#shrug ok i don’t care hard enough for more tags

[remitro]

despite being a dsmp enjoyer from almost the start i have yet to draw everyone’s obligatory fireworks to the face . rectified that just in time for explode tubbo tuesday :3

[daddy-dins-girl]

Playdate - Chapter Ten

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

AO3 link

pairing: Marcus Pike x f! Reader x Dave York

Word Count: 7.4k

Chapter Summary: Of all the ways you managed to dream up in your head about seeing Dave again, this was never how you would have imagined it actually playing out.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ MDNI. (SPOILERS IN THE TAGS!) Angst. Alcohol consumption. Brief violence and mentions of blood. Dave's feelings deserve their own warning 🫠. Dave's idiocy also deserves its own warning (we're working on him okay?). Dave gets a little pushy/forceful/needy with Reader but there's no actual threat or non-con, but figured I should mention it (you are held against a wall at one point but never physically hurt or threatened). Mentioned smut (including sex toys, anal play, light bondage, etc.).

HUGE thank you to @janaispunk for beta'ing and just being amazing in general 💜

Notes: This chapter starts off with Dave's POV and switches to Reader, I just figured we could use a little insight into Dave.

~ DAVE ~

Knelt down on one knee on the lawn of his ex-wife’s house, Dave could give a shit about the wet grass stain he could feel seeping into the denim of his jeans as he wrapped his arms a little tighter around both his girls, giving them one final goodbye hug. He pulls back slightly, frowning when he sees their wet faces staring back at him. He has to swallow the hard lump in his throat to hold back his own tears that want to fall so he can be strong for them so instead he plasters on the best smile he can manage and brings both hands up to ruffle the hair on both their heads.

“Don’t be sad Angels, I’ll see you again in two weeks okay?” he assures them and they both slowly nod their heads. He knew it would be hard dropping them off today after having them for the entire summer, not only for them but for him as well. It was going to be difficult to go from seeing them every day back to once every two weeks. Not to mention he was now saying goodbye to the only distraction in his life that was holding him together these past couple of months.

“I miss you already Daddy,” his youngest, Alice pouts before her chubby little arms wrap around his neck once more and squeeze. Dave lets out a little chuckle and hugs her back tightly before pressing a kiss into her hair.

“I miss you too, babies,” he sighs.

“Why don’t you girls go inside and wash up now,” his ex-wife Carol finally speaks up from up on the porch at the front door. “Dinner’s almost ready. Steve’s making your favorite,” she announces and both girls' faces light up like kids at Christmas as they finally pull away from their father.

“Sketti and meatballs!” Alice shouts excitedly.

“Bye Daddy,” his oldest, Molly, says one final time, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she takes her younger sister by the hand and leads her up the porch steps and they disappear into the house.

“Said the magic words huh?” Dave chuckles, standing up to his feet and dusting off his jeans.

“Sketti and meatballs” Carol shrugs, a fond smile on her lips. “You look good,” she says after a moment. “Better than the last time I saw you.”

“Yeah, well…” Dave trails off, not wanting to get into why he came to her all but desperate a couple of months ago to let him take their children for an extended summer vacation. “Thanks again, I had a really great time with them.”

“Of course,” she nods. “Did you want to stay for dinner? I’m sure Steve made enough to feed an army. God knows I love him but that man can’t measure pasta to save his life,” she jokes of her new husband and Dave lets out a small chuckle but shakes his head.

“I should probably get going, let you guys have your family dinner.”

“Ok well… the usual time then? Two Saturdays from now?” she asks and Dave nods.

“I’ll be here.”

“Okay. And Dave?” she says just as he turns to head back to the driveway.

“Yeah?” he answers, turning back to face her.

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Sure,” he smiles, unconvincing even to himself before he heads down the driveway and gets into his car.

He hadn’t been very candid with her about why he suddenly needed to “get away” and wanted to take his kids on an impromptu summer vacation, but she read him like a book anyway. “What’s her name?” is all she’d asked when he’d shown up on her doorstep a couple of months ago looking tired and distracted. “Doesn’t matter” he’d carelessly shrugged back, not meeting her gaze. Carol had pursed her lips and hummed her agreement but otherwise didn’t push. She knew better. Dave wasn’t exactly one for expressing his feelings, even when they’d been married.

The weeks that follow since bringing his kids back to their mother seem to pass by in a blur as he throws himself full force back into his work, even working on the weekends that he’s not with his kids, mostly as a distraction rather than a necessity. He doesn’t want to be reminded of what his Saturday nights used to be, before. And despite his ex-wife’s wishes he knows he’s not taking proper care of himself. He’s working too much, drinking too much (apart from the days when he has his children of course) and certainly not eating enough. He feels pathetic. Like some lovesick puppy and it’s definitely not a feeling he’s used to. Hell, he didn’t even feel like this when he got divorced or when his now ex-wife got remarried. He bought them a damn wedding present and danced with his daughters standing on his feet at the reception hall. Not that he was thrilled to be a divorced Dad or anything, but he couldn’t argue with Carol when she told him he wasn’t giving her enough of himself. He did feel like shit for months after the separation but after a while it faded and he was able to carve out a new life for himself and he was fine. Happy might have been a stretch, but he was existing just fine.

He of course hadn’t expected you and your husband to turn up barely a year later and turn his whole life upside for several months. It had started out as just fun. Blowing off steam, getting his dick wet, he was far from complaining about any of it. He loved how obedient you both were to him immediately, filling a void in him that he hadn’t engaged in nearly as much as he wanted to. Sure he’d had some rough fucks in his day but that was different than what he had with you. Having a partner - partners - that you built a trust with just brought everything to a new, heightened level and that, well, he hadn’t quite experienced before. But along with trust, of course other feelings start to emerge, feelings Dave had long since given up on expecting to have at this point in his life. And having these feelings for a fucking already married couple did not help his situation any. It was a mistake, he realizes in hindsight, spending your birthday with you both. An entire weekend wrapped up with you, spending the night together, waking up together, having meals together, it was… well, for Dave, it was everything. Everything he never even knew he was looking for and of fucking course he had to find it with two people who already had each other.

And now? Now what the fuck was he doing? Drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle of overpriced bourbon at a bar, by himself, on a Friday night. Just like he’s found himself the past countless Friday nights, hoping he’d wake up the next morning and be able to forget about the two people who had apparently taken up permanent residence in the tight cavity of his chest, refusing to be let go.

He was fucking pathetic. And probably needed to get laid, too. That was one thing he could surely do something about easily enough. He’s been coming to this same bar every Friday night for a month now and one cute waitress in particular never seemed to stray very far from his table and he wasn’t that great of a tipper. He’d barely managed a second glance in her direction his past few visits but maybe tonight he should change that. The drinking wasn’t enough of a distraction anymore and this week was his off-week from seeing his kids so he didn’t have that to keep himself occupied either.

Mind made up he signals the waitress over to his table - whatever her name was. She’d told him probably a dozen times but fuck if he could remember it. It didn’t matter, after tonight he doesn’t plan on seeing her again and he’ll make sure she understands that before he actually leaves with her. For now, what’s the harm in a little fun? A decent pair of tits and a tight pussy is all he needs to get his head back on straight he thinks. And judging by the way the waitress basically comes bouncing over to him the moment he waves her over, it isn’t going to be much of a challenge. The only challenge for Dave will be when he closes his eyes as he sinks inside her, hoping, praying that it’s no longer the image of you that’s emblazoned on the backs of his eyelids.

~ YOU ~

It’s been nearly four months since your birthday. Since you last saw him.

In the time since that first weekend after Dave had disappeared from your lives, you and Marcus had found your rhythm again. Your lives are back to normal and, realistically, maybe even better than they’ve ever been. You were communicating so much more now and your physical relationship (which, you’d never had much of an issue with to begin with) was definitely thriving. Due to the increased communication, the two of you were always not only willing, but eager to talk more while in bed about anything you were particularly craving and put in the effort together for each other. It had really started the night Marcus had taken charge (a week after your birthday) and fully blossomed from there. There was one Sunday morning back a few months ago where the two of you laid in bed together with your laptop in front of you and were online shopping for fun new sex toys you both might enjoy. You filled your cart without judgment or shame and Marcus hastily typed in his credit card information when you were done browsing. The moment you heard the ‘swish’ of the order confirmation being sent, Marcus snapped the laptop closed, tossed it to the far corner of the bed and then all but pounced on you.

Early on when the two of you were still navigating your post-Dave waters Marcus had even asked you if you still wanted someone else in your lives. The role Dave was meant to (and had initially) played, you assume he meant (before it had gone and gotten complicated). You could tell by the way he asked you, his voice unsure and hesitant sounding, that it wasn’t something he wanted. And in all honesty, you didn’t want it anymore either and you were quick to assure him of that. Not only was Marcus indulging and fulfilling anything you desired, but whoever it was, they’d never be Dave anyway. It didn’t have to be said out loud that he was the only extra piece you’d both ever want in your marriage, you both knew it already.

Sunday mornings seemed to be when you’d find yourself thinking of and missing Dave the most, when you’d look around your bedroom in the aftermath of what your Saturday night had been. Saturday nights had become your routinely scheduled evenings where you and Marcus would get extra adventurous in bed, typically breaking in more of your new toys you’d purchased and just letting loose and taking out all your stresses of the week on one another.

One particular Sunday morning you remember lying next to Marcus who had just opened his beautiful sleepy eyes and you brushed his hair back from his forehead and then let out a little giggle followed by a sad sigh when your gaze caught site of the black fuzzy handcuffs that were still looped around one of the spokes in the headboard.

“He would’ve loved to see you like that,” you murmur, eyebrow raised playfully and you actually see Marcus’ ears turn pink and he bashfully hides his face in the pillow for a quick moment and laughs.

“You think so?”

“I know so baby. God you were so hot, at my mercy like that.”

Your blood begins to run hot just thinking about it again now. How he’d submitted to you. He’d laid down on his stomach, arms stretched above his head where you’d cuffed him to the bed and then you sat back on his thighs, massaging his ass with one hand while the other prepared the lube and the plug that the two of you had picked out together on your impromptu online shopping adventure a couple of weeks earlier in the other. It was the first time he’d ever let you do anything like that to him, though you’d discussed it a few times beforehand, and you were both pleasantly surprised how hot you found it.

You’d slowly fed him the plug, all the while gently rubbing his back with your free hand, soothing him and telling him how well he was doing for you. You still can’t erase from memory the way your breath hitched when he replied in a low, quivering voice, “yeah, I’m being a good boy?” God, the way the arousal instantly flooded you it was a miracle you were able to continue what you were doing and not abandon it all together to take care of yourself.

“Fuck, you’re such a good boy,” you assured him, hand leaving his back to smoothing across the globes of his ass instead

Once you’d gotten it all the way inside and ensured he was comfortable you’d began to slowly maneuver it partially out and then back in, over and over again until it got to feeling so good for him that you’d gotten off his legs and let him get up on his knees when he’d begged you to let him fuck you.

You slid underneath his body, never uncuffing him, wriggling up the bed until you were face to face and left the plug seated deep in his ass as you helped guide his leaking tip to your entrance and he pushed inside. His hands were able to grip the spokes in the headboard so he had some leverage while still held captive in his position and he railed into you deep and hard, moaning like you’d never heard him before for the entire time, like he was on an entirely different plane of pleasure he hadn’t yet experienced.

Afterwards when you both lay spent and chests heaving with exhaustion you’d uncuffed him, gently removed the plug and gathered him in your arms, letting him cling to you with his head resting on your chest. You kissed and played with his hair, murmuring into the top of his head what a good boy he was for you and he just held you tighter until you’d both fallen asleep.

You loved your playful, risque and experimental Saturday nights, but you also loved the quieter, more intimate times as well. You loved waking up on a Sunday morning and lazily making love for hours, refusing to leave the comfort of your marital bed for most of the day. You loved weeknights sprawled out on the sofa relaxing after dinner and watching TV when you’d start necking like teenagers until he’d shove your pants down and slip inside of you, fucking you slow and deep until you both came and then he’d carry you up the stairs to bed. You loved nights when you were both too exhausted from your work days to do much of anything but still wanted to be close so you’d make out a little until he got hard and he would push inside your warm heat and then just wrap his arms around you and hold you until you’d both fall asleep with him inside you.

At the end of the day, well and truly, this had been what you both had wanted, originally. Dave was meant to come in, spice up your love life a little bit, teach you both a couple of things and then leave you to your lives with your newfound sexual knowledge. He’d done that, and yet, there was no denying that you still felt like a piece was just missing now.

A Dave York shaped piece.

You didn’t like to bring him up often to each other anymore. All it did was cause sadness for you both. You’d talked a lot early on and had eventually both admitted out loud your feelings you had for Dave but now there was no use bringing up his name anymore. He was gone and you had to accept it. It didn’t mean you couldn’t miss him, because oh, you missed him. All the time. But there was no use dwelling on something you had no control over, you had to move on. And you had, for the most part.

Or so you thought, until one Friday evening when your work colleagues managed to drag you out with them to a bar and there in the flesh, across the room of the dimly lit tavern, sat the one and only Dave fucking York.

You’d nearly spilled your drink on yourself when your head had turned and you saw him in your peripheral. He looked handsome as ever, wearing dark jeans and a white button up shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, top couple of buttons undone showing a teasing amount of perfect sun-kissed skin. Wherever his “emergency sabbatical” took him, it was apparently somewhere spent mostly outdoors in the sun you presume. His face looked a little thinner as well, his features more sharp and refined and you have to wonder if he’s been hitting the gym a lot more recently.

The only thing, frankly, that didn’t look good on him right now was the tiny blonde currently seated in his lap holding up a tray of shots you assume were meant for another table before Dave had intervened when something pretty caught his eye. You could practically feel your blood boiling at the sight before you, those deft fingers that knew your body all too well pulling and teasing at the belt loops of the tiny denim shorts the waitress was wearing while she threw her head back in laughter at something he’d said, eating up whatever attention he was willing to give her and you can’t say you blamed the girl. When the sly, sexy grin crossed his lips and he buried his face in her hair to undoubtedly whisper something absolutely filthy next to her ear and you saw her bite her lip in response, it felt like a hard slap across the face and everything happening around you instantly turned to white noise as you focused all your attention on the man across the room who, far as you could tell, hadn’t noticed you yet.

Before you do anything you quickly dig into your purse hanging on your chair for your phone and send a text to Marcus letting him know that Dave is here. His reply of ‘holy shit’ comes back near instantly but before you have a chance to type anything further you hear a loud voice bellowing from behind you for service, waiting for their shots apparently, and the tiny blonde regretfully starts to peel herself off of Dave’s lap to attend to her duties. Unfortunately Dave’s eyeline drifts to where the voice comes from, which you happen to be right in the cross hairs of. You see the tiniest flicker of shock etch across his features before his carefully crafted mask slips perfectly back into place and he gives you a small shit-eating grin that you wish you had the courage to slap right off of him. Eyes not leaving yours he simply picks up his beer and pulls another sip from it before he reaches out, grabs the hand of the waitress about to walk away and tugs her back into his lap, wrapping a possessive arm around her. His gaze never leaves you, even as his head tilts down to press his lips to the girl's shoulder.

Asshole.

Tears well in your eyes before you can stop them. He’s being a prick on purpose and you simply hate him in this moment. Dave York was a lot of things, but you’d never known him to be mean. Until now.

Not able to look at him another second you hastily push back from the table, your chair screeching across the hardwood loud enough to stop the idle chit-chat amongst your table of coworkers as they all stop to stare at you, having no clue what’s going on.

“I’ll be right back, just… need some air,” you explain curtly, not offering anything further or waiting for anyone to offer to accompany you.

You vaguely hear one of them calling your name questioningly as you stand up from the table and storm off towards the exit, passing Dave who’s now downing the entire tray of shots like they’re water.

Good, drink yourself half to death, you fucking idiot.

When the cool evening air hits you the moment you step outside it's like a brief reprieve and you take a deep breath, tears freely spilling down your cheeks now that you hastily try wiping away with the back of your hand. There’s a small crowd standing outside the front doors smoking cigarettes and vape pens but the chatter amongst them halts to a dead silence when the door slams shut behind you in your haste to get outside. Not in the mood for any onlookers, you quickly head off in the opposite direction and take the left turn down the alley at the side of the building for some privacy until you can catch your breath and, god willing, get your body to stop trembling. You realize too that you’d left your purse and your phone inside and you can’t possibly go back in there right now, not like this.

“Fuck,” you sigh into the desolate alley, stopping to lean your back against the cool brick and hanging your head, burying your face in your hands. The emotions of it all, of seeing him again, hits you like a ton of bricks and you let out a loud sob, your legs practically buckling from underneath you causing you to slide down the wall and squat down, elbows resting on your knees and face still buried in your hands as the now quieter sobs continue to rack your body.

You’re feeling just about every emotion under the sun right now and they’re all pouring out of you at once. You’re angry, jealous, sad, irritated, but maybe worst of all you’re reminded of just how fucking badly you still miss him. How badly you weren’t over him. And you hate yourself for it.

“Gotta light?”

That voice… of course you recognize it the second you hear it, even with his words slightly slurred and your face practically buried between your knees, and of course he had to follow you out here. The moment your head raises to look at his smug smirk with the cigarette dangling between his perfect lips you scowl, quickly rising to your feet and taking the two short strides over to where he stands in the middle of the alley and you snatch white stick from his mouth and immediately snap it in two, tossing it carelessly to the ground between you.

“Hey!” Dave barks at you, his voice sharp and loud as it echoes off the walls of the tight alleyway.

As if he has any right to be the one pissed off right now.

“Oh you don’t even smoke,” you argue back immediately, not in any type of mood to be taking shit from this man.

“I’m a social smoker,” he shrugs and you doubt even that’s the truth, he just wanted a reason to follow after you.

“You’re an asshole,” you bite back, not missing a beat.

He scoffs. “Somebody’s in a mood. Maybe you need that cigarette more than I do.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

He’s on you before the last syllable even leaves your lips, both his large hands on your shoulders shoving you backwards until your back hits the wall and he’s crowding your space, leaving barely an inch of space between your two bodies that are now breathing heavily with adrenaline. You can smell the alcohol on him and you know he’s had a lot to drink. If you weren’t half buzzed already you could probably get there just by the smell wafting off of him.

“Think you’d rather I fuck you, hmm? That where all this attitude is coming from Baby?”

His hips force yours further into the unforgiving brick behind you as his hands leave your shoulders to grip your waist instead and you can feel the hard outline of his obvious desire pressing against you. You bite your lip to suppress the moan that’s begging to escape your throat but it slips through anyway; barely registering but he hears it. Of course he does. You can see the way the corner of his lip turns upward into a sly grin.

“There’s my girl.”

“I’m not your anything! You fucking left Dave. You left!” You raise your hands up to shove hard at his chest but he’s like an immovable wall.

“I know.”

His voice is suddenly soft, dare you say, remorseful sounding. You hate how your resolve and anger instantly starts to wane the moment he lets his guard down even the slightest bit.

“I know,” he repeats it again, softer, quieter, his forehead coming down to rest against yours where he slightly shakes his head back and forth. One hand lets go of the grip on your waist and he gently rubs the back of his knuckles up and down the top of your arm, just a barely-there touch that’s already causing goosebumps to raise on your flesh.

“What do you want?” you ask, trying to sound stronger than what you know you’re actually capable of right now. “Why did you follow me out here?”

“I want what you want”. His voice is suddenly at your ear and an involuntary shiver runs through your entire body. “Come home with me,” he tries, his voice slurring just slightly and you roll your eyes and attempt to put space between the two of you again. This time he’s not expecting it and you do manage to push him back a few inches and he wobbles on his feet.

