around the garden as you both watch with fond eyes.

“Can I touch you?” you ask, fingers toying with the strings of his sweatpants. And he finds it so cute that even now, you still ask for his permission; still somewhat jittery when it came to getting intimate with any of the guys that weren’t Jin, but he supposes he’ll just have to remind you who his body belongs to.

His head falls back as he groans, hips bucking up to try and get some sort of friction, biting down on his bottom lip when all he gets is the small gap between your bodies. Dumb puppy wolf brain begging him to free his bordering-painful erection and slip into the slick heat between your thighs.

“Of course. You own my body, doll.”

Your fingers slip past the waist band of his sweats, only to find out he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“You whore, you knew this was gonna happen” your fingers wrap deftly around his cock, teasing lilt to your voice.

Taehyung leans forwards so his head can rest on your shoulder as you help stroke him to full hardness, a speedy process considering he was sure most of the blood in his body had rushed downwards the moment his tongue lapped at your own.

“Actually, I don’t sleep in underwear” he retorts, no real venom in his tone; voice a little breathy as you squeeze him teasingly. But he lets you toy with him, happy that he has some sort of release—he was never too fussy when it came to you.

Your sluggish strokes come to an abrupt stop when the door to the summer house clicks open, flung carelessly so it hits the wall. Loud bang making you jump.

Taehyung chokes out a moan as you squeeze the head of his weighty cock, eyes wide with surprise as Jungkook and Jimin halt in their steps.

You open your mouth, words stuck on the tip of your tongue as both of their eyes trail downwards—to where your hand is stuffed into Taehyung’s sweats, evident lump where your hand holds the head, suddenly unmoving as your brain works a mile a minute to process that the cat and fox had stormed into your intimate time with Taehyung.

Mirth swims behind both of their eyes, shameless in the way they stalk forwards toward the bed. You let out what could only be described as a squeak when Jungkook pulls you up onto his lap as he makes himself comfortable on the bed, your hand slipping from Taehyung’s pants as Jungkook gets you both into a comfortable position, your tails wrapped perfectly around his waist so your back can sit comfortably against his chest.

You turn towards Jimin, eyes wide as he just looks down at you with that same amused glint in his eyes as when he had opened the door. Any words that planned to slip through your plush lips fizzling to nothing as you realise Jimin wasn’t about to help you.

Jungkook’s fingers trail down your stomach, bringing your focus back onto him as they slip past the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

The tips of his fingers trace the lacy trimming of your panties, teasing you as they don’t travel any closer to the pulsing heat between your thighs. Your hips buck upwards, trying to get Jungkook’s fingers where you needed them. And you let out a pitiful whine when his thumb just misses your pulsating clit, begging to be touched.

“Oh, you poor thing” Taehyung leans forwards, a mocking pout on his lips as he places a sloppy kiss to your cheek.

Pitifully, you snivel, your head falling back to lean on Jungkook’s shoulder as you look up at him with pleading eyes. Hoping that maybe he would be merciful enough to at least toy with you throbbing pearl.

“Mind if we join you, baby?” he asks, pretty doe eyes taking a serious edge to them.

You will your mind to be somewhat coherent. Because you knew that if you didn’t verbally answer, all of this would stop. A rule that had been negotiated early on in your relationship, along with safe words, boundaries, and proper after care routines.

“’s fine kookie” you whisper, lips pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw.

Satisfied, Jungkook hums; his fingers inching closer to the damp patch that darkened the pink fabric of your panties.

“This wet, just from getting Taehyung off?” the fox coos, his other hand taking a firm hold of your jaw—making you watch Taehyung undress at the end of the bed.

“Like making Taetae feel good” comes your reply, which was soon followed by a moan as Jungkook’s thumb circles your clit; the sensitive little nub making you jolt in the fox’s lap. A mean laugh bubbling up Jungkook’s throat as you moan.

You turn to look at Jimin who sits on the edge of the bed, his own hand tucked into his pyjama bottoms as he teases the tip of his slowly growing cock. You wiggle around in Jungkook’s lap, mild embarrassment crawling up your spine as Jimin just watches Jungkook’s hand tease you—veiled behind the thin cotton of your pyjamas and fully aware of the heavy bulge that presses against your back as your rock back and forth, silently begging for Jungkook to play with your clit again. The fleeting stimulation he’d given you enough to have you begging for more.

“Oh, you’re sopping. Just a needy little bitch that needs to be fucked full of cum, yeah?” Jungkook supplies, condescending in his tone as he rubs a finger over your clothed slit.

Taehyung scoots up towards the head of the bed where you and Jungkook sit; all clothes discarded on the floor somewhere. Your eyes fixate on his length, head a deep red as it slaps against his stomach with each jittery movement he makes, precum staining the tan skin of his stomach as it glistens in the dim orange light of the lamp.

Eagerly you lean forwards to wrap your fingers back around his sizable cock, there was something so…sating having Taehyung’s heavy length wrapped in your hands. But Taehyung stops you, lacing his fingers with your own to keep your hands from enclosing around his shaft.

You look up at him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion; and Taehyung laughs at how endearing you are. Always one to please others and not worry about your own pleasure. But he planned to make this about you, how could he be selfish enough to care for his own release when he had you sat before him.

“Let me take care of you, pretty” he tells you in a low whisper, pressing another kiss between your furrowed brows to ease them as his hands trail down your sides.

With Jungkook’s help, your pyjama pants are slipped off of your legs (it wasn’t easy with such thick tails, but you managed), knees involuntarily bending inwards as the cool air of the summer house brushes against your bare core, the slick that had trailed down your thighs starting to feel tacky against your heated skin.

It doesn’t take much for Taehyung to pry your legs back open, not when Jimin leans forwards to trail sticky fingers under your shirt to play with your breasts, his own precum slippery as he pinches your hardened nipples; earning a soft whine from you at the stimulation.

Taehyung leans falls tummy first on the bed, no shame whatsoever as he eyes your pretty pink pussy, lips glistening with so much slick he doesn’t think you’ll need much prepping at all. He watches as you hole clenches, hypnotising, eagerly asking to be touched, to be played with.

Taehyung doesn’t waste another moment before he surges forwards, tongue licking a bold stripe through your slit up towards your clit, the hood being pulled back by the thick muscle of his tongue.

You let out a shuddering moan, hands finding purchase on Jungkook’s biceps and Taehyung’s finger’s spread you apart so his tongue can prod at your entrance.

The wolf is unashamed as he laps up your slick like a starved puppy, which only spurs you into producing more as it trails further downwards—Taehyung pulling your ass cheeks apart, making sure he licks up any slick that spurts from your hole as it starts to soak the base of your tails.

Jimin helps you lift your shirt over your head, apologizing when he accidently smacks Jungkook in the nose. Said fox trails his hands down your body, tattooed fingers thrumming at your sensitive clit as Taehyung pushes his tongue into your awaiting hole.

Your back arches, so many hands making you feel good at once, the evident arousal that seeps from all four of you, Taehyung’s tongue ruthlessly scooping mouthfuls of slick from your hole and Jungkook’s pretty hands playing with your clit becomes too much. But it all felt so good.

It’s when Jimin’s eager finger pinch your nipples, you feel your stomach clench, thighs shaking as they close around Taehyung’s head. He knows you’re on the brink of your first orgasm, so he eases a finger into your hole, his own moan vibrating against the sensitive lips of your glistening cunt as he feels you clench around him. Jungkook doesn’t stop the tight circles on your clit, determined to help bring you over the edge.

“Can I cum, please?” you ask, frantic as your hips buck against Taehyung’s tongue.

“So polite” Jungkook coos, “Of course you can, baby”

You moan loudly as you come, head falling into the juncture of Jungkook’s shoulder as your thighs shake around Taehyung’s head. He pulls his finger from your hole, tongue lapping up your cum as it slowly leaks from between your swollen lips.

Slowly Jungkook stops his circles on your oversensitive pearl, not wanting to hurt you. You have to sluggishly push Taehyung’s head away from between your thighs, his tongue pushing you into overstimulation as he cleans you up.

Taehyung looks like a slick drunk puppy when he finally pushes himself to sit up, eyes a little hazy as he just looks at you limp in Jungkook’s lap—the fox still fully clothed as he runs his hands over your sides, helping ground you from the leg shaking orgasm you just experienced.

The wolf’s chin is covered in a sheen of your own slick and cum, you wouldn’t put it against him to say that some of it was probably his own drool as well.

“I have to get back inside and cook” Jimin announces, eyes looking warily at clock hung on the wall.

You whine at that, fingers tugging on his shirt.

“You’re still hard, Mimi. You can fuck my thighs if you want, I need a moment before I can go again anyways”

Jimin throws his head back, painfully hard cock twitching in the confines of his pants at image of you pliant underneath him while he gets himself off.

“You sure, little fox?” he asks, worry evident in his tone. He didn’t want to wear you out if you were already tired. Plus it looked like you had two other horny hybrids to sate before dinner that evening.

You smile up at him, heart feeling full as Jimin worries over you. You simply nod, pulling him down so you could give him a gentle kiss to his plump lips. You both share a moment, seemingly forgetting that you had two audience members.

Taehyung starts stroking his length, nothing that would actually get him off but enough stimulation that his erection wasn’t painful.

Jungkook leans back on the bed when you and Jimin part, your own hand coming to scoop a wad of slick from your cunt as Jimin pulls down his pyjama pants just enough to free is stiff cock.

Jimin had the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen, curved perfectly and the head a deep red that you’d considered on more than one occasion maybe you would suck it. (Which was very out of character for you because blowjobs were a big no go). But now wasn’t the time, as your fingers lather up his pretty cock with your own arousal, more of it leaking from your hole as you watch his length glisten.

Jungkook tries his best to keep your tails at bay, but eventually gives up as a few start to sway back and forth.

You push your thighs together, Jimin helping you fold them up to your chest as he pushes his cock through the seam of them. Grunting when he feels the wet, plush skin squeeze his length.

You close your eyes, relishing the feeling of Jimin’s body weight helping you keep your legs bent, the wet squelch of his cock between the meat of your thighs along with his timely grunts were a reminder that you were making him feel like that. You were making Jimin feel good.

Taehyung continues to stroke himself at the end of the bed, imagination running wild as he imagines himself in the cat’s position. Your fleshy thighs squeezing his cock, a hairs length away from the tip nudging your clit.

You jolt forwards when Jimin does accidently stimulate the bundle of nerves, his own apology dying on his tongue as his hips speed up, find a rhythm that draws him closer and closer to the edge.

His own toned thighs slapping against the back of yours reverberates across the four walls of the summer house, your own higher pitched moans harmonizing with Jimin’s as the tip of his cock continuously bumps into your clit with each forward push of his hips.

“So pretty, and perfect. Just a cock hungry whore, you couldn’t wait, could you? Wanting me to fuck your thighs so soon after Taehyung and Jungkook had given you an orgasm”

You hear Jimin let out one final moan before you feel his cum drip onto your mound, your legs being pulled open by the cat as he strokes his length—aiming the tip at your entrance so his cum starts to drip down your slit.

Without thinking, he pushes the head of his softening cock through your slit, watching as his own cum gathers at the tip before he’s smearing it around your clit—a dopy smile on his face as you whine at the stimulation.

He takes your cheeks into his hands, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before he’s pushing himself off of the bed, pulling his underwear and pyjama bottoms back up before he’s skipping over towards the door.

“Dinners in an hour, try to finish by then. Love you”

“Think you’re ready to go again?” Jungkook asks once Jimin shuts the door to the summer house, his own cock feeling suffocated as he’d been waiting patiently for his time to come.

You nod, “Want both of you”

Taehyung chokes, “At the same time?”

