#never leave something unattended for more than like five minutes >:(

[tonycries]

Freak On The Cam! - C.K.

Synopsis. Choso always loved watching you - his pretty lil’ camgírl - from behind the screen. Who knew he’d love being on-screen with you even more?

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, camgírl! reader, spítting, Choso has rings and piercings, first times + loss of vírginity (Choso’s), oral (fem receiving), exhíbitionism, DOWN BAD Choso, cúmplay, use of “ma’am”, Sukuna is a menace, víbrators, light jealousy (Choso’s), some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.5k

A/N. Meant to post this last week but hehe here we are. Also I’ve GOT to stop using Unc-kuna so much lmao.

“Wanna see a movie or do you wanna make one?”

Choso was screwed. Completely and utterly screwed. So badly, in fact, that he might as well just wipe off every trace of himself online and go into hiding - preferably forever.

All because he had been so stupidly careless as to leave his phone unattended for exactly 1 minute and 47 seconds around Sukuna. 

In the time it took Choso to raid the kitchen for his favorite brand of cereal, his uncle had managed to open his Twitter (because “that’s where all the juicy stuff is”), stalk your pretty page at the very top of his last searched, and send a god-awful pick-up line that would probably get him blocked. Or worse.

Damnit, he knew he shouldn’t have made his password Yuji’s birthday.

“Ya should be thankful I didn’t DM her myself, brat.” Sukuna chuckles, not even a shred of regret in his tone, way too amused with how Choso was frantically trying to tackle the phone out of his hands. “What’s the harm in asking? Such a pretty camgirl, n’ you look like you need some good pu-”

“She’s also my classmate.”

“Kinky. Even better.” 

No, not “even better”. God, this must be some kind of cosmic joke, and Choso just wished the Earth would swallow him up whole right now - and maybe his phone along with it too. 

It had taken him almost a whole semester to work up the courage to just sit next to you during your shared lecture. All gorgeous with your bright smiles, and your smart mouth. And Choso was very much content to admire you from afar - and from behind his phone screen, of course.

Never following, never liking. Never tipping you off as one of your hundreds of thousands of fans.

And now, not only had Sukuna revealed that he’d found your secret Twitter account - the one with those sinful little clips of yourself that had Choso opening the app way too much - he’d also propositioned you. Like some creep.  

“Ugh. This is why women hate you.” Still desperately grappling, he spits out more to himself than Sukuna at this point. “B-besides, she’s never even gonna respond any-”

Ping!

And the Itadori household had never been quieter. Never, on a random Saturday during spring break. Never, as the two men crowd the phone, jaws dropped and staring wordlessly at the singular message on screen. You. 

“Let’s make one ;)”

---

“So s’not a stream this time, jus’ a video. Is that okay?”  You hum from your desk, glancing at the man seated on your bed as he hastily nods along with whatever you said. Looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. 

Weird. 

It had only been a few days of back and forth since you’d gotten that first text - the one that you’d honestly thought about blocking like the thousands of others. But there was just something about it that made you stop, something that had you clicking on the profile to delve a little deeper.

It hit you like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact - that this was someone in your class. Someone you knew. How the hell did he even find this account? 

You knew Choso as that sweet - albeit slightly gloomy - kid that sat next to you, always quick with his answers and even quicker to look away from your gaze, no matter how hard you tried to spark a conversation. You’d just guessed he was afraid of you or something.

So nothing could’ve prepared you for how ridiculously attractive he looked in that profile picture, all smug grins and dark locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner. Shirtless, giving just a peak of- oh god, were those nipple piercings?  

Could you really be blamed? You just had to have him.

But, here - it was like he was just itching to run away at the first chance he got. 

“You’re not held at gunpoint, y’know.” you giggle at how he startles at the mere sound of your voice. The mattress dips as you stop fiddling with the camera to sit next to him, thighs flush against his muscled ones. “Are you sure you want-”

“Yes.” 

It seems that both of you were surprised by the abrupt response. Too quick. Choso clears his throat, cheeks flaring as he tries to dredge up some semblance of dignity, he drawls lightly. “I mean- Yes.”

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the way his chest rises and falls rapidly as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - nothing quite like the suave impression his pick-up line gave off. 

But so irresistible just the same.

“Well…Cho.” you bat your lashes, voice dropping to a seductive whisper - not too heavy, for now at least. “Then why won’t you even look at me?”

Alas, Choso was not a strong man. 

Maybe at your words, maybe at that playful little nickname you gave him, he’s finally raising those dark eyes to look at you. Twinkling with- fear? anticipation? A flicker of something so dangerous as his gaze sweeps greedily over that tight dress you put on just for this occasion. 

Choso tries to ignore how sinfully it hugs all your curves. Or the way it would look a million times better on the floor. 

This was absolute torture. 

And God he thinks he could pass out right then and there as you lean in closer. Too close. The temperature in the room suddenly increasing by about 10 degrees as you purr, tone careful and balanced. “Much better. And now…” 

His breathing becomes heavier, eyes flickering downwards. Once. Twice. 

And you know you’ve got him in the palm of your hand. 

“...all you gotta do is touch me.”

Yeah, if Choso thought he was going to pass out before then he definitely wasn’t ready for those dangerous little words. Ones that have him shaken right to the core - fighting that urge to just take you how he’s imagined all those lonely nights.

“You- huh?” he lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he crosses his legs with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, desperately trying to will away the blood rushing straight to his throbbing cock right now. 

But how could he? Not when you only shift closer, barely even a hair’s breadth between you two - relishing in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm. Such an adorable pout playing on your lips as you mutter, “Do you not want to?”

And he did. Oh, how he did - has been imagining it for the past five months, in fact. And Choso lets you know, a little twenty times, actually, as the words spill panickedly from his lips. 

“-idiot trying to set me up and I’ve been dreaming of fucking you for so long but I’m just-” Heat rushes to Choso’s cheeks, as he abruptly shuts the fuck up. But it’s too late - the damage has been done.

You give him a wry smile, lips mere inches from his ear. “Just what?”

His breath hitches, muscles rippling so deliciously as he shudders beneath your touch. “I’m a-” Choking out - as if it physically hurts to  admit - “-virgin.”

Oh. 

Now, you might’ve expected many things - but certainly not this. Though, looking at the cute flush on the tips of his ears, all the way down to those big, needy eyes, you don’t mind. Not one bit.

With one, quick glance at the rolling camera - your mouth is moving before your mind. “Do you want me to…do something about it?”

And then it’s like something snapped. 

You don’t know who leans in first, just that Choso’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him - how could you not? 

Because goddammit it was always those pretty lips that you were staring at whenever he was spouting off answers in class. You just never expected he’d be kissing you back with such an infectious desperation. 

No sooner are you thinking about how sweet his lips are before he’s pulling away with a soft sigh, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. Your neck. Back to your lips like he wanted everything and anything.

You gasp licks a long, languid stripe up your neck - maybe at how utterly obscene it felt, maybe at that sharp cold feeling that makes you flinch. Fuck - a tongue piercing? The noise makes Choso’s mouth drop into a quick oh! surging forward to claim your lips again. Addicted. 

Only to be stopped by your hands cupping his face, letting out a pained grunt at how he was so close. Just a hair’s breadth away from your lips.

“Cho~ Open your mouth, baby.” you whisper, hotly. 

And he looked so pretty - dark hair askew, lower lip swollen and quivering with need, brows furrowing because he wanted more of your taste. But he obeys, of course he does, Choso thinks he’ll do anything you asked. And lo and behold, sitting right there in the middle of his tongue was a pretty silver piercing.

You just can’t help but thumb open his mouth further, looking him right in the eyes as you spit in his mouth. Once. Twice. 

“Bet no one else has done this before, huh?” Grinning at how sinfully Choso’s eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste, “Kiss me proper now.”

God, you were so good at throwing away whatever was left of his poor sanity. And it’s all that’s said before his kiss-bitten lips are crashing into yours again. 

“No. No one’s hah- done that before. Only you.” he’s panting into your open mouth, swirling his tongue with yours. “F-fuck only you. Only you only you-”

You barely even realize the way you’re on his lap now, sitting so prettily there that Choso half-deliriously wonders whether he should take a picture. Mind spinning too much with his throbbing erection under your drenched panties, a damp little patch at his fat tip. So hot and heavy already.

“Cho, do you want me to-”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You certainly don’t have to be told twice - especially with that little nickname. Fiddling with his belt, you’re so hazy with want - the need to taste Choso, to see if the rest of him was as sweet as his lips - that you almost miss the look of confusion that flashes across his face.

You bat your lashes at him almost-innocently, “You alright?” And Choso thinks he could cum right there and right now at the sight. If he wasn’t currently battling for his life, that is. 

“Yeah, s’jus’- what I wanted hah- was to…” His hands sneak down, cupping your heated pussy through your drenched panties. “-taste her. ”

“Oh?”

“Are y’gonna teach me how?”

Oh. Fuck.

You know you’re fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

Only moments later, Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress, face-to-face with your sloppy pussy. So mean with the way he was pinning your hips down with one hand, all but ripping your panties off with the other. 

You feel his piercing before his tongue. Both the hot and cold so maddening on your cunt as Choso licks long, lazy stripes up your puffy folds - dragging his hot tongue all the way from your base. Just grazing your swollen clit. 

“Teach me- fuck fuck-” words muffled and slurring together, vibrations going straight to your pussy. “Use me. Use me how you want.”

You’re threading your fingers through his dark locks before you even realize it, grinding your sloppy cunt all over his waiting mouth. “Quirk your tongue like- ngh-” Angling him close enough so he bullies his soft tongue into your tight pussy. Piercing massaging all the right places. “Fuck-”

“Like this?”

“Sh-shit,” you gasp, nodding deliriously. “S’too ngh- good.”

And by God, did you mean it. 

“Yeah? Y’like this?” he’s groaning, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. “Can feel you clenching around me. Shit shit shit, you love this, huh? So slutty on camera for it?” 

Getting wetter and wetter by the second as his tongue roams for that one-

“Oh! F-fuck, Cho. Right hngh- there. Deeper-”

Ah, found it.

Choso grins as you tug on his soft strands, you can feel it on your throbbing pussy. Pushing your legs all the way till they’re at your tits to hit that little spot each and every time. Again and again. Eyes glassy, torn between devouring that slutty expression on your face and how fucking drenched you were. 

“Shit, baby,” his words are so strained now, like his sanity was dancing away at each flick of his tongue. “You’re drooling everywhere. See? Show the camera now.”

You don’t have to look. Because you can feel it.

Can feel how wet his mouth is, just glistening with slick and saliva. Trailing all the way down his chin - to his wrist - only second to how sloppy your dripping cunt was. It was like he was getting messy on purpose, like a little reminder to himself that shit this was you and he was eating out your pretty cunt to insanity-

“Oh my god, think m’hooked.” Tongue dragging all over your swollen folds, catching on his piercing. “Think your pretty lil’ pussy’s hah- driving me crazy. Ruined me, Fuck-”

And it’s so embarrassing how he’s talking you through it, grinning at every lil’ whine and whimper that leaves your mouth. You were acting all shy right now in a way that makes Choso’s cock twitch so painfully. He barely even notices, though, with the way he was so drunk off your pussy. 

So messy - unable to decide between rolling his tongue over your ravaged clit and dipping into your sloppy hole. Too much. In and out in and-

“Faster.”

He goes faster. 

“H-harder.”

He goes harder.

Anything and everything for you - to keep those pretty moans falling from your lips, walls getting tighter and tighter around his tongue. And Choso might just consider himself a man addicted.

“Can you ngh- cum f’me, baby?” You flinch as he spits out the words into your cunt. Harsh. Fucked-out. Sounding just as delirious and breathless as you. “Cum f’me please. Wan’ to taste y’on my tongue. Please. Fuck- need it so bad. So bad.”

You’re so caught up in Choso’s pussydrunk little babbles that you barely even realize when you’re cumming. Just that you’re letting out a strangled scream of his name, dragging your sloppy pussy all over his mouth. 

And he has never seemed more blissed out. Long gone is that nervous little expression usually on his face around you, Choso looked like he could be suffocated in-between your legs right now and love it. Hope for it, even.

He tells you that, of course. As soon as you’re blinking back your vision, blood still roaring in your ears. Delicate strings of slick snapping where he parts from your quivering cunt, lips swollen and glossed so prettily with your sweet sweet juices. 

“Baby, y’think the video of lesson one came out good?”

Oh. Shit, what have you done?

---

That certainly wasn’t the last time you saw Choso - or the last time you had him in front of a camera, either.

A few weeks later, you found yourself with an entire album for the man - a hidden treasure trove under the simple name of “Cho <3”. Most of the videos favorited, all sorted so tediously in a way that showed you spent an obscene amount of time looking at all the ways he ruined you. 

So filthy on camera that you always wondered whether it was the same person in the sheets and in class, texting Choso for later. Just to confirm. 

But embarrassingly, only some of these videos made their way onto your Twitter account - with Choso’s pretty face largely out of the frame. The two of you hadn’t ventured into streams yet either, opting to hide him away. Because, okay, maybe you were slightly jealous of other people seeing him - but it was really hard not to be when he looked like that.

In spite of all that, you’d still gained a casual hundred thousand more followers since his appearance - ones who always commented on your solo streams asking where your “hot emo bf” was.

Comments you’d pointedly ignore, because, hell, you wished he was here on-stream helping you get off, too. Yet despite the endless flirting and videos, Choso actually hadn’t made it further than actually holding a full conversation with you. And you wanted more. 

For all you know, you might just be one of his many trysts - and it was just for the videos, right? You get the content, he gets the experience? A win-win situation, so why have you never felt more like such a loser?

Such a loser the way you’ve already lost count of the “lessons” but still haven’t gotten to feel him - to fuck him the way you wanted just yet. 

“S’alright if I take this, right, ma’am?” He smirks during one such session, knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt. Dangling your drenched panties like a badge of honor, flimsy and soaked with your sweet sweet juices. “S’alright if I-” And he can’t even finish the sentence. Your jaw drops as Choso raises the thin fabric to his face, breathing in your essence like a man possessed. 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“You’re so filthy, Cho-” you manage to choke out once you find your voice. Squirming on his bed like such a slut for him. “Was the innocent thing just an act?”

“Nope.” he pops the p, licking lewd little circles on your neck, thumbing open your puffy folds to watch in amazement at the way you glisten and clamp around his fingers. Eyes flickering briefly to the recording phone in his hand. “But we gotta give ‘em a good show, huh?”

Right, you’d forgotten about the camera. But none of that matters anyway because-

Intensity setting 2.

“You’re so mean, too.”

“Am I?” he grins, teeth grazing along your racing pulse. “I think you taught that to me, baby. Shit, lesson 8 it was?”

God, he was addictive.

Choso’s having way too much fun playing around with the intensity setting of the bullet vibrator shoved inside your ravaged cunt. Sending quick, methodical vibrations all along your pulsing clit. In time with the breathless moans leaving your kiss-bitten lips, and it’s all you can to call out for- more? Mercy? Both? 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“God, you’re so perfect. Shit, so messy f’me.” he groans, and you could tell that the video wasn’t going to be uploaded anyway. Too shaky, focusing in and out of Choso’s fingers. Knuckle-deep and pumping in and out of your filthy hole. Relentless. “Almost makes me wanna show off to an actual audience.”

“Maybe I want to, too.” you muse, shifting at his heated gaze. Dangerously pressing your thumb over those nipple piercings you’ve gotten to know so well lately - as if to support your point. God you wish he’d take off that snug shirt.

Intensity setting 3.

“That so?”

And no matter how many times Choso’s ruined you on camera - and watched the videos over and over afterwards - he always thought they weren’t enough to capture your perfection. 

“Such a slut f’me, baby.” To capture the exact moment in which your wet lips fall into a soft little oh! when he massages your walls in time with the pulsing vibrator. To capture that absolutely sinfully excited little glint in your eyes as he ruts his clothed erection against your pussy. “Y’always this dirty?” Quickly turning into a look of slight panic at the sudden jingle of keys from the front door. 

“Yo, brat. Where the fuck are ya?”

Ah, there he was, the reason that Choso usually locked his bedroom door whenever you were over, even if he was home alone. 

Intensity setting 4.

As the silence continues, so does Choso’s abuse on your cunt. In fact, he only gets more erratic - like he wanted you to cum. Needed you to cum right now, right here in front of Sukuna, footsteps only growing louder. Nearer.

“Cho-” you fight to get out the words. “He’s hah-.”

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Can’t speak? That’s cute.” he coos, voice way too relaxed for someone whose mind was reeling with the realization that he couldn’t remember if he locked the door this time, and how adorable you sounded. Enough so that it made some raw, primal part of him wanna pull down his pants and fuck you right here right now. Cockblocks and his own virginity be damned. “C’mon now, use your words like a good girl. Tell the camera.”

Cocky bastard.

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Close!” you yelp, unsure of whether you were talking about yourself or the looming Sukuna. Jaw slack, tears springing into your ears as you look up at Choso. “So close.”

God, you were addictive. And this video was definitely going in both your favorites.

“Mhm,” he hums, movements getting hastier. More desperate. “I know, ma’am.”

Intensity setting 5.

That’s all that it takes for you to cum, letting out a loud strangled moan of Choso’s name. Or, you would’ve - if it hadn’t been for the way he’s shoving two, thick fingers into your mouth.

Silencing you - and in your hazy brain you think that if this was his way of shutting you up, then you really didn’t mind. Because all you could taste was you and the cold, cold metal of his rings. Somewhat intoxicating.

“Shhhhhh.” he’s breathing out, still mindlessly grinding his hips into yours. Though, you realize with a pang that today won’t be the day you get to feel that achingly hard erection straining his pants. “These pretty moans aren’t for him, hm?”

Pressing on the back of your tongue, smirking at the way you nod tearily up at him, moans still muffled. Hell, do you even know how sexy you’re being right now.

“Mhm, all f’me. All for fuckin’ me.”

Knock! Knock! Knock! 

“Why the fuck are you locked up in here on a Saturday night?” Sukuna sounds impatient, but not surprised. Probably imagining all sorts of dorky things his nephew was doing to hole himself up in his room. “Come out n’ get this takeout- what’s left of it anyways.”

And with that, it’s like the magic is over.

Your high only just bating before Choso’s hurriedly ending the recording on a hazy still of your disappointed pout, cursing Sukuna for his impeccable timing. 

Slightly concerned about the door being broken down and someone else seeing you in all your fucked-out glory, he hastily moves to grab the spare cloth by his bedside. Cleaning you up with hushed promises of “sending the recording later”, and “s’alright, he’ll be gone soon.”

Close. You were so close.

A win-win situation - but you’ve never felt like more of a loser.

---

“By God, I never thought he’d get the balls to do it.”

You yelp in surprise at the deep voice from behind you, whirling with a defiant brandish of Choso’s (your?) keys. He’d given them to you a few lessons ago, saying it would make it easier for you to come and go from his apartment as you pleased. Which - to you - felt dangerously like something a boyfriend would say-

But that wasn’t important right now.

What was important was the older man suddenly towering over you right outside Choso’s front door. Big arms crossed over his chest, that leering smirk clashing with his pink hair. “I knew it was odd that brat had a pair of heels by the door.”

Shit. Sukuna.

Ryomen awfully-wingman-his-nephew Sukuna.

“Spill.” At your confused head tilt, he plows on. “Spill the tea. I need new blackmail on my lil’ nephew. How badly did he have to beg you to go out with him?”

You don’t know what was more bizarre - what he was saying or the way he actually pulls out his Notes app as if hanging on to your every word. 

“I-It’s because of you.” you manage to choke out, unsure of what Choso has told his family about you.  Eyes flitting between him and the door right behind you, sounding your very best not to sound just as guilty as you felt. “You’re the reason we have this weird…thing.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two. 

And just as you’re beginning to wonder whether you’ve broken Choso’s infamous uncle, he throws his head back and laughs. Laughs, right in your face, sounding like he’d just heard the funniest punchline in the world. 

“Oh that’s hilarious.” he exclaims, wiping a mock tear. Cackles dying down as if he was suddenly aware that maybe Choso would hear and walk in on this impromptu interrogation. “Damn, that awful pick-up line is why you started fuckin’? I thought it’d get that sap blocked so he’d stop stalking your account so much.”

“No, we…” you hesitate, mind reeling with what Sukuna just admitted, and how bad it would really be that you’re divulging your sex life to a relative of the guy you’re fucking. Before thinking fuck it, might as well confide in someone. “...we’re just doing stuff for-” putting up air quotes. “-content.”

“Just content?”

“Just content.”

“And you like that fool?”

Your face burns at how glaringly obvious it apparently was, “...Yes.”

This seemingly sets Sukuna off on another wave of uncontrollable laughter. “Ohh, thanks for the blackmail on that emotionally-constipated brat.” Typing away on what you assume to be his Notes, he promptly turns to walk away, “See ya around, doll.”

“Wait!” you call after in confusion, making him stop and raise a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to like- I don’t know, give me advice for your nephew or something - like a good uncle?”

Scoffing, “Who said I was a good uncle?” He leans in ever-so-slightly, “Jus’ rock his world on camera or somethin’ n’ ask him out right in the middle.” Satisfied with being enough of a decent samaritan for today, he walks back with a half-wave, “He’d listen to whatever you say anyway.”

Oh. Is that so?

And Sukuna probably meant it as some joke. Something to tease the both of you with - but it’s something that sets the gears going off inside your head. Something that had you ignoring Sukuna’s slightly panicked, “Jus’ not too soon, I needa bully him with this first.”

---

You didn’t listen to Sukuna’s little plea, of course. Because only a few days later you’d steeled yourself to finally send that one text you knew would change your relationship with Choso. For the good, hopefully. 

You: 9pm my place. Get ready, cuz this time we’re gonna be live ;)

Cho <3: :0 

And with that, you’d thrown your phone on the bed, jittery about later tonight. Browsing through your wardrobe for that one set of barely-there lingerie in his favorite shade of pink. Hey, you could never be too prepared, right?

Nothing could’ve prepared Choso for this moment - absolutely nothing at all. 

He might’ve just died and gone to heaven the very moment he read that dangerous text - finally inviting him to join one of your streams. The ones that he’d always watch in the safety of his bedroom, lights dimmed, pants bunched around his ankles. 

Cock just achingly hard in his fist while he wished he was with you behind the camera. Getting you off so much better than any sextoy would. Just forcing those pretty moans from your lips - and everyone else could see that. Wish it was them ruining you instead. 

Alas, it was only a dirty little fantasy. 

Until now, that is.

slvt4u: Holy shit boyfriend reveal, about time.

uniwhore: THIS is the hottie from Twitter????? 

itsgenslut: idfc just fuck

“Nervous?” you smirk, looking down at the man sprawled so prettily on your bed. “You look just as close to an aneurysm as you were the first time. Though-” snaking your hand down, “-this is still the same as ever.”

You chuckle at the way Choso catches your lips with his, more to shut up those pathetic little moans threatening to escape him than anything. Because every glance at you in that sinful little pink bra gave Choso a mini heart attack. 

“B-baby-” he gasps, grinding his clothed erection against your palms. “I wan- hah-”

“Mhm?”