“A drunk fuck so you can disappear again the minute it’s over, you think that’s what I want?” You’re practically screaming at him now, but you don’t care, he deserves it.

“C’mon,” he huffs, sounding annoyed as he quickly crowds your space once more, this time he manages to grab your hands and hoist them above your head, pressing them into the wall so you can’t push him off you again. “One last time for old times sake, huh? Let me fuck this attitude right out of you”

“I’m married, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Hasn’t exactly stopped us before,” he smirks and then lowers his face down so he can nuzzle into you, his nose grazing your ear and his smooth cheek brushing against yours and for a moment you feel yourself melting into his soft touch.

Your voice lacks the conviction you know it should when you rasp out a quiet "Dave, stop”. You won’t go home with him, you know you won’t. You’d never hurt Marcus like that (again), but the smell of his familiar cologne on his shirt collar, the way his warm skin feels pressed against yours and how your body seemingly just fits into the contours of his own you can’t find it in you to immediately try and push him away again either. It’s been so long, you want to just feel him. Just for a moment.

“Kiss me,” he tries, voice suddenly at your ear before he moves just slightly until his lips hover on yours. He doesn’t force it on you, waiting for you to make that final move and close the distance between you. It takes everything in you, but you manage to turn your face away and you hear his desolate sigh in response, hot breath fanning your cheek.

“Take a hint buddy,” a deep voice suddenly interrupts and both your heads snap to the side where you see an enormous man standing at the opening of the alley, an unlit cigarette between his lips. He must be a good six inches shorter than Dave but easily has over 100lbs on him. He’s a very wide, stocky man with a long ponytail and a studded leather vest over top of a faded t-shirt and covered in tattoos, looking like he belongs in some type of biker gang. You immediately recognize him as the man from earlier who tried to summon the waitress from Dave.

He fishes a lighter from his pocket and brings the flame up to light the cigarette and takes a long drag before breathing a large cloud of smoke out.

“She’s not interested,” he repeats when Dave doesn’t loosen his hold on you. “And you’re paying for those six shots by the way, prick.”

“What, you think she’s saving herself for you?” Dave laughs, incredulous. His hands suddenly leave yours, allowing your arms to drop down to your sides and he takes a step back from you, fully turning towards the man who’s now taken a few tentative steps into the alley. Dave reaches a hand into his back pocket fishing out his wallet. He pulls what looks to be a fifty from the bill fold, scrunches it up to a ball and throws it in the direction of the man standing in front of him before closing his wallet and returning it to his pants.

“There, now fuck off.”

“What’s your problem man?” The bystander asks, flicking his cigarette away and taking two long strides forward, the fifty note left crumpled and forgotten on the ground.

“My problem? My problem is fucking assholes who can’t mind their own business. Go fuck off and get your micro dick sucked somewhere else.”

Your brow furrows as you listen to Dave seemingly intentionally picking a fight with this complete stranger. This was not the calm, cool, collected Dave that you’re used to.

You didn’t like whoever this Dave was.

“Wanna try saying that to my face, shithead?” The shorter man challenges, taking another step towards Dave.

“Dave, just leave it,” you try but he waves a flippant hand at you, not even bothering to look in your direction.

“How bout I get you a stepstool and you say it to mine, small fry.”

“Don’t need a stool to lay you out right here on the pavement,” he challenges right back, taking yet another step closer until they’re just inches apart, the shorter man apparently not intimidated whatsoever and likely rather comfortable in a fight, you assume. What he doesn’t know, however, and what you do, is Dave’s extensive military training. Even drunk you have no doubt he could easily kill this man and barely break a sweat, if he wanted to.

“Leave it alone Dave, c’mon, I mean it!” You try again but you might as well be talking to the wall behind you, as neither of the men are paying you any attention any longer. Ironic, since you’re half the reason the fight started in the first place. Men.

“Tell you what,” Dave begins, voice smug. “First one’s free,” he finishes, raising his arms up in the air, defenseless.

Before you even have a chance to plead with them once more the other man swings, clocking Dave right in the gut that has him doubling over for a few brief seconds before he quickly rights himself again, and, to your astonishment, starts laughing.

“That it?” Dave laughs, back to his full height again. “C’mon, again,” he goads.

This time the stranger's fist connects with Dave’s face, causing his head to swing left with the impact he puts behind it. You quickly scramble over to Dave who lets out another chuckle as he wipes the blood from his lip with the back of his hand and turns back to face his foe.

“Pussy,” Dave taunts before spitting blood to the ground at the man's feet. “Why don’t we call the waitress out from inside, she probably hits harder than you do.”

“Dave!”

You watch it happening like it’s in slow motion, how the man grabs Dave’s head with both hands and smashes it into the brick wall and Dave, for whatever reason, doesn’t even fight it. It makes you think of those videos you had to watch in Drivers Ed as a teenager, how the drunk driver in the scenario is typically the one to survive a collision because their response time is so slow their body just lets go and goes with the flow rather than bracing for impact. The part that really tears you up inside though is you don’t even think it’s the alcohol, you think he’s doing it on purpose, wanting to get hurt. You hear the loud smack as his forehead hits the brick and you instantly surge forward, taking the brunt of his weight as he collapses into you and you both slowly slide down to the ground with him in your arms because you can’t hold his weight.

“Get up, you piece of shit!” the stranger yells, furious, and you scream, covering Dave’s body with your own where he lays in your lap as the man winds up to kick Dave while he’s down.

“Enough!” A third man’s voice shouts and relief floods your whole system as you recognize it’s Marcus. In a flash he’s crossing the alley, grabbing the stranger by his shirt and shoving him into the brick and holding him there. Marcus was definitely ‘a lover not a fighter’, but he could certainly hold his own when it came down to it if need be. You’re not scared any longer.

“You alright Honey?” he asks, quickly chancing a glance over to where you’re kneeled on the ground with Dave’s head in your lap, surveying the laceration above his eyebrow.

The man in Marcus’ grasp looks at the two of you confused, then when he notices Marcus’ wedding ring where his fists are cuffed in his shirt, his eyes widen in disbelief.

“Holy shit, is this your wife? I just did you a favour pal,” he scoffs, lightly shoving at Marcus and Marcus backs off just slightly, letting go but staying close in case the man wants to go at Dave again who’s practically unconscious at this point.

“Look it's fine just… go back inside please,” Marcus huffs before he turns back to you and frowns. “Think we can get him up?”

Between the two of you and Dave’s slight cooperation (as much as he can manage with not only how intoxicated he is but how he surely just got few screws knocked loose thanks to that brick wall) you manage to get him up and he looks around a little disoriented, shaking his head while you and Marcus flank either side of him and hold him up.

“Marcus? You’re here,” Dave slurs and then turns his entire body into him and practically collapses into his arms in what you think was meant to be a hug. Marcus manages to hold Dave upright, both his arms holding under Dave’s armpits to keep him on his feet.

“I’m here,” Marcus croaks out. “I’ve got you.”

“The fuck?” the stranger mutters, shaking his head as he watches what must surely be a very strange reaction to a husband finding another man hitting on his wife in a dark alley. “Good luck with… well, all of that pal,” he says with a wave of his hand in the direction of the three of you before he turns on his heel, bends down to pick up the discarded fifty and heads back out of the alley and presumably back toward the bar.

“I’m drunk,” Dave suddenly breaks the silence, pushing back slightly from Marcus and wavering on his feet. His brows furrow in confusion and he wipes at his forehead. When his hand comes into his eyeline and he sees blood smeared on it, his features scrunch up again. “And I think I hit my head?”

“It’s ok, do you think you can help us get you to the car? It’s close,” Marcus tries to explain to Dave who manages a small nod. You get behind Dave and lift one of his arms up and turn him slightly, draping his arm over your shoulders as you move with him to stand at his side, Marcus now holding up the other. Thankfully Marcus had hastily just parked the car in a loading zone directly in front of the bar after you failed to answer any of his texts or calls so the walk was quick and you managed to get Dave shoved into the front passenger seat. You quickly run back inside to grab your purse and phone and say a quick goodnight to your coworkers and then hurry back out to the car. Dave mumbles off his address once Marcus slides into the driver’s seat and Marcus gives a non-commital grunt of acknowledgement before he pulls away from the curb and drives away. Barely two minutes later Dave’s head is tilted all the way back into the headrest and he’s passed out. You lean forward from the backseat to address Marcus.

“We can’t take him home like that. What if he has a concussion or something?”

“I’m not taking him home” Marcus quickly responds, shaking his head.

With a satisfied sigh you lean back into your seat.

What a fucking disaster.

Barely ten minutes later Marcus pulls into your driveway, hitting the button clipped to the sun visor to open the garage. The last thing he needs is for his neighbors to see the two of you dragging a bloodied half unconscious man into your home in the middle of the night.

You only manage to get him as far as the couch on the main floor, an upstairs bedroom too harrowing of a feat to attempt you presume with Dave’s inability to offer much of his own assistance. With a loud grunt you manage to drop him down to a seated position on the sofa and he immediately falls back into the soft cushions.

“Stay with him, I’ll get some water and something for his head,” Marcus says and you nod your head.

He’s only gone a minute or so, taking a little longer because he couldn’t find the Aspirin bottle right away, but when he returns with two extra strength tablets and a full glass of water he stops in his tracks just inside the living room.

Dave is flopped on his side, face resting on your lap facing where Marcus stands while your hands delicately card through his hair.

He’s murmuring quiet little ramblings with his eyes closed, something about “fucked up” and “so sorry” and you just gently hush him, running your fingers through his sweat damp hair.

“We need to clean him up” you tell Marcus when you notice him standing there. There’s blood still smeared across his forehead but thankfully not very much, he hadn’t been actively bleeding for very long. At least you know he doesn’t require any stitches.

Marcus sighs and crosses the room, getting down on his haunches in front of the couch in Dave’s direct eye line.

“Hey Buddy,” he tries softly. “Need you to sit up for me, have some water and take these.”

Dave grunts, noncommittally, but ultimately does try and push himself up. You both help until he’s back into a seated position and Marcus hands him the two white tablets. Dave stares at them for several seconds before tossing them back into his throat and swallowing without water. You tisk at him and shove the water glass into his hand.

“Drink,” you order. He does. He finishes near the entire glass in one go and your eyes widen in surprise.

“There,” he sighs, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Can I go now?”

You’re so frustrated you could smack him. One second he’s being a total asshole, the next he’s trying to kiss you, then he’s purposely getting the shit beat out of him, then practically crying in your lap, and now he’s back to being obstinate again.

He was right about one thing. He is fucked up. And you don’t think it’s just the booze.

“I’m sorry, no,” you shake your head, trying to sound less angry than you feel. The last thing you need is to pick another fight with this unpredictable man right now. “Baby, you’re bleeding”

The endearment slips out completely by accident. You don’t even notice you’ve said it but both Dave and Marcus do, their widened gazes turning to you at the exact same moment.

“Dave,” you quickly try to correct, shaking your head.

He lets out a little snort and nods his head, like he’s willing to let you get away with your little slip up.

“You hit your head really hard, you can’t be alone tonight. If you can make it upstairs you can have the guest room, if not, we can make up the couch. In the morning you’re free to go, I promise.”

“Fine,” he relents, shoulders dropping.

“Think you can help us get you upstairs?” you ask and he nods his head. Both you and Marcus throw one of his arms around your shoulders and help him up, taking each of the steps up the staircase slowly. Dave seems to be somewhat coming out of his fog and much more helpful this time, thankfully. You’re pretty sure it’s just the alcohol working against him now, his brain mostly cleared from the fog of the head trauma. Once you reach the top of the stairs you go to turn towards the guest room but Dave plants his feet and attempts to twist his body away from it, toward the direction he knows your and Marcus’ master bedroom is instead. You and Marcus both share a look behind Dave’s back where you’re holding him and after a moment Marcus gives you one solitary nod, acquiescing to Dave's wishes.

Once inside the room you unravel yourself from Dave as Marcus sits down on the edge of the mattress, bringing Dave with him to sit next to him. You head off to the bathroom to wet a washcloth and come back into the room to gently wipe away the blood and dirt at Dave’s forehead.

“What the fuck were you thinking,” you mutter as you clean him up best you can, shaking your head slightly. He doesn’t answer and you don’t expect him to, nor do you really even want him to in his condition. He needs to sleep it off, maybe you’ll get some clarity in the morning.

Once he’s cleaned up Marcus lifts Dave’s arm off of him and puts it into his lap. He isn’t sure what to do next so he leaves Dave there and wanders off to the bathroom to find you where you’re rinsing off the washcloth in the sink.

“What do we do with him?” he asks quietly.

“Well… honestly it’s probably better we’re in the same room anyway, that way if something happens in the middle of the night we’re there,” you reason and Marcus nods.

“Ok…” he sighs, following after you as you exit the bathroom and flick off its light.

You stop just outside the bathroom when you see Dave passed out in the middle of your bed, all his clothes - including his shoes - still on and you sigh.

“I got it,” Marcus says, going to the end of the bed and untying the laces of Dave’s shoes before placing them on the ground. That’s all you undress of him though, he’ll be fine sleeping in the rest of his clothes. Marcus was already in sweats and a t-shirt but you were still in work clothes so go over to your dresser and fish out a pair of pajamas and quickly change. Once you’re ready for bed you turn out the lights and both you and Marcus crawl in on either side of Dave. You can’t help but reach a hand out and brush it through his hair as his light snores fill the quiet, darkened room.

Fuck, you really missed him.

Taglist (if you want to be added - or removed!, lmk!) @senaar-ika @suzdin @boliv-jenta @prolix-yuy @vabeachazn @seasonalobession @pedroshotwifey @nerdieforpedro @chronically-ghosted @macabremads @survivingandenduring @theywhowriteandknowthings @axshadows @iamasaddie @vickywallace @lincolndjarin @its-nebuleuse @janaispunk @missladym1981 @heareball @staywildflowahchild @guelyury @anotherpedrolover @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @runningmom94 @yorksgirl @harrington-thedad @missyorkswhore @disassociation-daydreams

[concealeddarkness13]

WHG 20 Day 2 - Ares

This is my last one for today! Tagging: @ratracechronicler (thanks for Atwater!), @maple-writes, @pen-of-roses, @drabbleitout, @grailfish, @forthesanityofsome, and @pied-piper-of-hamlet!

I went out to look for more tributes, but they were hard to find, and, well, I should have brought someone else, because at sunset, Primary decided to start the fucking visions again.

It was all the same shit, with me killing my friends. It was almost familiar enough to be more annoying than traumatic. I tried to find a safe-ish place to rest, stumbling through the forest.

And I heard some rustling, so I tensed and looked around even if I couldn’t see. “Hello? Who’s there?” Just because the person could be a tribute that Triel recruited, I couldn’t use my magic right away.

“Just a racoon.” I couldn’t place the voice.

I looked over towards them, but of course, I couldn’t see anything besides me killing the people I cared about. I summoned my black flames to my hand. “Don’t come any closer! Who are you?”

“Alright. Can you see, kid?”

They didn’t sound threatening. I shook my head. “Not…not at the moment. But I can still fight.” I jutted my chin out.

“That is a theory I don’t want to test. Just stand still. There’s no one else around. Nobody’s attacking.”

I relaxed a little but didn’t get rid of my flames. “Who are you?”

“The guy from 4, the one who can’t walk straight. Hugo Atwater. What’s your name?”

I blinked. I recognized his name. “Triel said she recruited you. I was supposed to keep my eyes out for you. Didn’t think this would happen so soon.” I waved my hand over my eyes. “I’m…Ares. District 1.”

“Ah…we have a mutual friend.” Something thumped. “I’m guessing you looked a little too closely at that sunset, Ares?”

Triel had mentioned something like that, but no, this was Primary. I shook my head. “No, unfortunately, this is something different. I kind of have the soul of a god who wants to use me as a vessel trying to convince me to destroy my soul by showing me killing all my friends over and over until they get tired.” I shrugged.

“…Well, that does put a bit of a damper on your evening plans, I imagine. Have you tried blasphemy? I’m sure you get that a lot actually, but gods do tend to hate that sort of thing, I’ve heard.”

“I’ve already called them a crusty shit, and that didn’t make them leave. It’s fine. Once they get tired, I can bring you to Triel!”

“Oh, you can do better than that, kid. Ahoy, crusty shit. My mum’s god’s got ten arms and a tiger. You’re out here bothering a teenager with war flashbacks like some two-dimensional cartoon ghost. I’ve met mollusks with more backbone. I don’t believe you. Ares, there’s a nice flattish log coming up to your knees a few paces two o’ clock. Take a load off, kid, and let the little sleep paralysis demon tucker themself out.”

Who is this mortal? I like him. He’s amusing, too amusing to not listen to him this one time.

The visions blurred, and as I sat down on the log he had mentioned, they went away. I blinked and looked around. I was in a forest, and it was indeed Atwater standing near me. I stared at him. “That worked. They said you were too amusing to not back off for now.”

“Well, at least I’m good for something.” His eyebrows went up a little. “Wait, can you see again?”

I nodded. “Well enough. Don’t know how long they’ll let me though.”

“This is a…habitual thing for you two, then?”

I nodded again. “Ever since the interview. I’m used to it by now.” I shrugged. But this didn’t matter. I could see again! “But now that I’m not blinded, I can fly you to Triel’s camp!”

He didn’t look convinced about what I had first said, and he looked even more concerned after I was said I could fly him to camp. “You can fly.”

I nodded, standing up. “I can change into a phoenix. You wanna see?���

“Hell, yeah.”

I…I could make him proud. I wanted to make him proud. Like…like my dad. I transformed into the phoenix and squawked at him, tilting my head to try to ask if it was ok if I could pick him up.

“Yeah, that checks out.” He grinned, and I couldn’t help the warmth in my chest. I made him proud! He even gave me a thumbs up! “Badass, kid. Oh—we’re gonna do the flying thing now? I mean, you can try, but don’t strain yourself.”

I could easily carry a person, so there were no worries there! I squawked again and ruffled my feathers in happiness before I flapped my wings and flew up to get some momentum before grabbing his shoulders to fly him towards the camp. He held tightly to my claws as I flew him, also holding onto his spear.

He looked stressed, and honestly, I was getting really fucking tired, so I set him down close to the camp but not quite there. The mutts were coming soon, but my magic should keep us safe.

I glanced over at Atwater once I transformed back. “We can walk the rest of the way, if you’d like.”

“That would be ideal,” Atwater wheezed, but before we could get walking, the howls of the cat-dog mutts echoed through the night, and I tensed and readied to protect Atwater from them, but a fireball scared them off, and Chess hobbled into sight, holding tightly to a small mutt who was snuggling up to her. She was cooing at the mutt. What the fuck?

Atwater collapsed quietly as I stared at her, collapsing as well, since I had gotten tired. Chess looked up and smiled. “Ares! You’re okay! We’ve been worried! And Atwater!” She hobbled over, the mutt crawling up to her shoulders and lying down with a yawn. “You’re safe! I’m so glad!”

“Uh. Right.” Atwater sat up and looked over at me. “Are you alright?”

I nodded, standing up and tilting my head at the mutt. He had a calico color, with a dog’s face, but one cat ear and one dog ear. And his feet and the end of his tail looking like a ghostly smoke. “I’m fine. More mentally tired than anything.”

“Well. Splendid.” He sighed and lay back down, waggling his fingers at Chess, glancing at her in askance.

Chess sat down next to us, so I collapsed again. “I thought I had seen a runt mutt with the others, and they had been mean to him, but look at him! He’s so sweet!” She held him out to Atwater.

Atwater nodded, handing him a stick. He leaned over towards me. “Not to pry, miss, but you seem to be experiencing more gravitational issues than someone in full health ought to. Is that half-rate shitstain in your head bothering you again?”