You give him a knowing smile, and Taehyung throws his head back, groaning. What was he gonna do with you?

“Come here then, I’ll open you up while Jungkookie gets undressed”

Eagerly you scramble from Jungkook’s embrace, giggling when you accidently brush against his straining erection, flopping into Taehyung who catches you with a wide grin on his face.

He helps pull your legs apart, licking his lips at the way a mixture of your arousal and Jimin’s cum stains the inside of your thighs, eagerly waiting hole creamy as it beckons Taehyung to come closer.

He easily slips a finger inside of you, and you don’t flinch, more than used to the long fingers of Kim Taehyung pushing past your velvety walls. A second finger is soon slipped past the ring of muscle while Jungkook pulls his shirt over his head.

Your hips jump when the pads of Taehyung’s fingers prod at the spongy tissue, a happy smile on his face as he starts to assault your g-spot before he scissors his fingers to try and stretch you open a little more.

Before the two of you can get carried away, his fingers leave you, and you whine at the loss of contact; hips eagerly chasing after Taehyung’s hand.

He shushes you, pushing his fingers past the seam of your lips to make you taste yourself, hints of Jimin’s cum mingled somewhere in your own slick. Taehyung’s other hand helps you fall back onto the cushioning of your tails, helping you lift your hips, so your thighs rest comfortably over his own before he pulls his hand away from your mouth; using your spit to slick up his cock before he lines it up with your entrance.

“You sure you want both of us, small thing?” Taehyung asks, worried maybe you were biting off more than you could chew.

“Yeah” you reply, tone breathy as Taehyung runs the tip of his pulsing cock through your slit, running your arousal down his shaft.

You let him take his time, knowing that this is going to be just as much of a challenge for him as it is for you. And you can see the crease in his brow as he contemplates if he really wants to do this, inexperienced in this field of sex.

“I’ve done it a few times with Yoongi and Namjoon” you confess, in no way wanting it to seem as though you were comparing him to the others; only hoping to ease his worries slightly.

You both knew you weren’t made of fine china, nor would you break if they acted a little rougher with you. Jungkook wasn’t the most modest in bed, more than happy to throw you around to his will, fuck you like there was no tomorrow and push your own limits. (With a lot of aftercare of course, he was a sucker for sharing baths, lathering up your body with his soap, and then cuddling for the rest of the night, massaging lightly scented oils into the kinks and knots of your muscles that he may or may not have been part of creating).

That seems to spur Taehyung on, pulling your hips up as he lines his cock up with your entrance, slowly pushing the tip inside before pulling out, testing the waters.

He hadn’t prepped you all that much, two fingers only doing so much when you planned to take both his and Jungkook’s cock at once. And Taehyung wasn’t going to act modest and say he was small in size; it was no secret how well-endowed the wolf was.

He pushes the tip back through your opening, groaning as he feels you clench around the head, body begging him to push further into you.

He takes his time, rocking back and forth, biting his lip as your greedy hole stimulates the sensitive head of his cock, “You sure this little thing can take two cocks, sweetheart?” he asks, head falling back as he pushes another inch into your tight walls.

You fervently nod, hips trying to grind down on more of Taehyung’s length, a breathy moan escaping you as Jungkook starts to circle your clit. With you rhythmically clenching on his length, Taehyung surges forwards, his pelvis flushing against your own as he slowly starts to rock back and forth, grunting when your legs wrap around his waist to keep him buried deep inside of you.

Jungkook’s hand gets trapped between your bodies, uncaring as he continues to stimulate your bundle of nerves.

“I have to stretch you out, pretty” Taehyung murmurs against your ear, hips grinding into you.

“Like feeling this full” you let out a long breath, pulling Taehyung impossibly tighter as you feel his cock twitch. The glare he sends Jungkook’s way a tell-tale sign the fox had meanly squeezed his balls.

You giggle, mind feeling a little hazy; drunk off love and probably animal mating pheromones. The air smelling a lot sweeter than it had when you and Taehyung first snuck into the summer house. The smell of varnished wood drowned out by the floral scent of Taehyung and Jungkook’s pheromones, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. Ready to be bred full, sated with their thick, creamy cum oozing from between your thighs.

It takes a moment, but Taehyung is able to pry your limbs from out his body, watching as Jungkook’s hand inches down towards your hole. Being the muscle pig that he is, it takes Jungkook no effort to gently lift you from the bed, placing you back in his lap, his own hard cock jolting as the soft fur of your tails brush against the tender skin.

By some miracle, Taehyung is still sat inside of you, hips languidly pushing forwards in small circles to keep both of you stimulated while Jungkook gets comfortable.

When Taehyung notices Jungkook’s fingers circling your hole, he comes to play with your clit—hoping to somewhat relax you as Jungkook pushes a finger in beside his cock; you hole straining around the added girth.

You let out a moan, any qualms about the rest of the house hearing what you were up to flung to the back of your mind as you squirm in Jungkook’s hold.

He shushes you gently, kissing at your neck as Taehyung’s hips come to a stop.

You whine, eyes brimming with tears, “Don’t stop, please Tae” you cry, hips rolling to try and get Taehyung moving again.

He obliges, arms caging your upper body as he leans down to press a kiss to your cheeks, salty tears coating his tastebuds as he starts to rock his hips back and forth; Jungkook easing a second finger in beside the first, his thumb thrumming at your clit.

You let out a borderline pornographic moan when Jungkook’s finger’s push the head of Taehyung’s cock right into your g-spot, that, mixed with feeling so full has you reeling towards a second orgasm—still on edge from Jimin teasing your clit when he was getting himself off.

With four fingers and Taehyung’s girthy cock stuffed into your hole, Jungkook deems you prepped enough to lodge his own cock into you as well.

When he slips his fingers out of you, you let out a shuddery breath, hole clenching, Taehyung moaning as Jungkook’s nails rake at the base of his cock.

Times feels like a blur between Jungkook pulling his hand away from your heated core, and him lining his shaft up next to Taehyung’s; but a chorus of moans rings throughout the summer house when Jungkook manages to push the tip of his steadily leaking cock into you; Taehyung feeling winded at how tight it felt.

They’d both been edged for long enough, that there seemed to be a mutual understanding this wasn’t going to take very long for you any of you to come—your walls stretched beyond belief with Taehyung graciously flicking your clit.

Ever so patiently, Jungkook starts to feed his length into you, moaning when you clench particularly hard around both of your boyfriend’s lengths.

You can feel Taehyung’s heavy puffs of breath tickle your collarbones as he tries to stay still—scared he’d hurt you if he were to suddenly move, and it was taking all of his will power to keep his hips in place. All you can let out is pitiful whimpers as Jungkook carefully rocks into you, your cunt gushing around both of their cocks on a particularly jittery thrust. Your cunt trying to accommodate to both of their girthy cocks.

You can feel sweat travel between the valley of your breasts, and you think it must be a mix of your own and Taehyung’s as he takes a moment to breath.

Once Jungkook is fully seated in you, you let out a shuddery breath.

You feel so full.

Stuffed so much you think you can feel both Jungkook and Taehyung rearranging your insides.

It’s when Taehyung pushes himself to sit up, stiff cock pulling at your walls, he moans.

You feel his fingers prod at your stomach before you can even think to look down, but when you do you feel another wave of slick gush out of you; coating Taehyung’s steadily forming knot and Jungkook’s balls in your arousal.

Right beneath Taehyung’s hand was evidence of how big the two of them were, his hand stroking over the bulge in your lower stomach like he was jacking himself off over the taunt skin of your tummy. All three of you moaning when he presses down experimentally at the bulge.

“Please move” you manage to choke out; absolutely mesmerised as the bulge would disappear when Taehyung pulled back, forming once again when he snapped his hips forwards.

Jungkook chooses that moment to look over your shoulder, an unashamed groan bubbling up his chest as he watches your stomach flatten out when Taehyung moves out, only to push back up at your stomach again.

“Oh your fucking pussy is tiny, isn’t it baby?” his voice comparable to a growl.

Its only moments before Jungkook cums, Taehyung’s thick cock rubbing against his own, your small cunt squeezing him like your life depended on it, mixed with the clear visual of you being stretched apart so much he could see both of their cocks in your stomach was enough for him to shoot his load deep inside of you.

You feel the sticky white cum coat your walls, making you feel impossibly fuller as he starts to rock his hips upwards, chasing his high while making sure you milked every last drop, he had to offer. Taehyung can see the small rings of creamy cum sticking to the bases of both of their cocks as they rock in and out of you, coating your plush pussy lips with thick, white cum.

“Good girl, taking everything I have to give you. You like that? Like having my cum inside of your greedy little cunt?” Jungkook coos, condescending in his tone—grinning when you can only reply with a broken moan of his name, mind barely there.

“Oh Jungkookie, all she can think about it our cocks. The poor things too stupid to answer” Taehyung mocks, devilish smile on his face when you shake your head, blubbering. “She can’t even form a proper sentence. It’s okay doll; Taehyungie will take care of you”

You’re about to whine about Jungkook’s cum pushing out of your hole as he slips out of you, only for Taehyung to shove his thick knot into you—ever so close to it popping. And you start to see stars behind your eyes, Taehyung’s voice drowning into nothing more than white noise as your own hips grind to meet Taehyung’s.

Jungkook helps you reach your own orgasm, fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit at Taehyung’s knot catches onto your hole; nothing more than shallow thrusts and grinding possible as he chases his own high.

The wolf leans down, sharp canines biting down on your nipple, and that has you cumming. You feel your body curl in on itself as Jungkook continues his onslaught on your poor clit—uncaring as you start to sob, too oversensitive and so close to another orgasm.

You think you cum again when Taehyung’s knot pops, the feeling of his cum flooding your insides enough for another orgasm to wrack through your body, causing you to shudder as you lay back onto Jungkook’s chest. Said fox runs his hands over your sides as your hips twitch up. Taehyung’s knot slowly deflating, filling you with more of his milky white cum.

Taehyung slumps forwards, slowly deflating knot and softening cock remaining inside of you as you both take a moment to breathe; Jungkook’s hands coming to brush Taehyung’s sweaty bangs from his forehead before he presses a firm kiss to your shoulder.

“I love you” Taehyung whispers, and you smile; eyes closing as you let your body rest.

+++

As promised, you allowed Jungkook to take you on dates once the situation was over and you felt like your life finally had some semblance of what it once was.

And to say he was the perfect gentleman would be an understatement.

He booked reservations in advance, wary that some of the places you wanted to visit were popular and it may be hard to get a table if you just showed up on the night.

He learned to bake, knowing you had a sweet tooth and wanted to watch you eat the cake he made with his own two hands while on a picnic. A part of him comforted knowing he was the one that made all the pretty sweet treats for you. And maybe he just liked to hear you compliment him, your validation sending him over the moon. And on some days, he even got a kiss on the cheek as a thanks while you lounged in the sun! (Anything that happened when the two of you got home would remain your little secret).

In spring you’d both walk around the park, hand in hand—and maybe you two were that sappy couple that single people cursed at for the excessive PDA, oblivious to their ogling eyes when Jungkook would lean down and press a strawberry sweet kiss to your lips, sharing ice cream or giggling over an old woman’s cute dog that would chase your tails. Jungkook think’s his favourite season is the spring; where flowers bloom in an array of colours, carpeting the expanse of parks and greenery, the grass vibrant virescent, the air floral and fresh. Jungkook loved the spring because it gave him the excuse to buy you pretty pastel dresses that fell past your knees, letting you sit on his jacket so your clothes wouldn’t get mucky from the soil; the sun acting as a canopy as you spend afternoons basking in each other’s embrace.