And God how you’ve ruined Choso - run him so utterly dry of his sanity.

Because he’s angling your head down, piercing cold against your tongue. “Spit.”

It was like that first time had gotten him addicted. So you do - right into his waiting mouth. Jaw dropping at the way he tips his head back, back, back to let it slide so obscenely down his throat. Moaning at just a taste of you, “God, I need to f-fucking ruin you.”

And if there’s anything you’ve learned after all these months with Choso, it’s that anything he says - he does.

The words have barely left his mouth before he’s pulling your bra off, ripping your panties easily off your hips. Each and every little regret about what a shame it was thrown out the window at the first sight of your pretty pussy. 

It never gets old - and Choso could never get enough of the sinful sight - your cunt so sloppy and ready for him already. 

“Cho-” you whine as ringed fingertips coming up to circle your sloppy entrance. Cold. Stretching you to insanity. “S-stop teasing.”

“Yes, ma’am. But first-” shifting you around ever-so-slightly on top of him. “Gotta show off how wet y’are f’me.”

uniwhore: did he just call her “ma’am”?? Me when??

roses101: idk who i wanna be they’re both so fucking hot ugh

“Fuck, y’look so sexy from this angle. Wonder if the camera thinks so too?”

Your face slightly burns at how he was seemingly taking over your own stream. Smug bastard, you think, glancing down at Choso, red-faced, hair untied, wearing a sly grin as his eyes slide over the flurry of comments. But two can play that game. 

“Cho~” fumbling with the hem of his underwear, “You’ve been holding out on me.”

A gasp leaves you involuntarily as you tug down Choso’s boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring free, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Blushed your favorite shade of pink - to match your bra - so so angry and soaked in precum. 

He was so intimidatingly long - longer than any of those toys you usually brought on camera. Thick enough that it had you wondering, shit, would you even be able to take it?

“S’this a-alright?” and for all his previous confidence, Choso sounded self-conscious. Peeking at you through his long lashes.

You grin, pumping a hand up and down his swollen cock, letting his precum drip down your wrist. “S’perfect.”

“God- fuck, baby. Oh-” Choso lets out breathless little profanities as you straddle his waist, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy as you sink down in by fucking in. Slowly. “Too- much-”

Apparently too slow because no sooner have you just taken in his fat tip, squeezing and clenching around him, that Choso’s flipping the both of you over. 

“M’sorry.” he breathes into your mouth as your back hits the mattress. “M’sorry m’sorry, fuck- just can’t-” fingers immediately drawing frenzied little circles on your pulsing clit to take your mind off the dizzying stretch as he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. “Can’t wait can’t wait- waited too fucking long. Want this so badly-”

You felt too good. Too perfect around him. 

“Ah! Hngh- Cho, oh my god. Too- ngh-” you moan, as he starts grinding in shallow, mindless little movements just to fit himself inside. Pushing and pushing, you wondered if he even realized what he was doing.

Sounding like his sanity was dwindling away with each little thrust, “S’too big? You can take it. Fuck fuck fuck please. Need this.” Pressing all the way into your lungs. “How do you wan’ it- how do you wan’ me?”

Honestly, Choso didn’t even need to ask, because he just bottoms out - heavy balls smacking against your ass, cock swollen and throbbing inside you - that you think that you just wanted him to ruin you. 

“R-ruin?” his voice breaks as he repeats - more to himself than you. Oh, shit had you said that out loud? You’re speechless as Choso throws your legs over his shoulder, dragging his swollen lips lazily across your ankle. “Yes ma’am.”

Oh. You might as well have just signed off your will. 

Because then he’s fucking into your sloppy cunt. Unforgiving. A man starved because he was. Jagged, quick thrusts, splitting you apart deeper and deeper on his rock-hard cock. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” he pants into your open mouth, finding it so fucking difficult to find any rhythm when your tight cunt was milking him so good. “You feel so good. So messy. Ya love it like this, huh? Being hngh- watched?”

“Hngh-” you buck wildly into his body, reaching up to play coyly with his nipple piercings. Tugging and pulling lightly. “Feels too good- are- ah- are ya sure this is your first time?”

Honestly, it was a wonder Choso didn’t cum right then and there. 

Tojisslvt: need someone to fuck me like this the first time

22sabi: Typing with one hand is so hard.

DaStrongest: i could fuck her so much better than than inexperienced loser

Choso throws his head back in a cruel little laugh at that last comment, something that makes you tingle all the way from your burning cheeks to your stuffed cunt. Clamping down deliciously on Choso’s unforgiving cock in a way that makes his hips and fingers stutter. 

“Ya think you could fuck her better?” it takes you a second to realize he was talking to the camera and not you. Thrusts getting sloppier, getting familiar. “I’m the one that got her so messy like this.” Purposeful. Calculated. Like he was aiming for that one-

“Fuck!” you scream as he hits that magic spot. Once. And then over and over like a man possessed. Just so utterly ruining you the way you knew he could. “Cho oh my god- I can’t hah- ngh-”

The cold metal of Choso’s rings dig into your cheek softly as he turns you head to face him. God, this was the stuff of his wildest dreams.

You - teary eyed and looking up at him like such a slut. Pussy getting wetter - tighter - as he teases you in front of the camera. Torn between running away from his relentless cock and bucking up for more more more-

 “Fuck no no no- Keep your legs open, baby. Don’t hah- run away from me.” his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. “Don’t- need this. Need this so ba- shit.” 

And he sounded so genuinely worried he’d lose the feeling of your heady cunt. Fingers bruising on your hips as he pulls you closer. Like he was trying to fuck out any and every shred of shyness out of your body. 

slvt4u: Always the quiet ones.

DaStrongest: heh, fuck off. i’d make her cum so much harder.

Now, Choso was fucking you like he had a point to prove, and it was probably the only reason he hadn’t passed out from how good your pussy felt wrapped around him. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point - and he was out of control now.

Pussy drunk thoughts unfiltered, “No one’s ever d-done this- got me hah- feeling like this.” And you had the distinct feeling he just beat you to your original goal, letting out sweet little babbles into your open mouth - though his hips were anything but. 

So hard that you were sure the creases of your sheets would leave marks for tomorrow - along with his balls on your ass, your ankles on his shoulders, lips searing against yours. It was like he wanted to prove something - to prove he was good enough to- the viewers? To you? 

Knowing your body well enough to hit that one spot over and over until you were sobbing. Fingers erratic on your clit. 

“Cho-” you squeal, tears springing to your eyes as he only gets sloppier. “I-I’m gonna-”

“Cum?” he breathes, as if he couldn’t believe it. And fuck if you weren’t the gates of heaven spread wide open for him then he didn’t know what was. “Fucking cum. Please please- hah- f’me. Cum on m’cock n’ make them jealous. F’me- Like you’re mine.”

You barely even realize when you are. Jaw slack, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you see stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. God, he was gonna have to go home and rewatch this stream all over again. 

“Ngh- m’cumming m’cumming oh-”

Not even realizing the way you’re dragging your nails down Choso’s sculpted back. Marking up his milky skin - and he lets you. 

Loved it in fact- the way he loved you. 

Your eyes go wide, and Choso knows he’s fucked up. Realizing with a jolt that words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. But it’s the way you squeeze him tighter- giving him such a gorgeous little fucked-out smile that sends him over the edge.

Sharp canines digging into the crook of your neck like he wanted to break skin, holding himself back from breaking you while he cums and cums so hard it hurt. Over and over-

“Love you- love you love you love you-” he’s muttering into the skin, unbarred. “Since I first saw hah- you. Wanted this more than fuck fuck- air that I breathe.”

His seed was oozing out of you now, painting your ravaged pussy white, dribbling down your legs.  So fucking full and debauched. Thick, hot globs that were sure to stain those overpriced new sheets. But did Choso care for the mess? Not at all. 

Because you were holding him so impossibly tight, pushing away the strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Whispering little praises as he fucks you through his first time. Close. Warm. Everything he ever dreamed of.

“S’everything I ever dreamed of, too, Cho.”

And he knows he’s won. 

urfavslvt: Proudest nut. Want more.

uniwhore: does this mean couples content??? Pls say yes plsplspls

DaStrongest: invite me next time <3

“Thought you were embarrassed.” he licks soothingly over the bite. Voice shot, piercing smooth against his tongue. Embarrassing little confessions leaving him with each spark of electricity running through his veins. “Thought you didn’t stream w’me cuz of that- but shit. Dreamed of this f’so long. So long-”

Oh?

“Hey, Cho.” your voice rings through his hazy mind. Just enough for Choso to raise his head and meet your intoxicating, sultry gaze. Giving a sly, sidelong glance at the still-blinking camera. 

“Mhm?”

“Wanna film a week’s worth of ‘movies’ in advance?”

---

Sukuna (do not answer): Oi shitty nephew, where r u Jin made me come over with (half) leftovers.

You: Sorry, not home. At the movies rn.

Sukuna (do not answer): When tf do u go to movies?? 

You: Since now, on a date. You probably can’t relate.

Sukuna (do not answer): Stfu n’ stop lying, a date with who? Ur body pillow?? Not like u had the balls to ask out that pretty lil’ camgirl anyway.

Haha

Right? 

You: *girlfriend

Sukuna (do not answer): Huh?

You: Girlfriend.

Sukuna (do not answer): THE FUCKIN’ PICK-UP LINE WORKED??

A/N. This came out a LOT longer than expected. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[wanderer-six]

Taste of You

NSFW (MINORS DNI)

AN:  I am convinced that Echo would be addicted to u riding his face to an unreasonable degree and also he's my precious boy so I wish to praise him bc he deserves it aaa💖 this is my 2nd fic and my first Blatantly Inappropriate fic so please lmk what u think LOL

Relationships: Echo x Fem Jedi!Reader (established relationship)

Summary: When you and Echo have the night together, he's content to keep you on his face the entire evening. But you aren't about to let your poor lover go unattended...

Warnings: general smut, faceriding, praise kink ("good boy"), hand?job?

Word Count: 1.3k

“Echo…!”

A swift movement of Echo’s tongue ripped a moan from your lips. With the war raging on, it was not often enough that you found yourself here, enjoying the company of your beloved ARC trooper in the privacy of a Coruscant hotel room. But the two of you always made the most of the rare occasions when your shore leave coincided with his…

…and more often than not, that led to you in this position: sitting on the face of the most adorable man in the GAR.

Between gasps and whimpers, you glanced down at the sweet face buried between your thighs. You managed a soft smile in the midst of your pleasure. Since his return from Skako Minor, Echo has struggled so greatly to be comfortable, too wary of himself to ever relax. But somehow, whenever he was beneath you like this, it seemed his every stress and worry would melt away.

Frankly, you wondered if he enjoyed it even more than you did—and that was saying something.

Gently, you trailed your fingers across Echo’s scalp. When he moaned in response, you shivered at the vibrations that traveled through your core. He suckled and lapped at your sensitive clit, and from the sound alone, you could tell you were sopping wet.

But as incredible as he felt, you still longed for something more. Braving a glance over your shoulder, you could see just how hard he was—his length dripping with excitement, twitching at every moan you uttered. You licked your lips, knowing exactly what would sate your appetite.

“Mm, Echo…” you hummed. Your hands ran gently along his head, the soft touches you knew he loved. “Will you please fuck me, sweetheart? I want you inside of me…”

Echo groaned against you. His already tight grip on your hips tugged you even closer to him. He kept teasing you with his tongue, his eyes closed in utter bliss. When at last he broke away for a breath, he didn’t bother opening them.

“Five more minutes,” he grunted, before his mouth was on your sex once more.

You rolled your eyes. You would expect that answer from a lazy cadet attempting to sleep in during training, not the man who would sooner suffocate than miss a taste of you. But how could you be upset with him? Tenacious and stubborn, he was an ARC through and through—and that dedication showed tenfold when it came to pleasing you. And while you were pleased—by the stars, were you pleased—you only wished to take such good care of him, in turn.

But, with Echo’s iron grip on your hips and his insatiable appetite for you, it seemed you wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. However, before you could resign yourself to another hour of riding his face (it was never, ever just “five minutes”), an idea came to you.

Echo wasn’t the only one with specialized training… and you had something in mind.

Willing yourself through the pleasure that Echo’s dexterous tongue overwhelmed you with, you managed to look over your shoulder once more. Shining beads of precum dribbled down Echo’s poor, neglected cock. Though you wanted with all of your heart to lick him clean, your mouth couldn’t reach him from this position. But that didn’t mean you were helpless.

Gently closing your eyes, you raised a hand—reaching out to the Force and flexing your palm slightly…

…and in moments, you had him in your grasp.

Almost instantly, Echo gasped, nearly choking as his drenched mouth broke away from your pussy.

“Ah… w-what… what are you…” he uttered, trying to form the words between his moans. But you quickly shushed him, settling your hips back onto his face once again and beckoning for his mouth to take you with a grind of your hips.

“Shh, it’s all right, handsome. I’ve got you…” you cooed. Your free hand continued caressing his head, while the other began to gently pump him with the Force. A smirk found your lips. “You promised me five more minutes, didn’t you? I know you’ll be a good boy and keep that promise…”

You can’t say what had Echo’s face more red—the way you were getting him off, or the sultry sweet praise you showered him with. Either way, he fell into this new pleasure quickly enough, lapping at you with renewed hunger while his hips desperately thrusted into the air.

With all the diligence of a perfect soldier, Echo kept true to his word, his tongue driving you into a stupor over and over again. All the while, you worked his length with the Force, pumping his length ever so gently—enough to drive him to his breaking point, but never past it. Each time you coaxed his cock with the perfect touch, feeling in the Force that he neared his end, you would release your hold on him—and he would be quite vocal about his distress from his safehaven between your thighs.

But as the night grew darker—as the sheen of sweat coated your trembling forms—you knew you couldn’t last much longer. Your dripping wetness painted the insides of your thighs and smothered your lover’s face, and all the same, Echo’s cock throbbed and ached. Both of you were desperate to cum, and try as you might to hold out, you couldn’t help but want to spoil that adorable man beneath you.

“Echo…!” you breathed. Gently, you tightened your thighs around his face and pressed your pussy against his mouth in the way you knew made him dizzy with delight. “Ah... please, make me come...! Good boy...”

As you rode him, you pumped him faster, feeling in the Force the way his cock twitched and swelled with excitement. With one last swirl of Echo’s tongue around your clit, the anticipation tightening within you finally unraveled. Your body seized as pulses of pleasure tore through you, and you came hard on Echo’s face.

From beneath you, Echo groaned loudly. His hips bucked desperately into the air one last time before he came, spraying hot strings of cum onto his chest and your back. Once he finished, you lowered your hand, releasing him from your Force grip. Trembling with exhaustion, he practically collapsed beneath you.

As you dismounted Echo’s face, he gasped for air, chest heaving even as you settled down beside him in the bed. His wide, golden eyes stared hard at the ceiling, as if he couldn’t believe he had survived such a taxing endeavor.

But before you could check in on him, he pulled your body close to his, meeting you in a fierce and desperate kiss. His tongue delved between your lips, and you could taste yourself on him.

When he finally broke away, he had to catch his breath again—but with his forehead on yours, he donned the biggest, warmest grin you think you’ve ever seen from your usually grumpy ARC trooper.

“I… I-I thought I was going to die,” he rasped. “Oh, kriff… we need to do that again.”

You laughed, pressing a sweet kiss to his nose as you draped your arms around his neck.

“Well, I’m glad to hear you had such a good time,” you sighed. But after a moment, a mischievous smirk appeared on your lips. “Although…”

Echo’s eyes pleaded with yours. “What?”

With a gentle flex of your fingers, the Force just barely brushed against Echo’s overstimulated cock—forcing a hiss from between his teeth as his body jerked in surprise.

“I still expect you to fuck me, sweetheart,” you whispered into his ear, kissing softly on his neck soon after.

With a wide, hazy smile, Echo could only chuckle. 

“You know I will, beautiful,” he promised. Sighing deeply, he laid on his back once more. “Just… give me five more minutes.”

Rolling your eyes, you found a small smile, making yourself comfortable against the chest of the man you adored more than anything.

AN: Thank you for reading!! please let me know if I missed anything in tags/warnings especially for a nsfw fic but most of all I hope u enjoyed!!~~✨✨

[pasiphile]

Ficlet prompt! The Locked Tomb. Gideon gets away and joins the Cohort. But it's not exactly all she'd hoped it would be. She doesn't actually miss the taunts of the Reverend Daughter, does she? Gross.

The food’s good.

The food’s good, and having non-geriatric company makes for a nice change, and Gideon’s fucking ace at sword practice and she gets high-fives after training and people laugh at her puns and she’s pretty sure that cute Fourth-house blonde is gonna ask her out on a date any time soon and it’s great, it’s everything she’d hoped for and more, and –

And every day she feels deeply, staggeringly lonely.

Space blinks back at her, forlornly, her own face – oddly bare without the paint, even though she hated it, even though she avoided wearing it every opportunity she got – staring back at her.

There was a bit at the end of every fantasy, where she got mentioned in dispatches, or got some kind of medal, and Her Royal Boniness would be there and grudgingly nod, or shake her hand, or even – in Gideon’s wildest and yuckiest dreams – smile with some sort proprietary pride.

But Gideon’s been in the Cohort for two months and it’s clear now that’s never gonna happen. As soon as basic training’s done they’re gonna send her to one of the colonies, and she’ll be literal light years removed from the Ninth. Even if, somehow, she’d perform some glorious feat that set her apart from the thousands of other soldiers, she’d never get close to orbit again.

And fuck knows Harrow would never leave her precious planet alone unattended.

And that should be a good thing, fucking hell, why is she moping about this? The Reverend Daughter hates her guts. Being away from her should feel like a release.

But it’s a familiar hate. A hate she grew up with.

“Hey Nav, coming? We’ve got a beer pong competition to win.”

“Yeah, sure. In a minute.”

There’s a rumour going around, of all the House Scions and their Cavs being called to some special meeting thing, and wouldn’t that be a rub. On the one hand she was loyal to the bone – hah – to their Kindly Prince, but on the other hand, to leave her House alone…

And it would be with Ortus at her side. Yuck.

Gideon closed her eyes, rubbed her face, for a moment let her thoughts wander. Imagined what it would be like to go in at Harrow’s side instead of Ortus, be her cavalier, challenge people to duels in name of the Ninth. Maybe then the Reverend Daughter would begrudgingly show her something more than outright contempt. Gideon would absolutely trash some jumped-up little Fifth House pampered Cav and Harrow would look on from the shadows, ominious in her ceremonial robes, the tiniest smile pulling at that thin line of a mouth –

Yeah, as if.

“Nav!”

“Yeah, I’m there.”

Gideon threw one more look at the porthole and space outside, full of promises and adventures that had lost their allure, black as the Reverend Daugher’s eyes…

Yeah, no, this was good. This had been the normal, healthy choice. Fuck Harrow and fuck the Ninth, she had an ensign to flirt with and beer pong to win. Besides…

Only a madman would have believed Harrow to ever regard her with anything but hate.

She pushed off and strode down the hallway, her boots clanging on the metal floor that seemed almost obscenely shiny compared to the Ninth rusty squalor, leaving behind dreams of black eyes and bone-ringed hands and gritting her teeth against the sharp pang of loss.

[mary-is-writing]

@writeblrcafe Secret Santa 2023🎅🎁

Thank you for organizing this event! This is my gift for @sparrow-orion-writes , I hope you like this short story!! Sorry it took me so long, I wanted to finish by Christmas but life happened. Still, here it is, a coffee shop kinda enemies-to-lovers with a fantasy setting story. Happy holidays and happy new year!!!

Title: Snakes and Vines

Word count: 2409

CW: None

Something was burning and it wasn’t Eri’s fault.

She could’ve sworn she hadn’t left the oven unattended for that long. She simply went to decorate as many cookies as she could while the cupcakes finished baking, and then, she was planning on going back and multitask on decorating both to finish earlier. But it seemed that hellfire powder, though a quick rising agent, was more flammable than she thought, since the whole oven went up in flames with a kaboom that could be heard from every place in the shop.

The bits and pieces went flying, destroying most of the kitchen as well as whatever pastries were lying around. The good news was that nothing hit her and the coffee shop was empty since it was already late; the bad news was that the destruction reached even the tables and chairs that were farthest from the kitchen. The worse news was that her boss was already stomping his big combat boots towards her direction while yelling and cursing all heaven and hell, and there was no way for her to fix it before he opened the kitchen door. The terrible news was that the fire was spreading quickly through the wall.

And the worst, most absolute, horrible news was that a bunch of cookie-frosting and burnt cupcake had flown right into Amalia’s face, of all the demons in Obertham. However, as established earlier, this was not Eri’s fault.

“This is your fault!”, she quickly yelled at her, while Amalia tried to clean her face.

“WHAT?! How the fuck this is my fault?!” Amalia’s snake hair hissed back at her.

“You kept messing with the oven when I told you to leave it alone!” Eri answered, vines with thorns quickly growing around her.

“YOU’RE the one that added the stupid hellfire powder even though I told you not to!”

“And I wouldn’t have needed to bake another batch quickly five minutes before going home if you knew how to bake shit!”

“The only reason I have to bake is because of your slow ass that doesn’t get anything done! At least I know how to prepare coffee while working in a coffee shop.”

“You’re just a–”

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY KITCHEN?!”

Their boss entered, his screech giving off a freezing gust of wind so cold it immediately put down the fire. Then, after giving a quick look to the damage and the two, proceeded to freeze them in place so he could lecture them both for about half an hour, all the while letting his rage take control of his ice and making them feel like they were in a freezer. Eri didn’t like working for an ice demon; whether he was happy or angry (especially when angry) he was always surrounded by the cold. The whole “enjoying a warm coffee in a chilly environment” was part of the shop’s charm, but a dryad like her would never understand why anyone would like that. Still, she needed this job, so she had to suck it while trying to not freeze to death.

But getting yelled at was unfair. Sure, maybe she had added a tiny bit more of hellfire powder than she should have, but if Amalia hadn’t been messing with the oven, the settings would’ve been the correct ones and it wouldn’t have exploded. Nothing her boss would listen to, though, and she found herself being ordered to stay overnight, clean the whole mess and re–bake everything to be ready for tomorrow.

Alongside Amalia, because of course. And at that hour, it was only natural for their tasks to extend into ungodly hours of the night, so of course they had to spend it there. There was a sleeping room, destined to be used by employees in times where the shop had to remain open for days straight, like in the Festival of Light, so they could take turns sleeping and working during their shifts. Eri was glad that she at least wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor.

There was only one bed. Because of course.

“I’ll take the floor”, she said with a groan.

“No, I’ll take it”, Amalia said. “You take the bed. Just give me some sheets or something.”

“I said I’ll take it”, Eri responded dry. “It’s gonna be colder than usual thanks to the boss’s fit, and that’s bad for a snake demon like you.”

“Said the dryad, the cold is just as bad for you. Besides, I’m younger, so it’s better if I take the floor.”

“I’m sorry, did you just call me old?”

“Oh, for the love of–” Amalia ran a hand over her face. Some of her snakes hissed in frustration at her, and Eri almost wanted to hiss back. “Just take the goddamn bed, Eri.”