I looked up at him, not wanting to admit anything. “I’m not tired.”

He looked over at Chess. “Did she or did she not very recently mention being tired?”

Chess tilted her head. “Technically she mentioned being mentally tired. Not sure if that’s the same thing.”

I grinned. “See? I’m fine!” Not moving.

“It is the same word, you infants,” he tutted. “You can’t ‘yes, and’ each other out of a breakdown, physically or mentally. For fuck’s sake. Since you’ve elected to lie there in perfect health, then, at least quit trying to transform into a nautilus now and stretch your legs out. You’ll get bad circulation curled up like that, and your spine will stab you in the back in 20 years if you make it a habit. And drink something.” He fished out a flask, shaking his head.

Chess laughed, and I sighed and took the flask. “Yes, dad.” Fuck. The words had slipped from my lips before I could stop them. My cheeks heated up from embarrassment and takes the drink. It was just water, unfortunately.

“Belay the sass, or you’re grounded, young lady.” At least he hadn’t made a big deal about it. I just handed back the flask, still embarrassed.

Chess sat up more. “I can lead you two back to the camp! It’s not far!”

Atwater pocketed the flask and pulled himself up with the spear. “Great. On further examination, my legs are not, in fact, gelatin, so I’m good to go. Lead the way, Chess. Ares, I expect you can run circles around me, given how very fine you are, but try not to rush too far ahead for the sake of my fragile pride and all." He offered me a hand, and I took it to help me get up to walk.

Chess stood up and put the mutt on her shoulders and cheerily started leading the way. And to be sassy, I transformed into the phoenix and flew up and landed on Atwater’s shoulders so I didn’t have to walk, since I was actually tired. Atwater just whistled, acting like he didn’t notice.

[tinyfluffyshark]

Tagged by @jupiter-squid

Tagging: @piabird @swords0827 @pompompuryun whoever else wants to!

Nickname: I have a billion, the most unique has been Citrus, I'm Meow to my niphlings, Pinky, Sid, Lyn, Pid

Sign: Pisces Sun (burn the textbook and it makes sense), Virgo Moon, Rising Gemini

Height: 5"7ish 8ish?

Last thing I googled: ignoring me tryna figure out my horoscope for the billionth time, and song lyrics, Shencomix, wanted to reread all of bluechair

Song stuck in my head: "Not Okay" Robert Grace and "8Now" Foodhouse

Amount of Sleep: I am perpetually fatigued but can't sleep cause I'm a night time person soo, too much and too little ywy

Dream Job: Something creative and hands-on, musician or artist or writer or witch doctor, herbalist florist or forest ranger or I dunno I have a lot of interests I just wanna be an RPG video game character!

Wearing: Gray sweater I stole from my partner, he got it from a blood donation drive the other day (I'm anemic so I can't qwq) and its pretty, my most stereotypically me black baggy pants, partners socks, and a lavender checkered sweater with a black hood that's soft but still doesn't fit right qwq OH and like and entire cats worth of cat fur! :D

Movies/Books that Summarize You: There aren't really any, and I'm not a movie person so besides Promare (because colorful upbeat and great soundtrack) I got nothing.

Books? I loved Heartless by Marissa Meyer, The Truth-Teller's Tale by Sharon Shinn got me interested in propinquity, anything by Tamora Pierce is a good shot, Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer, the Dragonkeeper Chronicles by Donita K. Paul, I love the Queen's Thief series by Megan Whalen Turner but I'm terrified of reading the last book, Two Princesses of Bamarre by Gail Carson Levine omg

Favorite Song: Like with books I could keep going forever about music. I'll put five.

- Run Away - TxT

- The Heights by Heartbreaker (I recommend anything by them, also gores by nikbreakshearts)

- Sea by BTS

- I'm doing push-ups by Bears in Trees

- Deja Vu by Circus-P but also his whole 7/15 album ok

- I lied one more, The Price of Freedom by Takeharu Ishimoto because Crisis Core CHANGED ME FOREVER as a person and his stuff just kills me ok bye

Instrument: I can do a little flute and piano, my hands are too tiny for guitar, but if I could learn violin I'd die happy

Aesthetic: a cute chaotic gremlin, I violently switch aesthetics because I like whatever I like, but I also just wanna be comfy and happy and cute. Wear whatever gives me the serotonin and don't care if others don't think it matches!

Favorite Author: Okay since I already spazzed about books can I take a moment to promote Hello Bunny by nyam_nyamo on AO3 because it completely change the soulmate AU trope for me and I'll never be the same, I was screaming at them on Twitter after every update.

Alternatively if you like pain, Miintaexty is literally Satan to me

I realize these are both kpop fanfic authors but believe me. Just do it.

Random Fun Fact: I'm usually full of them but it's hard on demand. Oh I'm a weirdly good shot and it's a problem because my partner got us Nerf guns and I never remember not to shoot their face and my aim is. Good. which is bad. I'm so sorry. This has been discovered a few times and I'd definitely love to get into something that uses this odd skill.

Favorite Color: Blue and then Green, but also I just love anything colourful

Last Song: Was randomly singing You Raise Me Up by Josh Groban to bother my partner last night

Last Movie: Uhhhhh .....*shrugs*

Currently Craving: a time pause button or IRL save points

Tea or Coffee: I don't like the taste of tea but I drink it socially cause we are a Chai family and I just like warm sweet. I prefer (SWEET AND NOT BITTER) coffee but the caffeine is nooooooot good for my anxiety

Currently Working On: My marriage honestly (as in I just got married not as in we’re struggling), but also just improving my mental health and motivation enough to finish this damn degree satisfactorily so I can MOVE ON. Also getting my kitty (Nina) to like me and getting the tiny kitty (Meowki) to STOP HARRASSING NINA STOP LET HER GO TO THE BATHROOM YOU RASCAL

And decorating my new apartment. I make this place a home. Sewed the curtains myself UwU

[kiranatrix]

What Comes Out in the Wash

Day 1: Hair @deathnotetober

Characters: Light, L, Watari, & mentions of Sayu // Rating: Gen; platonic (or Lawlight if you squint) // Summary: L wakes up with a huge rat’s nest in his hair and Watari says ‘handle it yourself,’ so Light has to help.

Co-written with @resilicns

——-

Sleep was something that was becoming increasingly rare for L to achieve these days, and when he did, it could hardly be called restful. He’d spend those few measly hours tossing, turning, kicking, and just squirming in general. When he slept on his own, this was hardly an issue, but now that he was sharing a bed with Light, things were getting a bit complicated.

L grunted quietly, pushing his elbow and forearm down into the bed as he lifted his head up off of the pillow, resting on his side. Blinking sleep from his eyes, he gazed around the room drowsily, trying to desperately grasp for awareness, until his gaze landed on a mirror. He lifted his other hand to feel his hair, touching the knotted mess he had noticed in his reflection. His hair was almost comparable to a bird’s nest at this point. Grimacing, he lifted the receiver off of the phone on the end table, pressing the button mapped to dial Watari’s phone in his office. He held it up to his ear and sighed quietly.

“Watari? I need you to come to my room. My hair is in need of brushing this morning,” L muttered, wincing as one of his fingers caught on a tangle and yanked the strand in that brief instant.

“Apolog--” Quillsh had covered the receiver to try and mask his hacking cough but it still came through the line. “Apologies, sir. It seems I’m unwell. I wouldn’t want to infect you with whatever I have. It’s quite dismal.” He held the phone away to sneeze several times into a monogrammed handkerchief. “You’ll have to make do on your own today.”

L paled slightly, holding the receiver away from his face for a second to stare at it as if it had personally offended him. When he held it back up to his ear, he sighed quite loudly. “I suppose we’ll have to inform the task force that they have the day off, today. However,” he frowned, pushing himself up into a sitting position as he clutched the phone. “Who will brush my hair? Who will prepare my meals? Who will select my clothing?” While he knew the latter was not necessary, the panic in his voice made it obvious he wasn’t thinking clearly.

Light opened one eye to see what all the fuss was about, frowning as he glared up at L. He hadn’t even gotten to sleep until after 3 am because L insisted on bringing his laptop to bed, loudly clacking on the keyboard and munching on panda cookies. The clock on the nightstand said it was just 6:30 am. I’m expected to work on a measly 3 hours sleep?!

“Can you keep your voice down, Ryuzaki?,” he huffed while turning over. “I’m not getting up until 7 and that’s that.”

Quillsh replied to L, “Everything will be fine. You know as well as I do that all your clothes are the same, no selection required. There are cakes and fruit in the refrigerator, and instant coffee if you can’t bother with the coffeemaker.”

He sighed tiredly, barely able to muster the energy needed to argue with L. “As for your hair...no time like the present to pick up a brush and try it yourself.” It was really past time for L to do that anyway but it meant time not focused on work, and was thus always deprioritized.

L gritted his teeth, gripping his own hair in his hand as his anxiety spiked just from the thought of trying to brush it himself. “But-..!” He stopped himself, squirming and making the bed bounce slightly. He completely ignored Light, his attention entirely focused on the call. “…alright. My apologies for disturbing you. Please get some rest and take care of yourself,” he murmured, quietly saying his polite goodbyes before hanging up the phone.

He turned to face forward, glancing at Light out of the corner of his eyes. He stared at the younger man for only a few seconds, moving to the end table and pulling out one of his hair brushes. He took a deep, loud breath to try and settle himself in preparation. However, no amount of preparation could prepare him for the instant pain that followed one frantic and barely-effective brush through his hair. He immediately chucked the item away from himself, hugging his knees to his chest in defeat.

Light snickered into his pillow and looked over his shoulder. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to try?” He turned over to face L, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Don’t tell me that the World’s Greatest Detective has been defeated by an eeeevil tangle,” he teased. He couldn’t help but rub it in a little after all the grief L had put him through lately.

L shot Light a bitter glare, his eyes slightly moist from the shock of pain. “It is painful, and I am choosing to avoid engaging in painful activities. I will just wait until Watari is well enough to brush my hair,” he huffed, averting his gaze. In truth, he knew his hair would only be even more impossibly tangled- potentially unsalvageable by the time the man was no longer ill.

“That is…” Light sat up and leveled L with an unimpressed stare. “...the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. It’s just going to get worse if you put it off, and who even knows if he’ll be better tomorrow.” He leaned closer to examine L’s bedhead and let out a low whistle. Somehow, in the span of just 3 hours of sleep, the back of L’s head had gone from normal looking (for him) to a mess of matted, knotted hair. “Ok, I’ll admit that is pretty bad. I think even your tangles have tangles.”

He looked from the chaotic labyrinth of hair to the discarded brush thrown in the corner. L’s going to be a miserable grouch all day if this doesn’t get fixed. That made even the prospect of having the day off seem unappealing given who he was chained to. Plus, every moment they weren’t working, he was denied the chance to clear his name.

“Let me take a crack at it.” He glanced at L, giving him a little shrug like ‘why not?’ “It’s not like I can make it any worse.”

“You could still hurt me,” L muttered, glowering at Light. His expression was similar to a pout at this point, as if he was on the verge of crossing his arms and huffing.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Light sighed, still half-asleep. “I used to brush Sayu’s hair all the time when she was little.” Under his breath he murmured, “Anyway, you’d just tag on an assault charge onto my long list of ‘crimes’.’”

L hesitated for a moment before climbing off of the bed and retrieving the brush. Thankfully it wasn’t too far that the chain would cause any issues. He set the brush down in front of Light and sat down with his back towards the man. This is a terrible idea. However, if he goes out of his way to harm me, I can hold that against him.

Light picked up the brush tentatively, making a face at how overloaded with wiry black hair it was. “Hold on…it’s not going to do any good like this.” He pulled off the hair and dropped it from pinched fingers in the trash can beside the bed. “Ok, now we’re ready. Just...” He trailed off as he blinked at the back of L’s head-- specifically, the tumor-like protrusion of hair sticking out from the back. How could it have possibly gotten this bad?! Maybe I’m out of my depth here. “Um. Do you brush your hair every day, Ryuzaki?”

“Watari brushes it in the morning when it needs it,” L murmured, shrugging his shoulders indifferently. “He brushes it less now that I’m older.” Or now that he’s older.

Light fingered a few tangled tufts but didn’t pull, just surveying the damage to undo. “Have you...thought of using conditioner?”

L had to fight the urge to tilt his head, instead making a soft humming sound as he considered it. “No, I believe using soap for all of my washing is still the most efficient option. I see no reason that liquid soap is not enough to wash both my hair and my body.”

Light made a noise between a choke and a gasp, finally forcing out, “No...no, it’s...no, not at…” He sighed in exasperation, suddenly understanding why they were here. Closing his eyes, he said calmly, “After I untangle this, I’m washing your hair with shampoo and proper conditioner, got it?” He counted to ten and opened his eyes. Well, nothing to do but get started.

Carefully, he focused first on brushing the parts that weren’t tangled (or not as badly) to get a sense for the thickness of L’s hair and how tender-headed he was. Light knew that probably even a normal tug or the slightest discomfort might end this endeavor; he had to tread carefully. “This would be easier if you sat still and stopped fidgeting.” He placed a hand on L’s shoulder to try and keep him in one place, but quickly pulled back in case he’d overstepped.

L stiffened up slightly, biting his lower lip. However, instead of pulling away, he mumbled a quiet apology and did his best to keep his body still. He continued to fidget with his hands, rapping his fingers on his knees as he sat there, flinching occasionally when Light pulled too hard for his comfort. In truth, none of it was comfortable, but the man’s touch was surprisingly bearable. He wasn’t nearly as harsh as he had expected he would be, and it seemed as if he was adjusting to L’s reactions. “If you insist,” he mumbled, huffing quietly.

As Light got closer to the epicenter of the tangle, he started to sweat a little. Wait, is that--? Finally he had spotted the catalyst for the rat’s nest. A half-eaten lollipop was embedded and wrapped up in L’s hair, with the stick poking out at a jaunty and infuriating angle. “Ryuzaki…” He touched the stick, wiggling it slightly. “Did you happen to be eating lollipops in bed last night?”

A deep shade of red bloomed in L’s cheeks, travelling far enough to peek around his neck. “...no,” he mumbled, his tone incredibly sheepish as he blatantly lied. He couldn’t stop himself from squirming now, staring down at his hands as he shifted on the bed. He knew Light would be able to tell, but some small part of him felt embarrassed enough to try and hide it.

Light leaned to whisper in L’s ear, “Liar.” He gave the stick a little tweak. “The evidence speaks for itself, detective.” He laughed and shifted on the bed, reaching for a bottle of lotion in the nightstand. “This calls for desperate measures. That brush isn’t going to help at all,” he said, tossing it aside. “Not until I get that lollipop out.” With Sayu, he’d once used peanut butter to get some chewing gum out of her hair but really anything oily would do. He settled behind L again and squirted the lotion on his fingers, working it into the knots. “This might hurt a little but you don’t want to walk around with candy in your head do you?”

“It certainly sounds like a convenient carrying solution, freeing both of my hands to do work,” L muttered, his lips twitching faintly in amusement at his own joke. His breath hitched and he hissed quietly in pain as he felt his hair being tugged. “Ow...” He whined, his hand twitching briefly with the urge to reach back and swat at Light’s hand. “Be more gentle..!”

“Sorry,” Light mumbled. “Got a little too focused.” He slowed down his pace and methodically peeled away the hair from the sticky candy, nose wrinkling at the unappetizing gloops of lotion and red sugar coating his fingers. But, it was working! Bit by bit, knot by knot, the lollipop finally came free.

“Got it!,” he said triumphantly, holding up the mangled sucker. It was odd how satisfied he felt. Maybe it was because L only complained half a dozen instead of three dozen times, but he was all smiles as he showed it to L. “The accused stands before you. How do you judge?” He giggled and held it over the trash.

L was shaken and tense by the time Light was finally finished. It wasn’t that the man had hurt him- no, the process was quite painless after the first few tugs. However, he kept expecting pain, anticipating it, even though it never came. Once the man was done, he relaxed, staring at the candy. For once, he didn’t have the urge to shove the sweet into his mouth (although that may have been because of the hairs protruding from it).

“…guilty,” he mumbled, plucking it from Light’s fingers and dropping it into the trash can. He reached back to touch his hair, immediately grimacing at the unpleasant texture of melted candy and lotion mixed with hair. “…I suppose I’ll be needing my hair washed after all,” he muttered.

Light frowned a little that his joke had flopped, but what did he expect? “You’re welcome,” he grumbled as he got up off the bed to the length of the chain. “Come in the bathroom then and I’ll wash it in the sink. Need to wash my hands, too.” You don’t deserve my nice hair products but that’s all we’ve got. He’d be damned if he’d use liquid soap like L usually did. Just the thought made him shudder, rattling the handcuff chain between them.

L followed Light into the bathroom, shedding his shirt in the process to avoid it getting wet. He unclipped his end of the chain to remove the shirt completely, immediately latching the chain back on after. “How should I stand?” He stared at the sink in mild confusion, unsure of how to wash his hair in a non-shower setting.

“Over there,” Light gestured with his chin, “until I clean myself up.” He maneuvered around L and turned the water on with his elbow, scrubbing furiously until all the melted lollipop and lotion swirled down the drain. Why am I bothering to help him? I should have just left it there and taken the day off. I need one.

He dried his hands and grabbed his shampoo and conditioner that his mother had brought him from home, purchased from his favorite salon. The sleek bottles only reminded him of how much he needed a haircut, of how much he’d taken for granted all the little freedoms like that. The reflection looking back at him in the mirror-- bangs hanging in his eyes, wispy strands long enough to tuck behind his ears-- reinforced it. L may be a mess but so was he. The realization didn’t help his mood any.

He gave L a cold glance and pointed to the still-running warm water in the sink. “So...just stick your head under the faucet.”

L glanced back and forth from the sink to Light for a moment, as if unsure of what to do. He then moved closer to the sink, leaning down and hesitantly pushing his head under the water. He immediately jerked back when some ended up in his ear, an uncharacteristic squeak escaping his lips as his face scrunched up. He tilted his head, shaking it as if trying to get the water out. His hands rest on the sink, gripping it tightly to keep himself upright. Once he had calmed down, he took a deep breath and put his head under again, this time keeping it there as he closed his eyes.

Light crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one leg. If L couldn’t even stand the water, a molecule of soap in the man’s eyes would send him through the roof. “Hold on, I’ll get a chair and you can just lean back.” He went to do so but the chain tugged him back sharply. How many times will I forget? I’m anchored. “Um, can you release the chain for a moment? I’ll be right back.”

Much to his own surprise, L reached out without even hesitating, unclipping Light’s end of the chain. “Be quick. I think I can feel it hardening,” he murmured, grimacing as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He wanted to cooperate, he truly did, and he could only hope that was coming through in his actions and words.

Light blinked as the chain thunked to the bathroom floor. He did it? He stared at the coiled chain like it was a dead but still dangerous snake before snapping to attention and heading into the bedroom. It had been over a month since he’d felt 360 degrees of freedom but he couldn’t enjoy it, even though he wheeled L’s office chair into the bathroom slower than necessary. He felt a little shaken that his first instinct had been to run, but why? What did he have to run from? I’m innocent…

“Sit here and lean back so your head’s in the sink.” He rolled up a fluffy towel and placed it on the edge of the counter. “That should make it more comfortable.” He added drily, “Don’t worry, I didn’t stuff any razors inside.” Not that I’m allowed any. A few months ago he’d been the top student at To-Oh and now he was playing hairdresser with a man who wanted to execute him.