Summer you would spend by the pool together, spoonfulls of ice cream shared between sticky kisses. Hybrid ears matted with chlorine water while the sun caressed you skin, even in the summer heat you sat knee to knee, occasionally dipping into the water to cool off. And if Jungkook picked you up, throwing the both of you into the deep end just to get a rise out of you; that was a secret he was taking to his grave. When summer rolled around, Jungkook’s favourite season changed too; he loved the summer, driving both of you down to the beach. He wouldn’t mind if Namjoon asked to tag along; the producer leaving the both of you alone while he went crab hunting. Jungkook, never one to back down from a competition would challenge other beachgoers to sandcastle competitions where you would be his trusty decorator, the two of you winning more tacky stuffies as the prize from the nearby beach hut than you had space for. (Jin had built a new shelf for you to both display your small prizes, giving both of you a kiss when you tell him you’d won)

In the autumn he’d take you to marketplaces, watching as you pick out small pieces of jewellery for the other guys; tongue peeking through the seam of your lips as you focus on which fits each of your boyfriends best. Jungkook teasing the others with pictures of you and himself with matching outfits and quint accessories that you picked out for each other. And in those few months, Jungkook thinks autumn is his favourite—indulging you by buying all the pumpkin flavoured treats you would see, even though he knew you wouldn’t like them. Jungkook liked autumn because as the two of you strolled around the park, you would tell him how his fox tail and ears reminded you of the season. His auburn fur a similar colour pallet to the leaves that fell like confetti over the two of you as you rested under a tree. Squirrels of the same colour clawing their way up the thick trunk, head tilting your way when Jungkook’s laugh got a little boisterous.

In winter, Jungkook would take you ice skating, feeling as though he was your own knight in shining armour as he would pick you up when you’d fall; finding you most endearing when you’d swat at his arms, mock anger being thrown his way as you brush ice from your clothes. Both of you drinking hot chocolate as you watch kids build snowmen in the park; a few older kids having snowball fights. When winter rolled around Jungkook believes that maybe winter was actually his favourite season; because the two of you spend time inside, blissfully domestic as you sit by the heater with matching fluffy pyjamas and socks, 2000-piece puzzle being forgotten as you lay across his lap; Jungkook’s fingers carding through the soft fur of your tails.

It had taken him a while to realise that he didn’t need a favourite season, he just liked spending time with his favourite person. He’d never been one to like activities where you had to sit down, his patience similar to that of a child; but he’d come to realise he just didn’t have to right people to sit down and just… relax with. Take time out of the day, recuperate and recharge with the people he cared most about.

Jungkook loved everything when it came to you, he liked certain vegetables because they were your favourite colour, wore certain fabrics because he knew you were fond of them, and he seemed to always catch his flushed cheeks in the view finder when a commenter on his stream would ask how you were doing; apologising when he would babble on about you for 10 minutes to his viewers instead of loading up the next level of his game.

It had been close to two years since the incident happened; and slowly over the course of time hybrids had started to integrate more into society.

Evidently there were still small pockets of people that didn’t agree with hybrids being so close knitted into human’s lives; still turning their noses up at the mere sight of them, venomous words spat in the direction of innocent hybrids that were only trying to live their lives; free of trouble.

But you felt that the world was finally changing. Slowly—but it was the evident change that mattered.

More restaurants were open to serving hybrids, and rules on hybrids going out alone without supervision was becoming laxer. You felt more comfortable exploring the city alone, shop owners more than happy to help you when you looked a little lost, and stall owners tipping their hats your way when you’d smile, walking by their store.

When there’s light, shadow is to be expected. Hybrid activists had started to knuckle down on facilities; helping free ‘failed’ hybrids—sending them to well established care centres and helping them set up lives outside of the city where they wouldn’t be shunned. But peaceful protests could only get people so far. No laws planned to be established about ending the experiments on foetuses, the government still pumping out hybrid children like produce in a factory, and only so many facilities could be overrun by essentially powerless individuals who have better moral values than the pompous assholes that work in politics.

+++

You’d just spent the afternoon with Jungkook, he’d found a small lake further out of the city where you’d spent the day dipping in the water; eating sandwiches in the back of his car with fluffy towels wrapped around your shoulders. That evening however, Jungkook had to stream; leaving you at home with Hoseok, Yoongi and Namjoon while the other three were out on their own little date (not their words, but yours).

You were lounging by Yoongi’s side, his arm lazily slung over your shoulder while Hobi was flat on his belly across the sofa while Namjoon sat on the chair.

The movie was innocent enough, a typical coming of age story with boringly attractive cast members and a cliché plotline. To no surprise it was Hoseok’s choice; Namjoon nor Yoongi wanting to disappoint the wolf allowed him to pick what he wanted.

When a steamier scene started to play on the large screen, you didn’t think much of it. Familiar with random sex scenes being worked into sappy romance films even if this was on the family channel. You supposed production companies were trying to broaden their audience.

Your nose twitches when the sweet scent of arousal penetrates the air, and like tumbling dominoes, it’s only moments before you can start to feel yourself slicken up. Panties sticking to your folds uncomfortably.

You look over at Hoseok, who’s already staring right at you. Yoongi asks if you’re okay when you start to fidget beside him, thighs rubbing together to try and alleviate some of the steadily growing ache between your legs.

Namjoon watches as Hoseok pushes himself to sit up, hungrily pouncing for you; his lips smacking onto your own for a heated kiss. You let out a strained moan, partially because you just bit your tongue, and partly because Hoseok’s lips felt so nice against your own.

You manage to pull back for a greedy gulp of air—long string of saliva snapping between the two of you when you both sit back. You manage to catch the wide eyes of Yoongi sat beside you, pupils blown as he takes a moment to catch up with what he just witnessed.

“Did you really get horny from a movie sex scene” you manage to pant, teasing lilt to your voice.

Hoseok just frowns, fingers taking a hold of your shirt before he brings his lips back towards yours; kiss softer this time.

“Maybe” he murmurs, his lips a hairs width away from your own.

You close the gap between you, fingers trailing down his clothed torso to the evident bulge in his jeans. You palm him over the rough material, drinking down each and every moan that he lets out as his tongue pushes past the seam of your lips.

With hesitant hands, you feel Yoongi behind you start to trail his hands over your stomach, thin summer dress doing nothing to hide your hard nipples as Hoseok grinds up into your hand.

When you part, your eyes meet Namjoon’s—even in such a situation he always looks so calm and calculating.

“Joonie” you beckon him over, “want a kiss”

Never one to disappoint, Namjoon pushes himself from the chair—sauntering over towards where the three of you were on the couch. He leans down, indulging you in a slow, passionate kiss as Hoseok’s wandering hands slip up the skirt of your dress, deft fingers rubbing over your covered slit; groaning at how damp the material was.

“You’re soaking, sweetness” Hoseok tells you once you and Namjoon part, your mouth falling open in a soft moan as Yoongi pinches your pert nipples.

“Just for you” you manage to squeeze out, hips rocking back and forth over Hoseok’s hand.

He smiles devilishly at that, pushing your panties to the side to gather your slick from your leaking hole. He smears your wetness around your folds, tips of his index finger barely pushing into your pulsating hole.

You grind down on his hand, palm nudging your clit perfectly as your fingers scramble to help clip open his belt. Sensing your desperation, Namjoon helps you, gently pulling your fingers away from Hoseok’s jeans to help get them off.

At some point, Yoongi had stopped his teasing at your breasts, unclipping his own belt, pulling his jeans down and discarding them somewhere on the floor.

“Keep the dress on, you look too pretty” Hoseok tells you when you go to take it off, pulling your thighs to lay over his own so he can take your panties off.

“Bend over, baby” comes the wolf’s harsh tone, and you do just that. Flipping the skirt of your dress over your bare asshole, tails falling limp over your back, face and chest laying on the sofa as you present to Hoseok like the dumb puppy you were trying to please the larger wolf.

You feel him palm the plush cheeks of your ass, thumb teasing the rim before his hand stoops lower, index and middle finger dipping into your clenching hole. His other hand swats at your skin, lip bitten back by his teeth as your skin flushes a dark red with each slap to your left cheek.

Namjoon groans as he watches slick spill from your hole, body subconsciously aware of the pheromones Hoseok must be pumping into the air. When you look up to what Yoongi was doing, you catch sight of him stroking his cock; not as girthy as the others but definitely the longest, curved in the perfect place to make you see stars whenever he fucks you.

You reach out, slim fingers wrapping around his shaft as you start to stroke him, his own hand dipping to squeeze his balls.

Your mouth falls open when you feel the blunt head of Hoseok’s cock pull your cunt open, stretch immense as he slowly feeds all of his length into your awaiting hole. Head thrown back as you squeeze his length—begging for him to shoot his cum right into the back of your cunt.

“Feel good, darling?” Namjoon runs a soothing hand over your back, biting back a moan when Hoseok decided to start jacking the younger producer off.

“Really good” you let out a long sigh when Hoseok bottoms out, pelvis flush against your plush ass cheeks.

Yoongi throws his head back when you start to speed up your strokes, fingers feeling sticky with the amount of precum that was leaking from his slit—momentarily you pull your hand from Yoongi’s shaft, bringing the tangy precum to coat your tongue. You hum, spitting into your hand to help lubricate Yoongi’s length more before you went back to stroking.

Hoseok chooses that moment to start rocking his hips, small circles to help you adjust around his thick cock.

“Think this small cunt can take my knot?” Hoseok growls, the only semblance of a warning you get before he starts jackhammering into you, well-rounded thighs rippling each time he thrusts into you.

You blabber, almost incoherent as you call out his name, fingers falling tighter around Yoongi who chokes out a long moan.

You think you feel Namjoon’s slender fingers trail underneath your body, using your own arousal to slick up your clit. You jolt forwards when he starts to rub tight figures of eight on the small bundle of nerves.

“You close, pretty?” Hoseok moans, pleasure consuming his whole body as you clench around him.

You nod, hand slipping from Yoongi’s hard cock as you grab onto the fabric of the couch, your moans in tandem with Hoseok’s as Namjoon continues to flick at your clit.

You feel a gush of wetness spray from your cunt, Hoseok and Namjoon’s groans echoing in your ears as you rock your hips back to meet Hoseok’s thrusts. He quickly pulls his length from your pussy, guiding his cock to slap over your clit, watching as another gush of wetness squirts out of you onto his abdomen; dripping to coat the base of his cock in your juices.

“Holy shit” Hoseok breathes, languidly stroking his length—coating it in your release, “Baby you just squirted”

You release a shuddering breath, thighs still shaky as your hips fall onto the couch, legs twitching as you take a moment to breath.

“Did I?” you manage to croak out, thighs clamping shut when Namjoon goes to run a finger through your slit. You feel his finger wiggle against your clit, and you feel tears run down your cheeks in overstimulation.

“I’m sensitive Joonie” you whine, hips bucking.

“Want me to stop?” he continues to flick at your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“No” you moan, slowly closing in on a second orgasm.

Hoseok watches as a gush of your cum leaks from your cunt, drippling down to where Namjoon continues to flick at your clit, skirt of your dress falling over your ass.

You look over at Yoongi, the tip of his cock bordering on purple as he watches your thighs clench an unclench.

“Can I ride you?” you watch the older producer’s eyes widen, “Just don’t touch my clit and I think I’ll be fine”

“You sure?” he asks, hands already moving to help you sit up.

You place your thighs either side of Yoongi’s, hand falling between your bodies to grab at his long shaft while the other holds up your dress so Yoongi can watch where the two of you connect. Carefully, avoiding your sensitive clit, you push the head of his cock past your velvety walls.

Your thighs strain as you bounce in Yoongi’s lap, grateful when you feel Namjoon’s fingers wrap around your waist to help lift you up on the eldest’s cock.