“No”, she crossed her arms. “After all, it’s the responsibility of the older ones to take care of the children. So, you take it.”

“Fine, I guess nobody is sleeping in the bed, then. We’ll both sleep on the floor.”

Eri was used to fight with Amalia at this point, so much so that she didn’t even think to contradict her just for the sake of it. Forest will wither and oceans will dry before she’d let her win an argument.

“If that’s the case, why don’t we both sleep in the bed, then?”, she said, only realizing what words had left her mouth afterwards.

“Fine! Geez! Have it your way then!”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

After a couple more “fines” that we’re said in a very “fuck you” kind of way, they both climbed in the bed. Amelia took the side closest to the wall, while Eri the side towards the door. There was also just one sheet and pillow, so they had to sleep back-to-back without moving an inch.

What a night. Eri couldn’t remember a worse one since she started working there…though having to carry around her tree in a pot in the middle of a cold night after getting evicted was a close one. Now what? She hoped the boss wouldn’t fire her for this. Without a job, one cannot survive in Obertham, not only because it was required for non-humans to have one in order to remain in the city, but also because it was expensive as hell and almost no landlord would give her a lease without one. Feeling the physical exhaustion and the mental stress growing got to her and, ever so softly, she sniffed a few tears away.

“I’m sorry.” Hearing Amalia apologize shot Eri wide awake.

“What did you just said?”, she asked, still not facing her. Amalia sighed, in a way Eri’d never heard before.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have messed with the oven. I thought that, if you weren’t gonna listen about the hellfire powder, at least I could prevent the oven from exploding by changing the settings, but…”

“Wow. You literally couldn’t have done a worse job.”

“Yeah. So. Well. I’ll tell the boss tomorrow to not punish you too much more for it.”

That was…weird. Was Amalia actually…being reasonable? As Eri was trying to wrap her head around this situation, a thought crossed her mind.

“You heard me cry, didn’t you”, she asked, monotone.

“…No.”

“Okay. Yeah. That’s not gonna fly.”

“I just thought you…could use a win.”

“Wow. Thanks.” Sarcasm dripped from her lips. And it must have been really bitter because Amalia immediately stood up.

“Why do you hate me, Eri? What have I ever done to you?”

“You mean besides destroying the kitchen, almost killing me, and jeopardizing my livelihood?”

“But you didn’t start hating me now, did you?” Even in the darkness, Eri could see the silhouette of the snakes in Amalia’s head squirming because of how agitated she was.

“I don’t hate you.” She answered. “I just don’t like you.”

“What’s the difference?”

“If I hated you, you’d be seeing me with thorns all around me all day long, since I have to be all day long next to you.”

“Okay, fine. Why do you dislike me, then?”

Maybe it was the tiredness. Maybe it was that they were completely alone, in the darkness, and she couldn’t see Amalia’s face. For whatever reason, Eri felt like spilling her guts.

“Because you’re arrogant, despite only knowing how to brew coffee. And you are terrible at baking, yet you act like you’re in charge of the kitchen. And you’re younger than me, yet ever since you first came you’ve had this attitude of ‘why do I have to work with this useless adult?’. And even though I need this job to survive, you act like just being here is a bother and couldn’t care less of what happens to it or me.”

The silence that proceeded was as cold as the floor, and as the seconds passed and Eri regained her composure, she started to wonder if she’d said too much. But then, Amalia talked.

“What about you, then? Ever since I came here, you’ve treated me with nothing but hostility.  You just assumed whatever you wanted about me and decided that you didn’t like me. I’ll admit I’m bad at baking, and I hate it, but if I didn’t care about this job, I would simply get another one. Saying that I don’t care about what happens to it or you is honestly insulting. You think I’m that heartless just cause I’m a demon?”

“Of course not. You think I’m nice and delicate just cause I’m a dryad?”

“A rabid hellhound is nicer and more delicate than you.”

Eri let out a sound that was a mix of scoff and laughter. Still laying on the bed, she breathed deeply.

“I’m sorry, too. For, you know… Antagonizing you, and stuff.” It felt awkward. When was the last time she’d talked with her without feeling a headache? Scratch that; Eri didn’t even think she’d ever had this calm of a conversation with Amalia, ever. “But don’t you think it’d be better if you showed you care more?”

“Well, don’t you think it’d be better if you learned how to serve a cup?” She said, playfully.

“Why? Your coffee is great, I don’t need to learn.”

Amalia blinked. Some of her snakes looked at each other.

“You…like my coffee?” Eri felt wide awake for the second time. Crap, she hadn’t meant to say it. “You’ve…never said so…”

“Because I didn’t want it to get into your big head”, she said, then instantly regretted it. “Yeah, I like your coffee. It’s good coffee. Great, even. I don’t know how you do it, but every single fricking cup you make it’s perfect. Happy?”

She wanted to cover her face with her vines and disappear. Never would she had imagined she’d compliment Amalia, out loud, to her face.

“I…I like your baking.” Amalia responded, shyly.

“Don’t give me the pity talk, please.”

“No, I mean it. I started working here because… because of it.” Eri looked at her in the dark. She could almost see Amalia’s hand playing with her snake hair. “And I’ve always been good with coffee cause, y’know, my snakes help me perceive the smells and temperature appropriate for each brew, so I thought I could work here. Never expected to blow up the kitchen.”

There was something there, though. Something about the way the silhouette of her hand moved, how the snakes danced over the fingers. Like a very distant memory Eri’d almost forgotten but that came back little by little as she spoke.

“Wait…” Eri threaded carefully. “Are you– Are you that girl that always came here and always ordered black coffee with marshmallows and a slice of abyss strawberry shortcake? The one that always burnt her tongue whenever she had her first sip?

Amalia let out the biggest groan Eri had ever heard leave her lips.

“How do you remember that but not me?”

The dryad basically jumped up and sat on the bed next to her.

“WHAT?! That was you?!”

“Of course it was me! How have you never noticed it?! How many snake demons do you see in the daily to not recognize me?”

“I mean, all dryads have face blindness, so…?”

Well, that wasn’t an answer Amalia was expecting at all.

“W-Wait. What?”

“Yeah. We can only recognize one another. Everyone else just looks the same, like, beyond things like voices or mannerisms? It’s like trying to differentiate two grains of rice. And that was so long ago that both things are very fuzzy in my memory. But was that really, really you?”

“Yes, it was. Why do you keep asking?”

“Cause I’m pretty sure that girl gave me a love letter once”, she said. “But then she stopped coming, so I could never answer back.”

Eri could almost swear she heard a little gasp. The snakes suddenly stopped moving, and Amalia turned away, the line of her face showing she was looking left. Suddenly her coming to the coffee shop a lot, to the point of even starting to work there, made much more sense.

“That was in the past. Before I knew a rabid hellhound was nicer than you.”

The feel of a grin in Eri’s face made a few little flowers grow at the tip of her hair.

“Hoh? Disappointed, then?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe”, Amalia answered, trying to sound calm. So, since she was playing the cool card, Eri decided to play along.

“Really?” She approached her. Vines filled with leaves and flowers grew around, and she trapped Amalia with them by the wrists, the hip, and one ankle. “Then I guess this would do nothing for you, hm?”

The snakes hissed at her. For the first time since knowing her, she thought that reaction was cute.

“Screw you”, Amalia spouted.

“Pfft. Yeah, you wish.”

“ERI!” The dryad laughed as a response. She released the snake demon and went back to lay in the bed.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Goodnight, Amalia.”

Eri closed her eyes. Who knew her demon coworker could be this innocent? If she didn’t get fired, she’d have to start treating her more gently. Perhaps she’d get more fun reactions like those. As she was getting ready to start drifting into sleepiness, the voice of Amalia reached her once more.

“And what was it? Your answer…?”

Eri didn’t open her eyes, but she smiled.

“Maybe I’ll tell you over some coffee and cake.”

[monty-glasses-roxy]

I don't think he dropped Cassie and I still think it was entirely Freddy's fault for what happened to the others in SB.

ive actually never heard this take before and im fascinated by it (/pos), have you posted something explaining it before? ^w^

I've talked about it a lot a while back but I can't for the life of me find the posts so I'll explain it here for you.

Firstly, lemme just say that I'm well aware the reason why these things are the way they are, is because it's a game. It has to give you objectives to complete and ways to stop you from progressing too fast, or going where the devs don't want you to go. A lot of this is just game design not being properly justified as things that make sense in-universe, which is fine, it just unintentionally frames Freddy in a different light when you really look at it.

SO

Lets get the quick one out of the way... Freddy has full access to everywhere in the main Plex. Every door opens for him, and not Gregory. It's the rules that you may only go into those areas with the right pass, and whilst Freddy ignores this in the first five minutes of the game and several times afterwards, he solidly stands by these rules for most things. Freddy could have literally just opened the VIP fire exit for him, but chose not to. He could have also taken Gregory into any other area of the Plex without requiring a pass, but chooses not to for seemingly no reason. The only time he's ever given an actual reason for why he can't go somewhere with Gregory is when he says he won't be able to stop dancing if he goes to the Fazcade where DJ is. If take him there, nothing actually happens though so like... okay then.

Of course, if he went everywhere with Gregory and opened all the doors for him, the game would be over in minutes unless they had another reason for it. It does give you the idea that he's a little hypocritical though, and picks and chooses which rules to follow and when. He won't go into Fazerblast with Gregory because that's cheating, but he's fine with Gregory upgrading him even though one wrong move could kill him. It's an odd choice to make, ya know?

More relevant to how he's responsible for what happened to the other animatronics, he literally just doesn't do anything. Gregory is a child making shitty decisions because he's a child, and literally no one has suggested there could be another way to him. He can't see another way to deal with this other than to destroy Roxy, Monty and Chica, and upgrade Freddy so he can access more areas. In this situation, Freddy is the responsible adult. It's his job to keep Gregory safe and get him out of the Pizzaplex. And then not only does he not get Gregory out, he stays completely silent as Gregory destroys them.

Freddy says his friends are acting differently to normal, so he knows something is wrong, but he doesn't choose to investigate or try to help them. He knows what Gregory is doing, because he can still see his friends walking around after they've had their parts stolen. He recognises that the voicebox upgrade Gregory has given him is Chica's voicebox, and Gregory straight up tells him that his new eyes are Roxy's. He might not know how he did these things or if he wasn't just being opportunistic when accidents happened, but given it happened three times in a row and Freddy knows where two out of three parts came from, it really doesn't take a genius here.

He knows what's happening and that there's something wrong with them, but he doesn't make any moves to stop it or find out what's happening. Instead, he lets Gregory carry on doing what he's doing, and leaves him completely unattended in a Pizzaplex full of murderous animatronics for the majority of the night. If he really doesn't know what Gregory is doing, then the point still stands that maybe he shouldn't be leaving a child unattended when there's several animatronics and a furry trying to kill said child.

AND early on, Freddy suggests that if he had claws like Monty, he would be able to break through the chained gates. Now, it may not have been intentional to put the idea in Gregory's head, but his tone is just a little bit off to me when he says it.

This is why I feel the events of Security Breach were entirely Freddy's fault. He could have stopped Gregory at any moment during that night, could have gotten him out safely, and could have stayed with him more to keep him safe, but he didn't. He helps only when Gregory calls for it, and does basically nothing else to help for the entire game. He barely even reacts to Gregory stealing everyone's parts. There's no "why would you do that?" or anything. He asks where Gregory got Chica's voicebox and then doesn't question it again. There was no one else there to question it, no one else there to help and no one else there to stop him, the responsibility was entirely on Freddy.

To add insult to injury, we now know the canon ending is the one where he left the Pizzaplex with Gregory and Vanessa. He was the only one that could see the others were acting weird, and he literally just up and left them. For no obvious reason either which makes it worse to me honestly.

Again, a lot of this can be explained by the fact this is a game, but it's a very interesting angle for Freddy. Was Bonnie's disappearance enough to splinter the group so badly Freddy no longer cared? Does he genuinely think he's doing everything he can to help? Is he up to shit whenever Gregory isn't nearby? Is he under the influence of something else, like say, a Mimic? Is he still somewhat under Vanny's control and only have limited awareness of what's happening? Does safe mode limit his critical thinking skills or is he just like this?

It's something that can be worked with for sure and it's where my interpretation of Freddy stems from. Gregory could have chosen differently, yes, but it was Freddy's responsibility to help him find an alternative before anyone got hurt, and he chose not to. That's just the long and the short of it, and I feel it makes him a little more interesting as a character.

[secretly-small]

Gotta love throwing y’all stuff I blurted out in the middle of the night 👍🏽

Here’s a new OC. This piece was based off a dream I had the other day.

Description: Harper, a teen girl with very weak sizeshifting abilities, is caught alone is a toy store with two equally curious little kids. This couldn’t end well.

CWs: assault, struggle, attack by children, non-sexual forced removal of some clothing

Word count: 960

Disclaimer: I haven’t edited this yet XD

Living Doll 🪆🧒🏼

1/3

“Oh, please!” I chuckled into the phone, “I’m right next door!”

The line went silent, and I could practically feel my mom’s worry. It was understandable, of course. The absolute longest I could hold a human form was an hour or two, and most of the time I lasted mere minutes. But we’d both agreed it would save time if we split up, and it wasn’t like I was incapable of handling myself anyway.

“All right…” she finally sighed. “Just promise to be quick.”

I smiled, going through our usual routine before hanging up and pocketing the device. My eyes scanned the shelves, each lined with different toys. Most of my cousins were rather young, so the seemingly-infinite number of cars and dolls told me I was in the right section.

My hands slipped onto my hips as I considered which ones would be most suitable. It didn’t take long to pick them, despite the number. By the time I’d grabbed the last, my cart was filled with about eight different gifts. Three of them would be for the new cousins who just married in. They were all boys, and even though we’d never met, I felt confident in the assortment of trains I’d collected.

I allowed myself a triumphant grin as I took the first step to the cashier. Almost immediately, though, a sharp flare emanated through my  body, and the beat of a second passed before my view of the store shifted drastically. 

I groaned as I pulled out my phone, speed dialing my mom. It rang a few times too many, and my heart dropped at the sight of shoes clomping in from the neighboring isle. 

It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. In fact, it was common. But normally my mom or sisters were here to help.

Rather than running like I should’ve, I stood frozen as three people rounded the corner. Two of them were little blond boys, perhaps no older than four or five, and the third was a nearly-identical woman whose arms were… way too full.

The woman bent down, dropping all the items from her grip to the floor. Before I could even process, she’d darted out of sight, leaving the children unattended in a toy store. 

I grinned. I didn’t know her, but that woman gave off some dang good vibes.

Before I could think, the boys’ eyes landed on me. I stifled a curse, darting to hide under the nearest shelf. It was mere paces from me, but I was still too slow. Grubby, little fingers wrapped around the length of my body, yanking my hair and limbs into horribly uncomfortable positions. 

I gasped as my phone fell from my hands onto the tile floor. He didn’t seem to care, though, as he lifted me up to his curious eyes. 

My mind whirled as I attempted to come up with something, anything, to say. With just the right words, any child would put down a toy. But any hope I had was immediately crushed when his brother waddled up and blabbered something unrecognizable. He responded back in the same language.

Not good.

My fists banged against his fingers. It was harmless, obviously, but his clear blue eyes immediately fell from his brother to me. They widened, and his jaw fell open in astonishment. He squealed a few more incomprehensible things to his brother, pointing at me.

“Put me down!” I demanded, using a loud voice and strong tone. Words weren’t needed with children, anyway. As long as they knew you meant business.

Or maybe that was just dogs.

His grip tightened, and all the blood fell to my head as he twirled my upside down. I wrenched, squirming and kicking in his hand, but as my eyes landed across the shelves before me, it became overwhelmingly clear how this would turn out. I was a living doll. 

The boy squated, then dropped me ungracefully onto the floor. I didn’t even have time to get my bearings before they’d both leaned over me, four hands tugging at my limbs and hair. 

The younger boy seemed to find particular interest in my clothes. He pulled my jacket, ripping my arms out of the way when I attempted to stop him. In seconds, he’d removed it completely, and seemed to take great pleasure in the action. 

I screamed and fought, but to no avail. His hands moved down to my jeans, and this time he wasn’t as gentle. He fumbled with the button, his frustration causing him to tear them in two. This made their removal much easier, apparently, and my legs were suddenly naked against the freezing tile floor.

Finally, they seemed to have enough of my noise. The older one pressed his thumb against my mouth and nose, cutting off my airway.

I shook, tears streaming down my face as the youngest picked me up by one leg. 

Every kid did this. Every kid peeled the clothes off a Barbie to see what was underneath. Every kid would feel around the unspoken part of the doll to see if the underwear was real, only to find out it was just painted on. 

They didn’t know what they were doing. After all, I was just a moving doll.

His finger brushed between my legs, trailing down my spine. He eventually made it back to my hair, which he made sure to give a strong tug.

When they once again dropped me to the ground, this time leaving me banged up from the impact, I knew. Their faces peered over me, looming like an unsatisfiable force above, and I knew I would die. 

I drew in what would likely be my last breath, closing my eyes. I’d always liked kids.

[blubushie]

ok, for the summer ship asks thing

🐚🫐🎢 for jesse and mundy

but also i wanna hear something about bruce and suki, i am obsessed with any heavymedic

I'll do it for all three!

🐚Who likes collecting shells?

Jesse. Mundy is busy surfing but when he comes back to shore Jesse excitedly asks him what kind of animals the shells came from. (Bonus points if it's a shell he doesn't recognise or when she challenges him to name the animal from only broken bits of shell.) She constantly cracks jokes about the small sand dollars only being half-dollars.

Bruce picks out the blackest mussel shells and brings them to Suki because he knows it's her favourite colour. Suki makes comments about how some of the broken, sharp bits of shells would be suitable for scalpel blades if they weren't so brittle.

🫐Do they like to go berry picking? Who picks the most berries? Who eats more than they pick?

Jesse has never been berry picking before, but Mundy does show her how to forage and what is and isn't safe to eat. He leaves her unattended for five minutes while chucking a piss and comes back to find that she's eaten the entire bag of wild grapes they'd picked. Mundy definitely picks more since he's often showing her what she can and can't take, what is and isn't ripe, and how the high-hanging fruit are better than the low-hanging fruit because coyotes piss on those.

Suki doesn't go berry picking but she does help Liem and Bruce collect wild olives for olive oil. Bruce picks more olives because he has the better reach at 211cm to Suki's 157cm. Suki can't stand raw olives (a trait she shares with Jesse) but Bruce loves them despite the extreme bitterness. Suki will outright refuse to kiss Bruce until he brushes his teeth.

🎢Are they amusement park people? If so, what’s their favorite ride?

Jesse is the only one that cares for amusement parks even though she only ever went once to Deno's at Coney Island (and only rode the Ferris wheel). She's the type to beg Mundy to go on a rollercoaster with her and then cling to him the entire time.

That said, everyone enjoys the summer faire in Farmington!

Jesse will spend twenty dollars in one day just throwing baseballs at the dunk tank targets to knock people into the water. She has great aim and will have a corndog in one hand and a baseball in the other.

Mundy loves the target shooting games and lets Jesse pick out the prizes. He insists on backing up an additional five paces just to show off. By the end of the evening they have too many stuffed animals to carry and give most of them to Pyro. Mundy also loves playing horseshoes. Has a quick wrist and absolutely adores playing darts. Anything that involves a good arm and good aim is right up his alley.

Suki just enjoys the fried food. "This is terrible for your health," she says. "There's too much cholesterol. I really shouldn't be eating this. None of us should be." And then she takes another bite of deep-fried pickle.

Bruce loves the high striker games and slams the hammer as hard as he can. He doesn't want the prizes and neither does Suki, so he hands them out to the kids who gather around to watch the giant man make the machine ring. The showie stops letting him play after a few turns.

[antiresolution]

Write me something

Each territory in this world is gutted and rebuilt by the priorities of its leader. This colony on the outer rim is both cold and alive, like the humming motor tucked inside the heart of a machine. Technology runs its cities, builds its skyscrapers, and manufactures the oxygen Wenhan holds in burning lungs as he sneaks between shadows on a suspended launch platform. His steps are quiet and his hands are quick as he climbs up to eye level with a sleeping jaeger corralled by metal staircases and unattended balconies. Even if he was caught in the engineer sector after curfew, all it would earn is disapproval and a warning. They were running too low on pilots to follow protocols.

Wenhan glances at the bracer strapped to one wrist flashing silent and red.

10 minutes left before that curly haired scientist wandered back to check on his bot. His pilot wetsuit was starting to feel like a sweatlicked second skin. 

From the outside, the angles and smooth shell of the jaeger is familiar. Sinew wires wrapped into steel joints as unassuming as every other bot he’s had to pilot. He scales the ladder into the pilot's cabin, hands hovering over a foreign control system that stays unlit even as he hits the usual sequence of switches. He tucks curses under his tongue and grinds his teeth. The neural connector panel is cold against his back and there’s no hum of a reaction underneath skillful hands. 

Cold. Dead. Everything on this planet was so still. Suspended and waiting to borrow energy from something or someone warm and alive. He’s starting to forget how the touch of wind felt on his face from home. The way grass left skin itching for days if he fell asleep under the sun. 

“You could’ve just asked if you wanted to see it.”

Wenhan looks up, and there’s a face so warm and alive peering down at him from the open hatch. Taeil’s eyes are bright and curtained by dark messy curls. He lazily tucks his chin over his arms and looks smug. 

“You’re supposed to be in the bathroom for five more minutes.” Wenhan continues trying sequences of switches.

“I can finish in one.” Taeil drops into the cabin, peering over Wenhan’s shoulder, as if the other man’s failure was more interesting than reporting an unauthorized boarding to superiors. 

“If you really want to brag about your foreplay…” 

“I really admire your propensity for being a egocentric dick, Li, I really do– but it won’t work no matter which way you fondle it... I thought you weren’t supposed to leave the infirmary for another week.” As Taeil smooths fingertips over his unlined forehead and admires the bruised reflection of Wenhan’s concentrated face in the unresponsive control panel. “New wrinkle on stonehenge.”

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping so you can fail basic training again?” Wenhan leans back into the pilot seat, exhaling through his nose. “Nepotism can’t save your ass forever.”

Taeil flips a switch above them both, and the cabin lights up with a soft white glow. The controls remain dark. 

“It won’t work because it’s not finished, idiot.” As he mutters almost inaudibly. “Like I’d make it respond to your biometrics on purpose... Now get out of my fucking robot.”

Wenhan rams shoulders with Taeil on his way out. He lets his legs dangle over the hatch, watching the other check over the jaeger’s insides. For as long as he’s been here, all his relationships have been shallow. It was easier to detach himself when multiple pilots were dispatched and few made it safely back into the station after a fight. Some part of him hoped Taeil failed training on purpose so the mouthy engineer would never have to pilot. It would be so much more boring around here without a thorn in his side. 

What would he do without a challenge.

The sector's dimmed lights flash a bright white and then darken to red, followed by an alarm that shatters comfortable silence. Wenhan immediately drops from the unresponsive bot and moves to board another, but his feet stumble into empty air as ears are blown out from an eruption of shattered metal walls and heat.