L didn’t bother grabbing the chain again, wanting to give Light more space as a gesture of appreciation for what he was doing, since he couldn’t really find the words to verbalize that feeling. He nodded and sat down in the chair, leaning back and resting his neck on the towel. His face scrunched up slightly in discomfort as he tilted his head back, suddenly made very aware of how stiff his neck was.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “I trust you.” Of course, that’s partly because it would be too big of a risk for him to try anything right now, but I also don’t think he’d want to…

Light arched a brow at that lie and squeezed shampoo into his hands. “Sure.” Trusts me when it’s convenient for him. He avoided looking at the chain, not wanting to remind L in case he forgot. I know he didn’t forget.

L’s face was as unreadable as ever so he just got on with it, lathering L’s hair into fragrant suds and taking care that no soap got into the man’s wide-open eyes. The smell of grapefruit and sandalwood in the bathroom started to make Light relax, the tenseness falling from his face. After a few minutes, he couldn’t feel any more sticky candy embedded in L’s hair and rinsed it clean. “Alright, sit still. Conditioner’s next.”

The feeling of Light’s fingers massaging his scalp was incredibly relaxing for L. He did his best to keep his face impassive, forcing himself to focus on the feeling of wetness on his forehead, but, eventually, even that wasn’t enough. By the time Light was rinsing his hair out, L’s eyelids were heavy and his expression incredibly relaxed. Most of the tension that was normally present in his body was gone. “This…feels nice,” he whispered, blinking slowly as he stayed still for the man.

Light couldn’t help but smile faintly at the praise. It was gratifying that he’d done well, even at this insignificant task, when it was for his harshest critic. His mood lifted considerably-- maybe this day wouldn’t be a wash after all. Wash, pft. He snickered to himself and turned the water off, then smoothed the conditioner in L’s hair to the ends.

Tilting his head, he said, “Your hair’s longer than I thought.” When wet and not fluffed up by frizz, it looked almost twice as long.

L’s body felt almost loose at this point, and part of him wondered if he would slide out of the chair. Even the feeling of Light barely pulling on his hair was soothing by now. A faint smile curved his lips as he closed his eyes. “That makes sense. It’s been a while since Watari last trimmed my hair. I’m not very fond of the sound of scissors so close to my head.”

“Now we wait. Five minutes and then rinse.” Light glanced down at his watch and leaned against the counter. This might be an awkward five minutes.

L shifted his legs, letting one stretch out and dangle off of the chair. “I didn’t expect that this would be so…pleasant. You’re very good at this, Light,” he mused, his relaxed state loosening his lips ever so slightly.

A little heat rose to Light’s cheeks. “Uh...thank you. I guess I have my sister to thank for that. I was her babysitter for years and her hair gets tangled easily, too.”

He smiled when a funny memory sprang to mind. “One time she managed to get a whole package of modeling clay stuck in her hair and I had to scrub for an hour to get it out before my parents got home from dinner. When my Mom noticed it was gone, Sayu told them she ate it.” He laughed to himself, remembering the horrified looks on his parents’ faces. “Of course, we fessed up before they called poison control.”

L’s lips twitched for a moment before he burst into laughter, holding his hand up in a failed attempt at covering his mouth. His laugh shook his entire body, a big grin forming on his face. When was the last time I laughed like this? Have I ever? I can’t recall feeling this good before now. “That- that’s quite impressive,” he managed to say after a few seconds, starting to calm back down and catch his breath. “What was she trying to do with the clay? Style her hair?” He chuckled, opening his eyes to look up at Light.

Seeing L smile was surprising but when the detective laughed, Light was shocked. But that laughter was infectious and only made Light giggle harder. “I think she was trying to make some kind of space helmet? Who knows, she was only five then,” he said between chuckles. I miss her. I wonder how she’s keeping up with her math homework. His laughter faded away.

He looked down at L, a thoughtful look on his face. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh and mean it.”

L’s expression softened, turning thoughtful and slightly sad. “Yes, I suppose it is. I haven’t laughed like that in a long time.” He sighed, stretching out his arms for a moment as he averted his gaze. “I guess that’s just something else you’re good at, hm?” He arched a brow, smirking a bit in the subtle, mocking way he usually did. However, there was no malice to his tone. Instead of attacking Light, it seemed like he was attempting some good-natured ribbing, as if between friends.

Light blinked and gave L a puzzled smile, waiting for the barb to come. Unexpectedly, it didn’t, and he wasn’t sure what to say. L being nice was as strange as L laughing.

He glanced down at his watch anxiously. “That’s five minutes.” He turned on the warm water and rinsed the conditioner from L’s noticeably softer hair. Any residual tangles came loose immediately when he combed his fingers through it and he started to get curious about how it would look when dry. “Alright,” he said, turning off the water. “All done. Your tangles are a thing of the past.”

He turned his back to L to dry his hands on a fresh towel. “I guess it seems like a waste of time to use the conditioner but it saves time in the end for brushing. I can give Watari the information if you want me to.”

L shifted in the seat, looking over at Light with a contemplative expression. He sat there in silence for a few seconds, just staring at the other man until he finally spoke. “I suppose you can. That would be nice. But also, while we’re sharing a living space…if you wanted to- ah- do this more frequently…I wouldn’t protest.” He averted his gaze and cleared his throat loudly.

“Wouldn’t protest?” Light turned around sharply, feeling annoyed at L’s assumption. The words ‘I’m not your servant!,’ hovered on his parted lips but died there when, somehow, he saw L clearly. The man was too proud to ask directly for what he wanted. They had managed to connect in a way that wasn’t only detective and suspect, jailer and prisoner. Light had felt it, too, and he craved kindness after his long isolation, this ongoing tense situation.

He watched L for a moment and quietly said, “Alright, but no cuffs when I do it.” He smirked and added, “And no more lollipops in bed.”

“I agree to the cuffs, but I can’t make any promises about the lollipops,” L joked, smiling as he sat up and pulled the towel over his head. He picked up the chain, staring at it for a second or two before clasping it onto Light’s cuff. However, instead of immediately pulling away, his hand lingered on the man’s wrist. “…thank you, Light,” he mumbled, the sound barely a whisper as he lowered his gaze and pulled his hand away, standing up straight.

Light grinned and tossed L a towel since the man was dripping water everywhere. So it didn’t kill you to say it after all.

“You’re welcome.”

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

THE PEACE MAKER

Prompt: Requested, by the lovely @banks4life

Thank you so much for your request babes, I hope you’ll like it 😉

Word Count: Bitch, grab a snack, ‘cuz this is LONG

Pairings: Roman Reigns x Reader x Seth Rollins

Warnings: +18, smut, threesome, anal sex, rough sex, car sex, dom x sub dynamic, name calling, DP (double penetration), fingering, oral sex (female receiving), angst.

Tag: @ziasaph , @marlananicole , @akiko-tanaka , @wickedsunfire , @sassymox , @nicolewoo , @saccreigns , @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan , @mindofasagittaruis , @reigns-5sos , @auawdo , @lustyromantic , @babydee17 , @yungbludjazz360 , @theworldofotps , @new-zealand-chic

Notes: This was something people 🥵💦. I have some exciting news! 🤗 From now on I’ll have an official editor. How cool is that? This means no more misspellings for me and you get to enjoy a fic with a nice flow and correctly grammar 🤣 My editor is the incredible and amazing @rheacanbreakme , Annie is the one responsible for helping me with my writing and she is an INCREDIBLE writer as well! So please, if you can, make sure to check her out, you won’t regret it 😉 You can check out my previous fics on my Masterlist, if you’d like. Now, let’s get the fun started, shall we?

Sighing in relief, I placed my bags underneath the stairs and ran quickly towards the kitchen when I heard the commotion coming from there.

The loud screaming and cursing almost made me deaf.

“What is going on in here?” I asked

“Shut the fuck up, fool! You can’t make her cum like that, not even if you tried hard to!” Roman yelled at Seth, completely ignoring me.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Seth ran quickly towards Roman, desperately trying to throw a punch at him

“HEY, HEY, HEY” I yelled as loud as I could, stepping in between their bodies and placing one hand on the chest of both of the men

“C’mon, bitch! I ain’t afraid of you!” Roman teased Seth

“ENOUGH!” I pushed Seth away, making him finally look at me

“You’re choosing his side, Y/N?” Seth asked in disbelief

“I’m not choosing anything! I don’t even know what the hell is going on!”

“It’s pretty simple: Lover boy here was sniffing around my stuff, opened a computer folder called ‘Private’ and found some of our sex videos, did not like what he saw, even though he was the one snooping through other’s business, and now he wants to pick a fight with me because of it” Roman explained

“Seth, why did you open the folder?” I asked

“Because I wanted to see what’s up with it, since he keeps it to himself like it contains the keys to heaven or something”

“It is heaven! As you saw” Roman smirked

“I’m gonna rip your fucking head off!!” Seth ran, and I stopped him

“Seth, don’t!” I pushed him away “And you” I looked at Roman “Stop teasing him”

“He did that shit on purpose, Y/N!” Seth said

“No, I didn’t” Roman defends himself “I was showering, I left it open because I was gonna watch it after! Then you sneaked into my room and decided it was a good idea to open MY personal folder that was in MY MacBook in MY bedroom!”

“Seth, is this true?” I looked into his eyes

“I thought it was pictures or videos of him with another woman! A side chick or something”

“Bitch” Roman scoff “I don’t need a side chick! I CAN keep it in my pants, unlike some other people” Roman measured him with his eyes from head to toe

“ARGH” Seth roared, trying to attack him again

“Goddamn it, STOP!” I grabbed Seth’s face and forced him to look at me “Please, stop” I begged, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath

“That was low” I narrowed my eyes at Roman

“What? I didn’t lie” He said, shrugging

“Stop talking, please! You’re not helping at all!”

“Are you gonna defend him, even though he’s wrong?” Roman asked, slightly shocked

“You two, stop with this defending bullshit! I’m not picking anyone’s side! THERE ARE NO SIDES FOR ME TO PICK!” I yelled exasperated, took a deep breath and looked at them “I’m just trying to make sure that neither of you do anything dumb”

When I have both of their attention I continued

“I just got home and instead of having a welcome home kiss I almost got a welcome home punch in the face! Seth, you shouldn’t have invaded Roman’s privacy. We’re supposed to respect each other’s personal space in this house and we all know that personal belongings are off limits and the bedrooms too, unless the owner of the room allows us in. Isn’t that right?” I asked and he nodded

“Good. And Roman, I thought we were all adults who know better than to tease the other person like if we were in 8th grade when that other person is extremely nervous” I looked at him and he mouthed a ‘he started’ and I just stared at him harshly

Roman sighed “Yeah, you’re right”

After a few minutes of silence Seth says

“I have a night class at Black and Brave, so I’m just gonna head off” He whispered to me

“Ok, babe” I caressed his bearded cheek, knowing that this was his way to calm down, even though his class doesn’t start until 3 hours from now.

Seth hugged me tightly, pecking my lips

“I missed you. I’m glad you’re back home” He smiled softly

“Yeah, me too, bubba” I kissed his cheek

“See you later, baby”

“See ya, and be careful!” I followed him to the front door

Seth winked at me as he grabbed his duffle bag, and waved at me once he reached his car, which is when I closed the door

I returned to the kitchen and looked at Roman, who was sipping on a beer bottle

“Did Mrs. Soft Feelings leave already?” He asked

“Ro, that’s not nice! Don’t talk about him like that, you know I don’t like it! But yeah, he left”

“Good” He placed me on top of the kitchen island, completely ignoring what I just said “‘Cuz I’ve wanted to do this ever since I saw you”

Roman’s lips teased my own. Kissing me sensually, taking every chance to nibble at my lips.

“I missed you so fucking much” Roman sighed, hugging me tightly

“I missed you too, big dog” I squeezed his ass cheeks, making him chuckle

“So, our old videos, huh?” I asked

“I missed you. I needed something to ease the pain, you know? I couldn’t get you out of my head”

“Which head?” I giggled

“Both heads” Roman winked

“I think I can help you with that” I replied, dipping my hand inside his sweatpants

“Oh, please do” Roman moaned once my hand closed around his erection “Fuck, it feels so good” Roman rested his forehead on mine “Hmmm baby, just like that...Fuck I missed this”

Roman opened my button up shirt, sinking his head down to the top of my breasts, sucking, licking and biting.

“Your skin is so soft” He whispered against my breasts “Specially your tits. Always drive me insane”

“Roman” I moaned and he grabbed me in his arms, taking us to the living room, where he placed me on the couch before leaning back

“I wanna fuck you so bad” Roman panted, quickly removing his clothes as I did the same.

I moaned loudly when he entered me.

“Isn’t it so good to be home baby girl?” Roman chuckled, mocking me

My walls squeezed around him, making him groan loudly

“That’s so mean of you” He half moaned uncontrollably

“That’s what you get for mocking me”

“I could never!” Roman pretended to be offended, and began to pound mercilessly into me

“You’re so fucking wet...I can tell this pussy missed my cock, didn’t it baby?”

“Oh yes, daddy. So fucking much!”

“That’s it, baby. Scream for daddy”

Roman and I both screamed in pleasure as we came.

“Wanna take a bath?” Roman asked playfully

“Sure, I fucking need one” I giggled

.......................................................................................

“You’re going to sleep with him tonight?”

“Ro, please don’t start with me...You know he has the odd days this month”

“Can I persuade you into forgetting that and staying with me instead?”

“You know that’s not fair”

“Well, I think I should have some type of reward don’t you?”

“For what?”

“Not knocking his teeth down his throat for touching my stuff without permission”

I laughed “Roman, you’re a grown ass man! Please, behave yourself”

“He still deserves a punch!”

“Babe” I said as I sat up on his lap “Please, help me out?! Look” I sighed “You know I’m not one for comparison, but we both also know that it’s no secret you’re way more mature than Seth in some aspects, so I’m begging you: Please don’t do this to me! Don’t stick your head up your ass and become as childish as he is, please? I need someone to deal with the situation as an adult and I know that’s not gonna come from Seth but I do hope it comes from you” I give him some puppy eyes for an extra effects

Roman sighed “Fine. You won! I’ll be the mature one”

“Thank you” I squealed, hugging him tightly

“Yeah, yeah” He chuckled “But I’m already letting you know that the next time he touches my stuff I will break his teeth AND his fingers!”

“Noted!”

…………………………………………………............................

I was waiting for Seth, laying down on his bed, when his bedroom door opened.

“Hey bubba” I smiled, opening my arms for him

Seth smiled widely, jumped on the bed and hugged me tightly

“Ah, I missed this” He said, inhaling the perfume on my neck

I giggled, asking “So, how was the night class?”

“Good, but I know what can be better” He smirked, pinning me down on the mattress...

The next morning I had an early class at college so I was the first one to wake up, followed by Seth

“What are you doing up so soon?” He asked, hugging me from behind as I waited for my toast to be ready

“I have an early class”

“Come back to bed” He mumbled against my shoulder

“Bubba, I can’t!” I chuckled softly “You know that”

“But we miss you” Seth pressed his hard on against my butt cheeks

“I know but I really can’t” I turned around and softly kissed his neck “But we can fix that later if you‘d like” I winked at him

Seth sighed heavily “Fine” He murmured, slightly upset

“C’mon bubs, don’t be like that” I hugged him tightly “I need papa waiting for me when I come back home” I smiled when his eyes shifted to his Dom mode, which often happened whenever I called him papa

“Are you gonna let me make a video with you too, so I can have my own?” Seth asked, with a raspy voice

“I’ll let you do whatever you want with me” I leaned forward, reached his ear and whispered “Papa” Giggling, when I felt the pressure of his grip around my neck

“We’re going to have so much fun when you come back” Seth laughed coldly

“Hmmm, I can’t wait for it!”

.......................................................................................

As soon as I got home, I opened the front door and felt a forceful tug on my right arm

“Ouch, Seth what the fuck?” I asked

The only reply I received was being tossed on his shoulder as he ran to his bedroom.

From the couch, Roman just stared at us until our figures disappeared up the stairs.

Seth loudly shut his bedroom door, soon after saying “Take your clothes off, now!” He quickly set up his phone upon the night stand and he took the lube bottle out of his bedside table

I gave him a questioning look and he said

“I’m about to fucking explode! I really cannot endure foreplay. Not right now!”

Seth squirted some lube on his length and rubbed his cock all over my folds, making me moan loudly.

Soon after, we heard the front door open and close forcefully.

“Uh, somebody must be having a bad day” Seth laughed, amused

I slapped his shoulder lightly “Don’t talk about him like that”

Seth’s eyes grew dark and suddenly I had one hand around my neck, choking me hard and another hand rubbing my clit in fast circles.

“Since when do you hit me like that? Have you forgot who’s in charge, princess? Does papa have to remind you about that?”

I can feel my eyes closing from both pleasure and pain, and my mind going numb from the choking.

Seth quickly loosened the pressure around my neck and lightly slapped my face

“No no no, you’re not gonna pass out on me now, are you?” He laughed deviously “I love when you get like that, speechless...whenever that happens, you become my favorite play toy! Just laying there, all pretty and quiet, just waiting for me to fuck you...use you as I like” Seth bit my cheek “Don’t you like being used, baby?” He asked, staring at me

“Yes, I love it” I panted

“Of course you love it!” Seth licked from my chin to my lips “You love it because, you’re my filthy little whore” He chuckled and quickly began to fuck me until I was screaming uncontrollably

……………………………………………………..

It is the next day and I’m leaving the main building on campus when I heard someone honk, and then call for me. I turned around to find Roman

“Hi, baby girl” He smiled widely

I leaned on the driver’s window to give him a kiss

“What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised

“Well, I just left the gym and I remembered that you leave college earlier on friday’s so I came to pick you up” Roman winked

“Are you leaving already?” He asked

“Yep!” I answered, giving him my books and backpack so he could toss it on the back seat, while I made my way to the passenger’s seat

“Why didn’t you let me know you were coming? I could have waited for you in the front building”

“Nah, it’s ok. I didn’t take that long to find you” He cackled “And also because I wanted to surprise you” Roman took my hand in his, intertwining our fingers and placing a soft kiss on the back of my hand

“Well, I’m happy you came to pick me up” I leaned forward and placed a kiss on the side of his full lips

“C’mon, really? We haven’t been together in two days and that’s all I get? An ‘I’m a virgin, please be gentle’ kiss?” He laughed

“What?” I played dumb

“Baby...c’mon, show your man some love, will you?” Roman placed one big hand on my thigh and squeezed

“Ro, you’re driving. We can’t do that!” I pretended to be in shock with his request

“You really gonna make me stop the car and fuck you in the middle of the street? Because you know I will!”

“Of course you wouldn’t!” I teased, knowing that would make him park the car and fuck me senseless.

Roman quickly pulled over, next to an alley and turned the car off. Unbuckling his seatbelt, Roman said

“Take off your panties and straddle my lap” He pulled his half hard cock out of his pants, licked his palm and began to stroke it to complete hardness.

Just the sight of his rock hard member was enough to make me damp. I straddled his lap and Roman teased me with the tip of his cock, rubbing up and down my folds, from my clit to my entrance.

“Daddy, please” I begged

“What do you want, baby girl? Tell daddy”

“I want you to fuck me, please...Please fuck me good like only you can do” I pleaded

Roman finally stopped teasing me after my last plea, and entered my core.

“Fuck daddy...so deep” I gasped

He grabbed me by my hair, pulling me forcefully to him. Kissing my lips like his life depended on it

“You like me buried deep inside of you, don’t you baby?” Roman panted

“I love it! I love it so fucking much” I moaned

Romans thrusts were vigorous and merciless. Even though we didn’t had that much space in the car, he still managed to find the perfect angle to make me feel dizzy.

“Fuck, look at that” He pulled the front of my dress up, so he could see his dick going in and out of me “Look how well you take me, baby. How you take every fucking inch...You’re so fucking perfect” Roman said, pulling my face to his and kissing my lips, while he grabbed two fistfuls of my hair, to keep me in place….