Yoongi can feel your silklike walls squeezing his length, your own cum from your prior orgasm dripping down to his balls, loud squelching of your sopping cunt rivalling your moans.

Hoseok’s fingers skim the base of your tails causing you to slump forwards, falling onto Yoongi’s chest.

You feel his cock twitch, nudging perfectly into your g-spot before he cums. Milky white semen glazing your walls. You continue to bounce in his lap, helping him ride out his high.

He has to hold your hips down, mainly because he wanted to keep his cum deeper inside of you, but he was also slowly nearing being painfully overstimulated.

And Yoongi groans when he looks down as you lift yourself off of his cock, your cunt squeezing his gooey release back onto his length.

“Think you can go one more time?” Hoseok asks you, helping you stand as your legs were still shaky.

“Yeah” you turn to look over at Namjoon, “But what about you?” you ask the younger producer.

He waves you off, hand already trailing down his stomach to take a hold of his cock, “I don’t mind cumming on your tits”

You let out what could only be described as an unattractive snort as you let Hoseok position you how he wanted, malleable in his arms as he gets comfy.

You can feel each ridge and divot of his girthy cock as Hoseok pushes into you, your walls oversensitive from the constant stimulation you’d had paired with the multiple orgasms Namjoon and Hobi seemed to wring out of you.

Hoseok’s pace is a lot softer than he had been, enjoying being able to hold your hands while your legs rested over his shoulders, the muscles in his arms flexing as he leans down to press a firm kiss to your lips; thin string of saliva dangling between the two of you when he eventually pulls away.

Rhythmically Hoseok rocks into you, fingers gently squeezing your own as you fall over the edge for who knows what time that evening. You shudder, long drawn moan spilling past your lips as you orgasm, less intense than the prior ones but equally as pleasing.

Luckily it seemed Hoseok’s knot was catching onto your rim, your spasming walls massaging his length; enough to bring him over the edge. His knot locks in place, keeping the two of you breathing heavily as Hoseok’s thick cum splatters deep into your cunt.

You hear Namjoon moan, his cum dribbling onto your chest second later as he strokes his length. What you don’t anticipate is Yoongi kneeling over your head with his long cock enclosed in a tight fist.

Your eyes squeeze shut, Yoongi’s low groan the only warning you get before his cum shoots over your chest, joining Namjoon’s own seed. The younger of the two producers smearing the mixed concoction over your nipples.

A drop or two falls onto your forehead, Yoongi scooping it up with his index finger before pushing it into your mouth.

“You guys hungry?” Namjoon asks as he pulls his belt through the loops of his jeans.

You and Hoseok turn to look at each other, eyes trailing down to where you were still locked together, “Might have to wait a while hyung”

+++

You stare at the run-down building, worried maybe you had bitten off more than you could chew buying Jin a restaurant—or what will be a restaurant. Currently it looked a little worse for wear, and you’re pretty sure you saw a few rats milling around like they owned the place. Which is definitely a health hazard, but you didn’t know the number of the local rat terminators, plus you didn’t want them killed. What if one of them was a chef, like Remy? And he could help Jin run the place.

You knew Jin would probably be angry, mad that you’d spent all your inheritance money on the raggedy old building just because he once had a dream.

And to him it may have been a fleeting moment, nothing more than a dream—something so far out of reach he gave up chasing it all those years ago when it was evident that he would never own his own restaurant. To you however, Jin having such an ambitious dream had always left you in awe. And while maybe he buried the idea of having his own quint, little, hybrid-run eatery in the dark crevices of his mind, you always awaited the day you could surprise him with the perfect place and enough money to make it his own.

Food was more than a basic human need in Jin’s life. His cooking brought people together, made you all sit around the table as a family and bond while you ate the meal he graciously prepared. Hours spent after longs hours at work cooking for the two of you after your owner died and you had no one but each other left in the world. Jin learnt to cook meals that brought the two of you comfort, encouraged you to start your own garden, both of your hobbies working in tandem with one another; you were occupied during the day and Jin got to cook with your homegrown produce.

You would have never met Jimin if it weren’t for your garden, nor would you have ever bonded with Namjoon over a similar interest. Food meant the world to Jin and Jin meant the world to you.

Lazy afternoon spent as teenagers binging cooking shows, Jin remembering recipes off by heart after only hearing chefs explain them once. Evenings spent around the table, giggling at jokes around Jin’s cooking, your owner always looking a little healthier than he had that morning thanks to Jin’s meals.

You remember the exact moment he had spilled his secret dream, embarrassed you would find him too ambitious and laugh. But you’d listened to him, watched the excited glint in his eyes as he explained every miniscule detail about what he wanted his restaurant to look like, from the wallpaper to the tables, to the menus. Maybe Italian in style, but he worried people would think he only sold Italian food, and a greasy American diner didn’t fit the aesthetic of his cooking; homecooked, hearty meals made for the people you love. So you told him to create a design of his own, something that stood out.

He’d spent hours that night telling you of his dream, and maybe that was the moment you realised you were in love with him, more than a housemate or an older sibling. You loved Kim Seokjin because he was modest, humble when he could easily brag about his immense skills in all areas of life, he had vocation, a dream so wholly him you could only admire him, he was kind, patient—answering all of your questions, helping you when he was busy.

You just really loved Jin.

Sometimes when you love a person, it’s hard to find the right words to explain how much you, well, love them. It’s hard to put into words your admiration for someone without sounding like a broken record, overused words of endearment and cheesy compliments had never felt like enough because if everyone else in the world could say them, then what was so special about your love for that particular person.

After everything Jin had done for you, ‘I love you’ didn’t feel like enough.

Of course, you hoped Jin knew that you loved him—you loved him more than life itself. But you felt the best way to truly cement your feeling for him, was to give him the final push to quit the dead-end job he currently worked at and took the final leap towards his long-time dream.

You aren’t sure why you feel so nervous when you get a text from Jungkook announcing he would be arriving with Jin in less than 5 minutes, maybe it’s because you don’t know how he’ll react, what if he doesn’t like the layout? Or the area? What if he just didn’t like it because you thought you’d be a little righteous and force a whole new responsibility onto him. You tried to remember as much of his description as possible, not worried that the building was more expensive than the other places you’d viewed as it was closer to the CBD, perfect for business, even if the place was going to be run by a hybrid.

You planned to hand off the last of your inheritance money to Jin for decorating, wanting him to create his dream restaurant. It’s not like you had much use for it anyways, with Namjoon and Yoongi’s wages enough to cover food, with Hoseok now working for money rather than rent and Jungkook making more off his streams than he had when you first met him, money wasn’t ever going to be an issue. So, you’d much rather hand it off to Jin who would use it for something worthwhile.

You choose not to turn around when you hear the engine of a car rev behind where you’re stood, ignition clicking off before the doors open.

Jin comes to stand beside you, his arm falling comfortably over your shoulder as he looks up at the gritty building.

“You okay, sweetheart? Jungkook said you had a surprise?”

You look over your shoulder at Jungkook who leans against his car, a smile that you can only assume was to be encouragement gracing his pretty face. “You remember when you told me you wanted to own a restaurant?” you ask, watching Jin’s side profile as his eyebrows crease, cogs of his brain whirring away.

“Yeah?” he turns to look at you and then back at the building, pointing at it, his eyes widen in surprise.

“I know it’s not much but it’s in a good area so business should be good, and I have the rest of my inheritance money for you to decorate the place just as you dreamed” you explain, biting your lip.

Jin stays silent, eyes raking over the dingy building. You feel your heart drop to your stomach when his arm slips from your shoulder, maybe you’d gone too far.

“You did this, for me?” he asks, hesitantly taking a step closer to the building.

“Of course, once you told me you wanted to be a chef, I decided I’d save up for your own place” you explain, rocking back and forth on your heels.

Jin turns towards you, and you’re a little taken aback by how glossy his eyes were. You let out a squeak when he pulls you into his chest. And you open your mouth to complain that you could feel your ribs cracking under the pressure of his hug but choose not to when you hear Jin snivel, pearly tears falling onto the crown of your head like the rain does in spring.

You wrap your arms around Jin’s torso, your own eyes glazing over with saline tears as you feel his body shake. It’s not often Jin cries, he always had the idea that he had to be the stronger one for the two of you; so you couldn’t help but feel that tell-tale little lump form in your throat as you feel your own emotions catch up on you.

“Why would you spend your inheritance money on this… this silly little dream?” he pulls you away from his chest, eyes glassy as they meet your own.

“Because it was never silly, Jin. Do you know how cool I thought you were when you told me?” you smile up at him, hand snaking between your bodies to wipe away the tears that ran down his cheeks.

“What about your money?”

“I don’t really have a purpose for it, so I’d much rather you have it” you wave him off with an easy smile, “Besides, Jimin was excited to start working here”

“Oh, my little fox” Jin cries, pulling you back into his chest. You let him hold you, rubbing his back as you feel his body shake, arms tightening around him when he lets out a loud sob. You don’t need to ask him to clarify if they were happy tears, the mumbled ‘I love you’s enough for you to gauge that maybe you did do the right thing.

You seem to forget about the world around you; you and Jin in your own world. Uncaring when a man walks by giving you guys the side-eye, or when an overexcited stray circles around your legs.

“Thank you”

+++

Later that evening you find yourself sat opposite Jin in the large bathtub, your knees pressed against each other as the mirrors fog up with the steam that whisps from the scalding hot bathwater.

Jin reaches across his lap to take a hold of your hand, bringing up to his lips to place a delicate kiss to each of your fingers.

“Thank you, for making my dream come true”

You shake your head, “It’s all thanks to grandpa, it was his money anyways”

“I think he’ll be happy, knowing where our lives have led us” Jin pulls you closer to his body, droplets of water slipping down his defined chest. You watch the water ripple around the both of you, whirring of the in-bathroom fan white noise as you allow yourself to gather your thoughts.

“I think he’d be proud, we stopped moping around and made a big change in our lives” you supply, “But I feel like no matter what, whether he was alive or dead, fate would have brought all of us together no matter what” you refer to your other 6 boyfriends who you can now hear laughing downstairs.

“You think so? We wouldn’t have gone to visit Taehyung if he hadn’t died”

“I guess not, but I think you forget why we went to that specific facility. A week after we brought Taehyung home the hybrids rioted, broke free of that shithole; so, I think fate would have brought Taehyung to us anyways” you smile, “Everything worked out in the end, so maybe all of the hurt was worth it”

You really had been thinking about your chance encounters with each of the boys, how far you’d all come from when you’d met years ago. Broken people with brittle hearts and not much hope in the scary world. But together, life seemed a little better.

“We could have gone about the problem a different way” Jin muses, running a wet hand through your hair.

“Probably, but there’s no point regretting the past when we have the whole future ahead of us. Together”

“When did you get so wise” Jin throws his head back laughing.

“Since I started hanging out with Namjoon” you joke.

Jin feels your hips start to rock forwards, soft flesh of your thighs rubbing against his slowly hardening cock.

“We have to go downstairs soon, the others will be wondering where we are” Jin sighs, hands falling to your waist to help you rock over his length; words not reflecting how he really felt. Not when he encourages you to run your slickened cunt over his length.

“We can be quick, they know that we like to spend a long time in the bath anyways” you let out a soft moan as the head of Jin’s cock runs over your clit, parting your slit before catching onto your hole.

You use the edge of the tub to help push yourself up enough before you grab onto Jin’s cock, thumb teasing his slit under water before you guide it towards your waiting hole.

When you sink down, water sloshing around the two of you, you both let out long, drawn out moans. You feel Jin’s nails sink into the skin of your hips, the rhythmic clenching of your walls around his length enough of an indication for Jin to start gently thrusting up into you.