The suspended balcony creating a pathway between jaegers had snapped in half from the explosion, sending wenhan sliding forward into a death drop to the ground floor. The momentum is enough that he swings into the railing and grips hot metal to delay the fall, but his descent had already stopped. The jaeger that had been dead on its feet moments before now had metal arms extended, catching wenhan in the palm of its hand. Wenhan stares up at the glassy visor, unable to see Taeil’s form tucked inside its shell. 

He hadn't been the only one lying from the beginning.

[tennessoui]

33 obikin 🙏

bless i can't write anything straightforward or normal to save my life

33. Celebrity/Fan AU (modern AU, singer Obi-Wan)(1.8k)

Obi-Wan had only wanted to cook, really.

He’d decided on Tuesday night that he would take Friday off as a sort of self-care day. He needed it. In the midst of a world tour, finally with a week to breathe back in his home city, he’d wanted to relax for a day. One day without music or an audience of any kind, just him in an apartment filled mostly with dusty counters and almost expired foods.

He loves his fans, because of course he loves his fans. He loves the fact that people relate to what he writes enough to listen to his albums, although he has gone through several different sounds over the course of his career. He loves that he can be 39 and still touring the world, even though he started his career as a 13-year-old-child-actor turned teen-pop-sensation turned serious musician turned perhaps-washed-up-serious-musician turned very-much-serious-musician-actually-this-time.

If not for his fans, he wouldn’t be able to afford this house on the outskirts of his town. He wouldn’t be able to boast his performances in three-fourths of the world’s major cities. He wouldn’t be able to continue to have a career. No. He loves his fans.

It’s just that sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he just wants peace and quiet, a moment to himself, where he can float away without concerning himself with the flow of the setlist, the timing of the encore, the lyrics and rhythms of songs he wrote a decade ago when he was practically a different person.

It’s just such a shame that Obi-Wan leaves the handle of the wooden spoon too close to the stove’s open flame when he stirs and adjusts the heat to low for an hour so he can go soak off his stress in the bath.

It’s just such a shame that the smoke alarms from the kitchen cannot be heard over the music he’s playing in the master bath.

Obi-Wan sinks beneath the water, enjoying the unyielding pressure. He doesn’t want to retire, he tells himself. He has so many more songs to write. Sure, he hasn’t written an actual good song in two years and people are starting to notice. Sure, the intense scrutiny is driving him up the wall and killing anything creative that he’s ever harbored in his soul. Sure, his muscles and bones ache and he had almost had a breakdown the other day when he first walked through the door of his home and couldn’t remember if there was a bathroom on the first floor, but.

But he doesn’t want to retire yet. He just has to admit he’s waning, even to himself. Whatever inspiration he had has been used up or otherwise escaped. All he has now to his name are songs that have already been sung.

He doesn’t know how long he spends in the bath, really. Long enough that the album changes twice. Long enough that his fingers prune up and his eyes grow lax. Long enough that he tells himself that no matter how soothing the lavender essence is, it would be very dangerous for him to fall asleep in the bath because the news articles alone would be enough to raise him from the dead only to strike him down again.

(Long enough for the wooden spoon’s handle next to the pot to catch on fire. Long enough for that fire to burn down to the oil on the spoon itself. Long enough for the dishtowel it was resting on to ignite as well.)

The smoke alarm clues in before Obi-Wan does.

Luckily, Obi-Wan had paid extra for a smoke alarm that, when registering a certain threshold of smoke, sends a notification to the closest fire department.

Luckily, this all happens while Obi-Wan is unaware, but before he becomes in peril.

He actually remains unaware of the whole thing right up until the moment a fully-suited firefighter kicks through the door of his bathroom.

That’s when he jerks up, very unceremoniously. “Fucking Chr--what?” he shouts, raising a hand to cover his exposed chest for reasons unknown.

“Obi--??” the masked firefighter starts to say, in something akin to shock, but like Obi-Wan is going to give ground here and now. He’s cornered the market on shock on this occasion, thanks much.

“What the--”

“Your house is on fire!” the man yells over him, looking around the bathroom wildly until he sees a fluffy off-white bathrobe hanging by a hook near the door. He throws it at Obi-Wan, who just catches it before it can get wet.

“My house is what?” Obi-Wan splutters, standing automatically to put on the piece of clothing. The helmet of the firefighter turns away to give him privacy. Despite himself, he finds it rather endearing. He ties the belt around his waist tightly, stepping out of the tub.

As soon as he’s out of the water, the other man swoops him up and over his shoulder. Obi-Wan lets out a scream which he’ll probably be absolutely mortified about later.

But now, what’s more distressing is the way his body is responding to the hold he’s been placed in. He’s thirty-nine years old. He’s definitely too old for this. He should definitely know better than to be even slight aroused by such a display of...strength and stalwartness and--

The man walks him out of the bathroom and the very first thing he notices is the heat that hits his skin. “Oh!” he whimpers and then yells wordlessly in absolute panic as he realizes what this heat must mean. His house is on fire. Actual fire. Actually on fire. There’s a fireman here. Because his house is on fire.

He’s only a little ashamed to admit that there’s a fair amount of thrashing that happens immediately upon this realization.

Enough so, in fact, that the firefighter transfers him from over his shoulder to cradled in his arms, so as to hold tightly against the movement of his limbs. “Stop--moving!” the man says irritably. Obi-Wan wants to tell him to work on his bedside manner, seeing as how his house is on fire, but he doesn’t have time before they descend the stairs and he can see the actual flames.

The stairs themselves are fine, which makes sense. Hot air rises. The dining room, parlor, and entryway look like they’re absolutely covered in fire though, so really his fireman was just in time to save him.

The smoke is acrid against the back of his throat, and Obi-Wan buries his face against the textured shoulder of his rescuer's uniform just so he doesn’t have to look or breathe the air, although he feels the smoke already working its way through his lungs. Well. That might just be his imagination.

They’re out of the house in a matter of seconds, and Obi-Wan’s eyes water immediately at the difference in air quality.

The man who’s been carrying him sets him down gently on the lip of the fire truck, far enough away from the house that he’s not in any danger--though most of the place is fine still--but close enough that someone can keep an eye on him. He doesn’t know why he hadn’t remembered to grab his phone. That phone was very important. Hopefully the other firefighters will be able to stop the fire before it reaches his bathroom.

His firefighter seems intent on hovering close to him, even as there's a fire raging in the background. Obi-Wan supposes that there's around five firefighters on his property, including the one in front of him. The other four should probably be able to handle it, whether or not the fifth decides to join in or stay hovering around Obi-Wan like he's a sickly orphan.

“Are you okay?” An earnest voice asks him from under the helmet.

Obi-Wan opens his mouth to say he’s fine, that at most he just feels like an idiot for being stranded outside in his bathrobe as a group of public service officials fight a fire he certainly, most likely, probably caused.

But he starts to cough instead, and his firefighter steps forward immediately, placing one hand on his back and the other on his chest, both beneath his robe. He hopes the man can't feel his shiver. That would be even more mortifying than his current situation.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Obi-Wan wheezes after the coughs have passed. The helmet the man is wearing only shows a quarter of his face, but he looks awfully boyish. “Aren’t you a little young to be a firefighter?”

“Deep breaths, please,” the man (boy?) tells him, which isn’t a proper response. “There’s an ambulance already on the way--it’s protocol, sir--but yes, I’m trained in emergency medical response.”

“A man of many talents,” Obi-Wan says dazedly, rubbing a hand against his chest where it aches as he watches a few men run around his house with a house. “And here all I can do is sing.”

“Hopefully you still can, sir,” his firefighter responds. “Only I’ve got tickets for your show in two days, and my little sister has been excited for weeks over this.”

Obi-Wan laughs despite himself. He’s sure it sounds at least a little bit hysterical. “Would you like me to dedicate a song for you? The man who saved my life?”

Even the helmet can't hide the nice shade of red his firefighter blushes at those words.

“What’s your name?” Obi-Wan asks, smoothing down his still-damp hair. It feels important to know his name. It feels just as important to look his best, given the circumstances.

The firefighter ducks his head and takes off his helmet. Obi-Wan wonders if the man should be going back to work, or if he’s been assigned victim duty. Either way, Obi-Wan isn’t going to complain, definitely not after his firefighter shakes out his hair and turns to face him with a sheepish grin stretching across a handsome face. “‘M Anakin,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan is awfully aware that he’s dressed only in his bathrobe in front of a very pretty firefighter who seems to know who he is--who seems to have tickets for his upcoming show. “Call me Obi-Wan,” he tells him, already trying to remember his manager’s phone number so that he can bump Anakin and his sister’s tickets up to the VIP section. It’s the least he can do, after all. Anakin had just saved his life.

“Wish it was under better circumstances,” Anakin says with a shy sort of twist of his mouth. Obi-Wan gets the impression that it isn’t just his little sister that’s been excited for his concert. An impression that is solidified quickly as Anakin tacks on, “I’m a huge fan of your work.”

Obi-Wan laughs incredulously at this, at the entire situation, at the man in front of him, at the fact that some part of his brain has started composing a song the second his firefighter had smiled at him in his bathrobe with his tired face and wet hair, kitchen burning his house down because he’d forgotten basic fire-safety rules in favor of his own self-care soak.

“Well,” he says, patting his firefighter’s knee, “I don’t have to tell you that I’m a huge fan of your work as well.”

[rek1s-headband]

hi! figured i’d drop a request for you :))! Maybe some general bf hcs for reki and langa? Just in general how they would be as a boyfriend or how they would act in a relationship?

Hi!! Thank you so much for your request, I’ve been excited to do one of these. I hope you enjoy it!

➯ random boyfriend headcannons

➯ characters: Reki Kyan and Langa Hasegawa x gn reader

➯ warnings: none! Just some fluff for these two boys:)

Reki:

-Literally the most enthusiastic person you’ve ever seen. He’d be happy to just sit in silence with you because come on, it’s YOU. There’s no one he’d rather be wasting the hours away with.

-Your biggest hype man, EVER. You post something on Instagram? Get ready for a flood of comments, all from him. You could put your phone down for two minutes after posting, and you’ll come back to 99+ notifications of just reki commenting along the lines of “woah suddenly I’m on one knee” “DAMNNNN” and many, many more.

-Never leave your phone unattended around him. He won’t snoop, but be prepared to come back to your camera roll flooded with just zoomed in pictures of his face, his mouth, his eye, ANYWHERE. Mf is spamming your whole phone with pictures of him for you to come back to.

-He has to always be touching you in some way. Whether it’s holding your hand, your waist, a casual arm around your shoulder, there has to be something. He’ll put his hand on your ass sometimes while you walk in public.

-Honestly doesn’t even think PDA is anything out of the ordinary. Like, you’re his s/o??? Yes you’re in his lap, yes you’re in the middle of the skatepark, so what? You’re his, and he’s happy he can make everyone aware of that.

-I saw a post on here that said he would peel stickers off fruit and stick them to peoples’ foreheads, and I fully stand by this. However, it doesn’t just stop at fruit stickers. Anything remotely sticky, whether it’s tags from clothes, tape from a food box, even random sequins and bits of glitter he finds around, it’s immediately being stuck to some part of your face.

-Loves casual dates. Stopping by food stalls, browsing in clothes and game stores for a few hours, and skating around with you until it’s time to go home is a dream for him. Be prepared for day-long dates, because he will clear his entire schedule just to spend the day with you.

-His family adores you. His mother is always goading him to bring you over more, complaining that she misses her "honorary son/daughter/child". His sisters love you too. Any time you come over there’s immediately three tiny bodies shooting at you, grabbing you by the waist and dragging you over to wherever they’re playing. Reki tries to drag you away, wanting to have you for himself, but you always try and stay for at least five or ten minutes. Secretly, he loves that you get along so well with his siblings, going soft at the thought of how you would act with children of your own.

-He loves playing video games with you. Sitting in his lap, the two of you could spend hours switching from game to game. One minute you could be burning down a village in Minecraft, the next complaining while Reki whoops your ass in Mario Kart. His mom brings you food for your breaks between games, and she’ll even stay for a few minutes to talk to you while Reki shifts underneath you, glowing red from embarassment.

-If you can’t skate, he would beg to teach you. If you accept, he goes all out. He’ll make you your own customised board just for practicing, making sure it’s absolutely perfert for you to learn on. But if you can skate, get ready for endless races and competitions to see who can nail a new trick the quickest.

-Adores when you come to S to support him. He loves looking into the crowd and seeing you there cheering him on before he goes into a beef. If he wins, he’ll race over to where you are in the crowd, picking you up and spinning you around, kissing you without a care in the world. However, if he loses he’s thankful you’re always there to pick him back up and make him feel better afterwards.

-Loves cleaning you up after a big fall, kissing your bruises and cuts better. He’ll carefully wrap each injury with care, telling you how brave you are, no matter how small the cut. Secretly, he loves when you baby him after he falls himself. Seeing you wipe away the blood from a new cut and place a small plaster on it with such tenderness melts his heart in a way only you could.

-Speaking of plasters, this man has one for every occasion. Princesses, pirates, aliens, cats, dogs, sparkles, stripes, you name it, he’s got it.

-The type to sneak you out at two in the morning to get a slushee with him. Honestly, he’s up so late making boards for people he just has no perception of time.

-Spams your phone with TikToks or other funny things that reminds him of you. It could be a very specific thing, or a flower or cloud. If he thinks of you when he sees it(which is fairly often), it gets sent to you.

-Talks with his hands a lot. He’s a very expressive talker, so when he’s telling you a story it feels like you’re right there in the story with him.

-Please just kiss him. His cheeks, his forehead, his hand, his shoulder, his temples, his lips. Anywhere, he’ll melt under you. Mf is touch starved to the max.

-Always knows how to make you laugh. His laugh is infectious, it could get you out of your darkest moods.

-Sleeps with his head on your chest, and one hand in your shirt little perv.

-His social media is like a SHRINE for you. His highlights, his posts, his stories, EVERYWHERE. He’s just so proud to be able to call you his that he wants the whole world to know.

-Kisses in the rain while you run home, skateboards in your hands after the weather forecast failed you once again. He’s just so happy in the moment that he can’t contain himself, so he’s pulling you into him in the pouring rain, kissing you hard while your hair gets drenched.

-You don’t need to steal his clothes, he will literally give them to you because “you just look so cute wearing them”. Occasionally, he’ll take one of your hoodies, and even if it doesn’t exactly fit him, he’ll still keep it near him while he sleeps so he can keep your scent close to him.

Langa:

-This man is so oblivious to obvious hints, but still manages to pick up on the smallest of details? It’s incredible, honestly. He could describe the exact colour of your eyes with the most insane detail, but he still won’t notice when you try and hint that you like him in the first place!

-You two have a bit more of a low-key relationship, but you’ll make your usual appearance in his Instagram posts, or on his Snapchat story with a casual caption like a simple heart, or “my love<3”

-Not very big on PDA, not because he doesn’t like it, but because he doesn’t think of it. However, when he does feel like he’s being too physically distant, he’ll link pinkies with you as you walk along, or rest his head on your shoulder while you watch a video on your phone.

-His mom adores you, which is why Langa despises bringing you to his house. You always seem to leave with seven of his baby photos from his time snowboarding in Canada, a new recipe from his mother that you complimented, another one of his hoodies, and more miscellaneous stuff that you don’t even know how it ended up in your bag. He has a little shelf in your room specifically for this random stuff, and he always adds to the collection when he comes to your house. He’ll leave a keyring, a small toy, a Polaroid, anything honestly.

-Loves dates that you can experience. The movies, aquariums, museums and the zoo are common dates for the two of you to go on, but other than that, he adores going skateboarding with you. He’s been improving, and he loves when you notice little things he’s been picking up on, whether it be a new trick or simply how he balances himself on the board.

-Adores old Disney movies. Yall will binge a ton of them in one day, having full-blown musicals in Langa’s living room. When any of the romantic songs come on, like “So this is Love” from Cinderella, Langa will stand up and offer his hand to you, as the two of you waltz around his sitting room, humming the tune of the song.

-Study dates are frequent with the two of you. If you happen to stay up late studying and fall asleep on each other, his mother will cover the two of you with a blanket, tidying some of your books and leaving with a smile, happy with the knowledge you were making her son the happiest he’s been in quite a while.

-Slow dancing in the kitchen while you cook is a regular. When a particularly sappy love song comes on while he stirs the pot, he’ll turn around and hold you close to him, twirling you around the kitchen.

-Reki constantly jokes that he is a third wheel, poking fun at the two of you, Cherry and Joe, and Shadow and “his little girlfriend back at the flower shop”. He’ll hang out of Miya, whining about them having to stick together since they’re the only two “lone wolves”. He’ll usually get a well-earned thump into the back of the head from Miya, but it’s still funny to watch the whole thing go down.

-Tends to be shy when giving you clothes, so instead of asking you to wear them he’ll leave them out in places he knows you’ll find them, or he’ll come up behind you and plop it in your lap, murmuring about how cute it would look on you.

-Please do this man’s makeup. He will sit so still for you, waiting patiently while you dab eyeshadow at his eyes, trying not to blink so you don’t mess up his mascara. He’ll sit there mesmerised for a few minutes, taking in how he looks, and simply whisper “you do this every day?”

-Evem though he’s not a very openly affectionate person, he is stuck to your hip behind closed doors. He’ll lie in your lap for hours, staring up at you while you mess with his hair, pulling it into little plaits and pigtails.

-I can’t even describe how the two of you sleep. It’s simply a mass of limbs, and no one knows exactly what belongs to who. Somehow one of yall will end up upside down, and-why is Langa on the floor??

-He could talk about his time in Canada for hours, and you’d just lie on his chest and listen to him. Every once in a while he’ll look down at you to see if you’re still listening, and his heart will melt a little every time he sees you staring back up at him, eyes wide with interest.

-This man NEVER gets jealous. You’d literally have to cling to another man for it to click in his brain that Oh. He doesn’t like that.

-He’s not big on texting, but if you call him he will stay on that call with you for hours, even after the two of you fall asleep.

-Whenever he falls(which is quite often), you’ll always have plasters on hand to help fix him up. He always flushes bright red when you kiss his cuts better, and never knows just what to do with himself afterwards.

-When he skates against tough opponents, you’ll always give him a kiss for good luck. Of course, this doesn’t stop you worrying, but you know Langa wouldn’t go out of his way to get injured. And if he does, well, at least he’ll have you there to kiss his bruises better.

[sokka-with-his-hair-down]

Cabin Leader Zukka AU

Credit to @im-a-sokka-for-you, @waywarddork, @king-bumi-for-president, @sokkaseboyhair, and @crying-at-ikea for helping out with this monstrosity of a post!! Stupid Squad™ ily ❤️

This is long af but I promise it’s worth it 🥺🥺

Sokka and Zuko are rival cabin leaders at a summer camp

The camp has sort of a 4-elements theme because I say so

Eight Cabins. Two Water-Themed, two Fire Themed, two Earth-Themed, and Two Air-Themed.

Sokka leads the Southern Water Cabin. Yue the Northern. Aang leads one of the Air Cabins, and Suki leads an Earth Cabin. Zuko and Ty Lee lead the Fire Cabins. (Ty Lee shamelessly flirts with the assistant camp director, Mai...)

Sokka and Zuko’s cabins, along with all the other cabins, are competing in the yearly camp competition. There are different challenges, like water balloon fights (water), mud runs (earth), zip lining (air), and s’more roasting (fire).

Zuko’s cabin wins most years, and Sokka’s like “not this year. This year WE take the trophy” and he’s got his heart set on it.

Sokka thinks Zuko’s obnoxious. He sees him as hot-headed and snippy and arrogant. And he’s almost militaristic with his cabin kids. (And yet they love him. Even more annoying.)

Sokka wants to be the ✨fun cabin✨, he usually does, but he starts pushing harder to advance to the next round of the competition and win.

Sokka and Zuko have multiple confrontations. They’re snarky and sarcastic “good luck out there😈” kind of things (which Sokka HATES)

The two cabins pull pranks on each other all the time. Very Parent-Trap-esque. Sokka and Zuko plan a lot of them, but that doesn’t stop the kids from doing a few on their own (I imagine some very lovable OC campers).

Sokka wakes up with a shaving-cream beard more than once.

Zuko wakes up wearing makeup once...

Then, as the story unfolds with whatever subplots a writer may put in, Sokka catches more and more glimpses of Zuko acting more human... and hey... Zuko’s sort of sweet when he’s like that...

No. This is a competition. Zuko bad. Winning good.

Sokka confides in Aang and Yue one night after a staff meeting.

“You don’t understand, guys! He’s—he’s infuriating! He’s good at everything, and the kids all like him, and I know I’m supposed to hate the guy but I don’t anymore! And I don’t know why! And part of me feels like he deserves to win every damn time even thought it’s ridiculous that he does-”

“Sokka.”

Aang looks at him almost sympathetically. Sokka tilts his head in confusion.

“Have you considered that maybe you just have a little crush on him?”

“WHAT?!”

“...”

“Oh. Shit.”

Anyway Sokka has a bit of an awakening and is like “OH NO I LIKE ZUKO I’M SUPPOSED TO HATE ZUKO.”

After panicking about that for way too long, Sokka winds up telling Suki about this revelation and Suki is like:

“Well... I don’t know if I should be telling you this, but I think Zuko’s had a crush on you for years.”

“WHAT THE FUCK.”

Suki sort of awkwardly admits that she’s picked up on it. She and Zuko are friends (something Sokka could never fathom why but he left it be) and she tells Sokka how Zuko talks about him... an absurd amount. And how Zuko, on more than one occasion, has accidentally called Sokka cute.

(i.e “just because he’s Mr. Cute and Friendly doesn’t mean he can walk around like he owns the place!” “You think he’s cute?” “What? Uh-”)

Leading up to the final face off where Zuko and Sokka’s cabins will compete against each other, Sokka leaves his campers with Suki for a few minutes and approaches Zuko’s cabin one night and asks to speak with him. Alone.

There’s a unanimous “oooooooooooh!” from the campers.

The two step outside, and Sokka’s freaking out, but he’s gonna do it anyway.

He’s really awkward about it and keeps beating around the bush.

“Just get to the point, Sokka!!”

“Um. Do you like me?”

That. Was not what he meant to say.

In all honesty, Sokka meant to say that he likes Zuko, and THEN ask him if he liked him back, but he panicked, give the guy a break.

Zuko’s face goes completely blank.

“Wait, what?”

Sokka, now suddenly convinced he and Suki were wrong, chickens out and bolts, Zuko calling after him. (He can’t chase him because he can’t leave his campers unattended.)

Sokka freaks out silently as he leads his campers back to his cabin for the night.

He doesn’t get much sleep.

Day of the big competition. The campers are getting ready for the final showdown. Zuko’s team is a few points ahead of Sokka’s, but not ahead by many.

Sokka avoids Zuko all morning. Aang, Yue, and Suki are worried about him but he brushes it off, saying it’s no biggie (it is).

Right before the first challenge he overhears one of his campers talking to someone from Zuko’s cabin. The kid from the opposing cabin says “Zuko was in a bad mood last night. He didn’t wanna tell us why, though.”

Oh no. It’s worse than he thought. Zuko is angry at sokka. More than usual.

The games begin. Both teams tally up points after each round of whatever they’re doing (three-legged race, canoeing, etc).