…………………………………………………………………………

Saturday’s night are always low for the three of us, not much to do unless we decided to chill on the couch and watch some tv. But since finals are coming, I was finishing one of my reports in my room when I heard the beginning of an argument coming faintly from the living room.

I rolled my eyes before making my way downstairs, to see what the problem was this time, which happened to be the fourth time today I had to settle an argument between the boys.

“What the hell? Can’t you two stop fighting for one goddamn second?” I screamed

“He started it” They said at the same time

*I swear, it’s like living with children* I thought to myself

“What is it?” I asked, briefly

“He ate my greek yogurt” Roman said

“I was hungry! And I didn’t see your name on it, pal” Seth answered

“I’m the only one in this house who eats the fucking yogurt!” Roman yelled

“Well, I was in the mood to eat it and so I did! As far as I remember, the food is for everybody who lives here, isn’t it?” Seth asked, placing his hands on his hips

“But the yogurt was mine!” Roman roared

“Enough!” I screamed “Shut the fuck up the both of you, now!” I tugged at my hair in exasperation

They stared at me speechless and I used that moment to let my anger flow

“I can’t believe that two grown ass men in their thirties are fighting over yogurt! You have got to be kidding me! I can’t understand how me, in my 21 years old, have to intervene in your stupid and pointless baby level of immaturity fights! I’m tired of being the only adult in this fucking house and as far as I’m concerned, you two can literally kill each other from now on, because I DON’T GIVE A DAMN ANYMORE!” I yelled and returned to my bedroom.

One hour later, I heard a knock on my bedroom door, but decided to ignore it.

The knocking persisted, until I yelled

“What?”

“Can we come in?” Seth asked

“No!�� I answered

“C’mon baby girl, please? We just want to apologize to you, that’s all” Roman said

“Yeah? What for? Just so you can begin fighting again 30 minutes from now?” I spat

“Babe, please hear us out? We’re begging you” Seth said

I opened my bedroom door and found them standing there, with matching guilty looks on their faces

“Fine, but if you start arguing again-“

“We won’t” Both responded in unison

I made my way to my bed and they both entered the room.

“Talk” I said, when I sat at the edge of my the bed

“We would like to apologize to you, for all the bickering and fighting” Seth said

“Yeah, we realized that it senseless and uncalled for” Roman began

“And stupid, childish, annoying, ridiculous” I interrupted him

“True, it’s just that, we ended up getting caught up in the stress of everything, letting the pent up anger out on each other, and didn’t even realized how much stress we caused you by acting like we did” Seth said, coming closer to the bed and sitting by my side “Do you forgive me?” He whispered

I sighed heavily “Yes, I do, bubba” I pecked his lips

“And what about me?” Roman asked, now also sitting by my side

“Of course I forgive you too, handsome” I also pecked his lips

“Would you let us make it up to you?” Seth whispered in my ear

“Yes”

I gasped when Seth’s lips began to kiss my neck, while Roman quickly grabbed the hem of my oversized t-shirt and pulled up, revealing my naked body underneath it. Wasting no time, Roman sucked one nipple into his mouth as Seth turned my head towards him, so he could kiss my lips.

I moaned softly when Seth’s fingers began to rub my clit and Roman’s lips took over kissing me passionately.

“You like this, don’t you babe? You’re so fucking wet” Seth moaned, dipping two fingers in me

“What do you need, baby?” Roman asked as Seth’s fingers moved at a frantic pace

“I need your mouth on me, daddy. As papa’s fingers fuck me” I said, making Roman smirk

He leaned down and began to suck my clit as Seth finger fucked me.

It didn’t take me long to reach my orgasm, cumming hard.

“Who do you want where, baby girl?” Roman briefly asked

“I want you on my pussy first” I answered

Roman positioned himself on my entrance as Seth stood behind me, with the lube on his hand

Roman buried himself deeply and waited for Seth to enter my puckered hole before they began to thrust, finding a rhythm that could be pleasurable for the three of us.

“Oh, just like that” I moaned when they found the perfect pace

“Hmmm, baby you’re even tighter” Roman moaned “Do you like when Seth fucks your ass while I fuck your pussy, baby?” He asked

“Oh yes, I fucking love it! I feel so fucking full!” I panted

“You love being full with dick, right baby?” Seth whispered softly

“So fucking much!” I giggled

“You ready to switch?” Roman asked Seth

“Fuck yeah!” Was his answer

They switched and I felt even fuller. With Roman now in my ass and being thicker than Seth, he pushed my walls tighter, making it difficult for Seth to enter me

“Fuck, fuck, fuck I’m gonna cum” Seth moaned loudly once he finally entered me

“Don’t you fucking dare” I screamed, moaning

Roman began to move and so did Seth. The feeling was so good, I was literally drooling all over myself

“Fuck babe, you’re drooling. You look so fucking hot!” Seth said in awe

“Are you drooling because it feels so good, baby girl?” Roman asked

“Yes, daddy” I squealed

“Roman, she’s gonna cum...fuck, she’s so tight” Seth said as he began to cum, triggering my own release

Roman quickly pulled out and came on my ass, moaning and panting

The three of us crashed into the mattress, giggling and sighing.

“This was fun” Roman said

“Yeah, it was really hot” Seth laughed

“Would you like to do that again?” I smirked

“Fuck yeah!” They answered

As one bearded face moved to my breasts and the other one roamed down to my...

Please if you’re comfortable with it, let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

[mizunetzu]

Kuroo x reader - Kuroo’s Pocky Scheme!

⚠️ Warnings - Kuroo being a desperate simp, none!!

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

Kuroo stared at the doorknob to the schools kitchen-y room. It was such a desperate, bottom-of-the-barrel move, but he was literally just that. A desperate simp.

He sighed and pushed open the door, more forcefully than he intended. A small, blonde girl jumped and whipped her petite form around.

Kuroo raised his arms in defense. “I come in peace, Yachi-san.”

The girl, Yachi, visibly relaxed. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “O-oh...you’re...sorry, I don’t remember your name, but you’re Nekoma’s captain right? Oh god, what if you told me your name and I forgot gosh I am so-“

“No-no! It’s fine, I dont think we’ve ever talked.” Kuroo nudged the door shut, and dropped his voice into a whisper. “Ok, hear me out. I gotta huge-and-kinda-stupid favor to ask.”

“M-m-me?! Wh-wh-whaddya need from me?!”

“Well-calm down, I don’t ‘need’ much from you, no offense.” Kuroo leaned against the door. “Uh-first lemme explain-and promise not to make a big deal outta this, okay?”

Yachi nodded. Kuroo looked around the room, seeing only Yachi and a big watermelon inside.

“So. I may or may not have a tiny...crush, on (Y/n).”

Yachi blinked. “Wait, who’s (Y/...(Y/n)..? (L/n) (Y/n)?! Oh my-!”

“That’s besides the point!” Kuroo flushed, waving his hands up to hush Yachi. He felt so pathetic. He felt like a desperate schoolgirl, coming up with ideas on how to get his crush to notice him with his school girl friends.

“Anyways,” Kuroo shakily ran a hand through his untamable hair. “I’m...uh, I’m kind of desperate, and I feel like I’m gonna explode if I don’t...kiss him soon.” That last part came out in a mumble. He shook his head.

Kuroo snapped a finger at Yachi. “That’s where you come in.”

Yachi nodded dumbly. She really had no incentive to helping out this...tall, scary man. But, if she recalled correctly, (Y/n) was close friends with him-so he should be perfectly safe, right?

“I need you,” Kuroo fished a red box of Pocky out of his Nekoma jacket. “To go up to (Y/n), and ask if you can kiss him. He’ll probably say no, but if you ask him and say you’ll do it Pocky-game style, he’ll say yes. He never rejects food.”

Yachi deadpanned. Then, she erupted into vast shades of red. “W-wait-! But I don’t like him! Why do I have to kiss him-!”

“No! Let me finish!” Kuroo was losing his cool. His desperate simp was really showing, huh. “Once he says yes, tell him to keep his eyes closed because you’re embarrassed or something, and while his eyes are closed-you and me will switch places and I’ll eat the Pocky in your place! I get my kiss, and I’ll owe you absolutely anything!”

Yachi sputtered. What if it went wrong? What if he didn’t switch in time and her poor first kiss was taken by this boy she wasn’t that interested in? He’d think she was interested in him and she’d have to marry him and have to live in a cave hiding for the rest of her life-!

“I’ll do it.” A mature, level headed voice suddenly pipped up. Kuroo and Yachi both flinched in suprise. The door softly pushed open.

“But if I may, I do have a few suggestions.” Kiyoko scratched at her collar, walking in and inspecting the two.

“Yeah-me too.” Yaku follower in after Kiyoko, sending a mocking lifted gaze over to Kuroo. Kuroo looked away in embarrassment. “Like, I don’t know, be more quiet so everyone-including (L/n)-kun, doesn’t hear about your stupid Pocky plan.”

Kuroo usually would’ve opened his mouth to retort, but Yaku could easily warn (Y/n) of his plan, and it would immediately fall into shambles. He probably wouldn’t get his kiss then. Kuroo, regretfully, kept his mouth shut.

“Anyways,” Kiyoko cut in, breaking the heated glare Yaku and Kuroo gave eachother. “I can ask him in Hitoka-chan’s place. But, I do have a few concerns.”

Kiyoko held her finger up. “One-how do we know he’s going to say yes in the first place? Even with the Pocky-“

“No, no. (Y/n) never refuses anything to do with food. I even got him to forcefully drag Kenma out of his room by offering to cook him dinner last year. He and Kenma had bruises all over. A kiss is nothing to him.”

Kiyoko hummed, seemingly accepting Kuroo’s answer. She held up her second finger. “Second, how will we-well I, ask him without seeming suspicious? If I ask him alone, and we do it alone, that won’t give Kuroo-san the opportunity to slip in and switch with me.”

“But if she asks him and all if us are, y’know, there, he’ll think somethings up or we’re tryna make fun of him.” Yaku finished her thought. Kiyoko nodded.

Kuroo blinked. He didn’t think this far. “Uh...”

“W-well, what if Shimizu-senpai asked (L/n)-kun while he was talking to uhm...Kuroo-senpai, and he tags along because he wants to just...be there...and Shimizu-senpai takes him to a room where me and...sorry, I-I don’t really know your name but-“ Yachi pointed at Yaku. “To a room with me and him in it?”

Yaku blinked. “Wait, wouldn’t it be suspicious If Shimizu took him into a room just to find us sitting there?”

“W-well...Wouldn’t it be more suspicious and awkward for Kuroo-senpai to be there alone with them? We can just, sit there and pretend to talk with Kuroo-senpai until (L/n)-kun closes his eyes.”

“Holy shit, that’s a great idea...” Kuroo rubbed his head in disbelief. If he had gone through with his original plan, he would’ve failed so hard. “Well then-what are we waiting for? Lets go-“

“I have one more thing.” Kiyoko turned to Yachi.

“Hitoka-chan, if what Kuroo-san is saying is true, we should have no problem asking him to do the Pocky game with me, but realistically, it would make more sense if you ask him.”

Yachi’s eyes widened. Kiyoko continued. “I’m a year above him, and since much upperclassman girls don’t...idolize and fawn over underclassman like the ones in his grade or first-years do, it would feel a bit weird if I asked him.”

“You, on the other hand,” Kiyoko grabbed the box of Pocky from Kuroo’s hands and placed them gently on Yachi’s. “Are perfect for this, since girls like you seem to gravitate towards (L/n)-kun. The ‘shy-girl-who-wants-to-kiss-her-crush’ type. And we’ll reenforce it with the Pocky according to Kuroo-san.”

Yachi was quiet for a second, then she opened her mouth. “O-okay...I guess I’m doing it then...”

“Wheey!” Kuroo clapped his hands. “You guys are so nice, helping me with my boy problems.”

Yaku jabbed a finger at Kuroos face. “Yeah, you owe us big time Mr. Docosahexaenoic face.”

“You aren’t even doing anything, though.”

——

“(Y-Y/-!” Yachi was standing behind (Y/n). Her mumbles of “(Y/-!” were practically inaudible as the sticks inside the Pocky box rattled around in her shaking fingers. Kuroo side eyed Yachi, nudging his head to (Y/n)-who was talking to him so obliviously-egging her to go on.

“(L/n)-kun!” Yachi tensed and downcast her whole head, suddenly finding immense interest in the small rip in her shoes. (Y/n) turned around, facing away from Kuroo.

“Yes? Yachi-san? Did you need—is that Pocky? Can I have some?”

Yachi almost threw the box straight into the air. (Y/n) had his eyes fixated hungrily on the Pocky box, pointing at it gently with his hand. Yachi cleared her throat nervously. She felt her heart hammering in her chest.

“I-I-please don’t take this in a weird way but-c-can I k-k-kiss you-?!”

Yachi bowed down in a sharp 90 degree angle, making (Y/n) step back awkwardly. He looked at Kuroo, who gave him an innocent shrug, and looked back at Yachi.

“Uh-I’m sorry, Yachi-san, I don’t really-“

“We can do it Pocky game style! A-and I’ll let you have all of the Pocky afterwards! Please! Please! Please!”

(Y/n) eyes flickered back and forth from the box of Pocky up to Yachi’s sweaty, bowing hair. He really wanted that Pocky too. It was just a kiss, he never really cared about sentimental things like “first kisses” and whatnot. Plus, he’d get a whole box of Pocky afterwards.

“Okay then.”

“Really?!” Yachi raised her head, and (Y/n) nodded.

“You better keep your end of the deal and give me the Pocky afterwards, though.”

“I promise I will-!” Yachi stiffly bowed again, before trotting off with (Y/n) trailing behind her. “W-we can do this in the managers bed rooms!”

“Ok...” They walked in awkward silence. After a few seconds of contemplating, (Y/n) turned around.

“Tetsu, why are you coming?”

Kuroo shrugged. “Am I not allowed to come? I want some Pocky too.”

(Y/n) pursed his lips. “I mean I give you like, two, but don’t you think you’ll make Yachi-san uncomf-“

“It’s fine! I-I don’t care if he comes!” Yachi said a bit too quickly. (Y/n) eyed her suspiciously. Both Kuroo and Yachi broke into a cold sweat.

“...okay...let’s keep going, then.”

Yachi and Kuroo let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding.

——

“Hello.”

“Yo.”

Yaku held up a peace sign while Kiyoko waved. (Y/n) raised an eyebrow, waving back.

“I thought we were doing this in private?”

Yachi tensed. “W-well this is private enough for me...”

(Y/n) softly plucked the box of Pocky away from Yachi, walking away from them to sit down and open the box. Yachi and Kuroo shared a knowing, determined glance while Yaku and Kiyoko pretended to immerse themselves in conversation.

(Y/n) fished out a Pocky stick, and sat cross-legged on the bed mats. He waved it around, eventually settling to pointing it towards Yachi. “Sit down, so we can do this.”

“Yes!” Yachi dropped down abruptly, sitting in front of (Y/n). Kuroo walked over as nonchalant as possible and plopped down near Yachi. (Y/n) looked at him skeptically.

“Whaaaat. I just wanna see my good friend (Y/n) have his first kiss.”

“Pervert. Just say you wanna kiss Yachi-san and leave, you creep. Or do you wanna kiss from me instead?”

(Y/n) soft clad smile turned into a teasing smirk, making Kuroo break into another cold sweat. His heart started picking up speed once (Y/n) placed a Pocky stick, chocolate side first, between his lips. They looked so soft.

“C-close your eyes please, (Y/n)-kun.”

(Y/n) hummed from the stick in his mouth. “Eh? But they’re already...closed?”

“I-I meant keep them closed! ...this is...this is embarrassing so-!”

“Gotcha, Yachi-san. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” (Y/n’s) gentle smile reappeared as he smiled with the biscuit in his mouth. “Now, bite on to the Pocky already.”

Yachi turned over to Kuroo. Kuroo, as slowly as he could, shuffled his way into Yachi’s previous spot, in time while Yachi backed away. Yachi could see the way Kuroo’s hands shook as he placed himself down in-front of (Y/n), who was waiting ever-so-patiently with his fingers tracing the Pocky box.

“Yachi-san?” (Y/n’s) confused voice came out a bit muffled. Yachi squeaked out a quick “G-give me a second-!”, and (Y/n) couldn’t help but tell how far her voice sounded, even if it was just sightly father. Eh, he was probably just imagining things.

Kuroo was sweating buckets. He never thought his plan would work so smoothly. Hell, he didn’t think he’d actually be going through with it in the first place.

“God, hurry it up Kuuuua...” Yaku trailed off into a cough. “-Yachi-san. Hurry up ‘Yachi-san’, and stop staring at (L/n)-kun like that.”

Kuroo glared at Yaku, almost responding with a “shut the fuck up!”, before letting his mouth clamp shut frustratedly. He looked at Yachi for assistance. Yachi got the memo, and responded with a “I-I’m trying-! I’m just so nervous...!”

“Awwe...don’t be nervous, Yachi-san! Just think of it like we’re eating Pocky and our lips just so happen to touch.” (Y/n) smiled, and licked his lips the best he could. The chocolate part of his end was starting to melt, and the stick was getting soft in his mouth.

“The Pocky is melting...”

“I-I-I’m on it! Sorry, I’m doing it now..!” Yachi frantically motioned at (Y/n) to Kuroo. Kuroo nervously gestered back, as if to say “I’m fuckin’ trying..!”

Kuroo gulped, trying to swallow the lump in his throat, and closed his lips around the Pocky stick. This was really happening. He was going to kiss his long time crush. He was going to kiss (Y/n). Oh god, he’s awfully close. He’s closer than he’s ever been. Why won’t his heart just shut up and calm down?

Before he knew it, (Y/n) was nibbling at his end of the biscuit. The distance was becoming shorter. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready. He thought he was fully prepared to come into this all suave and nonchalant, but now that it was happening all of his preparedness flew out the window. He starting eating at his end of the stick aswell.

Both (Y/n) and Kuroo stopped eating once there was less than a inch of the stick separating them. (Y/n) briefly felt ‘Yachi’s’ nose brush against his, and Kuroo could feel the barely noticeable breaths of air from his nose.

The room was silent. Either that, or the vociferous thumping of his heart rate picking up speed drowned out Yaku and Shimizu’s voices.

And now that he was closer, he could see just how nervous (Y/n) was. His eyelids were fluttering, his brows were slightly pulled down, his nose was scrunched up just a tad, and his fingers were nervously tracing the packaging of the Pocky box. Even if it was cute, Kuroo couldn’t help but feel a bit bad.

But a plan was a plan. And he’d been waiting for years.

Kuroo broke down the last remaining barrier from his lips to (Y/n’s), letting the small Pocky nub lay on his tongue as he connected their lips together. He heard a small “yaay.” From who he assumed was Shimizu, and an obnoxious “Get it, ‘Yachi-san’!”, followed by a wolf whistle from Yaku.

He felt (Y/n) push closer, tentatively and unintentionally grabbing hold of Kuroo’s hand in the process. Kuroo intertwined his fingers with (Y/n’s), and that touch alone probably gave him away, but he couldn’t care less. (Y/n) could coil away in disgust right now, and he wouldn’t care. He got his kiss. A kiss that tasted like Pocky and (Y/n). A kiss he’s been waiting for for forever. His, and (Y/n’s), first.

Kuroo was the first to pull away. Half lidded and breathless, he sat back on his ass with a sigh. (Y/n) started to open his eyes, when Yachi’s scrambled to cover them.