Your hands cup his cheeks, hips rolling languidly to meet his own thrusts as you lean down to press a soft kiss to his plush lips.

Jin’s tongue licks up at the seam of your mouth, silently asking for access, you oblige moaning as you feel the wet muscle of his tongue lick up into your mouth.

You part with a wet pop, your legs clenching around the outside of Jin’s thighs as his pace quickens, determined for you both to reach your end. The fox’s hand trails from your waist, between your bodies down towards your clit, his fingers coming to rub tight circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“I love you” you moan, hips bucking against Jin’s as plants his feet on the floor of the bathtub, pushing up into you harder.

“Love you too” he flicks at your clit, both of you uncaring as water splashes over the edge onto the tiled floors, bathmat working hard to soak in the water that you both spill. You come before Jin, a loud moan ripping up your throat as he helps you ride out your high, your hands coming to grab at your breasts as you roll your hips.

Jin comes inside of you, hips stuttering as he coats your walls with his release; his head falls back against the wall, heavily breathing as you slump onto his chest.

“Thank you, I don’t know what I would do without you” Jin whispers, head leaning down to press a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

“And I wouldn’t know what to do without you” you look up at him with a smile.

+++

You and Jin stand in the doorway to the living room, 6 pairs of beady eyes looking at the both of you with knowing smiles on their faces.

“Have a nice bath?” Hoseok pipes up, teasing lilt to his voice.

You supposed if the obvious moans coming from the bathroom weren’t a dead give-away, both of your flushed red cheeks certainly were.

“Very nice, actually” you tell him, falling over Taehyung’s lap. The wolf’s fingers falling to card through the damp fur of your tails.

If anyone were to walk past your house, they’d see the lights on in the living room; sheer curtains pulled closed to give you a little privacy. And if the crickets were a little quieter, they’d be able to hear the loud laughter of Hoseok as he bounced around the living room, Jungkook hot on his tail as they mimicked the actors on the TV while Jimin filmed when and the rest of you stifled your giggles.

If someone had walked past your home years ago, maybe they would have assumed the house was abandoned, scrappy old car in the driveway with more than half of the home’s curtains closed. Dead silence from those that resided inside.

Now, you kept your owner’s old office open, the key tucked neatly away in a drawer in the kitchen. Old photos hung on the walls, and memorabilia neatly tucked into the drawers of the desk. The bookshelf now held both old and new books, Namjoon using up the empty shelf space to hold his own collection while Yoongi upgraded the old computer into something a little more modern.

You kept the office door open, letting a breeze waft through the room. The stale air no more, damp furniture reconditioned, and bad memories replaced with better ones. Newer ones that felt like they belonged in the room that had once housed better times that were no more. The musty old room a reflection of your own wretched emotions, fears you were too scared to face, because letting go of someone you love is hard.

But you can only start healing when you learn to let go.

You and Jin had finally cleared out your owner’s old bedroom too, the small grave you had both build for him remaining, but you’d sent his clothes to charity shops and shredded any remaining paperwork he had left behind, using it to cook marshmallows out in the garden of an evening.

You remember as a child, your owner—your grandpa—telling you that the brightest star in the sky would be your most loved one looking over you when they were gone, guiding you down the right path in life. So, when you look up, the sky clear of any clouds, and you spot that star, one that shines brighter than the rest; you take a moment to wonder if maybe your grandpa was watching over your new family. Happy that you and Jin had found peace of mind and opened your hearts to so many new people.

And you felt happier, sure, there were days you felt as though any progress you’d made was meaningless; life feeling a little too hard to live sometimes. But you couldn’t rush healing. And you wouldn’t rush it because learning about yourself through this journey was healing in itself.

Healing is never going to be a straight line, never going to be a solid path for you to walk down without challenges along the way, ones that push your limits, make you question why you still try even when the end seems too far out of reach. But that’s why you’ve learnt that setting small goals is the best way forwards, one step at a time; why worry about the millionth step when you’re only at the start of the race?

You’ve learnt to try and live life without regret, it’s okay to reflect, figure out what went wrong and find a solution for the future, but if you look back for too long, you’ll only stumble, slowing yourself down. Don’t regret the inevitable, the situations you have no control over, don’t regret what you haven’t done and work towards doing it. Don’t regret what could have once been, because the past is over, and you have the whole future ahead of you.

The path you’d taken hadn’t been the smoothest, nor had it been the most faultless. Afterall you are only human, and perfection is a subjective term, no one is truly perfect. Your plans had flaws and desires beyond selfish when you embarked on your journey of freedom. You’d brought 7 people into your own problem because you couldn’t handle it alone.

But you truly believed that no matter what path you had taken in life, the 7 men that sat beside you now would have caught you when you fell; each path that represented your lives always bringing you to a crossroad, where you’d meet and then walk down the same path, this time hand in hand. Fate working in a funny way to bring all 8 of you together.

And as you watch Yoongi and Jin huddled beside the barbeque, their face glowing from the charcoal lit fire with Namjoon reading to Jimin while Jungkook falls over both of their laps dozing off, Hoseok and Taehyung running around the garden like two puppies, everyone you love all in one place;

You think you’ve figured out the world’s little secret on how to build a home.

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goatpaste · 1 year

Note

what does tiny butterfly do? like skill wise? down for companion baby though

mm you know me! i love to design a stand and have vauge ideas for it but never be able to flesh out abilities

Tiny Butterfly I know I have the general over arching ideas for it. I know I want it to be a none combative stand, it doesn't fight and instead works as a pure support stand often wavering of self preservation especially into its later Acts. I REALLY want the evolution of TB to reflect in Lucy's child innocence. Lucy is the eldest daughter of her family and she has always had to step up to everything, Lucy has a problem not understand she is a child and that she shouldnt HAVE to be the one taking care of everything for everyone yet, its ok for her to be protected and not have to face scary adults yet. Her stand is a protector for her and those she cares about. It is her innocence and safety.

I know Act 1 is nearly a nothing stand, its just a swarm of butterflies that especially at first Lucy really doesn't have much control over it. It works great for Recon and relay. In ways it can be like uhh, the best way I think to put it is like Spidey senses. Its a FAR range of sensory that Lucy is able to detect danger with. Lucy not knowing she has the Holy Corpse Heart or a stand yet, wouldn't even think much about the butterflies she was seeing from time to time and the first major use of them I picture in my rewrite is during my Two Step and the Eye of Ruby arc where my lil oc Two Step has been sent to track down Hot Pants after she was labeled as Lucy Steels Murderer (as well as a secret second mission to retrieve corpse parts for the president). Two Steps stand ability is just the ability to hid behind any objects, not very strong but incredibly stealthy. Hot Pants and Diego dont Notice Two Step at all but Lucy clock them immediately not even realizing it was her Stand ability warning her to the hidden stand user.

Other uses tend to be seeking help, the message isnt straight forward and clear as it tends to just be butterflies landing on or around people as a message Lucy is looking for them. Diego is the first to get the idea of it being a stand and following them (though the first time he isnt aware it is Lucy's stand). First time this happens is also in the Two Step arc where Two Step has been trying to get Hot Pants and Diego alone to jump them but their either together and bickering or Lucy is always around nowing where they are. So Two Step trying to get Lucy alone (a much easier task so early into HP and Diegos watch over her in the story) and take her out first. While under duress from the stand user Lucy subconsciously calls out for help and Diego is the one to answer. The two ending up in a fight against Two Step who is at their limits with this group. I also picture this being where Tiny Butterfly evolves to Act 1, its a fast evolution but in the act of Diego coming to save her and being the one to take care of the situation instead of Lucy by herself.

(i also picture Diego finding out she has the heart and a stand and while still early into his character development trying to keep it a secret between him and her because he still wants the corpse for himself)

other times i picture Act 1 being involved is during the Ride the Lightning arc when HP and Diego give Lucy to Johnny and Gyro for awhile because their worried these stand users are catching on to Lucy's location and are in more danger with them. Only for Lucy and Johnny to nearly be killed by stand user Cash hired to hunt them down by the president. Diego coming to their aid and saving them.

and the last Major time near the end of the story, Diego and HP have presumably died, both Lucy seeing having been killed in some manner as far as she could tell. However in reality they both lived by the skin of their teeth with HP managing to get away from the pull of Love Train and getting to Diego in time to heal his wounds with Cream Starter. However Lucy and Johnny once again have found trouble as their far down the train line and off into the city fighting against an alternate world Diego, a horrible reality Lucy is facing as a dark twisted version of the man who she came to care for her a brother is threatening her life. Tiny Butterflies summons base world Diego to her aid.

as for Act 3, i have no idea what i exactly want to do. I think I want it during the Ramalama Daisy Arc which i picture as a Lucy and Hot pants Heavy arc for both their growths. With HP having to accept her past, who she has become as a person and how she needs to grow as a person or die stuck as a person. Lucy also realizing that though she cares for everyone so much and does want to do what she can, its not her job to save everyone and carry their emotional baggage. She is 14 she wants to be treated right and not have to always be scared and worried about everything. lanes merging as HP fully steps up not just to protect Lucy because of her connecting Lucy to her brother, but because she cares about Lucy as Lucy.

but all in all i want it to have supportive action abilities, being protective of Lucy and minimizing damage.

#long post #sbr rewrite #steel ball run #jojo #jjba #lucy steel #tiny butterfly #diego brando #hot pants

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mydetheturk · 10 months

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Title: In A Circle 'Round the Kitchen Table Author: mydetheturk Rating: T Word Count: 1,653 Warnings: None really; Vash is sad about Knives and Wolfwood's more high-strung than usual, but its just soft times at Home

Summary: It's Vash's fault they're here at Home, where everything has Nicholas on edge. Making him food is the least Vash can do, then, to make Nicholas feel better.

Author's Note: Just some soft stuff for day 4 of @mashwoodweek; I chose the prompt "comfort food" and I just really wanted to make Vash cook for people. It's also a direct sequel to Hell, I'm Dead Already, which will provide some context as well. Enjoy <3

(You can read on AO3 here)

Title from Big Houses by Squalloscope

Vash convinces the others to go Home, to Ship Three. He hasn't been since Meryl and Wolfwood dragged him there after Wolfwood found him again. Wolfwood is still breathing odd to Vash's too sensitive ears and it worries Vash. Wolfwood's cranky about being here, on strict “No you're not allowed to smoke, not even if you're outside, we're trying to heal you, you idiot,” orders.

(Wolfwood won't talk about it, but Vash knows he's on edge because of the doctors checking up on him as well. There's an edge to his nightmares and he's barely sleeping deep enough for REM cycles.

Wolfwood doesn't talk about the Eye of Michael, only speaks around what happened to him. What was done to him.)

Wolfwood is dozing in Vash's bedroom and Meryl is out in one of the biomes with Luida.

Vash is in the kitchen making stir fried rice for someone else for the first time in a hundred and fifty-two years. He doesn't think about the exact number of months and days, nor who the rice was for. He's made it for himself countless times over the years, quiet and alone, but hasn't shared this with anyone else.

The motions are rote, Vash going through them via muscle memory as his mind drifts. Chopping vegetables, waiting for the rice to cook, all of it brings back a nearly-forgotten laugh and a hint of the geraniums Rem loved so much.

Vash is just pulling out the oil and heating the wok when the door for the kitchen opens.

“Oh!” Meryl is on the other side of the door frame, surprised to find Vash here. “I smelled rice,” she says sheepishly. “Are… are you cooking?”

“Yeah,” Vash says. “Want to go wake Nicholas? By the time you get him and get back I should be closer to done.”

“Sure! What if he's actually asleep asleep, though?” Meryl hovers at the door, staring at Vash, who doesn't stop his movements.