The final score is kept secret—the camp director (accompanied by Mai<3) says the final score will be announced that night at the campfire.

Sokka makes sure he doesn’t run into any scar-faced boys on the way to his cabin. Or at dinner. Or on his way to the campfire.

Everyone is gathered around outside, fire blazing, hot-cocoa and s’mores present. Sokka doesn’t even care about winning anymore. In fact, he hopes Zuko wins, so he doesnt get any more angry.

But

The Southern Water Cabin wins.

Sokka’s campers jump up and scream with excitement. And though he isn’t feeling quite himself, he still offers hugs and high fives and congratulates them all on their hard work.

Then, suddenly, while kids are mingling and cheering, Sokka feels a tap on his shoulder and spins around.

Zuko.

“Hi.”

Sokka can’t find words to say. He just stares. Is... is Zuko gonna yell at him?

“Good job.” Zuko’s holding out his hand for Sokka to shake. Sokka does so, hesitantly.

“Uh... thanks.”

After a moment too long, they end the handshake. There’s a beat of awkward silence and Sokka’s heart is racing.

“Look,” Sokka begins. “About last night. I-”

“Don’t. Me first.” Zuko looks really uncomfortable, but he still keeps talking. “You were right.”

“Huh?”

“I like you. I have liked you, I mean. For a long time. Like, three years.”

Sokka’s dumbfounded. “I thought you hated me.”

Zuko sort of nervously admits that he’s not very good with people (and that he takes great enjoyment in riling people up). And he apologizes like:

“Sorry I was a dick. Me being a fucking gay idiot who can’t ask people out doesn’t excuse me being mean. So I’m sorry.”

Sokka’s sort of touched by all of this. Zuko apologized for being an ass and he has a crush on Sokka?

Sokka figures he should apologize too, since he was pretty much just as mean to Zuko as Zuko was to him. “I’m sorry, too.”

Eventually, the stilted conversation gets sort of quiet and even more awkward, and Sokka realizes he still hasn’t confessed. And, well, better late than never.

“I like you, too.”

“Huh?”

“I like you. As in. Like. I have a crush. On you. So there.”

Zuko has no idea how to react, but eventually a giant grin makes its way into his face and it looks beautiful in the firelight and he just sort of goes:

“Um... do you wanna get coffee or tea with me? Or something? Now?”

“You mean the shitty camp coffee and tea?” Sokka quips.

“Hot Cocoa it is.”

They walk up to the kitchen building and hang out at the counter and actually get to know each other for the first time in years. And Sokka thinks that becoming a cabin leader is the best decision he’s ever made.

(They may or may not have kissed sometime during the rest of their stay. A couple of times. A lot of times. Okay, they made out in the pantry a ton, but that’s nobody’s business but theirs.)

If anyone wants to write this, lemme know!! And again thank you Stupid Squad™ <3 @chaoticidiott @appa-bottom-jeans @soft-zuko you’re also Stupid Squad™ so this is your child as well now. Enjoy.

[thisisgonnafuxkinkillme]

POV: You Got Wayyy Too High

Warnings: Drug use (weed lol)

Aizawa Shouta/ Eraserhead

“Hey, what are you doing?” asked Aizawa as he plopped his bag at the door. You were trying to smoke weed from a pipe, but instead of lighting the actual herb, you were trying to heat it up from the bottom of the pipe.

You’d never smoked weed, but wanted to try it and bought the supplies from a local smoke shop, as well as buying some good stuff from your friend.

Unfortunetly, you also didn’t bother to look up how to actually use a pipe, instead just relying on knowledge you gained from drug documentaries.

This meant that you only knew how people heated up heroin with a flame under the spoon, which meant that surely you could do the same with weed.

“No, no, no, no. Stop that,” he ordered. You were his age, but nonetheless still buckled under his stern tone.

“Look, do you need me to show you how to do it?” he asked, gently taking the glass pipe from your hand. You nodded.

“Watch carefully,” he ordered, as he properly lit up the herb as he inhaled the smoke. He then passed it to you, watching you carefully to make sure you were doing it right. Soon, you got the hang of it.

Even sooner, though, you were a coughing mess.

“Calm it down, there. Don’t take huge puffs. You’re not impressing anyone here, y/n,” he scolded, taking another puff. He did it effortlessly, as if he’d done it for years. (He has.)

You wanted to impress him, though, even though he seemed to not care what you did. You just wanted to prove to him that you were ~cool~.

Well, this ended up in you looking very... uncool.

While Aizawa was chilling with a pretty decent high, you were laid across the bed, starfish style, blasting music in your ears. You were honestly vibing though, so Aizawa didn’t mess with you. For now.

The next day, he definitely teased you a little bit about how totally out of it you were, and how you listened to the same song on loop for 3 hours.

“How did you know that?” You asked, cocking a brow.

“Uh, because your headphones weren’t plugged in?”

Yagi Toshinori/ All Might

He was smoking when you came home, and though he tried to hide it, you smelled it. He acted as if he was just caught as a 17 year old in his mom’s house.

“Uh, no, it’s nothing! I...I don’t do anything like that!” He insisted.

“Toshi, come on. I can smell it,” you smiled. He covered his face.

“Please, please, keep this between you and I...I only do it because it helps with the pain and-”

You cut him off, “ I dont care why you do it, just lemme have some already!” 

Of course, you were just teasing him, and he knew that, but he couldn’t help but ask, “...You smoke?”

You shook your head playfully.

“If you’ll let me, I’d like to try some, though!” 

He passed it to you, and you took a way-too-long drag. Instantly, you were doubled over, coughing and hacking your lungs out. 

He patted your back firmly.

“Since this is your first time, you’re gonna cough a little. Just try to take smaller puffs and take deep breaths. There you go.”

Once you recovered, and Yagi got his turn, he handed the joint back to you. It continued to be passed back and forth between you two until it was finally no longer than a centimeter. 

For a moment, you both just chilled out on the couch together, just vibing. That was until Toshinori noticed your goofy, dreamy facial expression. He chuckled to himself, but that was all you needed to become hysterical, laughing so hard that you couldn’t breathe. Seeing you laugh so much of course made Toshi a mess as well, which only added to your decent into utter madness.

Eventually, though, you both calmed down, and Toshi excused himself so that he could go take a quick bath. He often did this whenever he smoked, so that the warm water could aid even more in soothing his aching muscles and creaky bones.

So you were left alone. Totally unattended. At first, everything was totally fine.

However, as you started to actually feel the effects of the herb, you began to panic.

Is this normal? Does everyone else feel like this when they smoke? Oh God, this isn’t right...oh fuck, I’m gonna be the first dumbass to OD on THC...fuck...

Thoughts whizzed past your brain, every single one making sure you knew how totally fucked you were.

Tears streamed silently down your cheeks as you counted your pulse with two fingers on your wrist, but you coulnd’t find a pulse.

oh fuck...i’m probably going to pass out any minute now...it’s all over...

Images of your final goodbyes to everyone you loved flashed just behind your eyes.

“How’re you holding up, pumpkin?” asked Toshi, coming back from the bath, in a robe and his golden hair still damp.

You looked at him, your eyes red and puffy.

“Toshi...I’m...I’m dying...I love you, okay?” you murmured. He would have laughed, all except he saw the genuine fear in your eyes. 

He sat down next to you, surrounding you with all of his lanky limbs. 

“You’re not dying, honey. What you’re feeling right now is totally normal, I promise. Take some nice, deep breaths for me. Come on. There you go. Good.”

He cradled you there for a good while, until he felt your tense muscles finally slacken, and your breathing evened out.

Toshi made a mental note to never let you smoke that much ever again, guilt pinching at his sides.

Fatgum/Taishiro Toyomitsu

You had taken an edible cookie from your friend. She told you it was just a small bit in there, just enough for you to feel something.

You decided to be modest, eating just half of the cookie. You didn’t notice any effects, and out of sheer boredom you decided to go ahead and eat the rest of it. No harm in that, right?

Well, an hour later, it kicked in. You were expecting to feel something interesting, but you definately weren’t expecting anything like this at all. 

Everything seemed so far away. Even your breathing sounded like it was coming down a long corridor and echoing to your ears. You could feel your soul swimming in your body. 

Fatgum, who you lived with, luckily finished his hero duties early, and walked into the house joyfully as usual.  He called out your name. You didn’t reply.

His large footsteps could be heard, but you were too busy thinking about how weird breathing sounds to notice. 

Fatgum soon found you collapsed on the bathroom floor, face pressed against the cool tile.

Immediately, he propped you up against the wall, looking into your eyes with great concern.

“What did you take? Y/n, look at me. What did you take?” 

You lazily looked at him, your face completely serious. As serious as it could be, anyway.

“...i...it was...edible...” you mumbled out. As soon as he understood, he was laughing hysterically.

“s..stop...s not funny...” you grumbled, punching him in the gut. 

“Alright, alright... let’s get you into bed. You’ll feel much better once you wake up,” he smiled, picking you up and bringing you into the bedroom. 

You quickly were comforted by the warm, heavy comforter. Fatgum took a moment to look at you in your groggy state, trying his best to hold back a laugh. It was so painfully obvious that you’d never done anything like this in your life. His only regret was not being around to witness your ascent into cloud 9.

Soon, though, you had drifted into dreamland.

Hizashi Yamada

You locked yourself in your bathroom, sneakily lighting up the joint you bought off of your friend. Your boyfriend was in his room, playing Fortnite or some shit, and frankly, you were embarrassed to smoke in front of him. You knew that he’d definately find something to roast you about, and he was relentless.

A couple minutes after you lit up, though, the door was basically busted down.

“HEY, HEY! You better be planning on sharing some of that!” yelled Hizashi, his hand already out and waiting. He still had his headset on, but you saw with relief that his mic was turned off. You passed it to him.

“Augh! Where the hell didja get this weak shit, y/n? Nah, this ain’t gonna cut it,” he complained, putting it out. 

“Hey! I got that from my friend, dude! What the hell?” you frowned. Before you could be too mad at the waste, though, Hizashi pulled out a small wooden box from under his bed. Opening it, he revealed his stash of entirely too much pot.

You covered your mouth, stifiling a laugh. How the fuck could you have not smelled it? 

Within five minutes, he’d rolled up a blunt, and was passing it to you, already lit. 

It was gone after a little over half an hour, and you could already feel the effects. Your eyes were dry, your stomach craving junk food, and your brain craving chill vibes.

He returned to his game, unbothered but his volume definately toned down about 5 notches. He was a lot more chill than you’d ever seen him act, ever.

You found your way into the kitchen.

Once his game was over, he met you in there. You were in front of the fridge, pulling out thing after thing. By the time he’d gotten to you, you had eaten half a jar of pickles, three pieces of cake (with your bare hands), drank a bunch of soda, and you were headed for the chips that were sitting idly on the top of the fridge.

“oh, God...what the fuck are ya up to, dude?” he groaned. He did not want to deal with this mess.

You grinned at him.  “I dunno, maan... look dude could you just get me these up here? please bro...” you giggled. He sighed dramatically, taking them.

However, instead of handing them over to you, with your dirty little fingers, he ate them.

“stoppp, bro, please lemme get some!” you pouted. He acted as if he couldn’t hear you, leaving the kitchen. You followed after him, kicking him in the shins. 

Still, he didn’t seem to notice.

“Hizashi, come on, maaannnn!” 

He laid himself on the bed, covering himself with blankets. He pulled out his phone, calling you.  “Y/n, I miss you so much, man. Come chill out!” he spoke into the phone, trying his best not to break the act. You were absolutely furious at this point, punching at him.

“I’m right here, you doughnut!!” you groaned.  Dramatically sighing, Hizashi frowned, “I really wish y/n was here to sesh with me...” all while still eating the chips. You jumped on top of him. 

Finally, you caught him off gaurd, grabbed the chips, and locked yourself back up in the bathroom. 

This time, though, he just left you be. 

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (16)

(Hey, guys! Here’s the next update of “New Girl on the Block”! I hope you all enjoy it, and as always, feel free to check out the mini series connected to this called Journal Entries. <3)

Ch. 1 / Ch. 15 / Ch. 17 (Ao3)

Chapter 16: Hear Me Out

Adrien rocked back and forth on his heels, quietly scrolling through his phone as he waited in front of the Dupain-Cheng bakery. After two weeks of strict scheduling and a light grounding sentence due to missing classes, he’d finally gotten a reprieve, and he didn’t hesitate to use that rare free time to seek out Marinette. Her bakery was usually opened in the early hours, so he figured that he would get to waltz right in and talk with her. However, that didn’t seem to be the case, because when he arrived, he wasn’t met with the vanilla scents and warm smiles that he’d come to love. Instead, a small piece of paper stopped him at the front door. 

Temporarily closed. Will re-open at an undetermined time today.

It was a frustrating set-back, since he’d spent all this time trying to get there, but Adrien simply shrugged and leaned against one of the larger windows to wait. They were probably out running errands, which shouldn’t take long. Maybe half an hour to an hour tops? Either way, he wasn’t going to leave now. If he could sit in the same positions for hours on end for a photoshoot, he could stand on the street for a prolonged amount of time for a friend. Besides, the weather was surprisingly warm that morning, and he rather enjoyed the breath of fresh air that came with it.

..Of course, that mentality was much easier to keep up at the beginning. After waiting for a little over an hour, though, Adrien already felt his patience starting to slip. The subtle chill in the air that he hadn’t noticed before was seeping into his clothes, and his fingers were slowly growing numb as he distracted himself with apps on his phone. His thoughts were tipping on the irritated side, like how the Dupain-Chengs should have been home already. Errands don’t take this long. Where were they? Won’t they lose customers if they leave the bakery unattended like this?

Despite the growing annoyance, Adrien forced himself to stay put and relax. He’d come over unannounced, after all. He couldn’t blame them for making him wait if they didn’t know he was there. And, again, this was Marinette. She was his wonderful friend and completely worth waiting for. If it meant getting her to come back to school and hang out with him again, he could let himself freeze on the sidewalk. Even if it took hours or days or weeks for him to see her. Nothing on earth was going to-

Adrien’s stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t had breakfast yet, and on that note, neither had Gorilla. He’d been in such a hurry to leave that he hadn’t thought about food. (Well, that’s not entirely true. He’d sort of hoped that he could eat breakfast with Marinette once they talked things out.)

So much for that idea. He thought, leaning his head against the window. Maybe he should go ahead and get breakfast real quick. That way Gorilla could eat too, and it would get him out of the cold for a minute. What if the Dupain-Chengs came back while he was gone, though? He didn’t want to miss them..

Actually, why should he have to leave it all? He could just send Gorilla to get the food and bring it back here! Genius!

Adrien straightened with a smile and slipped his phone back into his pocket, but before he could take a step forward, something caught his eye.

A black car rolled up to the curb, parking right in front of the bakery. It almost looked like it was waiting for something, but no one got out of the car and no one came to get in, which was.. Strange. Why would a car park at the random spot in Paris? Were they lost? Or simply waiting for something? What would they be waiting for?

Just as Adrien was about to blow off the unusual sight, the front door of the bakery burst open, and someone came barreling outside shouting “Coming! I’m coming!”. 

Adrien jumped- understandably so. Wasn’t the bakery supposed to be empty? -and whirled around to see the very person he’d been waiting for sprinting towards the car. His arms moved before his mind could fully comprehend the situation, but as he grabbed her arm, more than a few questions were spinning in his head. For example, why was she at the bakery? Had she been there the whole time? Who was waiting for her inside the car?

“Marinette! I’ve been waiting for you.” He said, flashing a smile despite his confusion. They were talking now. That was all that mattered. 

Marinette stiffened, her gaze snapping to his. The look of pure terror that crossed her features didn’t sit well with Adrien, but he tried to push that discomfort aside. She was probably just surprised that someone had grabbed. They were friends, after all. She wouldn’t be horrified seeing her friend!

“Y-You.. How long have you been waiting here?” She stuttered out, panic clear in her tone.

“Ah..” Adrien let his hand drop from her arm and rubbed the back of his neck. Should he tell her that he's been waiting for almost two hours? That’s not weird, right?

“That’s not important.” He decided to reply. “Do you have a minute? I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Marinette threw a glance over her shoulder at the car. “Y-you know, I really don’t actually. I have to go meet someone, and-”

So she was meeting someone? That meant this car was sent to get her. Was she meeting one of the Rosemary students? It was probably that blond-haired guy again..

“It’ll only take two seconds!” He  promised, moving to block her door. He couldn’t let her run away again when he was so close.

“Adrien, please, I really need to go-”

“Come on! I just need-”

“They’re all waiting as we speak-”

“I just need to apologize!”

Marinette froze, her fighting spirit seeming to stall at the remark, and Adrien paused too. He wanted his words to sink in before he continued. Hopefully, that would get her to listen to him.

She met his eyes again, definitely hesitant but not indignant. He took that as a good sign, a step in the right direction. 

“You.. wanted to apologize?”

Adrien gave an eager nod. “Yes! I’ve been trying to for the past month, but our schedules never lined up, and any time I would finally get out, you weren’t at home, and.. Well.. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you to take the high ground like that or ignore the fact that Lila was hurting you. That’s not what friends do. I should have been there for you when you needed me. I’m so sorry that I was blind to everything.”

Marinette stared at him, dumbfounded, and he held his breath. She was going to forgive him, right? She’s not the type to leave someone hanging, though he probably couldn’t blame her if she did.. 

She cast her gaze to the ground. “I.. I appreciate the apology, but I really do need to get going. They’ll start to worry if I’m late.”

Adrien faltered. That.. wasn’t exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for. It wasn’t bad or anything, just.. When he pictured this moment, it always came with a hug or an “Of course I’ll forgive you!”, but Marinette, however, only seemed to be interested in meeting her friend. (Friends if you consider how often she said “they”.)

“Can we get together later then?” He asked, throwing those thoughts aside. Reality was never like fantasy anyway. “There’s still so much I want to talk with you about.”

Again, Marinette hesitated. “..Can I think about it?”

Adrien offered a smile, though he was admittedly disappointed. Had their friendship truly stooped so low that she had to think about spending time with him?

Nevertheless, he would take what he could get. Therefore, he gave a nod with the smile and said, “That’s all I ask.”

The tension in Marinette’s shoulders loosened, but only slightly, and she thanked him as she slipped into the black car that was still waiting. Adrien waved her off, and although he didn’t get to talk with her nearly as much as he’d wanted to, he still found himself more optimistic than anything. She said that she would think about getting together again, and if Marinette was the person he knew she was, he would be getting a text soon about a time and place. They would talk, and he would convince her to come back to Dupont, and everything would be fine.