“D-don’t look..! Please! I-I’m-uh, I’m still...embarrassed..!” Yachi looked back at Kuroo, who seemed to have come back to his senses, and shuffled back into the spot he was in originally. Yachi crawled over back in front of (Y/n), and removed her hands gently. She placed them in her lap, looking down with a blush no one in that room could tell was genuine or real good acting.

(Y/n) opened his eyes softly. His smile returned to his swollen lips, and he leaned his head on his palm. “That wasn’t so scary, right?”

(Y/n) clasped his hands together. “Congrats, you can officially say you stole (L/n) (Y/n’s) first kiss! Now you got something to brag about, huh, Yachi-san?” (Y/n) chuckled, still feeling the warmth of ‘Yachi’s’ lips pressed against his.

Yaku scoffed quietly. “Yeah, aha. ‘Yachi’ stole your first kiss.” He earned a flick to the forehead by Kiyoko.

Yachi stood up abruptly. “I-I’m gonna go! Uh-..brag...to my...f-friends.”

“Don’t go spreading rumors about me though.” (Y/n) looked up at Yachi, who squeaked out a “Yessir!” In reply. Kiyoko stood up aswell.

“I’m going to go with Hitoka-chan. See you three.” Kiyoko walked over to Yachi, seemingly ushering her out the door discreetly and shooting Yaku a look. Yaku stood up aswell.

“Well I don’t wanna be in here with you two. Pretty Boy and Docosahexaenoic Face. I’m gonna go see what Kai or Shibayama-kun is doing.”

Yaku shoved his hands in his pockets and walked out of the room, leaving Kuroo and (Y/n) sitting there alone.

Kuroo laid down on the floor next to (Y/n), resting his arms on the back of his neck like a cushion. (Y/n) sat there placidly, smiling at his reward that was the Pocky box.

(Y/n) fished a stick out, and munched on it happily. Kuroo looked at (Y/n), and closed his eyes with a smirk.

“So, how’d it feel having your first kiss with a cute girl?“

(Y/n) hummed, and took another bite of his snack.

“You’re not a bad kisser, Tetsu.”

Kuroo choked on his words. (Y/n) crunched on another Pocky stick. Kuroo sputtered and shot back up, staring at (Y/n) with wide, embarrassed eyes.

“Wh-h-how-wait-“

“To be honest you would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for, hm, 3 things.”

(Y/n) held up a single Pocky stick. “Number one. When our hands touched. It was pretty obvious your hand was too big to be Yachi-san’s, so that was a bit suspicious.”

Kuroo opened his mouth to say something. (Y/n) pulled out another Pocky stick.

“Two. When we broke the kiss, I heard you grunt. You would have literally no reason to do that unless you, per se, break a kiss and need to breathe in. And your voice, again, is too deep to be Yachi-san’s.”

Kuroo couldn’t do anything but helplessly stare at him, as he pulled out a third Pocky stick.

“Three.” (Y/n) set all three biscuits into Kuroo’s lap, to which he absentmindedly picked up. “You don’t really think I couldn’t see you? My eyes were open right up until we started eating the Pocky, Tetsurou. I was squinting...and you all were acting suspicious, so how could I not? Not to mention how weird it was for you to be sitting so conveniently close to me and Yachi-san.”

“If anything, if you weren’t planning something and you actually just wanted to watch, you would’ve sat near Yaku-kun once you saw him.”

Kuroo averted his eyes and broke a Pocky stick with his teeth, chewing on it to fill his mouth and prevent him from saying something stupid.

“And, even if none of those things happened,” (Y/n) pulled out another stick, this time twirling it around in his fingers. “I heard you discussing your ‘plan’ earlier in the kitchen. You really need to work on your volume, like Yaku-kun said.”

(Y/n) stood up, stretching his arms with a small groan. All Kuroo could do was stare up at him dumbly. He almost had a perfect scheme. Almost.

(Y/n) turned his head around, his back still facing Kuroo. “Next time you wanna kiss, buy me dinner and we can suck spaghetti noodles until it meets in the middle. Y’know, like in that one movie.”

(Y/n) waved around his Pocky box in farewell. “I’m gonna go see what Kenma and Hinata-kun are doing. Later, Tetsu.”

(Y/n) timpered off, shutting the door behind him. Kuroo stared at the door blankly.

“(Y/n), you sneaky bastard.”

——————

Happy new year!!

[astranva]

TPWK Music Video

Word Count: 3.5k (omg shut up I didn’t think it’d be longer than 600 words)

Category: Fluff

Warning: idk a few swear words I guess? no proofreading is done on this blog ok 😭

Summary: Long-term girlfriend Y/N isn’t only the choreographer of TPWK, but she’s Harry’s dancing partner in the music video as well. Harry is in love, and can also be a pest.

reposting because tumblr hates it when i appear under tags

// masterlist //

..

For as long as you could remember, you were a dancer.

From pictures taken of you as a child by your family on your tippy toes in ballet costume, to professional ones of you ranking as first in dancing championships as a teenager as you experimented with styles other than ballet, to you befriending some of the biggest names in film and music industries as you choreographed the dances for them in the studio you owned, having had bought one at the age of only 22 and it being one of the most successful dance studios there is, with people flying from all around the world to attend your workshops and get a glimpse of what you create.

You were friends with people you had never thought, as an aspiring teenager, to know and help create choreography for, along with all the musical movies you helped bring a different tune to by the dance steps you created, and to mention one name of many, you were most proud of The Greatest Showman.

Initially, you were a friend of a friend of Harry’s.

You met the English man 3 years ago; flirting with one another for 7 months on end – Harry liked to remind you that you would’ve been together way sooner if it weren’t for the both of you being in different countries so often during that time –, dating for 1, officially being together for the rest of the 2 and half years and until that very moment.

“Look, Y/N just sent me the video they made at her Tokyo workshop.”

“I can’t make it, guys. Y/N created the choreography for Ari’s new video, and she’s in it. It premiers tonight.”

“Like my hoodie? Exclusively got to be the first person to wear Y/N’s new merch collection. Looks sick, doesn’t it? Worked so damn hard on that one.”

“Have you seen Lizzo’s new music video? Y/N made the choreography!”

If anything, your friends and family liked to joke about how Harry was a fanboy of yours.

Taking Harry with you to your studio made Harry resemble a child on a Christmas morning, or a child accompanying a parent to their work for a “take your kid to work” day. He never denied the pride he felt whenever he watched you in your element, watching you gracefully do your thing, so beautifully and passionately, in a studio that looked different from his.

“We were thinking,” he said one night as he got under the covers with you, smiling and closing his eyes as you reached to rub a missed spot of his night cream on his forehead, “Of creating a music video for Treat People.”

“How many music videos are you planning to make, really? 12? For all 12 songs on your record?” You had joked with a smile, watching him snuggle into the covers with a giggle.

“And what about it?”

“Just the fact that you never warn your poor fans,” you had chuckled, “What do you have in mind for it?”

“It’s all too fresh,” Harry said, “But I have a concept in mind.”

You had hummed, resting your head on your pillow, sitting face-to-face with Harry under the covers before he excitedly propped himself up on his elbow.

“Retro. Just retro, a casino, and a dance.”

Your eyebrows went up, a surprised look on your face, “Not what I had in mind but go on.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Lots of people, kind of like a parade thing in the street.”

“That’s nice,” he smiled.

“But...” Knowing him well enough, you continued with a roll of your eyes.

“People won’t expect a vintage video, will they?”

“I don’t think they’ll expect a video for Treat People to begin with, baby.”

“Right,” he nodded, “So, what do you think?”

Just as you were about to confirm your excitement to the concept, your face had shifted to an expression of confusion;

“Did you say a dance?”

It didn’t take Harry long to discuss the concept with his team, going through the theoretical bit of creating a music video before Jeff asked the one question Harry had been excited to answer;

“Who’s going to do the choreography? Who’s going to be your dancing partner? We need to go over some pe-”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“You really think I’ll let anyone but my girlfriend do either of that?” Harry asked sarcastically with a smirk, “Planning on asking her tonight.”

“You son of a bitch, you already have it all planned.” Jeff laughed, shaking his head at his client and best friend.

And Harry stayed true to his word.

Insisting on driving you to and picking you from your studio after your workshop, Harry greeted you with a quick kiss once you were seated in his car, groaning about how ready you were to get in bed.

He was a little impatient, he’d admit. Holding a conversation about your day seeming to have had distracted him just a tad until you were both home and in comfortable mismatched PJ’s, indulging a late-night snack in your kitchen which consisted of quick sandwiches.

“And then he calls me, tells me that he wants me to come up with a dance for his tour promo video in a day, H! A day! Can you believe that?”

“Fucking idiot. What did you tell him?” Harry frowned, moving to remove a piece of crumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Declined for sure. Told him that it was too short of a notice, like, what am I supposed to do? Stop the time?”

“And what did he say?”

“Whined like a baby,” you scoffed, nodding to Harry’s annoyed expression, “I know!”

“Who does he think he is?” He rhetorically asked, “Calling one of the most demanded choreographers and expecting you to just do as he says. As if.”

Despite your annoyance at the said celebrity, your frown faltered at your boyfriend.

“And you know what’s funny?” He went on, “That you’ve been trying to reach a common ground, like, a solution that would be convenient for the both of you but he’s being an unhelpful, ungrateful twat.”

You pouted, reaching to pull him closer by one of his hoodie’s strings, pecking his lips, “Thanks for sharing the same annoyance and trash talking him with me.”

“Just wish some people weren’t dicks to you, love,” he sighed, “You don’t deserve it.”

“I can take care of them.” You smiled.

“I know you can, you deal with them so well, I don’t know how you do it,” Harry said, “But I still think some people need to stop giving you a hard time. Pisses me off.”

“Yeah? It’s hot.” You teased him, leaving a lingering kiss on his lips.

Harry’s posture eased, chuckling at you as he held on to your waist. “Glad you think so.”

“Always do,” you confirmed, “Now, what do you want to tell me?”

His eyebrows came together in confusion, “How did you know that? How- How did you know that I have something to say?”

You chuckled knowingly, giving him a shrug, “It’s a little offensive that you think I don’t know you well,” you sarcastically began, “But to answer your question, you tend to touch your bottom lip more often when you have something to say. And you have this look on your face.”

He might have fallen in love again and again that moment, opting to say silent for a moment as he took what you had said in – as he took you in.

Harry let out a sigh of contentment, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and bringing you closer in a hug before pressing a soft kiss to your head, “Love you so much.”

“Love you, too,” your muffled voice replied, “Now tell me.”

“You know how I told you I wanted Treat People to have a dance? And it’s all retro and all that?”

You nodded, looking at him.

“How do you feel about creating that? Being in the music video with me as my dancing partner?” He bashfully asked, eyes twinkling and smile innocent.

Your eyes widened, “What? Me?”

“Who else?”

“Are you being for real right now?” You laughed in disbelief, “Not only do you want me to create the choreography, but- but you want me in it?”

“Precisely, yes.” He nodded with a smile.

“Wow,” you smiled, shaking your head, “Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asked, “You’re so fucking talented and good at what you do, people know we’re together, I have been impatiently waiting for you to join me in any of that stuff, and it’ll be fun,” Harry listed before shrugging, “What do you say?”

“I mean, I see the fun part,” you replied, “But when do you want that? When do you want to start filming? I’m going to need more details.”

“Whatever you need.”

And again, Harry was a man of both words and actions, filling you with what you needed to know and enjoying how you seemed to glow brighter at the mention of your job and passion.

It didn’t take long before you were both in the studio after having discussed some technicalities with Harry’s team. On some days, you and Harry would goof around in your studio after you were done with the day. You’d occasionally teach Harry a move or two, and more often than not, Harry was the audience you needed to watch a new choreography of yours that you were either unsure or proud of.

But to be able to have Harry join you from start to finish in what you enjoyed doing had another feeling; one that neither of you could explain.

“You kick out with your right, then,” you demonstrated, “Step in.”

With pursed lips and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, Harry copied your moves, eyes on himself through the gigantic mirror in front of the both of you.

“Good job!” You grinned, “Alright so it’s, 5, 6, go 7, and 8,” you began from the top, “Then 1, and 2,” you stepped with your feet as you moved, “Kick, step, kick, step, turn,” you turned, “Push to the side,” you recapped slowly, “Clap, clap. Come on, you do it.”

Harry took a moment, letting out a breath as he shook his limbs, “Alright, got it,” he mumbled, “Can you count?”

“Yeah, baby, sure,” you giggled quietly, “5, 6, 7, 8…”

“Ah fuck,” he groaned as he seemed to lag before the next step.

You approached him, resting your hands on his shoulders before cupping his face to have him look at you, “You’re nervous. Why are you nervous?”

“Besides the fact that it’s the first time I do this?”

“Do what? Dance? We took salsa classes together.” You reminded him gently.

“No, love, just- this, for a video. And you’re so fucking good. I didn’t think you’d put that much effort into my little video but the dance looks amazing and I’d just, hate to not do it justice.” Harry ended his confession with a sigh, shoulders slumping down.

“H,” you pouted, “Baby, you’re an amazing dancer,” at that, Harry rolled his eyes, “Nooo, you are!” You repeated, assuring him, “If you can’t see how far better you’ve gotten than you’re blind, H.”

Harry’s face softened, looking at you as you nodded at him.

“We’re both putting effort and I won’t rest until we give this all it takes for you to enjoy it, alright?” You leaned closer, pecking his nose with a soft kiss which seemed to work to make him giggle, reaching to scratch his nose,

“Tickles.”

“Oh yeah?” You jokingly wiggled your fingers into his sides, “In your spot, Styles, let’s go!”

You weren’t surprised that after all your little classes together, Harry had perfected the choreography. It wasn’t just in your time together that Harry practiced; you caught him in the kitchen, in the shower, counting under his breath as he sat with a dazed look on his face, and you had seen him far too many times watching the recorded tutorial you had made for him and your backup dancers.

You weren’t surprised because you knew that once he set his mind to something, he wouldn’t rest until he reached it.

But just because you weren’t surprised, didn’t mean that you were any less proud.

Far too many videos on your phones were added of one another during that time; Harry dramatically lying on the floor in the studio, sweaty and panting as you recorded him while laughing, zooming into his dopey but smiling face, your phone propped up as it recorded the both of you practicing the entire choreography, catching the bit when Harry dipped in your arms but you weren’t ready and he ended up falling, bringing you down with him as the both of you burst out laughing.

He loved seeing you in your element, that was an established fact, but being with you in your element? That was priceless.

“Jesus, this is heavy!” Gemma exclaimed as she tried Harry’s sequined, bright cropped blazer.

Filming came by, and there was nothing like seeing hard work pay off.

Harry chuckled at his sister, taking the blazer from her before putting it on, “Have you seen Y/N? Is she done?”

“They were retouching her hair.”

Harry’s stomach was filled with butterflies. If you asked him for the reason behind them, he wouldn’t know how to answer; because he was nervous he’d mess up? Normal jitters before filming? Or maybe, it was the fact that you were finally joining him and that alone was enough to have him giddy, giggly, and bouncy?

Gemma would say it was the latter, having had watched and heard Harry ask about his girlfriend during the entirety of the process of getting ready;

“Is she alright?”

“Feel like I’m getting married and I’m not allowed to see my bride.”

“Can you please tell Y/N to check her phone? She puts it on silent whenever she’s working but I want to show her my hair.”

In the dressing room beside his, you began laughing the moment Gemma stepped in, already knowing from her huff and annoyed look the reason behind them.

“Bloody pest! How do you deal with him being all clingy over you like that?”

“I don’t,” you joked, “He’s nervous.”

“And a little annoying.”

“Thank you,” you smiled to the hairdresser before getting out of the chair, “Where’s the man of the hour?”

“Whining outside that door,” Gemma answered with a raise of her eyebrows and a smile, “You look amazing, love.”

“Really?” You smiled bashfully, tugging on your vintage jacket and looking down at your shoes, “It’s a light outfit.”

“Should try Harry’s blazer,” she huffed, “So heavy.”

Walking outside the room with Gemma, you saw Harry standing with your group of backup dancers, smiles on all of their faces as he talked with them, you fully knowing that he was making sure they were comfortable.

“Here comes the bride!” Gemma joked, raising her arms up.

Harry turned, and everyone was sure that it might as well have been your wedding.

His eyes seemed to reflect the shiny blazer he had on, dimples showing as he grinned, opening his arms at you.

Concealing the shyness you felt under his stare, you laughed as you wrapped your arms around him in a hug, feeling his hand rubbing your back. “You look so good,” you said, pulling away to look at him, “Where’s Lambe- There you are,” you pointed at Harry Lambert who approached the both of you, “How do you do it? What’s your secret?”

“Only the best for Sue,” Harry Lambert said, tipping an imaginary hat at Harry, “And our Angel.” He kissed your cheek.

Soon enough, everyone was asked into place.

For the first shot, they decided to film Harry entering the stage with the dancers first.

Standing at a safe distance away from the camera’s view, you heard the director call before they began recording.

“I got a good feeling,” you watched Harry sing into the vintage microphone, TPWK playing in the background as well, as he leaned to the side.

A smile was on your face, hands clutched together under your chin as you watched Harry and the dancers stick to the choreography you had worked on for the last 3 weeks.

Seeming to be too into your own world of watching your boyfriend, you hadn’t noticed right away when Gemma threw her arm around you until she squeezed you into a side hug, “Did so well, love.”

You gave her a smile and returned the hug, at loss of words.

For your takes, Harry was exactly as what Gemma had called him – a pest.

“Harry, stop making faces at her!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll stop now.”

“Harry!”

“What? I didn’t do anything!”

“You took a picture of Y/N with your flash on!”

“Oh shit, sorry.”

But you couldn’t be mad nor stop laughing, enjoying it too much for anybody’s liking.

“This is why I don’t accept when you ask me to be in your videos.” You joked as you all took a break, munching on a banana.

“See? You deprive me too much, baby.” Harry giggled, pecking your cheek quickly before reaching to grab a banana for himself.

“You’ve been depriving all these people from going back home early for the last couple of days, and look,” you pointed at Mitch, “Mitch looks like he’s close to murdering you.”

“I think that’s just his face, love. He hates this.”

..

“Alright, are we ready?” The director asked, “3, 2, 1, action!”

Harry sang as he stepped on the table you were sat at with your “friends”, a smile on his face as he did, his palm open towards you.

“And if our friends all pass away,” he sang, the soft ah’s following which was your cue to put your hand in his, stepping up on the table with him, “It’s okay.”

Nobody knew how the both of you did it, but everyone was satisfied with the one take they took.

It didn’t feel like filming anymore to either of you the moment Harry threw his bowtie away as you faced one another on stage, genuine smiles on your faces as you broke into the choreography you could do without a thought at that point.

There were moves that Harry had struggled with during practice, one of them being when he held you as you did a cartwheel; but all these struggles were long forgotten once the both of you gracefully did that move.

The song played as the both of you danced in front of the backup dancers and Harry’s band, only adding to the smiles on your faces before it began to come to an end – the end.

Harry twirled, your eyes following him with a smile before you dipped up with one arm, your other raised in the air, while one of Harry’s arms was around your back, the other stretched out.

“Cut! Amazing job! Amazing, amazing, job!”

The both of you were panting, you looking down at him as you giggled before you leaned down, pressing your lips to his in a quick kiss as everyone cheered.

..

Harry sat on it, and you sure as hell were glad he did because after one eventful year, he took matters in his own hands to start 2021 right the moment he dropped the music video on the 1st of January.

“It hasn’t been 10 minutes and it’s trending,” you laughed in shock, scrolling through your Twitter, “Your power!”

“No,” Harry smiled gratefully as he watched you as the both of you cuddled on your couch as and after you had watched the music video together, “All yours.”

“Stop,” you dragged, “You’ve been crediting me for a year for this video as if I did everything.”