“I… don't think he's slept well, Meryl,” Vash admits. It's why he's making this. He can't do much else, really, except be here for Nicholas when he wants to open up.

“You mean he's being worse than you and you don't think he's slept at all, got it. One cranky undertaker, coming up.” The door closes behind Meryl as she heads to Vash's room. He trusts she'll get there and back with fewer problems than Nicholas by himself.

The rice is finished and Vash is starting in on the eggs when Meryl brings Wolfwood through the door. He looks worse than he did when Vash left him alone in his room a couple of hours ago. Like he hasn't actually slept and instead tossed and turned the whole time.

Vash pauses in whisking and steps lightly over to the door and looks at Nicholas for a moment, head tilted in a question.

Nicholas sighs, leans forward, and settles his head on Vash's shoulder. Vash tips his head onto Nicholas's and chirrups, reaching out the way he would one of his sisters. He only leaves a slight impression from his Plant markings when he pulls back, a hint of shimmer in Nicholas's hair.

“When're we gettin' out of here, blondie?” Nicholas asks. It's not desperation in his voice; it's resignation.

“I could ask my sisters, see what they think?” Vash says. Nicholas grunts. Vash kisses Nicholas's cheek, and between him and Meryl they make Nicholas sit at the tiny kitchen table. It's not a space designed to be eaten in by more than one person, but it's alright. It’s a tight squeeze, but they’ve had tighter ones. Meryl grabs plates and silverware when Vash directs her, setting the table as he continues cooking.

“What're you making?” Wolfwood finally asks. Vash glances at him over his shoulder, taking in his partner. Bruises instead of circles under his eyes, several days of beard growth, his nails bitten to the quick, and a small hint of blood in Nicholas's cuticles from it – Nicholas is in agony here.

Vash turns back to the rice, tossing it in with the vegetables. “It's a recipe my – my mother taught me,” Vash finds himself saying. Nicholas sits up straight and Meryl nearly drops the plates in her hands. “The last time I made this for someone other than myself, we found the remains of our sister two weeks later.” Not long after that, Nai orchestrated the Great Fall.

“Vash,” Meryl breathes.

“Damn, blondie.”

“She'd been experimented on. We were lucky we hadn't been.” He doesn't – doesn't know why he's saying these things. He needs to close his mouth, shut himself up, make himself small so he can't burden them with the fact that he cares about them enough to make Rem's rice, the rice she taught Vash and Nai how to make together.

Vash flicks the wok. The eggs go in slowly, coating the rice.

“Your mom taught you how?” Meryl says, breaking the silence.

Vash is grateful she didn't ask after Tesla. He knows she will at some point. He knows Nicholas had – has – had the means to find out.

“Yeah. Me and Nai.” Vash stirs the rice, eyeing it suspiciously.

“Brothers are fucking difficult,” Nicholas says. Says like he has experience, and Vash knows he does. The name ‘Livio’ in a broken, rattled tone is one that still rocks around Vash's mind when he dreams.

“Don't have any brothers,” Meryl says.

“Would not recommend having any, either,” Nicholas says immediately. Vash privately agrees, though he supposes his own history with his brother is more... homicidal, than most. “They're a pain, they always want to stick around you, they get you into trouble, and you're stuck with them. They go missing, and you can't stop wondering if it's your fault.” There's a sound like the rattle of metal on metal, but Vash knows the difference between gunmetal and Home's silverware and Meryl's chair getting shoved back faster than the chair would like.

Behind Vash, Nicholas's breathing catches. He's trying to not cry over his little brother Livio again. Nicholas has been on edge and paranoid the entire time they've been Home, and it's Vash's fault. He was the one who suggested here, convinced Nicholas to let the few doctors Vash trusts look at him; this is Vash's fault.

The handle creaks under Vash's grip. He relaxes his hand, purposefully does not think of his own brother any longer.

“I'm fine,” Nicholas says.

“You're such a fucking liar,” Meryl hisses. “It might, actually, kill you to tell us what's eating you, wouldn't it?”

Vash wouldn't go that far, but he agrees.

Oh. Rice is done.

Vash flicks it once more, inspecting the food. It looks the same as usual. There's nothing different about it.

It feels different, to make this for someone else again.

“Dinner's ready,” Vash says. He clicks the burner off. Turning to face his partners, who are in each other's faces with matching irritated expressions once more, Vash relaxes. “No more talk about brothers tonight. What's everyone been doing?”

Meryl sits down with a pointed thump. “Luida's been showing me the biomes. They're beautiful,” she says.

Nicholas sighs, sitting back and closing his eyes against the lights. “Brad says the docs should be able to synthesize something to heal some of the damage. Might have to convince the Plants, though, is what one of the grumpier docs said, apparently.”

Nicholas is not the washed out, ashen shade of when he'd downed too many ampules in Vash and Meryl's defense, overworking his body and almost killing him. He hasn't been sleeping since Home picked them up, and he's been stewing in a cocktail of nicotine withdrawal and anxiety the entire time.

Vash can still see how the serum cracked him, can smell the bile that forced its way out of Nicholas's lungs and stomach. Can hear the way his heart has to work that littlest bit harder now.

Vash wants, so very badly, to know what his brother did to Nicholas.

Vash does not think he will ever get to know, not from Nicholas, and absolutely not from Knives.

“So we talk to the Plants!” Meryl says. “They'll listen, right?”

Vash scoops a large spoonful of rice into Meryl's plate. “They'll listen.” His sisters are very good at listening. Vash has to focus, but he can always feel them, just beyond his senses.

Another scoop, slightly larger, ends up in Nicholas's plate. Nicholas narrows his eyes at Vash, but picks up his fork and pokes at it. A third scoop onto Vash's plate and Vash sits in the remaining chair.

“Eat,” Vash says.

Meryl doesn't need prompting twice, but she gives Nicholas a kick in the shin to get him to do more than poke at his rice. Vash takes a bite of his own and swallows it before Nicholas starts to eat his. Paranoia, then, as well, from the lack of sleep and his nerves. Vash will have to lay on him tonight, keep him warm and safe.

Out of the corner of his eye, Vash notes Nicholas's hackles slowly relax further than they have since arriving Home. Vash'll suggest they make a swing past Hopeland when they're done here. Vash will beg his sisters for their help if he has to. He doesn't want to lose Wolfwood, not to this.

“It's really good!” Meryl says, breaking Vash out of his reverie.

Nicholas nods. “Yeah. Thanks, Vash.”

He really means it. Vash smiles.

“We should talk to my sisters tonight,” Vash says. “While the others are asleep.” He hasn't shown them his favorite spots in the Plant room, though Vash thinks the only one of them who might fit into a couple of them now is Meryl.

Nicholas and Meryl start chatting, Meryl holding most of the conversation while Vash watches. They're too good for him, really.

He's glad they chose him anyway. Given the choice, he'd choose them again too.

#mashwoodweek #trigun #mashwood #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #meryl stryfe #nicholas d. wolfwood #comfort food #myde writes #look these babies have gone through it they need some soft

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tf2-oneshots · 11 months

Note

hii !! may i please request some writing abt everyone being really afraid of medic (imagine that this takes place when everyone is still kinda getting to know each other, and left medic out because of his Reputation) but someone eventually bites the bullet to talk to him/give him a chance and they find out that he’s actually decent company (and very, very lonely)?

preferably that Someone is sniper or demo ! whoever you feel more compelled to write. thank you so so much in advance !! adore your writing :]

I think Demo needs some love on this acc!

Warnings: none!

Rating: General

“Alright, now that I have your contracts, you’re free to look around and introduce yourselves. I have to go file these.” Miss Pauling stands from the meeting room chair, walking off with her bundle of papers, agreements, and a handful of amendments a few of the men proposed. Knowing the Administrator, they’ll be lucky if even one of them is processed.

With the door shutting, the nine mercenaries stand to do exactly as instructed: roam about and introduce themselves. They were each given a vague file of their coworkers, nothing more than a work photo and a brief introduction to their class. Anything personal was kept to the discretion of the men.

Medic remains seated, looking around the room. It seems that everyone has gone into their own cliques already. As he stands, he flattens his coat and decides to approach the Scout. He walks up to the young man who was showing Pyro a comic issue.

“Hallo! Scout and Pyro, ja? I’m Medic.” The doctor waves, smiling at the two. Pyro gives him a glance only to hide their face in the pages of the comic. Scout steps back, looking the elder up and down. He rubs his neck, hat shifting slightly from the motion.

“Uh, yeah. I’m Scout.” He turns to his side, trying to avoid the doctor’s gaze. Something about him is…off. Scout can’t tell what it is, but the man isn’t right. His smile is too sharp and evil looking for a supposed doctor.

“Well, you seem like a healthy young man. I imagine your lungs are an excellent shade of pink.” A runner should have the perfect lungs after all! Scout must take care of himself to have this sort of job. Its a strange way of complimenting the man that falls short on Scout.

“Uh…that’s kinda weird.” He shuffles back, trying not to think about what that implies. The runner hopes to wake up with his lungs, and the rest of his organs, in his body by tomorrow. He looks to Pyro who peeks from behind the comic.

“Aheh, I was calling you healthy…” Medic takes his leave. Perhaps not the best way to compliment someone, but he was being honest! A runner needs strong lungs, so Scout must live a healthy lifestyle!

“Look, dude, I read the file. I wanna keep my organs.” Medic had mentioned his joy of experiments and various medical tests. All of which successful despite their frightening nature. Scout just can’t trust a guy who puts hands in guts for a living.

Medic peers around to room, noticing how everyone looks away from him. Well, it is the first day. Surely someone will warm up to him as time goes on. He steps out of the meeting room for the time being. He has birds to unpack.

By the end of the first month, most of the team has found a close friend. Spy and Heavy have afternoon book clubs with coffee, Scout goes rollerskating with Pyro, and Soldier tests sentry durability with Engineer. Everyone has found a companion except Medic.

People only visit when medically necessary. A broken arm, severe burns, and such. Just getting Scout to sit down for his vaccinations was a two day fight. Medic reaches over to stroke Archimedes on his tiny head. The mischievous pigeon has his siblings who flutter along the rafters above.

Even on the battlefield, Medic noticed the distance. He was called on, yes, but once he finished healing a teammate, they scurried away. He watched as his coworkers ran in duos, trios even, across the landscape to destroy the enemy teams. Never with Medic unless he was handing out ubercharges.

He eats alone in his office, coming into the kitchen only to grab his portion. Funny how Medic never gets a turn cooking for the team. The German stares at his lukewarm dinner, picking through it while Archimedes naps on his perch. He really shouldn’t complain; Medic has endless funding for his wild experiments. He just wants company is all.

A creak interrupts his solitude. Someone entered the medbay just now. Medic sighs, grabbing his coat and clipboard. Another injury to take care of. At least it gives him some form of human interaction no matter how brief.

“Hello, Demoman. What seems to be the problem?” Medic says when he sees who entered. He takes a pen, filling in a few sections before looking up to the Scotsman. Probably a blown off hand or a chemical burn in need of treatment.

“I’m fine, lad. Soldier’s too busy, so I figured you and I could see a movie.” Demo holds out two tickets. Soldier had every intention of going if not for a sudden flea crisis with the raccoons. Nothing a kiddie pool of water and flea shampoo can’t fix. Besides, when was the last time anyone actually hung out with the German?

“You want me to go with you?” Medic lowers his clipboard as Demo nods. Is…is this really happening? Finally, a chance at an actual friend from work! The doctor sets down his equipment and straightens his vest.

“Let me feed my doves, then we can leave.” He hurries back into the office quick to dump a scoop of feed into a communal bowl. The birds flock to their dinner, wings flapping loudly in their descent. Medic follows Demo out of the room, excited as ever.