All he had to do now was wait.

~~~~~~

Normally, folding slips of paper and stapling them together to create a heart would be a simple task for someone as crafty as Marinette. Today, though, her thoughts were elsewhere, and that seemed to seep into her productivity rate. She’d been working on the same stream of hearts for a good hour or so and still hadn’t finished it, despite only taking twenty minutes maximum for each stream when she made them last time. 

Her slow pace was aggravating to say the least, but not nearly as aggravating as the thoughts that kept invading her mind in the first place. All she could think about was Adrien Agreste and the way he showed up on her doorstep that morning, spewing apologies and begging for more time to hang out with her. After two weeks of silence from the blonde, she had hoped that he was giving up on talking with her. Apparently, that wasn’t the case.

Don’t get her wrong, she was happy that he apologized. Or, at least, she knew she was supposed to be happy. This was something that she’d been waiting for for the past five months, after all. It’s just that.. Why now? Why now did he decide to come apologize to her? Why not come before she left the school? Why not come before she officially moved on from her old life and started over? 

Then again, it never would be before, would it? People don’t appreciate you until you’re gone. That’s just how it was, and it’s what made her leaving Dupont hard in the first place. All of her childhood friends had been there, and she knew- or possibly hoped at the time -that some of them would try to stop her. Granted, only one has tried so far, but one was enough to send Marinette into a flurry of anxious thoughts.

In all honesty, she wanted to tell Adrien no, to say that she wouldn’t be joining him for another hangout. He was simply too much of a risk. What if he told the others about their meet-up? What if they followed him and found her again to do who knows what? What if Lila found her again to do who knows what? Then, there were her new, lovely friends right in front of her. What if they got caught up in drama that Adrien might bring along? She didn’t want them being a part of that. In fact, she didn’t want them talking to Adrien or her other old classmates at all. (Thank goodness no one had come with Allegra’s driver to pick her up earlier, else she would have had a lot of things to explain that she didn’t want to.) Transferring schools was meant to keep Marinette away from her past, not create a new environment to infect it with. 

As reluctant as she was to meet up with Adrien, though, she also felt guilty for thinking that way. He’d come and apologized to her for the things he’d done and appeared to be extremely sincere while doing so. It didn’t sit right with her to reject him without giving him a chance to make up for his mistakes. Maybe she should have a little lunch with him? 

Ugh, but the very idea made her sick to her stomach-

“-inette~? Marinette!”

Marinette jumped, her gaze snapping upwards to see Allegra, Claude, and Allan all looking at her. 

“O-Oh!” A blush swept across her cheeks, and she pushed her decorations into her lap. How long had they been calling her name? “I’m sorry, did you need something?”

“No, not really.” Allegra smiled. “You’ve just been really spaced out today. What’s on your mind?”

Marinette smiled back, though a twinge of panic laced through her mind. Was her discomfort that obvious? She was hoping no one would notice..

“I bet she’s just thinking about who she’ll take to the party.” Claude thankfully joked before she could respond. “Who’s it gonna be, Mari? Someone from our school? Or is it that Luka guy you mentioned last week?”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “Oh, I- no. I hadn’t thought about who to bring.. Were we supposed to bring dates?”

Gosh, she hoped not. Luka was a wonderful person- as were the other boys at Rosemary.. probably -but she honestly didn’t feel like trying to find a date for the Valentine’s party or anything else, especially when her old crush had just come out of the woodworks to find her. Marinette didn’t harbor anymore feelings for him by any means, but that didn’t stop his presence from sucker punching her in the stomach with the memories of her heart ache. She’d prefer not to go through that again, at least not anytime soon.

“Not if you don’t want to.” Allegra assured. “We normally all go as a group anyway.”

“But most people probably will.” Claude said, before putting a hand to his chest with a smirk. “I’d offer to take you, but Allegra and I are already going together.”

“As friends.” Allegra hastily added.

Marinette chuckled. “I’ll try not to be too disappointed.”

The group shared a laugh towards her sarcasm, and Claude dramatically ran a hand through his hair.

“I know, I know, it’s such a heartache not being able to go with me.” He sighed. “Don’t worry, though. I’m sure there are plenty of guys who will be falling all over you at the party. Right, Fe?”

Felix, who’d been quietly working on his assigned decorations, glanced up at the group with a raised eyebrow. Marinette held back a laugh- that was such a Felix reaction -but Claude raised his eyebrows at the blond, as if pressing him for a response. Was that supposed to be a serious question?

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Don’t you think the boys will be falling all over her?”

Felix’s gaze shifted to Marinette, and she felt a bit of heat rush to her cheeks. He was actually thinking of an answer, wasn’t he?

“F-Felix, you don’t have to answer that-” She started to say, even though a part of her strangely wanted to know his answer.

Felix, however, spoke before she could finish.

“Yes, I’m sure they would,” He said, casually looking back down at his work, “especially if she wears that dress she mentioned the other day. Those boys will drop to their knees for anything remotely pretty.”

Marinette blinked, her heart effectively lodging itself in her throat. Did he just..?

“Did you just call her pretty?” Claude asked with a bewildered grin, taking the words right out of her mouth.

Felix’s gaze flicked towards the brunette, a look of mild irritation crossing his features from being bothered again. “Is she not?”

A blush exploded across Marinette’s features then, and she bit her lip to avoid squeaking. She never assumed that the group saw her as ugly, but to hear Felix outright call her pretty was.. Well, it was rather flattering if she were being honest, especially since Felix was quite a dashing person himself. And being the blunt, straight-forward type that he is, she knew he wasn’t lying or sugar-coating anything to spare her feelings.

“No, no, she is.” Allegra smiled, a strange glint coming to her eyes. “We just didn’t expect you to say it out loud.”

A slight scowl tugged at Felix’s lips. “You asked. I answered. Would you prefer I just ignore you?”

Claude snorted. “No, but since you think she’s so pretty, why don’t you take her to the Valentine’s party?”

Felix shot him a flat look. “We’re already going together as a group.”

“I know. I meant why don’t you take her as a date to the party?”

Had Marinette not been sitting down, she probably would have tripped over herself at the suggestion. Her and Felix? Going on a date? Surely not. Aside from not being interested in dating herself, Marinette was certain that Felix wasn’t interested in her. Not in the romantic sense, anyway. He needed a calm and collected partner, someone that would help his life be as quiet and peaceful as he liked, someone that wasn’t her.

Felix furrowed his eyebrows, further proving her point about not being interested. “Wha-”

“Not like a date date.” Claude said, rolling his eyes as though they were the ones jumping to crazy conclusions. “A date as friends, like Allegra and I are doing.”

Marinette frowned. A date as friends? “So, like, a fake date?”

Claude smiled at her. “Yeah! It’s a lot of fun.”

Marinette hummed as she stapled another heart together. A fake date with Felix didn’t sound nearly as strange, but how would that even go? Would they go through all of the motions of a real date or would they just arrive together and say they were each other’s plus one? Would he be bringing her flowers and picking her up for the party? Would he even do that on a real date? 

“But what’s the point?” Felix asked, thankfully dragging her back to the conversation. How he would date someone probably wasn’t something she should dwell on anyway.  

“Well,” Claude shrugged, “I guess there isn’t much of one, but you get to have a dance partner and do all that stuff without any pressure. It’s really like an honorary hangout?”

“I don’t see why that would be necessary. We can do that during a normal get together, and a fake date would only give people the wrong idea.”

“Alright, fine, it was just a suggestio-”

“Ow!” Marinette unintentionally hissed, yanking her hand away from her decoration and sticking her finger in her mouth. Dang paper cuts. You’d think she would learn how to avoid them by now.

The group straightened at her outburst.

“Are you okay?”

“What happened?”

“What’d you do?”

“Ah.” Marinette pulled her finger out of her mouth, watching the blood reform. How did she manage to cut it so deeply? “I’m fine. I just got a paper cut.”

“Oh,” Claude grimaced, “paper cuts. Those are the worst.”

“Do you need a band aid?” Felix inquired. “Or disinfectant?”

“That looks pretty bad.” Allan said, scrunching up his nose in a wince.

Marinette nodded. “Yeah.. disinfectant would probably be nice.”

Felix set his decorations aside and stood to go fetch her the supplies, and Allegra began pushing her decorations aside as well.

“Do you remember where the first aid kit is?” She asked, about to stand herself.

“Yes, I remember.” Felix answered, waving for her to stay seated. “Marinette, come with me.”

Marinette moved to follow him as she was told, and he led her to a bathroom that was across from the family room. There, he had her sit on the toilet while he opened the mirror cabinet hanging over the sink.

“How bad is it?” He asked, pulling the first aid kit out and setting it on the counter.

“I mean, I’ve done worse, but.. it’s definitely not pleasant.”

Felix sighed as he popped the kit open. “Yes, you always seem to be getting hurt somehow, don’t you? Let me see the cut.”

Marinette held out her hand, and Felix gently took it to examine her finger. Then, he shook his head and reached for the disinfectant. 

“How did you even manage this?” He asked, his voice a bit lighter than she expected. Was he laughing at her?

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have done it.” She replied.

Felix hummed and dabbed the disinfectant on her cut, briefly apologizing when she winced.

“You know, I don’t understand how you can create an entire line of clothes without a problem yet struggle with making a single stream of hearts.” He commented, letting a small smile ghost across his lips.

“Hey!” Marinette gasped. He was laughing at her! “I’ll have you know those hearts look great.” 

“You’re right.” He said, shooting her a smirk now. “Forgive me for assuming. You’ve probably pricked yourself with a needle a million times while perfecting your designs too. Who says pain can’t be a part of the process?”

Marinette pressed her lips into a thin line, if only to avoid smiling, and narrowed her eyes at him. Since when did he become so smug?

“Alright, smart guy, are you telling me you’ve never gotten a paper cut from all those books you read?”

“Maybe when I was five.”

A playful scoff escaped her lips, and Marinette rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m going to remember this the next time you get a paper cut.”

“If I get a paper cut.”

“When.”

Felix smiled, like he knew he was right, like she knew he was right, because even though he might have gotten a paper cut or two before when he wasn’t paying attention, they both knew he wouldn’t be getting one now, not when he wanted to prove a point. 

Still, Marinette allowed a smile to spread across her lips when Felix turned to grab the bandages. Although she disliked being proven wrong, she loved that he was teasing her about it. He’d shown himself to be witty and humorous before, but ever since the sleepover, he seemed to have started joking around with her more often. It was usually quiet, during times when the group was distracted and he could murmur in her direction or times when they were alone like right now, but she found it exciting nonetheless. Marinette had assumed that talking together like they had done that night at the sleepover would be a one time thing, since everyone opens up a little at night, so seeing him continue to speak with her in such a relaxed manner made her want to squeal with joy. 

Needless to say, she liked the new shift in their friendship. She liked it a lot.

“So, what’s been occupying your mind today? If you don’t mind me asking.” Felix said, bringing her from her thoughts.

“Hm?”

He let go of her hand to unwrap the bandage that he’d grabbed. “Allegra mentioned you weren’t all that present, and I noticed it as well. Have you started on another clothing design?”

“Oh..” Marinette glanced away to hide her disappointed. She’d almost forgotten about Adrien for a minute there. She wished she could forget about him again. “Not quite.”

Felix’s gaze flicked across her features, no doubt seeing everything she was trying to conceal. He was able to read her expressions like another one of his books from day one. Sometimes she felt like he knew her better than she knew herself, but that could also be due to the fact that she had a bad habit of wearing her heart on her sleeve. 

“Did something happen?” He asked, just like she knew he would. Felix never hesitated to lend a patient ear or a helping hand towards her troubles, which only made it harder for her to hold her tongue about talking with Adrien. 

“Sort of, but..” Marinette chewed on her bottom lip. “I’d kind of prefer not to talk about it.. If that’s okay?”

“Of course.” Felix’s reply was immediate and soft, and it filled her with a wonderful sense of relief. She should have known he wouldn’t get offended by her request for privacy. “Just know that I’m here if you ever want to talk. Allegra, Claude, and Allan will be happy to help as well.”

Marinette felt another smile tug at her lips. “Thank you.”

“Hey, are you guys done yet?” Claude called from the other room, cutting into their conversation. “These decorations aren’t going to make themselves!”

Felix’s eyes flicked upwards in a brief eyeroll, and he stood up to put the first aid kit away. “Yes, yes, we’re coming now.”

Marinette chuckled and stood up too. She hadn’t realized that he’d finished wrapping up her finger already. 

“Thanks for getting me a bandaid.” 

Felix closed the cabinet door with a nod. “I should probably get you a pair of rubber gloves too. We have a lot of heart streamers to make, and I don’t believe Allegra has enough bandaids for you.”

Marinette huffed and gave him a playful slap on the shoulder. “I take back that thanks. You get no appreciation from me.”

Felix chuckled. “How ungrateful. I’m only trying to be hospitable.”

“I’m sure.”

Her troubles with Adrien were far from resolved, but she found the decorations much easier to complete after that.

-

A sigh flitted from Marinette’s lips as she plopped onto her chaise later that evening. She’d spent the entire day stapling those hearts together, and now her hands ached because of it. The sting of her paper cut lingered on her finger as well, but she soothed the pain with the memory of getting to rub the fact that she only got one paper cut throughout the day in Felix’s face. He’d given her a look of feigned admiration, which probably should have irked her more than it did, and told her, “Congratulations on your achievement.” (That definitely irked her, though a smile betrayed her lips in the moment.)

“Are you okay, Marinette?” Tikki, her wonderful kwami, asked as she floated above her head.

Marinette smiled. “Fine, Tikki. Just tired.”

And she’ll have to do it all again tomorrow. Well, she won’t have to remake the decorations, but she’ll have to string them up at the Mandarin Oriental. They need to have everything ready by Thursday.

Tikki nodded understandingly. “You guys worked on those decorations for a long time, but they turned out beautifully.”

“Thanks. I can’t wait to see what they look like when we hang them up. What about you? Did you have fun at Allegra’s?”

Tikki flew a bit higher into the air out of habit, her grin brightening as she replied, “Absolutely! Her house reminds me of the castles I used to visit, so wide and open!”

Marinette chuckled. Since the mansion is a big place with a small number of people, Tikki can fly around the premises as much as she wants without worrying about getting caught. It gives her time to get out of the purse for once, and although Marinette was concerned about the idea at first, she was glad to see it working out. Tikki deserved a break from constantly being cooped up in small places. 

“Have you explored the entire mansion yet?”

“Almost! I have about two or three rooms I still need to look through, but I keep getting stuck in the music room. The instruments are so much fun to play!”

Marinette giggled. “Just make sure no one hears you.”

“Of course.” Tikki replied dutifully. Then her tone softened as she asked, “So.. what are you going to do about Adrien?”

Marinette groaned at the reminder and twisted on the chaise to bury her face in one of her throw pillows. Now that was the question of day, wasn’t it? What was she going to do about Adrien? She still hadn’t texted him, though she knew she was going to. It was in her nature. He’d apologized and begged for forgiveness, and the sweet side of her would never let that action go unrewarded. 

“What do you think I should do, Tikki?” She asked anyway, holding a vain hope that the kwami’s advice would dissuade her decision.

Tikki gave a thoughtful hum. “I don’t think I can answer that for you, Marinette. Everyone deserves a second chance, but you also deserve to be happy. If you think Adrien’s going to ruin that happiness, then you have every right to not meet up with him.”

A heavy sigh tumbled from Marinette’s lips. That was the very thing she struggled with. Everyone deserves a second chance, and she didn’t know what Adrien was going to do. She doubted he was planning on ruining her life, but no one ever does. (Er- most people never do.) So what course of action should she take? Should she tell him no because of the extremely likely chance that he’ll drag drama into her life once again? Or should she give him a well-deserved second chance for the sake of keeping at least one of her old friends and sedating her screaming conscience?

“Maybe..” Marinette paused to chew on her bottom lip. “Maybe I can invite him to lunch? Just one? To see how it goes?”

That would give her a middle ground for the time being, a way to test the waters and satisfy her urge to bring out the best in others. She could meet up with Adrien like he asked, then use the small amount of time to let him talk and let her assess the situation.

“That sounds like a great start.” Tikki said encouragingly.

A frown tugged at Marinette’s lips despite it, and she turned to look at her phone.

I’ve made the decision. Now all I have to do is text him..

A beat of silence passed in the room. Then, Marinette pushed herself off of the chaise and walked over to her mannequin, where her dress for the party was placed. She plucked a needle from her cushion and reached for a piece of string to tie through it.

“Marinette?” Tikki called, curious and concerned.

“I’m fine.” She assured, more to herself than Tikki. “I just want to finish the final touches on this dress.”

Marinette would text him. She would.

Just.. tomorrow.

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[beskar-cowboy]

A Close Call

Part Three of The Best Things Dwell Out of Sight Series

Summary: After bounty hunting in the jungle, Mando comes back to the Crest with many pent up... feelings. (6k words) ao3 link here

Warnings: NSFW, smut, canon typical violence, descriptions of injuries, blood, yearning, mutual pining, rough sex, the helmet stays ON, breeding kink if you squint cause its Mando, also no season 2 spoilers

A/N: this series will be uploaded in a non-linear order! i realize that this way of doing things might not be everyone’s favourite so please let me know if you would like to be notified when all the parts are uploaded (which will be linearly in my masterlist) <3

The sweltering heat was heavy, drowning you in your own sweat as you walked deeper into vines, tall grass and thick foliage of the unfamiliar jungle.

The air was humid, the forest vast and dense, filled with shades of greens that you never thought you’d experience with your own eyes. You were seeing colours you had only previously dreamt of. It was such a stark contrast to the ice planet you had been on maybe a week prior to this. You weren’t sure which extreme you preferred but you were not the biggest fan of the way the humidity was making your hair puff out, curl exaggeratedly and stick to your neck and forehead with the sheen layer of sweat coated on every inch of your body. Your clothes were beginning to stick to your skin as well.

Mando was a fan of that, however. Yet the helmet gave away nothing, as always. 

The moment you landed on the planet, he noticed the way your chest heaved, taking in the supple, fresh air for the first time. The look of wonder in your eyes, taking in the flora and fauna you could only have only ever dreamed of previous to this. You were very endearing, it made his heart feel heavy, tense, as if you were squeezing it in your perfect little hand, bleeding him dry.

You couldn’t believe this was your life now; travelling with a deadly bounty hunter, caring for him and his adoptive child day and night. What was even stranger, perhaps, was that you were having the time of your life.

No matter how cold Mando could be, how rude, closed off or just straight up silent he could get some days. You wouldn’t trade it for anything. This was much better than your life on that dingey planet, working that dead end job in the scummiest bar in town. You tried not to think too much of your past, but you couldn’t help the few untamed thoughts that crossed your mind every now and then. You shrugged them off with relative ease, usually being whisked away in some task the Mandalorian asked you to complete, or by the cries of the Child.

No matter how hard the days could get, no matter how lonely you felt some nights, you were thankful for the loving affection of the kid, you were thankful for how much he seemed to care for you. And you cared for him in return. Not because it was what you signed up for, to more or less be his babysitter, but because you truly cared and maybe even loved the little green booger like he was your own. He was very sweet, kind, curious and reckless like Mando. You liked how they seemed so similar in some strange little ways, it made your heart feel heavy.

Heavy with some emotion you wouldn’t dare name because it would only fuck you up further, fuck up the missions, fuck up your tasks, fuck up everything. That sickening feeling you got in the pit of your stomach everytime you caught Mando talking to the Child, staring at him sweetly, catching the way he seemed to stare at you sometimes too. At least you think he was. Whatever, that helmet made it near impossible to ever tell what he was thinking, feeling or even just looking at.

No matter how little he was actually beginning to warm up to you, he was still extremely apprehensive and closed off. He had his moments of perceived kindness, gentleness or whatever it really was, but he always seemed to take five steps back when he realized he had been too vulnerable with you. 

You couldn't blame him though, he was on the run from people who were trying to take the kid from him, or busy chasing after bounties himself, he didn’t have time for… whatever it was you were feeling. Whatever emotion you were terrible at suppressing, you know without a doubt that Mando didn’t have time for such trivial, childish things.

You huff and look down to your side, the Child’s pod floating seamlessly along your side, the two of you just a few steps behind Mando.

The Mandalorian was tracking a bounty and he said there was a good chance he’d be on this jungle planet seeking refuge with a friend or something like that. You had literally begged him to come along, not wanting to spend another day alone in the ship with the Child. It had taken a few days to get here, and you desperately needed to stretch your legs and breathe some fresh air. Mando was reluctant, very reluctant, but after enough begging and pouting from you he allowed for the two of you to come along, figuring it would be a pretty easy quest anyways.

Oh how he was wrong about that.

His visor display was showing multiple footsteps having walked in the same direction that the three of you were now walking. The footsteps were strange, seeming to be left by a herd of long bodied, four legged animals. Mando had no way of knowing if they were a threat or not, but he had a feeling he’d be finding out soon enough. The Child’s safety and… and yours was not something he felt like gambling with today.

Mando stopped dead in his tracks and you nearly walked right into him, having been engrossed in a more or less one-sided conversation with the Child.

“Head back to the ship.” Mando commanded, his voice trying to give the sense that there was no room for discussion. He barely even turned around to glance at you, but you noticed his hand hovering over his blaster.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Your own hand now hovers over your own blaster, technically Mando’s but he had trusted you to wield it after that one stunt back on Batuu when you saved him and the Child.

“Animals. Too many of them, you’ll be safer on the Crest.” He turns to glance at the Child who coos back up at him, his ears turning downwards as if he too knows of the animals which creep up on the three of you.

“No, I can stay and fight. I’m not leaving.” You, I’m not leaving you, you want to add. But you bite your tongue.

You can’t see because of the hemet but Mando is rolling his eyes at you, at your stubbornness but also your resilience. How eager you are to stand by and help him almost blindly. He doesn’t doubt that you judge him or criticize him in your mind, but he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a negative comment leave your mouth. You’re always sweet to him. Sweet girl.

“Our job is to take care of the Child, make sure he’s safe,” He huffs, pressing a few buttons on his vambrace and suddenly the Child’s pod is floating away at a leisurely pace, back in the direction you’ve just come from. “Follow it back to the ship, close the hatch and do not leave until I’ve returned.”

You glare at Mando and how he’s given you no choice but to head back to the ship. There was no way you’d leave the Child floating unattend, and without Mando’s directions, you had no way of finding the ship again on your own. You sigh but turn on your heels after the pod, following its lead through the jungle and back to the Crest like Mando had programmed it to.

//

It’s been hours.

Or at least it feels like it’s been hours. You aren’t aware of the planet’s day cycles so you have no idea if it's been minutes, hours or days but it was dark now and you’d been trying to keep the kid occupied, distracted from the fact that his dad wasn’t here and you had no idea when he would be.

Luckily, the Child was in an agreeable mood so he was distracted pretty easily, playing with various shiny things that he usually reached for on the ship. You made him a couple of snacks with what you managed to find stashed away, he took a nap and you cleaned up the tiny mess he made. Overall, a pretty good day for him.

You on the other hand, were fucking stressed.

It was dark, really dark, and Mando hadn’t even contacted you on the comlink, not that he even did that before but you think that if he comes back- no, when he comes back - you’re definitely going to make that a new rule.

The Child was rocking sweetly in your arms, you had been trying to get him to fall asleep for the past thirty minutes and he was finally getting a bit dopey. Those big eyes of his seeming to get heavier, his blinks growing slower. His little hand was wrapped around your thumb and you quietly hummed a random song to him, maybe it was one your mother sang to you, you’re not quite sure but it seems to be doing the trick.

You can hear small disturbances outside the hatch and you use your hand which isn’t holding the Child to hover over your- Mando’s blaster. You lean against the wall, blaster in hand, hoping, praying it’s him.

Please be him, please be him, please be him.

The hatch groans as it releases its locks and opens slowly to the ever humid jungle. That familiar beskar glints and shines in the moonlight like a precious jewel. You exhale a much needed sigh of relief, Mando was back.

You tuck the blaster back into your holster as you watch him roundup the quarry into the ship, pushing him aggressively up the inclination. He stands wide, broad and big as he does his job. He’s tired and annoyed, you can tell. You can always tell, but he’s strong too, always strong.

The quarry’s hands are shackled, his face beat up and bloodied. Mando really did a number on him… 

The quarry’s eyes meet yours, take in the sight before him, a beautiful young girl cradling a strange little green baby. He seems confused, he looks back to the intimidating Mandalorian inquisitively. It’s the last thing he sees before he’s frozen into carbonite.

You say something something to him, to Mando. You sound worried, but he can barely make it out. He had seen the way the quarry’s eyes racked the length of your body, landing on the Child as well. Mando saw red, his adrenaline still pumping heavy and potent in his veins, coursing through his body from the chase, the act of hunting. 

So much so, that he hadn’t even realized he had come to tower over you, caging you in against the wall which you had been leaning against.