“You practically did, love. It was all about the dance and look at you,” he sighed in contentment, squeezing you against him, “Made a dancer out of me.”

“You’re a natural.” You patted his cheek.

Harry scoffed, mind shifting to his X-Factor choreography, “Trust me, I’m not.”

“But seriously,” you began after a moment, looking up at him and making him shift to look at you, “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he repeated, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, you pest.”

“Hey!”

[adventuresinwonderlust]

Title: Studio Session

Pairing: Idol! Yoongi x reader  

Warnings: smut, fluff, oral (f) receiving, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks)

Rating: 18 and over

Permanent Tag List: @mochilicious-yoongi​ @heyimtavia​

You grip Yoongi’s hand tightly, leaning into his shoulder as the barrage of camera flashes surround you both. You groan at the thought or tomorrow's headline on Dispatch, whining at how once again another date night is ruined by nosey journalists trying to get front page news.  

You both finally make it safely to the car, Yoongi assisting you into the passenger seat, braving the crowd alone to get to the driver's side. He enters the car in a huff, starting the engine and honking on the horn for the crowd to back away. “I suppose they are happy to get run over.” He grumbles, arm gripping the passenger chair as he veers out the back windshield, backing out of his parking spot slowly. You look over at his stoic expression, wanting but deciding not to ask if he’s ok.

You arrive back at the Hybe building and up to Yoongi’s studio. He plops down in his chair, releasing an aggravated sigh, his fingers typing furiously on his cell phone. He places it down on the panel in front of him, swiveling in his chair to face you. “I’m so sorry jagi. Are you ok?” You look up at him and nod. “I’m fine. Why are you sorry?” He trots forward in his seat, gripping your knee, squeezing gently. “Another date night ruined. I know you're thinking it. I'm sorry, I really though I kept everything under wraps. I have no clue how the fans found out, let alone those journalists. You must hate dating me.” He pouts, looking down at his hand around you knee.

Your eyes widen and you rest your hand on his cheek, lifting his face to meet your gaze. “I love you so much. I don't care about fancy dinners at a fancy restaurant. I much prefer it being just the two of us here in your studio or under a bridge. Why don’t you play me something you’ve been working on?” He chuckles, turning to look at his new setup. “No, I don't want to make tonight about work.” “It’s ok Yoongi. I want to hear what you’re working on. Please.” He takes in a deep breath and trots himself back to his equipment. He opens his laptop and scrolls through his latest works. “This one I’ve been working on recently but I’m not really happy with it. I feel like, its missing something.” He complains from behind the hand covering his mouth.

“Well now you have to let me hear it so I can tell you how horrible it is.” You tease, moving to sit beside him on the desk. He laughs freely, his teeth on display as he clicks play. The track soon filling the room, followed by Yoongi rapping free style. “I’m just fooling around. This isn't the finished product.” He explains. You nod. The track ends quickly. “Play it again.” You nod. He plays it again and you listen more intently now. A sly smirk spreads across your face, a dirty thought entering your mind. You remove your foot from your slide, biting down on your bottom lip when you bring it up to rest on Yoongi’s thigh. He looks down at your roaming foot, swallowing hard when you wriggle your toes against his belt. “I know what's missing.” You whisper. “What’s that?” He inquires, grabbing your ankle to move your foot to the other thigh, spreading you wide so he can sneak a peek under your skirt.  

“Me.” You shrug. Yoongi wheels himself forward, “Is that so?” He questions, reaching behind you and pulling out a small black recorder. He places its beside you on the desk, raising his brows attempting to test your resolve. You simply glide your hand over your thick thigh, lifting your skirt to reveal your blush thong to him. He licks his lips, pressing record on the device before sliding towards you. He lifts your other leg from the floor, forcing you to sit completely on the desk, resting your feet on the arms of his studio chair. Before long, he dips his head between your thighs, shoving your panties to the side.  

He licks your slit with the whole of his tongue, parting your lips with his fingers, to reveal your hardened clit. He wraps his pout around your nub, sucking on it, humming happily when you moan out loud. Your legs fall wide, your hand digging into his hair when he rolls his tongue quickly along your sensitive bud. You moan freely, hoping the small recorder is catching every sensual sound that leaves your mouth. You buck into Yoongi’s face, feeling your walls quake with the threat of your impending orgasm. He moans into your cunt, entering you with two fingers and rubbing along your g-spot. You pant wildly, fucking Yoongi’s face now, your orgasm building quickly. “Yoongiiii-ahhhh.” You cry out, white waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You are a panting mess when you come down from your high. Yoongi licking his lips and fingers, stands, frantically undoing his belt. You look over at the recorder, reaching to stop it. Yoongi stops you sliding it over and shaking his head at you.  

He lowers his pants and underwear just enough to free his fully erect cock, moving forward to kiss you hard. You reach down to stroke his length when it stabs into your belly. Yoongi moans into your mouth, grabbing and squeezing your ass before spinning you around. He lifts your skirt, slapping down on the plump flesh of your bum. He grips and spreads your cheeks to reveal your swollen pussy to him, leaning his hips forward until just his tip enters you. “So, pretty. So, tight.” He whispers, pushing his full length into you now. You both groan at the feeling, Yoongi reaching up to tug your shirt down, your full breast spilling out into his large hands. He begins to thrust into to you hard, teasing and tugging at your pert nipple. “Ah, jagi, you always feel so good around my cock. Tou...touch yourself, I need to feel you cum around my cock.”  

You moan at his neediness, reaching down to rub at your swollen clit. You move your hand faster to keep in rhythm with Yoongi’s desperate thrusts. “Yoongi, so close.” You mewl, feeling your cunt become slicker the closer you get to climax. Yoongi releases a long wild groan, the lurid sounds of your copulating surely turning him on. Your body gooses and your head prickles and soon you feel the buildup of your release. “That’s it jagi, cum for me.” He pants, feeling your walls quiver around him. “Yoongi, Yoongi. I'm cumming!” You cry, rubbing your clit quickly and roughly as Yoongi fucks into you wildly. “Jagi, fuck, that’s it, milk my cock. Fuck, I’m cumming.” “Yes, please fill me up.” Yoongi grunts unabashedly into the studio, his head falling back, then dropping onto your back. His thrust soon slow, although he remains inside of you until his cock soften and falls.  

He reaches under the desk for a box of tissue, yanking a few out and cleaning you up. “I love you.” He whispers, kissing your forehead and then your lips. “I love you too Yoongi.” “I promise, I'm going to figure out how to have the perfect date.” You laugh, pulling him close. “Don't worry about that you silly man.”  

A week later, Yoongi asks you to meet him at a local restaurant. You enter surprised to find it bustling. You move through to the back to find Yoongi sitting in the back with his cap low and mask high. “Wow, incognito much?” You giggle, leaning in to tug his mask down and kiss him. “I promised I would figure something out.” “Will you eat with your mask on?” You tease. He laughs, digging into his bag. He pulls out his headphones, plugging them into his phone and handing them to you. “Here listen to this. I fixed the track.” You place the buds into your ear and Yoongi plays the track from the studio a week before, only this time there is an undertone. You squint to hear what it is, since it's so faint you could miss it. “Play it again.” You instruct. He does as he is told, a smirk planted on his face. You concentrate hard, hearing a faint familiar pant just below the bass. Your eyes widen and you look over at Yoongi, who smiles wide. He tugs the bud from your ear. “You were right jagi, it was missing you.” “You’re such a perve! If your fans hear this...” “Don’t worry jagi, its very faint. Only we know what it is, but I have to say I enjoyed it so much. When do you think you can come back and join me for another studio session?” “Never! You have enough on that one recording, I’m sure.” “I could never have enough of you.” He bites his bottom lip, leaning in to kiss at your neck.  

[imaginethathaikyuu]

kinktober - day ten

atsumu miya - promise 

kinktober faq kinktober prompt list

NSFW warning featuring: protected sex, dirty talk, fingering, first time together, atsumu being absolutely so horny for u

other tags: mentions of past partners, mentions of reader having a bad first time having sex, mentions of feelings of apprehension about having sex, insecurity caused by a past partner, established relationship, building trust, reassurance, atsumu being out of character for the sake of my own comfort, he just loves u a lot ok?

fem reader

(sorry this is out late! i got behind because i took a trip out of town over the weekend. i’ll get back on track sometime this week!) word count: 2936

-

For what felt like the first time - but definitely wasn’t - looking into Atsumu’s eyes left you feeling nothing but apprehensive. 

And he could tell. 

“You know I’m not gonna hurt you, right?” 

You shrugged. “I don’t know.” It was honest, maybe too honest, but you’d rather tell the truth than avoid your feelings. And Atsumu didn’t care about how your words made him feel. 

“We don’t have to do this,” he said, and he was already getting off of you and sitting up straight. “Come on, let’s just go watch a movie.” 

“Don’t you want to do it?” 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

But it did - the only thing that mattered to you was figuring out if your boyfriend really wanted you. 

“I just want to know if you really want me,” you argued. “How am I supposed to know if you mean it or not?” 

“God, you’re frustrating,” he said with a scoff as he pulled you to sit up with him. “I only want what you want. How many times do I have to tell you that?” 

You didn’t reply. Atsumu didn’t like that. 

“Look at me.” 

You didn’t want to, but you looked up at him anyway. 

“Of course I want you - of course I really want to do this. But I don’t give a shit about what I want, alright? If you don’t want to have sex yet, how can I want it?” 

“I do want it,” you insisted, but it wasn’t convincing. 

“You don’t have to want it, doll.” 

“I do,” you said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not scared.” 

“Why are you scared?” he asked, “What are you afraid of?” 

It was a heavy question; Atsumu regretted asking it the moment the words fell from his lips, because he already knew the answer. 

“Okay, you don’t have to answer that,” he said, attempting to fix the situation, but it was going to take more. You knew that. 

“I just want to be good enough for you - I’m not as experienced as you, Atsumu, and the only time I’ve done it -” 

“I know.” 

It was quiet. The annoyance in Atsumu’s voice made you recoil. 

He released a fiery breath, and took your chin into his hands. “I’m not your ex, okay? Fuck that guy - it pisses me off to even think about him. You didn’t deserve how he treated you - you deserved to have the first time you wanted. But I’m not like him - I’m not just going to fuck you and leave - I’m not a fucking scumbag. I don’t care how experienced you are, or even about anyone I’ve ever fucked. I want you - bad - but I want you to be comfortable more. I would wait forever because it’s worth the wait, and even if you never want to do it, it wouldn’t matter to me. I’m not dating you for sex, alright? Do you hear me?” 

“Yes, ‘Tsumu,” you said, giggling at his heartfelt lecture. “I hear you.” 

You repeated his words to yourself because you knew you needed to remember them; your past doesn’t define your present, and you wanted to let go of your fears and trust Atsumu in the way you yearned to. You deserved better, and you trusted he would treat you better. 

“Good.” He sealed it with a quick kiss, then said, “just tell me what you want to do, and we’ll do it. Whatever you want.” 

“I want you,” you said honestly. “I want to do this with you - I just want to be good enough.” 

Atsumu scoffed again, “You are good enough,” and pulled you closer with his hands around your waist. “Let me show you - let me prove it, baby.” 

He pulled you in for a kiss, one that was as deep as it was sweet; he kissed you slow and patient, giving you every opportunity to pull away. 

But you had no plans to do that, and when he pushed you to lie back, you did. 

“If you want to stop, just tell me,” he said, keeping his voice low. “This is about you, alright? Only about you - we’ll only do what you want to do.” 

You felt small underneath him, and you wanted to give in to that feeling. You were comfortable, and you wanted to let yourself be comfortable. The way he was looming over you made you feel something, and you wanted more of that. 

Yet, still, just to be sure, you asked, “Promise?”

He gave you a pretty grin, one that you knew was genuine. “I promise,” he replied, leaving kisses on your neck in the wake of his words. “I’d never hurt you. I only wanna make you feel good.”

You nodded, quietly laughing because his lips were tickling your neck. 

“God, you’re cute,” he said, and you kept laughing. 

“Promise?” 

“You know you’re cute,” he argued. “Yeah, I promise.” 

“You’re just saying that.” 

“You’ll see,” he said as his hands trailed underneath your shirt. “I’ll show you what you do to me, doll.” 

And you were ready for it. For some reason, something about that night felt right. Atsumu was as patient and caring and kind that night as he’d always been - he’d never failed to try his best to comfort you. But, yet, something about right then was different.

You were still apprehensive, still nervous, still insecure. Those feelings hadn’t gone away - Atsumu couldn’t change that. But at the same time, you were feeling things you never had: excitement, desire, arousal. 

And when he settled between your legs and you felt him against you, you were sure that you wanted to do this. You knew you wanted him. 

He was kissing you again while his hand moved deeper into your shirt. “Can I touch you?” And immediately, you nodded. 

He touched you carefully, holding your breast over your bra with care. It was almost too soft, but you loved it - it’s what you needed. 

It was hard for him to keep it up, to take this slow, because of how badly he needed you. He wanted to see you and touch you and feel you, all of you, but he couldn’t - not yet, not until he knew you wanted it just as much as him. 

So he would push it a bit farther, just to see how you felt. “Do you want me to take my shirt off?”

He saw the way your eyes lit up, and he knew what your answer would be before you gave it. “Yeah - please.” 

He smirked down at you, “Help me out, doll,” and he watched as your shy hands grabbed the hem of his shirt. You pulled it off slowly, and Atsumu had to ask, “You alright?” 

“Yeah,” you replied with a shaky breath. “A little overwhelmed.”

“In a good way?”

You thought for a second, and you responded with your heart. “Yeah, ‘Tsumu, in a good way - I want you.” 

And he loved to hear it - it brought him out of his shell, it brought his confidence back. He didn’t need to treat you like you were going to break, he didn’t need to be too soft. He just needed to be himself, to give you all of him, because that’s what you wanted. Atsumu knew how to treat you right, and that’s what he was going to do. 

“I want you,” he said back. “I want you, I want to touch you, can I?” 

The way you replied was by unbuttoning your pants, and it was the only response Atsumu needed. He kissed you again, just to settle his excitement and bring himself back down to earth, while you pushed your pants off. 

“We can go slow,” he told you. His fingers were digging into your hips, his own need for you was growing. 

And you pushed his hand lower, because your curiosity and desire were becoming too much. You wanted to be touched by him; you wanted to feel good because of him. 

He did touch you, over your underwear, just barely. And he was the one moaning at the feeling - you were so warm, and already wet for him. 

“Fuck, you’re gonna feel so good,” he mumbled. 

He touched you harder, circling in different spots until he found the right one. Your quiet moans drove him crazy - it made him need so much more, and he knew you did, too. 

“Gonna take these off,” he said as he tugged on your underwear. “Is that alright?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded. 

Before he pulled your underwear off, he had to ask you, “How far do you wanna go tonight, baby?” 

He watched your face as you thought of an answer, and he realized that he may have been pushing you too much. This was going fast, and he hardly realized it until the two of you were sitting in silence. 

So he continued, “We don’t have to fuck, if you don’t want to.”

You had to laugh at the vulgarity of his words - they were stark in comparison to how softly he’d been speaking to you all night. 

But as soon as he asked the question, you immediately had your answer. “I want to go all the way.” 

You knew you wanted it - you knew you were ready to do this again; despite having a terrible first time before you met Atsumu, you weren’t thinking about the past. You were only thinking about him.

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure.” 

He kissed you, then said, “Promise?” 

You smiled up at him, “I promise,” then proved your words with another kiss. It was confident and meaningful - you didn’t need to say anything else. 

He pulled your underwear off easily, then spread your legs and saw you for the first time, and your desire to be touched outweighed any insecurity you had about being left bare. 

“You’re fucking perfect,” Atsumu said, and his words hit you like hot water. “I can’t wait to bury myself into you - fuck, your cunt is perfect, baby.” 

He knew he was testing his limits, but he couldn’t help it. He was lost in the sight of you, lying there with nothing but his t-shirt on, half naked in front of him for the first time. And you were embarrassed, he could tell - but he could also see the positive effect he had on you. He liked it. 

Atsumu could be selfish, he knew that. But if you didn’t have a problem with it, neither did he. 

You felt his fingers on you, they were searching for your entrance - he had completely forgotten to warn you until he already had a knuckle inside you. 

“This okay?” 

“Yeah,” you said, and he couldn’t tell if your high pitch was because you were surprised, because it felt good, or both. 

This pace was killing him - he spent a good five minutes pumping one finger into you before he added another, and from the moment your moans started he knew he couldn’t take waiting any longer. 

But he would. And he’d add a third finger, just because he knew you could take it, and he’d make you cum as many times as it took before you were begging for more. He could only imagine how good it would feel to have you squeezing around his cock, how proud of himself he’d be as you were cumming for him, how amazing it’d be to finally have that experience with you after waiting for so long. 

And that’s what he was thinking about when he felt you tightening around his curling fingers, when he heard you give a warning for your orgasm in the form of his name. 

The only way you could describe the feeling was purely delightful - it lasted longer than you thought an orgasm could, and you felt that familiar tingling sensation across your entire body. 

It was the first time another person had ever made you cum, and as soon as it was over, you wanted to feel it again. 

“Good girl,” Atsumu praised you, “you’re such a good girl, baby - you look so pretty when you cum, you know that?” 

You whined his name as he kept uttering praise, as his fingers continued to fuck you. He was holding back on purpose, just to tease you, and you didn’t like it. 

You pulled on his hand to encourage him to pull his fingers out of you, and he complied. 

“Please,” you flat out begged, “please, Atsumu, I want more - I wanna cum again, please fuck me.” 

He shushed you, shamelessly tugging his shorts down as he spoke. “I know, doll, you don’t gotta beg me for it - let me get ready for it first, be patient - I’ll give you whatever you want.” 

You didn’t want to, but you waited for him as he completely undressed, trying to be as patient as you could. He got up for just a second to put on a condom and lubricant, but it felt like hours in your needy state. 

But he got back to you quickly, and he was ready to give you what both of you needed. 

“Gonna put it in now,” he told you with a kiss on your cheek. “Is that alright?” 

“Please,” you said, and the sound inflated Atsumu’s ego more than he’d admit. 

“If you want me to stop, tell me, and I’ll stop,” he said, sounding serious in a way he hadn’t all night. “If it doesn’t feel good or if it hurts, say so, so I can make you feel good - okay?”  

His words only reassured you even more; they reminded you that you were safe, cared about, and loved by the man above you. You weren’t just an object to him - you mattered to him as much as he mattered to you. 

So you said, “Okay,” because you didn’t need to say anything else, and he kissed you as if to tell you that he was as ready as you were. 

He pulled your legs high around his waist, and carefully, slowly, the tip of his cock found your cunt and sunk in. It was a stretch, but in the best way. You pulled him deeper into you with your legs because you couldn’t help it - you didn’t even realize you had done it - and that’s when you felt it sting. 

And Atsumu could tell he’d hurt you, “Fuck, baby, that’s too fast - don’t do that,” and he tried pulling out but you held him in place with your legs. 

“Just don’t move,” you said, focusing on the feeling of having him in you and not the pain you had caused yourself - it was already wearing off; in seconds, you felt comfortable again, so you told him, “Okay - I’m okay, babe.” 

He gave a barely there thrust just to test it out, and when he didn’t hear you wince, he took it as a good sign. He let his head fall to your shoulder as his pace slightly sped up, as he tried getting used to this feeling. 

“Fucking hell, it’s a tight fit,” he groaned, and he felt you squeeze around him in response to his words, making him hum a loud moan. 

He couldn’t help snapping his hips against yours - he felt like he had no control over his movements, especially when your quiet moans turned into loud ones. 