“Don’t you want to know what we’re seeing?” Demo raises a brow. Anyone else would have at least wanted the title let alone ask about the plot. Medic chuckles, shaking his head.

“Oh, I don’t care. I’m happy to get out of my office for once.” Locked behind the wooden door, the doctor spent his days toiling away at paperwork. Most of which unnecessary for some time. Papers detailing orders for supplies, health updates, and such.

Demo couldn’t have asked for a better movie companion. Medic paid for their popcorn and was completely silent throughout the film. Unlike the last person Demo went to the movies with, meaning Scout, Medic didn’t speak out once. He even cleans up after himself!

“Gotta say, lad, this was a pleasure. Don’t suppose you’d like to test a few bombs with me tomorrow? Need to see what damage my new mix can do.” Medic beams. This is it! If he can get on Demo’s good side, then everyone else will want to befriend him. No more lonely nights with the birds for company.

“I would be happy to.” Medic drives them to the base, excited as ever. Demo can see it written all over his face. Maybe everyone was wrong about the doctor, he’s actually a decent man.

Besties -H

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 requests #tf2 medic #tf2 demoman #tf2 scout #tf2 pyro #miss pauling

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davnittbraes · 1 year

Text

The Second Step - Chapter Fourteen

Part of The World Is Light, Embodied.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 4600

Warnings etc: anxiety, angst, anxiety attack, mentions of past violence, S M U T incl a lil bit of rough manhandling, author reader clearly has a voice kink, like five seconds of thinking about restraints, squirting, Mando is the Fingering King and nothing will convince me otherwise, also has a begging kink because he needs to know he’s wanted, Fun With Mando’a, LOL should probably mention unprotected P in the V stuff but there’s a sci fi prophylactic implant involved

Notes: Time for a break from all this heavy emotional shit, these two need to let off some steam 😉

You hover in the doorway of Mando’s bunk, watching the kid take his first deep breath of true sleep. The curl of his tiny claws loosens around the body of the stuffed frog as his limbs relax, and you carefully tuck one of the frog’s legs into the hammock when it shifts with the movement.

Stepping back, you lean a shoulder against the wall, keeping your voice low. “Fifty years old, huh? Still so much a child. His species must age very slowly.”

Mando is quiet, a still, silver and dark form in the dim night cycle light of the hold. You know he’s thinking about something, can tell by the tilt of the helmet and the set of his shoulders, but you don’t push. He’s told you so much already tonight, it’s ok if he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.

You don’t need to know all of his secrets to know that he trusts you.

And that he cares about you.

A soft sigh floats through the modulator, black visor turning to look at you. “Maybe. Or it could have to do with his powers.”

“Powers?” The word comes too loud in your surprise and you bite your lip.

Kriff. Get a hold of yourself.

Yeah ok sure. But powers?

He leans back against the wall opposite you. “He can lift things with his mind, heal injuries. Maybe other things, I’m not sure.”

Frowning, you sift through memories as they surface. “Huh. Like a Jedi?”

“You know about Jedi?”

His tone is almost incredulous, and you look at him, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t? Sure, the Empire tried to stamp out any and all record of them but the Imps couldn’t get to every cantina in every backwater planet. Stories about the Jedi are favourites, there - some might even be true. Though the one about a Jedi defeating the Emperor always gave me a laugh.”

The helmet tilts in amusement but quickly straightens to seriousness again, black visor turning to look at the kid. “I’ve seen them. His powers. He healed Karga, pulled poison right out of the wound and closed it over.”

Suddenly, a chill of understanding pours down your back, making your heart skip a beat with its intensity. “That’s why the Imps want him. He’s a Jedi.”

Mando folds his arms across his chest, his voice dropping to a soft murmur full of memories. “When I took him back from the Imps, they were doing tests on him. Something with his blood.”

A kind of sharp protectiveness tenses your muscles at the thought of anyone harming the kid, mixed with anger and disgust. “I’ve also heard stories of the Empire’s experiments. He’s lucky you were the one who found him. At least you can protect him.”

“The Jedi can protect him better than I can. And train him, help him use his powers.”

You scoff, corner of your mouth crooking up in a smile. “You know where to find the Jedi? That’s probably more valuable information than the bounty on the kid.”

“Karga gave me a lead. That’s where we’re going now.” The black visor stays steady on the kid, his frame held by some strained tenseness, like he’s…

Trying not to look at you.

Why -

No. No no no -

Dread clutches your throat with an ice-cold grip. Somehow your voice squeezes past it. “You’re going to give him to the Jedi.”

Your heartbeat thumps loud in your ears, once, before he answers.

“Yes.”

Your lungs are screaming for air, but you can’t focus enough to breathe, every part of your mind reverberating with the sound of that single word.

A flash of light, then more, memories flickering across your vision - all of them containing soft coos and bright squeals and tiny claws curling around your fingers and a helpless little form in a baggy robe and big, amber eyes watching you with affection reflected in their bottomless depths.

Not even hours ago, you had finally accepted that this is where you truly wanted to be, for as long as you could.

Right here, watching the kid sleep peacefully, Mando by your side.

Your stomach turns, hot and sick as you watch it all shatter into a million pieces.

It takes a moment to realize you’re moving, legs striding away from the bunk and across the hold, away from the sight of that one thing you had so recently decided you wanted and would soon have torn away from you -

I thought you weren’t going to run any more -

Shut up -

The refresher door slides open - when did you get here - and you step inside, hand fumbling with the locking mechanism as your vision blurs and you can’t see, where is the damn thing -

Worn leather grasps your fingers, stilling them.

“Tionas.”

A shuddering breath wracks your chest, and you cling to his hand, pulling him in, needing his strong, steady frame to hang on to as the room dips and turns.

Silver and black flash across your vision, soft modulated words pierce through the rush of blood in your ears.

“Hey. Just breathe. You’re ok. It’s going to be ok.”.

Your arms curl over his shoulders and you sink into his embrace, tucking your nose into his cowl, breathing in the scent of him. His hands glide steadily up and down your back, coaxing your heartbeat to fall into rhythm with their motion, keeping you close.

It’s a little surprising, how quickly the anxiety melts away, like this.

But guilt quickly swoops in the replace it, pouring from you with rushed words. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t - I don’t have any right to be this upset, he’s been with you so much longer, I shouldn’t -“

“Stop.” The word is gentle despite itself. “He cares for you, too. This won’t be easy, on any of us.”

You can almost feel the pain in his voice, an echo of the sharp tightness underneath your ribcage.

Loss already experienced. And loss not yet felt.

It’s all too much, these last few days have been too much pain and not enough -

The ache in your core flares to life, reminding you of the muscle twinges you’d felt all day, sore in the most pleasant of ways after last night.

Last night.

When the man in front of you had pulled you apart and made you forget everything except him, him and you and the pleasure your bodies created when brought together.

The surge of want that shoots through your body almost shoves you into action, hands twitching with the desire to grasp at him, slip under his layers, feel him -

Boundaries. Respect his creed.

Breathing deep to recenter your focus, you press closer to him, nosing into the curve of his neck as your hands drifts down his sides. “I need you. Please? Can I have you?”

He pulls away quickly and for a moment you panic, anxiety bursting back to life - too much too far shouldn’t have -

Then he’s reaching back, pressing the locking mechanism for the door and hitting the light switch in one movement, and there’s a flash of silver as his hands grab his helmet just before the door slides shut and the room is pitched into darkness and there -

His lips are on yours, breath hitching against your cheek when your hands grasp at his flightsuit, tugging with an insistence you can’t hold back, the arousal pooling between your thighs fuzzing the edges of rational thought.

He cups your face with both hands, gloves warm and soft on rapidly heating skin, lips moving over yours with some kind of desperation before pulling back just enough to murmur into your gasping mouth. “Say it again.”

Oh pfassk -

That bare, rasping voice - so much more thrilling than your memory serves, full of a delicious blend of demand and plea, curls into the heat of your arousal.

Your own voice is already breaking, cracking in your throat tight with want. “I need you. Please.”

He groans, a wordless reply that catches on your tongue as his mouth takes yours again.

It’s an onslaught, a needy push-pull that has you backing up against the refresher wall for balance while his solid form molds to yours, his large hands cup your jaw and his lips steal the breath from your lungs.

His hands suddenly disappear and you whimper at the loss, your own sliding around his lower back and gripping tight to the fabric of his flightsuit to keep him close, not let any other part of him slip away.

There’s a soft slap-slap - his gloves hitting the floor - then his hands are back on you, warm skin and smooth callouses and long fingers that hold your head steady while he kisses deeper, pulling a rush of heat between your thighs and a moan from your chest.

The end of the sound echoes through the refresher as his mouth leaves yours to run along your cheek, press to your ear. “Thought about those all day, back on Nevarro. Those pretty sounds you make.”

His hand tilts your head back, teeth scraping along your ear lobe, his breath warm as he hums in approval of your answering whine. “Had to keep quiet there - still do, kid’s not far. But I keep thinking about what sounds you’d make for me if you didn’t have to stay quiet.”

A hot pulse of pleasure makes your thighs squeeze tight - pfassk, it’s so hot, the low rumble of his voice, dripping with innuendo, and oh kriff his free hand is grasping your thigh, big and warm and strong and it hauls your leg up to curl around his hip and glides along the inner seam of your leggings to -

Your hands fly to the edge of his breastplate, gripping tight against the dizzying rush of pleasure as his fingers cup your already-throbbing cunt through your leggings.

His lips are back on yours, a soft moan vibrating against your mouth. “Fuck, feel you, already so wet and warm -“

Your hips rock into his palm, his fingers press over your entrance, words panting hot. “For you, please, need you -“

Words dissolve from your thoughts as his hand moves, sliding under the waistband of your leggings and underwear and diving between your thighs, long fingers slipping through your folds. Calloused fingertips catch on your clit and your breath stutters, chokes, hips rocking messily into the pressure he immediately applies, head falling back against the wall with a thunk, pleasure sparking over your body.

He presses open-mouthed kisses down your throat as his fingers take up a steady rhythm, words falling against your too-warm skin in a rush. “Can’t stop thinking about laying you out in a real bed, a big one, soft, so you can be comfortable in every position I put you in. And pulling those sounds from you, as loud as you want to make them.”

Images flash across your hazy thoughts, pictures painted by his words - a plush mattress under your body, soft sheets that crumple between your fingers when you clutch at them desperately while he fucks his cock deep into your cunt.

Heat spirals through your core like a whirlwind of fire, making you shudder at the intensity, and you bite your lip hard to stop the cry that builds in the back of your throat. His hand suddenly shifts and the cry pushes loose, bounces around the tiny room as two long, thick fingers breach your entrance, shoving deep.

His free hand presses over your mouth, his groan buzzes against your pulse. “Want you to come for me.”

You barely manage a frantic nod in agreement - kriff yes please - before his fingers are slipping out of your pussy and back in again, slick sound telling of how wet you are.

Oh pfassk that’s so good -

Again and again they thrust at just the perfect -

Your entire body trembles, bright burst of pleasure pulsing the walls of your cunt as his fingertips graze a spot you’ve never felt before, startled moan muffled by his broad palm.

His chuckle murmurs over your skin, shivers down your spine. “Right there, cyar’ika?”

A quick thrust and his fingertips curl and press and -

Once twice again -

Your orgasm rushes through your body, trembles your thighs, yanks the breath from your lungs.

It’s so hot and blinding and -

His teeth nip at your throat and his moan dances over your skin as your cunt clutches his fingers hard, slick gushing around them. “Yes, come for me, fuck feel this pussy so tight -“

Then there’s the release and you gasp for air, grabbing at his shoulders, leg falling from his hip, your muscles shivering with aftershocks.