You look up at him with wide, worried eyes, you look flustered, lips red and swollen. He wants to touch you, he… he wants to do more than touch you-

The Child’s sleepy cooing breaks him out of his wicked mind. He looks down at the kid who reaches for him sleepily with his tiny hands, eyes half closed. He takes him from you, out of your motherly hold. Your hands brush and he wishes he wasn’t wearing gloves.

“W-What did you say?” He finally asks, remembering you had said something to him and he heard absolutely nothing.

“I said your arm is bleeding, Mando.” Voice so small, gentle. 

Mando huffs, barely acknowledging it before he steps away from you, turning to the Child’s pod and placing him gently inside. It closes with a hiss. You suck in a shuddering breath.

Mando rummages around for a few moments before pulling out his tool kit, sitting down on the edge of his cot and pulling out his taser-like contraption. You watch almost dumbfounded, trying to piece together what exactly it is he’s doing. He reaches for the tear in the thick material of his sleeve, pulling on it and tearing it further to better show off his wound and his… his skin.

Flesh. Mando’s arm.

Maybe you weren’t supposed to be looking, maybe you were breaking his creed by seeing part of his skin but you couldn’t look away, and he made no motion for you to do so either. So you stand transfixed as he begins to shoddily cauterize his tanned skin.

“L-Let me help you, please.” You take a step forward, towards him, hands reaching out.

“I’m fine.” He basically growls at you, his rough tone startling you, stopping you in your tracks.

So you stand by idly, watching him burn his own skin, attempting to close his open wound.

You only interject again when he starts taking longer breaks between each electrifying tase. When his hand starts to shake and his movements slow down, motivation and determination leaving him as he slowly accepts the pain of the deep gash on his arm, blood trailing down his toned bicep.

“Here…” You say quietly again, hoping he listens to you this time. You reach into the tool kit, pulling out his bacta gel before coming to stand in front of him, your knees grazing his bent one from where he sits on the edge of his cot. 

He seems to have listened, his movements having stopped, the taser held weakly in his hand. You take it from him, setting it back in the metal box before zeroing in on his bleeding cut.

You shudder at the sudden proximity, his pent up adrenaline and anger palpable, intoxicating. It lays thick and heavy in the air between your two bodies. Your hands shake as you gently douse the wound with the gel, trying to stay focused, trying to get the bleeding to stop. You fingers brush gingerly along toned, scarred skin and you try, you try so fucking hard to focus. To not let your fingers linger, not let them wander to regions unknown to any other living thing.

Mando groans as it begins to seep into the wound and you wince as well, feeling his pain as your own. You mumble a quiet ‘I’m sorry’ but continue to apply the thick substance to his bicep. 

His gloved hand suddenly shoots out and latches onto your hip bone, fingers grasping the clothed flesh in a deadly grip, as if trying to ground himself to you, to the ship, to ignore the throbbing pain. You didn’t realize it would hurt that bad, maybe it went deeper than you thought. 

When you’re finally done with the gel, you turn slightly to get some gauze to wrap the wound in. Mando’s touch never leaves you, his hand seemingly welded into your form. His thumb begins to absentmindedly rub up and down in soothing motions, you try to ignore the way it makes your heart pound but… but it's not really a big deal is it? No, Mando’s touched you before, what's so different about it now?

The air? The tension? The way he looks up at you, through that mask, begging to be seen?

God, you wonder what colour his eyes are.

You bet they’re soft, beautiful, kind. They probably give away how secretly gentle he is, something no one else would notice or dare assume about the deadly Mandalorian, but you know. You know because he’s been touching you more lately, especially since the ice planet. Just passing touches but still, you can’t imagine how much significance a simple touch holds for a man covered head to toe in armour, and who’s never shown his face to another living being in decades.

“Who are you?”

His voice startles you. It’s dropped several octaves since he last spoke, it felt like hours had passed since he last spoke- or more, growled at you.

“What?”

“What are you? H-How do you do this to me?” He helmet tilts to the side as he gazes up at you and your heart fucking pounds in its cage, trying to escape and expose itself to this metal man, expose everything you’ve been feeling since you met him.

“Mando-” You don’t understand what he’s saying, he’s not making any sense. Could the pain really be that bad? Making him this incoherent?

“You’re not real… you’re too good, to us, too good to the child… to me-” He was rambling. Mando was rambling. When has he ever spoken this much to you before?

Never.

“You’re good to me too.” You interject meekly.

“But not as sweet… not as sweet as you.” His words make your next intake of breath sharper than usual, no doubt he catches it by the way his helmet tilts up further. You wonder if he’s looking you in the eyes. It sure feels like he is.

“I-I don’t know what I would do if, if anything happened to-” His fingers tense on your hip as he lulls over his words, tossing them around on his tongue, afraid. “The Child… or you.”

“You keep us safe Mando.” You try to reassure him, but you’re not sure if he’s listening. His left hand joins his right one, both sides of your hips now engulfed in his large, strong hands. You throb everywhere, your body pulses for him.

Mando thinks about just letting his helmet fall forward, to let it rest against the softness of your belly but.

But he can’t. He’s too fucking scared. You scare him more than anything. More than any unknown animal in an unfamiliar jungle, more than any quarry, bounty chase, Mythosaur. More than anything, you scare him more than anything because this is the only domain Mando truly always fucks up. Feelings or whatever the fuck going on in his head right now.

“You take such good care of us.” He says, deflecting your words.

He pulls on your hips and you rock forward, almost losing your balance but your hands come forward to lean against his beskar covered shoulders, dropping the gauze you held. You shudder at the cool bite of the metal on your warm, overheating palms. Mando barely budged at your added weight, and you look down at him from where you now tower over him.

Your eyes rake over the sharp edges of his helmet in the low light of the hatch, down to his wound which still needs to be wrapped up but he was... Seriously distracting you for lack of a better word. You notice the heave of his chest, the heavy fall of his breaths like he’s having trouble getting oxygen into his body. And then you notice- you notice the bulge forming underneath his thick pants.

Mando takes you in as you do the same, watching as you finally notice his state, finally notice what you do to him. What you’ve been doing to him since the moment he met you.

“Take your pants off.”

You think your brain short circuits.

Because there’s no way that’s what Mando has more or less just ordered you to do, judging by his harsh tone.

“Wha-”

“Take them off or I will.” He groans, hands squeezing your hips again.

You whimper and bite your lip, trying to see through the pitch black T of his visor, trying to find the man underneath the beskar. You remove your trembling hands from his shoulders, standing up straighter and letting them travel down, down, down towards the button and fly of your utility pants.

“M-Mando, I-”  

“Don’t make me ask you again, sweet girl.” You whimper at the nickname, it wasn't the first time he used it but this was probably only the third time at this point. With his thumbs relentlessly caressing your hip bones, you shiver underneath his touch.

You had been dreaming of this for months now, dreaming of his hands on you, sexual or not, you were so deprived of intimacy, having gone months now only barely touching, grazing each other. You both needed this, both needed this more than fucking anything esle right now and you were no one to deny him of what he wanted.

Mando keeps the helmet trained on you as your nimble fingers pry the button open, admiring how easily persuaded you were by his thick, lust-laced words. He couldn’t believe he had managed to draw this out as long as he did, his urge to just tear your clothing away from your body and sink his raging cock into your tight heat the moment he entered the Crest was…. overwhelming to say the least.

But he had barely touched you up until now, and he wanted to work you up to it, no matter how much restraint that meant he had to have on his part.

The sound of your metal zipper sliding down below your belly button tests that restraint. He keeps his eyes on you even though he knows you wouldn't be able to tell where he’s looking. He knows you feel it, knows you feel the way his eyes burn holes into you, devouring you silently, pleading with you, please, please show me.

He feels your hands come to rest over top of his gently, as if you’re still nervous about touching him. You interlace your fingers with his and lower your pants, shimmying them down your hips and thighs together. It makes Mando’s breath catch in his throat and his heart pummel in his chest. 

Never had he undressed someone before. Never had the patience, never cared to. But with you, oh with you.

Maker, did he care.

Maybe cared too much, but now was not the time for such ill inducing thoughts. You were becoming more and more bare to him as the seconds passed. You only let go of his hands once your pants went past your knees. Pushing them down to your ankles, you stepped out of them, kicking off your boots as well.

There you were, standing before him in a black tank top and that fucking thong of yours… of course that’s what you had decided to wear today. Mando groans as his hands come up to touch you again, tentatively this time. He can’t believe you were allowing him this, letting him touch you, letting yourself be vulnerable with him when he wasn’t sure how ready he was to be vulnerable in return.

Maybe he could learn.

His hands travel up to your hips again, toying with the thin waistband of your panties, letting his gloved hand run along your pristine flesh that was once covered in ugly bruises. He-

He thinks he wants to be the only thing to bruise you. From now on, he made a promise to himself (and to you, secretly) that he was the only thing in this galaxy that could mark you up, claim you.

Mando’s hands travel back, reaching for the supple meat of your ass, clutching it in his large hands, kneading it before he pushes you forwards again, into him. You yelp as you land in his lap, catching yourself quickly as both of your knees rest on either side of his hips. You readjust and sit back down, your minimally clothed cunt coming to land on his hard bulge, you gasp, eyes wide as you look into his visor. He was so hard, he felt big too.  

“S-Sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“What are you apologizing for now, hmm?” He asks tauntingly, helmet tilting slightly to the side, as if he were considering you. 

His gloved hands come up your sides, going underneath your tank top and brushing along the underside of your breasts, feeling the tight skin. You unintentionally rock in his lap, creating friction on your already embarrassingly wet center. Mando’s hands tighten at your sides, groaning as he tries to still your movements but. But it feels too fucking good to stop.

He brings a gloved finger to your lips, running the worn leather over the pillowy flesh as if to let you taste it. You look at him, confused.

“Bite.” He instructs, voice clipped, sharp. 

Without needing further instruction, your teeth latch onto the absolute tip of his glove, letting him slip his hand out of its leather confines, revealing to you the most precious amount of skin of his you’ve ever seen. 

Tanned skin, thick fingers, large palm, perfect. Him. The urge to litter the rough calloused skin in kisses, lick his entire hand, just put the whole fucking thing in your mouth was all consuming. Yet you sat there in his lap staring at his hand like it was a vase of water and you were a flower, parched for water. He asked you to do the same with the other glove and of course, you did as he asked. You quickly found yourself wanting to please him.

You stared at his bare, rough, strong hands in awe, watched as he let them peek underneath your thin top to skim along your silky smooth flesh, an expanse unknown to him. His fingertips brush over your nipples, feeling how the pretty buds pebble for him. He twists and pulls them in between his fingers, watching the way your face contorts in pain and in pleasure. It’s his new favourite thing, he feels drunk off of you already.

“Please.” You aren’t quite sure what you’re begging for, Mando isn’t really sure either. But he knows one thing, and it's that the sweet sound of your voice, begging for him, begging for anything, just so desperate, was enough to make him cum in his pants. His fingers dig into your skin, trying to cool his overheating mind, trying to slow down a bit before he actually does cum in his pants, before he’s even properly seen you.

His bare hands come down to your panties, toying with them again between his agile fingers.

“You want this?” He asks, daringly pushing your panties to the side, getting the smallest glimpse and your slicked up and drenched pussy. He thinks he could die right now, die happy, never want anything, ask for anything again.

“Yeah, yeah I do, always- have.” You choke on a hiccup, emotions welling in your eyes already from how fucking built up all of this is. You feel like you were both about to burst at the seams. You still couldn’t believe this was happening, even if it were to stop now and not progress any further, you couldn’t believe he had allowed you this much of him.

Mando wraps his arm around you completely, gripping your waist tightly to spin you around, pinning you underneath him in the tight space of his cot. You gasp, shriek at the sensation of it all, as he comes to rut against you, grinding his thick bulge into your cunt.

You notice how his arm has begun to bleed again, the skin ripping open and the deep red liquid trickling down what little part of his bicep was exposed, further proving his humanity, exposing the man beneath the beskar. You really felt like you could cry.

Lost in your whirlwind, Mando pulls off your thong, throwing it somewhere unpreciously behind him before doing the same thing with your tank top. Completely vulnerable, you laid bare before him as he hovered above you, covered head to toe, save for his hands, in beskar. That fact alone made you throb deep inside. The sheer power and size of him enough to get you off. 

You knew what little he had already decided to show you was all he could afford, you were so grateful for it anyway, that he was even willing to show you his hands, the little glimpse of his bicep. His skin was beautiful, but you couldn’t possibly grasp the words to tell him.

So you hook your legs around his backside and pull him to you, silently begging him to do something, anything. You would take anything he gave you, you’d even thank him for it at this point.

“Fuck.” Mando growls, bare hands coming to work at unbuttoning his pants, pulling them low enough to pull out his engorged, thick cock.

Mando was… he was huge.

This came hardly as a surprise to you, however. You would have had to be blind to not noticed how he walked. He walked like it was big, talked like it was big, fought like it was big. But fuck.

You were not prepared for that.

“Mando, I-I don’t know if it’ll-”

“It will.”

You moan and arch your back towards him, needing it now, needing that sweet burn and stretch that you know is about to come.

And oh does it come.

Mando thrusts into you without further warning, giving you no time or preparation to adjust to what he was packing. 

He makes you take it. He makes it fit.

The stretch burns, it bites and it knocks every single breath and thought from your body as he nestles himself all the way up against your cervix. Your body convulses in retreat, trying to push him away from the aggressive intrusion but your mind wants more, needs more. Needs him to fucking split you in half on his cock.

You scream and Mando growls, loud, his helmet falling forward and resting in the crook of your shoulder which meets your neck. His helmet is cold and your skin is burning hot, it creates a fog on his visor and he desperately tries to wipe it off on your skin, trying to look at you so up close. The way your eyes screw shut, squeezing tears out, watching the beautiful dew drops roll down your cheek so perfectly.

It hurts. Maker, does it hurt but fuck does it feel good. The pleasure overrides the pain more than you could imagine and you find yourself begging him to give you more even though he’s already started thrusting into you like he’s on a mission, a mission to sever you in half with his cock.

He was surely succeeding.

Mando watches you cry in pleasure as he fucks into your pussy with such aggressive fervour, like someone had a gun to his head. One hand on your hip and the other around your neck, bruising your skin in that beautiful way he always wanted, how he always dreamed of. He holds you in place so that his hips don’t drive you up his cot because they surely would from how fucking deep and hard he’s pounding into you. Stars, you think you can feel him in your stomach, in your throat.

The hand on your hip travels up to one of your bouncing breasts, kneading the sotf flesh in his palm and watching you wither beneath him. So desperate -

“S-so helpless.” He moans, watching your body bend to his will beneath him.

“Mando- oh my god.” You cry, hands and arms flailing at your sides, not knowing where to put them. Mando sees your struggle and takes both of your hands into each of his, pinning them above your head and using it to drive into you even harder somehow.

Your pussy squelches obscenely, trying to suck him in deeper, keep him inside forever. The only sounds in the cot are fucking lewd, skin on skin rhythmically slapping. You pray the Child can’t hear any of this from inside his pod, you pray he’s asleep.

“So fucking wet... You’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you?” You nod your head so fast you think you’d give yourself whiplash.

“A-Anything, anything Mando- fuck.” That familiar coil was beginning to tighten in your belly, your toes curling, fisting gripping onto his, no doubt cutting off some of his circulation.

Eyes rolling into the back of your head, your chest arches up, up, up your breasts rubbing against unforgiving beskar. 

Underneath said beskar, Mando felt like he wasn’t getting nearly enough oxygen into his helmet, his skin flushing underneath the heavy armour but the pleasure rolling off of you and into him would be enough to sustain him for hours, he thinks.

Your pussy was squeezing him so tight, the ridges of your inner walls so soft, warm, wet, inviting. You felt like home. Absolutely fucking drenched, no wonder you were able to take him whole with almost zero preparation, you had fucking wanted it that way. Wanted him to be rough like this.

“I’ll never leave- never leave this sweet pussy...” He moans, hips stuttering, rolling and grinding deeper and deeper and you felt your orgasm quickly approaching, his words were only bringing you that much closer.

“Please, I- I…”

“Cum for me ner mesh’la, need you to cum for me.” He groans, cool and sharp edges of his helmet resting on your cheekbone.

You envisioned the faceless man deep inside you, what his face must look like now, deep in the throes of pleasure only inches from yours. You pictured the tanned skin covering his entire body head to toe, flushed and splotchy, hot to the touch. 

Would his eyes screw shut? Would his mouth hang open, little pants, groans, moans slipping through swollen lips, only loud enough for the ears of his lover to hear?

Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, you try to look into his visor as your orgasm wipes your mind blank, eyes screwing shut, an endless stream of tears falling onto already damp cheeks as you moan and cry his name into the tight space of his cot.

Mando.

Mando.

Mando.

You don’t think you could recall anything if anyone asked you. Not the name of the planet you were currently on, not the name of the planet you were born on, the bar you used to work at, your old bosses name, your name. Nothing.

With two, three, four more thrusts, Mando’s hips still after he drills himself into the deepest and darkest parts of your hot cunt, spilling white hot cum into you with the lowest moan you think you’ve ever heard flowing deep from within his chest. You gasp at the sensation, that warm pleasant feeling of being absolutely stuffed full, somehow more than you already were.

He draws his cock out before pushing it back in, plugging you up with his cum, pushing it deeper and deeper inside of you. You cry, bordering on overstimulation, his cock only softening in the slightest so the hard intrusion was almost too much for you to bear.

“Fuck Mando I’m- I don’t have the implant..” You whimper, suddenly worried, voice coming out uneven with your ragged breaths. 

Mando feels another surge of blood to his cock at your words, groaning as his dick twitches and thrusting into you a few more times…. For-

For good measure, he thinks.

Not that he would necessarily want that right now but fuck. Fuck did the mere idea of it make him painfully hard against his own will. You…. swollen with-

“Fuck.” He growls, pulling away from you a bit to better look down at you. Your eyes are shiny, lashes coated thick and wet with your precious tears. Lips swollen, chest flushed. You look worried, but beautiful. His. 

Mando remembers your old job at the bar…. Wouldn’t they have made it mandatory for all the girls to have the implant to prevent them from getting pregn-

“But- your job, you-?”

“I didn’t do that, I didn’t fuck them… just drinks.” You smile up softly at him due to fatigue, bashful nonetheless. 

Mando likes that, it puts him at ease in some fucked up way to know that those men in those types of places couldn’t get too far with you, even if they wanted.

“We can, I can get it for you on the next planet if- if that’s what you want?” He asks, hips still gently thrusting into you and you start to see stars behind your eyelids. You whimper, feeling his cum mix with your and gush back onto his cock and down the backs of your thighs.

“O-okay… thank you.” Mando nods but says nothing, pulling his cock from your fluttering pussy. You gasp at the sudden loss, feeling terribly empty and used. More cum dribbles from you and you quickly cup your cunt with your palm, trying to stop it from leaking everywhere on his cot.

Moving quicker than you would have expected him to, Mando stands up straight and tucks his wet cock back into his pants before walking away abruptly. You, however, barely notice as you lay flat on your back, head staring up at the ceiling with eyes closed, trying to catch your breath, regain some sense of self after getting all of it fucked out of you.

You’re made aware of Mando’s return by the touch of a warm and damp washcloth to your abused pussy. You gasp and sit up on your elbows, looking down the length of you to see the Mandalorian between your thighs, wiping away the mess that both of you made. Together.  

You want to thank him again but you can’t find the words within you, all of them lost to you because of this sudden display of dare you say affection.

“Stay here, gonna put us into hyperspeed. Once we’re up there, go clean up.” Mando orders softly, nodding his helmet at you. You nod back, still breathless, still shaking.

[soliavenne]

A Holiday Episode for The Sand Family: What Would Be Their Perfect Holiday Drink?

Alright ya’ll, this had been a running late holiday episode I was supposed to post a few days ago, but I just got to finish finalizing the recipes and the drawings the other day haha. Either way, here it goes! 

Hope you enjoy! :)

---

Temari starts off by finely chopping her pre-cooked, roasted and peeled chestnuts. She places the non-stick pan on medium low heat before pouring the chopped chestnuts in it, followed by the whole milk.

She then proceeds to chop the stick of vanilla bean into two pieces, takes 2/3 of it for the drink; with the remaining 1/3 of the stick to be set aside to flavor the whipped cream later. Temari splits the vanilla bean in half, lengthwise, and scrapes out the vanilla pulp inside and stirs it right into the simmering milk. The same step will be done later to the remaining vanilla bean. Temari prefers using vanilla bean instead of vanilla extract, as the vanilla extract contains unnecessary ingredients and tastes weaker compared to the vanilla bean itself.

Temari doesn’t like using ground cinnamon, as it doesn’t dissolve into the drink. To still have the cinnamon flavor, she throws in a small cinnamon stick into the milk.

Knowing from bad experience, Temari doesn’t leave the simmering milk unattended. She diligently scrapes the bottom of the pan every 1-2 minutes with a rubber spatula so it doesn’t form a film of milk solids that could burn if left neglected. She cracks up the heat a little to medium high to bring it to a boil. After so, Temari reduces the heat at the lowest setting to allow it to simmer, still stirring it occasionally for five minutes before taking it off the heat.

Temari likes using bittersweet chocolate instead of cocoa powder, as the butter content of chocolate allows for a richer taste. She chops the chocolate very finely to have it dissolve faster into the hot milk. Since bittersweet chocolate doesn’t taste as sweet, she adds two tablespoons of light brown sugar and stirs it to dissolve. After that, she takes out the cinnamon stick.

Temari prefers to blitz her hot chocolate in her high-speed blender as it allows her clean the counter and wash the utensils for the meantime as it blends. It leaves little to no trace of remaining chestnut pieces and usually results to a very smooth consistency.

After dividing the nutty, hot chocolate into her mugs and Shikamaru’s mug, she stirs in the Bourbon.

Temari prefers to whip her cold, heavy cream to a medium peak with a hand-held mixer alongside 2 tablespoons of confectioner’s sugar and the scraped vanilla bean from the left stick.

She tops off the drink with a healthy amount of sweetened, vanilla whipped cream, roughly chopped roasted walnuts (as expected), and a drizzle of her own chocolate sauce on to finish it off.

Bonus recipe:

Temari prefers homemade to store-bought if it doesn’t take much of her time to do it, one of the things she swaps for a homemade version is chocolate sauce, knowing it’s a one-pot no brainer recipe. So how does she do it?

Temari’s Homemade Chocolate Sauce

1) 1 ½ cups water

2) 1 ½ cups white sugar

3) 1 cup cocoa powder

4) 1 dash salt

5) 1 stick of vanilla bean.

Pour in the water, sugar, cocoa powder and salt into the pan and heat it over low heat. Stir the mixture constantly until it thickens up and comes to a simmer. Take it off the heat and then stir in the scraped vanilla bean. You can serve it warm, or make it in advance and store in a container into the fridge until ready to be served.

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Kankuro gets cold easily, and he likes to be experimental at times with the food he eats. Hot chocolate with Tequila and a little kick of cayenne? Yep, you got him intrigued. He would certainly give it a shot.

Kankuro usually goes for whole milk, but he decides to go for full cream milk this time to balance off the taste of alcohol and spice perfectly. He does find it resulting to a thicker, decadent hot chocolate, which is something he’s not shy to indulge himself upon.

He prefers to use both parts of milk chocolate and semisweet chocolate. There are times where he opts to not add sugar at all due to the sugars present in his chosen types of chocolate, but if he’s feeling a little kick of a sweet tooth, he would use light brown sugar.

He starts off by finely chopping his chocolates and placing them onto the bowl. Last year, he thought he could chop it at the same time as he allows the milk to boil, but he ended up losing his concentration as he found joy in the sound of chocolate being chopped by his freshly-sharpened knife. The milk boiled over, and the panic had him throwing the chocolate into the scalded milk; with the weight of the chopping board tipping over the pot and resulting to a hot chocolate-less night. Never again. He knew better now. He learns the best after his own mistakes.

To make his favorite hot chocolate, pour in the milk, sugar, salt, ground cinnamon and cayenne pepper into the pot and heat it over medium low. As he only makes this once a year, specifically for the holiday as a sort of little tradition for himself as he dons his holiday sweater, Kankuro is extra mindful to scrape the bottom of the pot until it reaches a gentle boil. He reduces the heat to the lowest setting before pouring in his finely chopped chocolate from his fancy little glass bowl. After stirring it to dissolve, he removes it off the heat and then uses a ladle for extra precaution to transfer it to the mugs.

Stirs in the tequila into the hot chocolate.

Kankuro likes to top it off with a thin layer of store-bought whipped cream. He then sprinkles a small amount of roughly chopped milk chocolate to sweeten the cream, and pinch of cayenne for an interesting contrast.

Note: I forgot to add 1/4 teaspoon of cinnamon powder into the recipe image, but the recipe does call for it! I’m sorry for the error!

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Gaara is not very keen on overly-indulgent, sweet drinks. Already thinking that chocolate is very rich itself, Gaara chooses to use low-fat milk. The lessened percentage of fat from his preferred type of milk is complemented by the butter content that the semisweet chocolate offers. The unsweetened cocoa powder packs in a deep, flavor of strong cocoa minus the fat content. This combination results to a less thicker form of hot chocolate, which Gaara prefers the most. To balance off the bitterness and the acidity, he adds a teaspoon of light brown sugar.

Same old step, Gaara combines the simple, yet the highest of quality products in his non-stick pan. Highest of quality meaning having it exposed less to commercialized practices, as Gaara opts to buy his commodities from Suna’s own, proud farmers as a form of his utmost support. Suna had propositioned to buy additional farmlands from Konohagakure, and their own agriculture business is now thriving for the better.

There are times where he visits the farmers himself, and they are more than happy to welcome their beloved Kazekage with an enormous feast of the freshest of their harvest. Gaara vowed to bring Shinki, Araya, and Yodo next time to introduce this practice he upholds in hopes of passing on the economical and moral importance of supporting their own people and own products to the next generation.

Since it is the holidays after all, he lets himself slide off a just a bit by topping his drink off with his own recipe of espresso whipped cream. It’s fairly simple, he whips the cold heavy whipping cream alongisde a small amount of vanilla bean and a teaspoon of instant espresso powder. It may come off as a surprise that he adds another shot of sugar into this as he wasn’t a person with a sweet tooth at all, but he does find that the molasses flavor of the brown sugar balances the concentrated caffeine flavor of the espresso perfectly.

He then proceeds to counter the sweetness from the brown sugar with a healthy sprinkle of sea salt on top, which Chojuro gave as a gift from the previous Five Kage meeting in hopes advertising it as an international product considering they were the ones who discovered it due to Kirikagure’s being surrounded by large bodies of seawater. It was still a new business, the Mizukage said with a chuckle, but the Kages, including Gaara himself, were intrigued and happy to try it.

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Shikamaru loves coffee. It was what kept him going from the long, dragged afternoons spent in the office doing paperwork ever since he started working for the Sixth Hokage up to the Seventh Hokage. The holidays doesn’t faze him to try something entirely new, it’s got to have a punch of caffeine in it, no ifs, no buts. Alcohol and chocolate? Sounds great to indulge himself in once in a while, but the taste of coffee needs to roll familiarity in his tongue for him to enjoy it fully; so an alcohol-spiked mocha is the perfect stroke to tickle his spots.

It’s nothing too fancy, set up a kettle to boil water for the coffee later as he heats up the milk for the hot chocolate to a gentle boil on a very low heat so it’s less of a risk to burn in case he forgets to stir it now and then. Once it does, he tosses in the semisweet chocolate chips, as the whole chopping business thing was something he didn’t want to trouble himself with. Once fully melted and combined, he takes it off the heat.

Shikamaru then proceeds to dissolve the instant coffee powder and the light brown in the boiling hot cup of water.

The ratio he goes for is to fill the first 1/3 of the cup with hot chocolate, then other third of it with the fresh cup of hot coffee. He then stirs in the amaretto, and a tops it off with a thin layer of store-bought whipped cream or Temari’s leftover whipped cream if he runs out of the previous choice. A little dusting of sweetened cocoa powder for the taste and the aesthetic.

Enjoys his second round of Amaretto-spiked Mocha the best when Shikadai is already asleep upstairs, leaving him and Temari alone to accompany each other as they sit together in the couch, cuddled and laughing under the warm blanket as they savor the cold holiday night in Konohagakure together.

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Shikadai would rather have a freezing milkshake than a hot chocolate because he doesn’t like waiting for the hot beverage to cool down as his mother and father had already gulped half of what they’re having.

Cookies and Cream milkshake was one of the specials that they only offered for the special milkshake month in Thunder Burger Restaurant during September. Since there was no way he could order it by the time the holidays arrive, he asked for Chocho and Inojin’s help to devise his own favorite milkshake recipe. Soon enough, he was able to perfect it; as approved by his own teammates, and Temari’s own highest standards.

Shikadai’s prefers to use skim milk, as he had discovered that the presence of egg yolks in his favorite french vanilla ice cream is what makes it creamier and richer than the usual vanilla ice cream. The lack of fat content in skim milk would balance off the french vanilla ice cream’s richness to prevent it from tasting too indulgent.

Shikadai allows the ice cream to soften up a bit to room temperature where it’s just a little melty. After that, he combines the ice cream, cold skim milk, half amount of the scraped vanilla bean, powdered sugar and chopped, seven pieces of oreo cookies into a high speed blender. He turns it off once he sees it is fully-blended.

He likes to drizzle the homemade chocolate sauce that his mother makes onto the milkshake glass, both for taste and aesthetic as a genetic nod to Shikamaru’s mentioned choice with the dusting  of cocoa powder. One of his favorite parts in drinking this milkshake is whenever he uses his straw to scoop up the chocolate sauce that dribbled down onto the bottom of the glass.

Prefers to buy store-bought whipped cream to ease his job and just add the remaining half of the scraped vanilla bean to flavor it. He then proceeds to roughly crush 2 oreo cookies and mix it in with the vanilla-flavored whipped cream. After topping his milkshake with it, he likes to garnish it on top with a whole piece of oreo cookie.

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Shinki’s disciplined behavior renders him uneasy in consuming so many indulgent foods in one night, considering every holiday within the Kazekage’s household had always been a feast. Braised stew and gizzard? Fine, everyone has their weakness, and he might find himself slipping up a little, but with his chosen drink, he would like to tone it down a bit.

Shinki’s health consciousness encourages him to try different healthier alternatives of the popular foods they consume on a daily basis. His latest endeavor was focused on the swelling trend of plant-based milks in the market. He studied the differences between a plant-based milk and regular milk, and he found notable information that he once shared with Gaara over dinner. Gaara smiled at Shinki’s interesting thought, and was now intrigued as well to try it, urging Shinki furthermore to give it a shot.

He went home once, paperbags filled with different cartons of different types of milk. He poured each one of it into small glasses for a taste test. Apart from the difference in the tastes, he also discovered that there were certain milks he thought would pair the best with a specific function. He liked oat milk the best if they are paired with cereal, and the notable creaminess and less nuttier taste of cashew milk paired well with coffee.

Coconut milk was better off for dishes where you naturally expect it to have a “coconutty” taste, since it was distinctly overpowering. Soy milk on the other hand… was an acquired taste for Shinki.

Now that he has the background information as to how it is supposed to taste like, he knew that he would increase its chances of being entirely healthy by making it himself. He wasn’t sure about it at first though, as he would opt to buy it if the recipe calls for professional skills and labor, but once he discovered how easy it was to make by the time he read the recipes Gaara printed for him, he was undeniably excited despite how stoic he looks like on the outside. If you look in close enough, you would see a curt, small smile on his lips.

Out of all the attempts of making almond, oat and cashew milk at home, Shinki found himself favoring cashew milk than the other two. Almond milk required straining it with a nut bag, and tasted prevalently nuttier, oat milk on the other hand ended rather a little slimy. Cashew milk was the easiest, as he didn’t need to do the extra job of straining it, and it resulted to a perfectly creamy milk with with a subtle, nutty note that goes well with his usual go-to drinks, such as coffee and tea. It was his perfect choice.

He might not make it as often as he wants to, but on the holidays, he makes it a day in advance prior to making his reverse whipped coffee.

Shinki pours in the overnight-soaked, softened raw cashews into the high-speed blender, alongside water, Gaara’s favorite sea salt, and the vanilla bean. Shinki likes to use preserved, pitted dates as a sweetener as it also offers another depth of flavor into the milk. He then starts it off by blending in low speed, and then cracking it up to a higher setting until it is fully smooth.

Shinki has his own labeled jar for his homemade cashew milk. To give it another depth of flavor, Shinki likes to throw in two small pieces of cinnamon sticks into the empty jar prior to filling it in with the cashew milk, allowing it to steep the spice’s flavor slowly as it stores in the fridge.

The next night, Shinki starts off by putting in the instant coffee powder, sugar, and hot water into a medium sized bowl. Shinki used to do it on the coffee mug itself, but the found out that it took  longer to thicken up due to the lack of air circulation within the small area of the mug. He scrapes the bowl clean using a rubber spatula as he transfers the whipped coffee into his mug.

He then proceeds to heat up his cashew-milk to a gentle boil alongside one piece of cinnamon stick. Shinki leaves the other to steep in further into the left cashew milk. Shinki uses a fine mesh sieve to strain some small pieces of cinnamon from the stick as he would prefer the coffee to be thoroughly smooth.

The aeriated, whipped coffee adds a natural foam on top of the coffee. Shinki doesn’t like to add further garnishes.

Likes to keep it bitter and less sweet because he’s secretly eyeing the dark chocolate cake Gaara only buys during the holidays for later consumption.

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Bonus recipes to try from Araya and Yodo!

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A happy, happy holidays to all of you lovely people! :)

[css1992]

Guilty Pleasure

Summary:  Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM. All the warnings listed on Part I apply. 

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V /  Part VI /  Part VII /  Part VIII / Part IX / Part X /  Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

Living with Ned and MJ was both a dream come true and a bit of a nightmare.

A dream, because when they were kids, they always talked about how they would all go the same college and live together one day, and Peter would finally have a real home – and a real family, he used to think to himself,  in secret.

A nightmare, because he couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of his friends, and that was the worst kind of feeling to have for the people who opened their arms and their home for him when he needed the most. Still, he couldn’t avoid it and he felt awful for that. They were both attending NYU; Ned was majoring in Computer Science and MJ in Journalism. All according to the plans they made in high school.

When Peter was younger, he made plans, too. He wanted to study Biochemistry, his teachers used to say he could probably get a scholarship to a good college, he was smart enough. Mr. Harrington, his science teacher, even offered to write letters of recommendation for him. Instead, Peter’s life choices led him to his current predicament: a 20 year-old porn actor, selling dirty pictures for a living, crashing on his friends’ couch, not a single dollar in his wallet.

He was definitely not getting any awards for good decision making, that was for sure.

He had been staying with Ned and MJ for a week when he was finally able to set up his Just4Fans account. He knew that had to be a temporary thing, it couldn’t last, even if he wanted it to. He wouldn’t be young forever, let alone a “pretty twink”, as his subscribers loved to call him. He had maybe three or four years left of that hype, at most, then he would be too old for that, and/or people would start getting bored of him. So he had to be smart, the plan was to save up as much as he could while he thought about what he was going to do once the fountain of youth dried up, and the clock was ticking fast.

But for the time being, porn.

Good thing he had his own Instagram account with a few thousand followers. All the other social media accounts were under Beck’s name, and those had hundreds of thousands of followers, but Peter no longer had access to them – he checked. He also checked and noticed that Beck hadn’t announced that they had split up yet, his last post dated from five days earlier, when he released their last video together – two days after kicking him out of the house, the asshole.

So Peter posted a few Instagram stories explaining to his followers that he and Beck weren’t a thing anymore – he didn’t give many details, he didn’t want any drama, specially not with Beck – and that he had set up a Just4Fans account for the time being. In minutes, his Instagram blew up. Apparently, people were either heartbroken over their breakup; relieved he “got rid of that perv!”; or devastated they wouldn’t get to see them doing porn together anymore.

He got a hundred subscribers in just a few hours, which was incredible. The subscription fee was ten dollars a month, so even after the website’s cut plus tax deduction, it still was a good start. He wondered what kind of money Beck made with their videos, because they had thousands of subscribers on their channel.

Once he got the hang of the site, he tried to post at least two sets of pictures a day – which was challenging at that moment, because the apartment was tiny and he didn’t have any outfits or toys with him, they were all at Beck’s. He made plans that as soon as he got the subscription money in around fifteen days, he would try to buy a few things and take tons of pictures to last a few weeks.  

He also made sure to answer people’s messages every single day, which often earned him a little more money in tips. It was shocking how many people were willing to tip him just because he answered them. Some other people asked for extra content, like specific pictures, videos or even voice notes, which he sent via “pay-per-view messages”.

In the end, he felt like he was prostituting himself. Again.

He would never judge a person for earning their living in any way necessary, as long as it didn’t hurt anyone, he just never thought that would be him. Never ever. As a kid, he thought he’d be an astronaut. Growing up, he wanted to be a physicist. As a teen, he made plans to study Biochemistry. And somehow he ended up selling his body online, one way or another.

He didn’t dwell on that for long, he focused on the fact that it was temporary. If he managed to retain at least some of the people that had subscribed to his account for two or three years, then he would be able to start a small business of some kind in the future. Maybe he could go back to school. Twenty-three wasn’t too old for college, right?

Right.

It was two weeks later when he got a weird message. Not a weird message, actually, a weird tip. Someone under the username of YKWIM had sent him ten thousand dollars for no reason, there was no prior conversation, nor did the person ask for anything in return. Peter was sure there must have been a mistake, maybe they had typed in some extra zeros or maybe they had sent it to the wrong person, so he decided to reach out.

“Hey. I think there must’ve been some sort of mistake with your last tip. Lol.”

He left his phone on the counter and got started on dinner. He was a terrible cook, but to be fair, they all were, so it was fine. Ned and MJ were both at work, but they would be home soon and they were having a quiet night in. Those few weeks at their place had been good for Peter, it felt nice not to be alone after what happened, but at the same time, he was starting to feel like he really needed his own space. He was already looking for an apartment to move into as soon as he got the money. He was hoping to get one in the same building or at least close by, so that they could still see each other often.

His cell phone beeped as he sliced some onions and he stopped to check.

“Hey, gorgeous. There’s been no mistake, it’s correct.” Peter was taken aback by the answer, so he checked again to see how much the person had tipped him, and sure enough, there it was. Ten thousand dollars. Ten thousand. American dollars.

“Oh. Wow, that was very, very generous of you. Is there any particular content that you’d like to see from me as a thank you? I could send you exclusive pics and videos, whatever you want.” Inwardly, he was thinking that no amount of pictures or videos from him would ever be worth ten thousand dollars. Ten thousand dollars, holy fuck.

“That would be excellent.”

“Great. What would you like to see?”

Please don’t be weird, please don’t be weird, please don’t be weird… Usually, Peter’s subscribers liked to see him in cute outfits or with cute toys, but some people liked very messed up stuff. He usually said no, but that person had just sent him ten thousand dollars. Fuck, that was so much money, it would cover rent for at least a few months.

“I’ve enjoyed everything you’ve put out so far, baby, so surprise me. I’m sure I’m gonna like whatever you send.”

God, generous and reasonable? Had Peter died and gone to porn heaven?

“You flatter me.” He typed in quickly, leaving the sauce unattended for a few seconds. “Give me a few hours to work on it, I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Take your time, but I don’t think you could disappoint me if you tried.”

Peter felt so stupid when he blushed and giggled to himself, because that was exactly how Beck lured him in when he was seventeen, with charming, easy words. He was an adult now, for Christ’s sake, and he didn’t even know who he was talking to. To be fair, it was probably a woman. For some weird reason, according to his Just4Fans statistics, a surprisingly large percentage of his subscribers were middle-aged, cisgender, heterosexual women. Peter supposed those were the ones who used to follow his “love story” with Beck – most of them hadn’t got over them yet, apparently they were “the perfect couple! So cute!”.

He couldn’t blame them, they sold them the perfect love story. And for a time, it was true. Peter really thought Beck was it for him, the love of his life, his soulmate. He didn’t know at which point it all became an act to Beck – or if maybe it had always been an act.

He sighed, shaking his head, he couldn’t afford to waste time thinking about him, so he focused on what he should send YKWIM.

As he finished making dinner, he tried to come up with ideas. They said they loved everything Peter had posted so far – he had posted thirty pictures and five short clips over the past two weeks. The pictures were all in MJ’s bedroom – she offered –, most of them in her bed. There were only a few pictures in which he was completely naked, in the others he had some sort of underwear on –  lingerie or tight briefs.

So, he decided he should do something similar, but different enough that YKWIM would feel somewhat special. He had a few good ideas, but they would have to wait for the next morning, he would need good lighting and privacy.

“Hey, nerd, what’s up,” He almost burned his fingers when he heard MJ’s voice, and realized he had spaced out for a minute there. He shook his head quickly and smiled at her.

“Nothing, how was you day?”

The next morning, once Ned went to visit his family and MJ left for work, Peter started working on the pictures. For some reason, he didn’t want to tell his friends about YKWIM, just like he didn’t want to tell them about Beck when they first met, three years earlier. And if he really was as smart as his teachers used to say, he would have seen the pattern. But as it was, he just focused on the fact that YKWIM was probably a woman living on the other side of the world, who just liked to get off to pictures of pretty boys in lingerie.

But.

For the sake of getting in the mood for the pictures, he imagined YKWIM was a guy. Not too tall, but taller than him. He imagined he had a beard, but not a full one, like Beck’s, no, perfectly trimmed, scratchy, in a good way. He’d have dark, warm eyes, not blue and cold. He’d be older, older than Beck, more mature than him. A real man. Maybe he’d have a few streaks of gray amidst his otherwise dark hair.  

He’d be gentle, despite Peter’s past. He’d treat him like he was the first one to ever touch him, even if he knew that was far from the truth. He would be careful, mindful of his pleasure. He’d start off slowly, kissing along his collarbones, fingers brushing the sensitive skin on the inside of his thighs, just shy of where Peter wanted him to touch, as his mouth traveled down his chest; hot, moist breath leaving a trail of kisses down his stomach.

He sighed. Yeah, that would do to put him in the mood.

He put on a white t-shirt that was just long enough to graze the tops of his thighs, and a simple, plain black thong. He decided to take the pictures in the shower – the classic wet, white t-shirt, he couldn’t really go wrong with that. He positioned the camera on top of the bathroom sink, set the timer, and started posing.

First, he rested his back against the wall, one hand pulling the t-shirt down to cover the front his underwear, eyes staring directly at the camera lens as water ran down his face, neck and chest, making his nipples stiffen, becoming visible under the wet shirt.  

Next, he pressed his chest to the wall, looking at the camera from over his shoulder, lips parted, just a peek of his exposed ass cheeks showing where the t-shirt ended, but by then it was so wet it was mostly see-through.

Then he turned so his side was facing the camera and stuck his head directly under the stream of water, running his hands through his hair, back arched obscenely, eyes closed. He let his hands travel all the way down his neck, chest, and stomach, hearing the familiar “click” as the camera took several pictures.

He turned around again, placed his hands on the wall and lifted his t-shirt just over his lower back, sticking his ass out, showing off his provocative underwear.

He got out of the shower and turned the camera into filming mode, then got back under the water and also shot a short clip of he sensually and slowly taking the thong off, but in a way that the viewer couldn’t really see the skin that was revealed. He pulled the wet t-shirt down so it covered everything, but by then it was so see-through that it left nothing to the imagination. Peter twirled a little, then threw an innocent, shy smile at the camera.

That should do it.

He finished his shower, put the wet clothes in the washer, then went to edit the pictures. He didn’t do much, just adjusted the light and contrast, then cut them into squares, because he though it looked classier or whatever. He chuckled to himself at the absurdity of that thought, as he attached the photos and the video to a direct message to YKWIM.

“Hey, gorgeous! Hopefully these won’t disappoint. Let me know if you’d like something different.”

He cringed re-reading the message, he thought he sounded desperate and insecure about himself and he supposed that wasn’t very attractive, so he decided to change it just a little.

“Hey, gorgeous! Hopefully these won’t disappoint.” And he finished off with a hot face emoji, because why not.

He sent the message and went on with his day. Ned and MJ were both back for lunch and since none of them felt like cooking – and they all sucked at it anyway –, they ordered something to eat in front of the TV, as they binge-watched the first seasons of The Office.

“Oh, hey, Pete, I almost forgot, I talked to our landlord earlier and he said there’s an apartment on the fifth floor that should be vacated by the end of the month, if you’re interested,” Ned told him around a mouthful of pizza and Peter’s head snapped up.

“I’m definitely interested!”

“Cool, I’ll talk to him for you, I’m sure I can get you a good deal on rent.” He winked, and Peter smiled, feeling hopeful.

Things were getting better. Slowly, yes, but they were. He was spending time with his friends – who he had neglected for the past two years–; he had a good amount of money to withdraw in the next few days, that could get him going for a while; he was still doing porn, yes, but at least he was in control of the whole thing, including his own body, which was nice; and he only cried for Beck every other night instead of every single night, so he had that going for him.

All in all, things were looking up.

Ned and MJ convinced him to go out for a bit in the afternoon, they said he had been cooped up in the apartment for three weeks and should breathe in some fresh air, and since it was the first somewhat warm day of March, they decided to go jog at Central Park in the afternoon. They didn’t really jog, but they walked around some and Peter must admit that it felt good to stretch his legs and feel the sun on his skin for a change.

They were lying on the grass, resting for a bit, when they saw a blur of red and gold fly overhead. People started cheering and clapping and Peter smiled when MJ groaned, because he knew exactly what she was going to say.

“How can people cheer for that guy, he’s an egocentric, misogynistic, elitist, disgusting asshole.”  He laughed to himself, because he knew what came next.

“He’s a genius, he changed the world multiple times and he even saved it at least twice. I think he’s pretty cool,” Ned argued without any heat and Peter could hear MJ rolling her eyes.

Peter didn’t love or hate Tony Stark or Iron Man, like most people, he just – didn’t pay him any mind. Sure, when he was a kid, he was obsessed with him, he was New York’s first superhero after  Captain America, who was still in the ice when Stark announced he was Iron Man. But as he grew older, he had other concerns in mind other than who was the coolest Avenger, so he kind of forgot they existed, except for when there was some crazy alien threat looming over New York City – which was, like, a biannual thing since they found out aliens existed back in 2012.

The fact that Iron Man was flying over Central Park on a Saturday afternoon was a little alarming though. From what Peter knew, Stark was mostly retired since around 2016, he only ever “avenged” when there was a big threat, like the near-end-of-the-world they had back in 2018.

“Do you think we’re under attack?” Peter asked and Ned shook his head calmly.

“Nah, I think he must be late for something. I read an interview recently and he said he uses the suit sometimes when he needs to get some place fast.”

Seemed like overkill, but who was Peter to judge, he would probably do the same if had a suit like that.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the park and then headed home for the night. MJ turned in early, she said she was beat from a busy week, and Peter and Ned stayed up until a little later, re-watching Star Wars movies. It was close to 2AM when Ned said his goodnight and Peter went to check his Just4Fans, because he hadn’t answered any messages all day long.

There were quite a few, but he did notice there was one missing. YKWIM hadn’t answered him yet and Peter immediately felt like a failure. They probably hated the pictures, they must have thought “ugh, ten thousand dollars for that?”. Peter should have photoshopped them. He could have made himself look at least a little bit better, if only–

Before he could hate on himself too much, YKWIM messaged him, like they could read minds. Peter quickly opened their chat, still a little worried about their reaction to the pictures.

“Damn, baby! You have no fucking idea what those did to me. Fuck! Can I show you? Please?”

Peter was oddly relieved to read that, and was endeared by the fact that they actually asked before sending a dick pic. Or a clit pic? Was that a thing?

“Of course, gorgeous, I’d love to see it.”

Within seconds, they sent a video in the chat. Peter was a little surprised by that, but pressed play anyway, and almost fell off the couch when he did.

It was a thirteen seconds video. He could see the man’s midriff, all the way down to the tops of his thighs. His belly was toned and spattered with dark hair that led down to perfectly trimmed pubes that framed the most beautiful cock Peter had ever seen. There was no other way to put it.

It was long and thick, but not so much so that it would hurt – Peter knew better –, it stood proudly between his thighs, attached to a heavy set of balls that made his mouth water. He was jacking it mercilessly, Peter could only hear him grunting quietly before his balls recoiled and he came, covering his stomach in thick, pearly white come. Peter whimpered, pressing down on his hard-on, and almost cried when the video was over.

“Fuck, daddy, that was so fucking hot.” It was probably the first time ever that he actually meant that answering a DM from a subscriber.

“That was the third time today, baby, I have been thinking about those pics from the minute you sent them. Spent the whole day with blue balls, even after coming twice.”

Fuck.

“Wish I could have helped you with that.”

“Who knows, honey, maybe someday.”

Yeah, Peter thought, biting his pillow on the couch so he wouldn’t be heard when he came embarrassingly hard in his pajamas pants, face burning with shame. Maybe someday.