Sliding his fingers from your cunt, he removes his hand from your mouth to kiss you deep, tongue flicking over yours. Your core throbs again, pleasure flaring once more at the press of his hard cock through his clothing.

Your hands flex, burning with a need, an overwhelming desire to touch, and you have to clench your hands into fists to stop them.

Boundaries. Respect his boundaries.

Pulling back enough to mouth along his jaw, you hum at the pleasant scratch of his scruff on your kiss-swollen lips. “Can I touch you?”

His hands grasp your waist, clutching as if he needs to steady himself. The sound of his ragged breath makes you pause. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. It’s ok -“

“Yes.”

The sharp, desperate hiss of his voice shoots right to your pussy.

Crikking hells, this man is going to ruin you for anyone else.

Pressing a kiss of gratitude to the underside of his jaw, you trail your hands down his chest, beskar cool under your fingertips. Then there’s the abdomen plate, the belt, the coarse weave of the flightsuit -

Your cunt clenches with need as your hand curves over the hard length of his cock through the fabric.

For a split second you debate on just begging him to fuck you so you can get that cock inside you where you want it, but then his hips rock forward, his fingers dig into the softness of your waist, his forehead falls to your shoulder and yes you want this, want him to come apart in your arms.

Your fingers fumble with the fly, find the opening and slip inside.

His moan shudders over your collarbone as you push past the thin cloth of his underclothes and find bare skin and him -

Oh kriff.

His cock is deliciously thick and warm and heavy in your hand, skin smooth and soft, stretched tight and hot and he’s so hard, pulsing against your palm.

Your own breath stutters, lips turning to his curls at your cheek. “You feel so good, let me make you feel good, ok?”

His groan is sharp in your ear as your hand curls around him and strokes up. Moisture beads at the tip and you twist your palm over it, smearing it down his length.

He trembles hard, a hand leaving your waist to smack against the wall by your head. “Fuck, just like that -“

His voice rasps over your skin, low and rough with pleasure, straight to your core and your clit actually throbs with need, thighs pressing together for the tiniest bit of friction. With a long stroke and a smooth turn of your wrist, you pull more moisture from the head and a whimper from his chest.

It’s so hot, feeling him pulse in your hand and hearing him moan in your ear and knowing it’s you making him feel this good.

You want more, want to feel and hear more of him.

Again and again, you slide your grip along the length of his cock, sounds falling from him setting your body alight.

Your free hand dives into his hair, nails scratching lightly, earning you a shiver and a sharp thrust into your grip. Arousal burns across your thoughts, words tumbling from your lips. “Come on, give it to me. You love the sounds I make? Kriff, I could listen to your pleasure, your voice, forever, come on wanna hear you fall apart.”

His hips roll into your grasp, fingers scrape over your waist, groan buzzes against your neck.

Turning your face toward him, you dip down to find his ear. “Your cock feels so good in my hand, in my pussy - wanna taste you so bad, feel this cock in my mouth, taste your come on my tongue -”

Suddenly his hand is gripping your jaw, thumb and fingers framing your chin to hold you still as he kisses you roughly, leaving you gasping when he pulls away.

He growls against your parted lips. “You have no idea how much I’ve imagined that, how many times I’ve fucked my fist in this very room thinking about you -“

Want overwhelms your senses and you’re surging forward before you know it, swallowing his words. He chokes out a whimper that you chase with your tongue, firmly gliding along his in sync with the rhythm of your hand -

Showing him what you would do if it were his cock instead.

He pulls back sharply, leaving you gasping, then he’s grabbing your wrist and pulling your hand out of his flightsuit to press it against the wall by your head. “Gonna make me come like that.”

You huff a laugh, fluttery with need. “That’s the point, isn’t it?”

Humming low in his throat, he grasps your free hand and presses it to the wall like your other one. “I want to fuck you first. Make you come so hard that tongue of yours falls silent again.”

A thrill of anticipation laced with arousal ripples down your spine at his words - and at the strength buzzing in his grip, underneath the surface of restraint but still there.

It’s a foreign sensation, being held like this, pinned to the wall by someone with the ability to overpower you. You’ve never liked being restrained, for pleasure or otherwise. But this…

This is him, and he spills blood to protect you and holds you gently when you’re spiraling and pushes aside his own pleasure for yours.

Somehow that makes it so much more.

Arching your hips against his, you lean in to nip at his jaw, murmur over his skin. “Then do it.”

Your wrists are suddenly free, but you don’t have the time to wonder at the tiny dip of disappointment that skitters through your stomach because he’s yanking your leggings and underwear down your legs in one rough motion. You start to toe off your boots but he’s already spinning you around, pressing you against the wall, holding you steady as your steps falters, unbalanced, leggings and underwear tight around your thighs.

His hands pull your hips back, thumbs digging into the soft flesh of your ass, and you only get a moment to set your palms against the wall, bracing yourself, before the head of his cock is slipping between your slick folds.

Your forehead falls against the wall, cool durasteel on too-warm skin. “Oh pfassk yes -“

He pushes in, deep groan echoing around the refresher as his cock sinks into the warm clutch of your cunt, voice choking off into a slew of Mandalorian words when you squeeze your walls around him, instinctively trying to pull him deeper, faster.

It’s a thick press of pleasure, his cock shoving into your core, with your thighs tight together he feels so kriffing big, pushing into all the perfect places so your eyes roll back and a shaky whine bounces off the wall in front of your mouth.

Then he’s pulling back, slowly, dragging his cock through your pulsing heat until just the head sits snug inside your entrance, and you feel so devastatingly empty, only having just been filled by him but instantly wanting him back.

He leans in close, lips brushing over your ear. “Say it again.”

Your thoughts churn sluggishly through the haze of arousal, piecing back through the previous moments to when this had all started. There, that’s what he wants. “I need you. Please.”

His hips slam forward and his cock fills you to the brim. A strangled cry punches from your chest, and his hand slides over your mouth once more, muffling the next cry as he draws back to shove forward again. “So pretty when you beg, cyar’ika.”

The rhythm he takes up is sharp and quick, almost brutal, offset by the gentle grip of his hand over your mouth and the line of kisses he places down the curve of your neck. The contrast reels through your senses, heartbeat pounding to the time of his thrusts, pulls your orgasm to the forefront, sends a rush of slick down the length of his cock.

He noses along the corner of your jaw, words punctuating by the force of his movements. “Fuck, this cunt, so tight and wet - listen, can you hear it? Can you hear your pussy crying for my cock?”

The wet sounds of where your bodies join drifts through the haze and your gasping breaths - you’re absolutely soaked, now you notice the hot lines of slick running down your inner thighs, glide of his cock pulling more from your cunt, the way your legs are pressed tight together meaning there’s no where else for it to go.

It’s unbearably hot, hearing how much your body wants him while feeling the drive of his cock through your core. Pleasure spirals up and up, your clit is aching for friction but you can’t move, hands pressed tight to the wall to hold yourself steady, and then the hand on your hip shifts, tilts you backward just a little, and the head of his cock slams into that spot he found earlier and white bursts at the corners of your vision, light in the pitch-dark of the room as he draws back and does it again, and again and again -

You’re coming so hard you can’t see or hear or -

Legs shaking toes curling in your boots fingernails scrabbling at the wall -

There’s wet heat and the drop and you’re shouting into his broad palm, knees finally giving out and you start to slump forward but the hand on your hip shifts quickly, arm wrapping around your waist to hold you up -

Crikking hells he’s still fucking you -

The sounds are obscene now, his cock shoving through sopping wet folds, each thrust ending with a smack of soaked fabric against your bare ass, his deep grunts mingling with your weak keening whine.

You’re floating, practically unaware of anything but the pleasure radiating from your pussy, bordering on too much yet somehow not enough.

His voice is in your ear, his thumb strokes over your cheekbone. “Fucking perfect, ner kotyc dala, take my cock so well, say it again for me -“

He bites into the curve of your neck and you cry out, shudder hard, knees shaking with the effort to stay upright. His hand on your mouth falls away but you can’t find words, can’t form them on your tongue, only rasping whimpers that sound like they’re coming from someone else far away.

His huff of laughter is thick with his own pleasure, brushing your cheek as his hand curves around your throat. “There you go, lost your words again. It’s ok, mesh’la, don’t think, just feel.”

Then the hand on your waist slips between your thighs and a fingertip grazes your clit and shocks of pleasure rip through your body, arching your back into his thrusts, high-pitched moan caught in your throat by the warm weight of his hand.

He picks up his pace, fingertips pressing tight circles over your clit over and over in time with the short, hard thrusts of his cock that slam right against that spot and you’re coming again -

Hot wet full tight yes -

His growl vibrates over your shivering skin, sharp with a note of something almost like pain, cock pulsing hard against your fluttering walls and heat floods your core, seeps out around the thick of him with each thrust, drips down your thighs.

Your pleasure finally releases you just as he sinks deep and stills, arm banded around your hips to keep you there, hand gentle but firm on your throat.

A few moments pass, your breath still fast and sharp, exhausted limbs screaming for oxygen, constant shiver running through them.

Then his lips gently glide over the soft spot behind your ear, fingers on your jaw turning your face toward his, and you slump back into his arms as his mouth captures yours in a kiss that shakes with the last remaining aftershocks of your orgasm.

His cock twitches once, twice, still deep inside you, pulling your focus back into the moment, and slowly your senses drift into place.

The air in the room is hot, the scent of sex clinging to your skin with the damp. His arm is strong and firm around your hips, his hand on your throat shifting to cup your jaw as he deepens the kiss. The chill of his armour seeps through your shirt, the rough weave of his flightsuit presses against your ass -

Why am I so wet?

Panic floods your system and you reel with the shift.

Wait no it’s -

Oh pfassk.

He pulls back, concern obvious in his voice. “You ok?”

Amusement and wonder mingle with the haze of spent pleasure. “I’ve never done that before.”

A pause, then he’s sliding his hand down between your thighs, running his fingertips through the evidence of your intense orgasm. “Did it feel good?”

“Uh. Yeah.” Incredulity seeps into of your voice but you can’t bring yourself to care, no matter how strange it sounds in the soft hush of the room and the pleasure haze still floating around the two of you.

His chest vibrates with silent laughter, lips curved in a smile as he kisses you. “Then I can’t wait to make you do it again.”

Male pride is heavy in his voice and you can’t stop the snort of laughter, knowing it’s definitely inappropriate for the moment but when he joins you, breath bouncing off the curve of your neck as he nuzzles into it and wraps both arms tight around you, it doesn’t seem so jarring.

You stay like that, catching your breath, simply existing in his embrace, the feel of his stubble on your skin where his lips press, the twitch of his cock still buried inside you.

The memory of your conversation earlier that night flickers on the outskirts of your thoughts, the pain in his voice as he told you how he’d found the kid. So different from his voice now, sated but light with contentment, maybe even something close to happiness.

Your heartbeat skitters, the warm bright thing in your chest glowing.

Tilting your head to rest your cheek against his curls, you slide your arms over his, squeezing them around your body. “I meant it. You’re a good person, and you’ll always do the right thing, no matter how difficult it is.”

A faint tremor runs through his frame, followed by a sigh that ghosts over your collarbone. His voice is so soft, but it still reverberates through your thoughts. “Nothing is too difficult, with you by my side.”

Your throat closes with emotion. There are no words that convey what you’re feeling, and all you can do is nod once, letting him feel the movement against his hair.

I know. Same.

***** Mando’a translations

mesh’la - beautiful

cyar’ika - sweetheart

tionas - a question

ner kotyc dala - my strong woman

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#The mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #The world is light embodied

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