Atsumu was needy; he was chasing his own pleasure and was glad to hear your moans only get louder. He was doing something right in his blissed out daze, because in minutes you were asking him if you could cum. 

“You don’t gotta ask,” he said. “Just cum, baby, whenever you feel it. Just let go, cum all over my cock, make a mess - I’ll be right behind you.” 

He rubbed your clit to ensure you’d get there quicker, and that was all you needed from him to cum again. You really let go and you had never felt better - Atsumu did the same, cumming right after you. 

It was comforting and warm, long and bright, vibrant and free. The only reason you would ever want it to end was so that you could experience the trip getting there again. 

And then, for the both of you, that euphoric high was gone, as quickly as it had arrived, but the way you felt afterwards was just as good. 

Atsumu left your side only to toss away the condom - he was back before you could blink. 

“Are you okay?” he asked after seeing how breathless you were. He knew it was a good sign, but he had to be sure. 

You pulled him close to you and he wrapped you up in his arms, hardly caring that you were a sweaty mess. You didn’t reply, and he wasn’t sure what that meant. 

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” he said, reassuring you without even knowing if you needed it. But he needed to do it - he needed you to hear his words and know he meant them. “I’m right here - you were perfect, doll, just like I knew you would be.” 

You didn’t get caught up in your fears, because Atsumu wouldn’t let you. Not when you were in his arms, hearing him say things he wanted to tell you. 

When it came to you, he was only ever honest. He’d never lie to you in the way he often lied to his brother; he’d never play you like a game of volleyball. He could only be himself, in the truest way possible, and both of you knew that. 

And that’s why you knew that, in the morning, he’d still be right there next to you, just like he promised.

- 

tune in tomorrow for kinktober day 11: touch starved 

[wrenhyperfixates]

Gold Writing

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: When a charming, handsome stranger gives you inspiration for the first time in weeks, you try to guess what it is he’s famous for in exchange for his name. Warnings: none at all :) A/N: Just a little idea I’d been toying around with for a bit. Enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi​ @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90​ @myraiswack​ @mythicalgarlicknot​

Disclaimer: Gif and picture not mine

It was an uncharacteristically warm day for this time of year in New York City. Or so you’d been told, anyway. You had been living here for three months, tops; not really long enough to have a feel for the weather patterns. Either way, you were grateful for the sun’s rays coating your face, bathing you in their heat.

You turned your face away from the sky and down towards the sketchbook in your lap. It had been your hope that Central Park might inspire you, but you were still having artist’s block. It was at least better than being cooped up in your apartment all day. You didn’t really know anyone yet, save for your old friend who you had moved in next to. If it hadn’t been for them encouraging you, you probably never would have packed up and moved. They’d promised to introduce you to some people they knew, too, so you wouldn’t get lonely. Sadly, the scheduling never worked out.

And so, here you were, alone on a bench. Looking at all the couples and families and friends bustling and laughing around you, you thought you might be the only person all by yourself on this Saturday afternoon. Well, no, not the only one, you realized, spying a raven-haired man on a bench not too far away. His nose was buried in a book, a few locks of his shiny, dark hair falling out of his bun and framing his face. He looked familiar, but not in a "you knew him" sort of way. More in that you thought he might be famous somehow. No one else seemed to notice him, though.

You glanced back down at the empty pages, waiting to be filled by the strokes of your pencil. Then you looked back at the mystery man again, scooting a little closer to the end of your bench. Without really thinking about it, your deft fingers picked up your standard 2B pencil and began to sketch.

Starting with the sharp lines of his jaw, you moved onto his hair that intrigued you so. You don’t think you’d ever seen another person with hair that dark a color. Trying to get every last detail right, you kept glancing up and down. By the time you were onto the shading, you were certain that you had seen him somewhere before. The next time you glanced up, he was gone, and a frown settled on your features as you looked left and right, searching for the only subject to inspire you in days.

“It is a lovely drawing, darling,” a smooth baritone voice with a British accent said from behind you, “but I do not really think that is my best angle.”

You squeaked in surprise and dropped your sketchbook. The man somehow managed to reach out in front of you and catch it. He came to sit next to you, and as he walked around the bench, you realized just how tall he was.

“I think you dropped this,” he said with a charming smile, handing your sketchbook to you.

“I, uh, yeah. I did,” you stammered, hating how you couldn’t be as suave as him. Plus, he was unfairly good looking. “Thank you. And, um, sorry. About, you know, drawing you.”

“On the contrary, darling, there is no need to apologize. I am quite happy to have my likeness captured in such a flattering light,” he chuckled, taking off his sunglasses and revealing his brilliant blue-green eyes. “Really, I should be thanking you.”

With all the small details you were gathering, it felt like his name was on the tip of your tongue. Infuriatingly enough, you still couldn’t place it. You didn’t think he was a singer, that didn’t feel right. Though you did feel like his mesmerizing voice would be well suited to it. So, a well-known author, perhaps? He had been reading, after all. But you were woefully behind on your own reading list, so you had a feeling it wasn’t that either. You briefly wondered what even happened to the book he’d had; it was nowhere on him, almost like he’d stored it in some pocket of space.

“Oh,” you finally responded, nervously laughing. “You’re welcome, in that case. And thank you. For the compliments, I mean.”

“Ah, you are very welcome, too. It is not often I meet such a talented artist.” He somehow managed to sprawl out on the somewhat uncomfortable park bench, his long legs spread wide. It wasn’t indecent, exactly, but it somehow felt like it was. His arms were resting on the back of the seat so that, had you been leaning back, one of them would have been wrapped around your shoulder. “I do somehow find it hard to believe I was the most interesting thing in the vicinity, however. Though, I suppose I am rather flattered by that notion, too.”

His mischievous grin sent pleasant shivers down your spine. “Well, when inspiration strikes,” you anxiously chuckled with a shrug. Your nerves were still telling you he was about to get mad at any second.

“I do suppose that is true.” He cocked his head at you in the most adorable way. “Then I am honored to provide you with it.”

You suddenly felt even warmer than you had before, but you knew it had nothing to do with the sun anymore, but rather was from this enrapturing stranger. Though, this man’s smile certainly rivaled the sun.

“I hope you don’t mind my asking,” you began, “but you seem awfully familiar. You don’t happen to be famous, do you?”

“Oh, so you have not yet figured it out, then. I had been wondering. I suppose that, yes, I could be considered famous.”

When he didn’t say anything else, you continued, “Can I get a name then? I’m afraid I don’t really keep up with pop culture all that much.”

“Well, I suppose I could tell you my name.” His grin somehow grew to be even more mischievous. “But where is the fun in that? Besides, I am afraid you might start treating me differently if you knew.”

“Ok, that’s fair.” A spark of excitement lit behind your eyes as you got an idea and turned to face the captivating stranger. “How about this, I get three guesses about what it is you’re known for. If I get it right, you have to tell me your name. If not, then it can stay a mystery forever, if you want it to.”

“A most intriguing proposition. Alright, I accept. First guess?”

“Hang on,” you said, putting up your hand. “If I only get three guesses, I feel like it would be fair if I got to talk to you for a bit longer, at least. Unless I’m holding you up from something, of course.”

“I have time to spare, darling.” He stood up and offered you his hand. “Join me on a walk?”

An easy dialogue flowed between you as you strolled through the park. The way the light was illuminating his features made your hands itch to sketch him again. That reminded you to ask about his book, which he pulled out from seemingly nowhere.

“Hang on,” you said, getting your first idea. “Are you like a-a magician or a, um, an illusionist or something?”

“Well, it is interesting that you mention that. Magic is more a hobby than anything else,” he replied. “But not what I am known for, per se. Two guesses left.”

You frowned and flipped through the pages of the book he’d handed you. Hoping he’d made some kind of foolish error, you checked the covers for his name. No such luck. Absorbed in your hunt for clues, you weren’t paying attention to the world around you. Your companion suddenly grabbed you and jerked you to a stop. A ball whizzed past your head. If you’d kept walking, it surely would have hit you.

“You really should be more careful,” he playfully tsked. Then he grew more serious as he gently turned your head, checking for injuries. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, feeling flustered from the attention of his piercing gaze. He also felt surprisingly cool for how warm out it was. You looked up at him and saw him raising his eyebrows as if he didn’t believe you. “I’m fine, really,” you added more convincingly. “Just my pride that’s wounded, I guess. But you stopped me in time. So, thank you.”

“It was no problem, darling,” he replied as you set off on the path again. “After all, I can’t have you getting hurt before you finish guessing, now can I?”

Again, you giggled, simultaneously loving and hating how he had that effect on you. “No, I guess not.”

“So, have you found whatever it is your looking for in my book?”

Glancing down at the page you had open, you saw it was the story of Rumpelstiltskin. How ironic. You tried to forge a connection between the book of fairytales and this man in your mind, but were coming up empty. Unless, of course, he was going to the source material for some reason, like he was preparing for a role.

“An actor!” you said, feeling sure you’d gotten it now. You’d definitely felt like you’d seen him on your TV screen before. Plus, he was definitely handsome enough for it. “That’s got to be it.”

“While I have appeared on television before, that is still incorrect, darling. One guess remaining.”

Oh how you wanted to wipe that smug yet ridiculously captivating grin from his face. Maybe with a kiss... Nope, no. That was ridiculous; you just met him. Besides, he was famous. Why on God’s green earth would he be interested in you as anything more than an entertaining encounter to pass the afternoon? So, you’d just have to do it with the right guess. You put your thinking cap on.

“Ok, well if you were on TV but aren’t an actor, maybe it was in an interview,” you thought out loud, gauging his reaction. You were excited, but also sad that your game was coming to a close. He’d surely leave after, whether you got it right or not. You supposed you could always try to look it up once you got home, if you couldn’t guess correctly. At least it would make for a fun story then. “I suppose there’s reality shows too, but that doesn’t quite seem your style. And, I guess you could be doing the interviewing—like a reporter or something—but that doesn’t sit quite right either. Sports! They televise sports. Plus I’m not really a fan, so I could believe I’ve heard of you but not totally recognize you. So, my final guess is athlete.”

“And you are certain that is your final guess?” He had a wonderful poker face and gave away nothing as to whether or not it was right. “Last chance to turn back.”

You appraised him, thinking he looked like he could be an athlete. And maybe it was some reverse psychology, trying to get you to abandon the correct guess. You didn’t really have any better ideas, anyway.

“Yes?”

“So sorry, but that is incorrect. And you are regretfully out of guesses, darling.”

“Of course it's not,” you sighed. He seemed genuinely saddened by how dismayed you seemed, so you perked up. “It was fun, though. So I, uh, I guess I won’t hold you up any longer.”

“You are correct; this was quite fun. Unfortunately, I do have another arrangement to get to,” he said in a way that made you believe he was actually upset over it. “How about that sketch that started this all, though? That one you made of me?”

“What of it?” you asked.

“May I buy it off of you?”

Your mouth formed a surprised little circle. “I mean, you can honestly have it for free. It is an unsolicited picture of you, after all. I wouldn’t feel right accepting your money for it.”

“Nonsense, I am only offering a small amount, anyway. Say, the price of a cup of coffee?”

You smiled at your feet as you caught onto what he was saying. It made your insides feel fuzzy. Maybe you wouldn’t accept, though. After all, you still didn’t know who he was. But if you were to go on a date, then certainly he would tell you.

“Sure,” you agreed. “I would love that.”

You tore out the sketch and handed it to him. In exchange, he gave you his card and said to call him to set a time and place. You glanced down at the small paper in your hands, not yet reading it. By the time you looked back up, he was already gone. With your handsome stranger nowhere to be found, you went to actually read his information. Unable to contain your surprise, not to mention shock at how foolish you were, you gasped, and your jaw hung open.

Gold writing on a green card held the secret you’d been trying to find the answer to all afternoon. Of course he was an Avenger, a hero. You ran your fingers over his name, a small smile forming on your lips. You quickly punched the contact into your phone and headed off in the direction of your apartment.

“Well, I’m glad this isn’t goodbye, Loki Laufeyson,” you mused to yourself, relishing in the way his name rolled off your tongue. “I’ll see you soon.”

[generallynerdy]

Uncalled they come to me, and told, they still won’t leave me (Din Djarin/Soulmate!Reader)

Spoilers for Chapter 9 (S2E1) of the Mandalorian

Summary: After the ambitious Toro Calican turns on you, his hired mechanic, in hopes of winning favour with the Guild, the mysterious Mandalorian saves your life. Now that you owe him a life debt, he’s stuck with you until you can save him back. It’s not so bad, having a free mechanic and babysitter for the kid, but things take a turn for the worse when both of you realise you might be catching feelings. For someone that might not even be your Soulmate.

Requested by Anon: Hello! How’re you doing? May I please request a Din x reader soulmate au? The one where you don’t see color until you touch your soulmate? It would be very difficult for Din to find his soulmate and I’ve always wanted to see how it played out. If not that’s ok! Thank you and have a wonderful day ❤️

Key: (Y/N) - your name, (h/c) - hair colour, (e/c) - eye colour Translations: vode - siblings, Ret’urcye mhi - goodbye (literally: may we meet again), mirshmure’cya - brain-kiss (Basic term, is Keldabe kiss. This is the soft one as opposed to the literal headbutt term) Asked to be tagged in this disaster: @pearlll09 Word Count: remember when i said this would be 4k? Yeah. It’s 6,478 words. What. The. Fuck.

Author’s Note: this is way longer than I intended it to be but I think u deserve it since u were the only one who saw my post begging for mando requests and actually sent one hksjlfdkj tysm!! I’m so happy I got to write a Soulmate AU for him tbh. Btw, I have it in my head that Yodito would’ve given him the ability to see green, as a familial Soulmate bond, but it wouldn’t work for this if your eyes are green so I just left it out. (Also wtf is up with the Cobb/Din shit, Cobb is clearly in a dedicated relationship with the bartender Weequay. I named them Sala :D) The title is from The Teller of Tales by Gabriela Mistral.

Read On AO3

*

“Do you wear those gloves all the time?”

The Mando gives you a look—one that you can’t read, obviously, but you get the idea that it’s drier than the desert you’re in.

Calican snorts, but you shoot him a glare and he shuts up. You’re only here because he’s paying well for your mechanical skills, enough that his request of an extra hand on his first bounty seemed reasonable. Finding out that he’s hunting Fennec Shand was...less than pleasing, but now that the Mando is onboard, you’re not quite so worried about the outcome. They’re supposed to be fearsome warriors, after all. And he was smart enough to figure out how to wait out Shand, which is what the three of you have been doing for hours.

“I’m just saying,” you continue, “between the armour and the gloves, it must be damn near impossible to find your Soulmate.”

He shrugs. Sort of. It’s kind of hard to tell, to be honest.

“Haven’t you heard the stories?” Calican asks, flopping back onto the sand. “Mandalorians don’t have Soulmates. They start seeing colour after their first battle; war is their only destiny.”

You roll your eyes. They’re folk tales, really, and ridiculous ones at that. Every sentient has at least one Soulmate, romantic, platonic, familial, or otherwise, and there’s no reason for Mandalorians to be any different. Still, the stories make their rounds. There are specific ones, too, like the one about the Mandalorian Jedi who made the Darksaber; he was said to see colour when he lit his weapon for the first time. Fett, too, was said to have seen a new colour with every clone that was decanted—which is mildly ridiculous.

“Maybe the Mandalorians of old,” Mando comments with a scoff. “Not many of us see battle these days.”

“Well, if you’re looking for it, I know a krayt dragon a few hundred klicks away,” you suggest lightly.

He snorts. “No thanks. I’ll take the assassin.”

“Speaking of,” you said, “you guys know I’m just a mechanic, right?”

There’s a pause. Calican nods, but the Mando is still.

“What?” he asks, displeasure in his voice.

“I mean, I’m pretty good with a blaster, but I’m gonna be useless against Fennec Shand.”

Mando whirls on Calican. “You paid a mechanic to be your back-up? Are you insane?”

He shrugs. “(Y/N) has a mean right hook.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Mando huffs. He looks over at you and you can almost feel him glaring through the visor. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m broke,” you scoff. “Same thing. Oh, hey, do you need repairs on that hunk of junk you pilot? I’ll be more thorough than that lady at the hangar.”

He hesitates. “We’ll see.”

You grin. That’s not a no.

*

“You’re a prick, did I mention that?” you hiss over your shoulder.

Calican shoves the blaster into your side. “Shut up and keep walking.”

The Mandalorian stands on the other side of the hangar, waiting for Calican to make his move. Seriously, this day could not be going any worse. After killing Shand, Toro Calican, certified dumbass, decided that kidnapping you and the Mandalorian’s—pet? Child?—passenger was the best way to go. Whatever the little weird thing that’s in your arms is, it’s pretty cute, and you’d rather he shoot you than the baby holding tightly onto your shirt. In fact, he probably will, because the kid is his ticket into the Guild—you’re just dead weight.

“Looks like I’m calling the shots now. Huh, partner?” Calican asks the Mando. “Drop your blaster and raise ‘em.”

The Mandalorian puts his hands behind his head. Next to you, Calican pushes Peli forward and instructs her to cuff him. With a huff, she moves behind the Mandalorian with the intent to follow orders.

“You’re a Guild traitor, Mando,” Calican begins. You consider sighing. This sounds like the start of a villain monologue. “And I’m willing to bet that this here is the target you helped escape. Fennec was right. Bringing you in won’t just make me a member of the Guild, it’ll make me legendary.”

In a burst of light, the Mandalorian sets off a flash grenade.

You yelp and tuck the little thing into your arms before tucking yourself over into a roll down the ramp of the ship. You fall into the sand just in front of the Mandalorian, who’s moved to fire a shot at Calican, sending him flying off the other side, smouldering.

Breathing heavily, you sit up, the child still in your arms.

“Are you okay? Is the child?”

You look up. The Mandalorian has his gloved hand held out, offering to help you up. Hesitantly, you take it and pull yourself off the ground.

“We’re both okay—I think,” you say hesitantly, holding the baby out to him. “Is he—?”

“Dead,” the Mando confirms, taking the child from you.

You frown. “Good riddance. Thank you,” you tell him hesitantly, though your tone is genuine.

“It’s nothing,” he murmurs.

He distracts himself by checking on the child, who coos up at him contentedly. You smile a little at the interaction, but put yourself back into focus.

“It’s not nothing,” you say firmly. “I owe you a life debt.”

He freezes. “What?”

“Where I come from, if someone saves your life, you owe it to them. Until I can save your life, I owe you,” you explain.

“That’s—you don’t need to do that,” he says quickly.

You cross your arms. “It’s like your Way. It’s my culture, my honour on the line. You’re stuck with me, Mando.”

“What? No. Can’t you...pay me, or something?”

“I’m broke, remember?”

“You saved the child’s life, doesn’t that count?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “I rolled with him. You did the work, so, no, it doesn’t count, even though he’s your…” You hesitate, remembering the word. “...foundling.”

“You know, you’re kind of getting the better end of the deal here,” Peli pipes up, directing the thought at the Mandalorian. “A free mechanic, babysitter, and an extra blaster? That’s a bargain.”

“Uh...pre-warning, I don’t know much about child care,” you warn immediately.

He snorts. “Neither do I.” After a moment, he sighs deeply. “Fine. But we’re going to work on those blaster skills before you become a liability.”

“Fair enough.”

*

Sticking with the Mandalorian is probably the worst decision of your life.

Almost immediately after Tatooine, in need of more funds, he drags you into trouble with another group of bounty hunters and the New Republic, of all groups.

“Who is this?” someone asks, her voice sing-song as she enters the Mandalorian’s ship.

You don’t bother turning around, continuing your repairs on a hull panel. “The mechanic. Don’t touch anything.”

“You have a personal mechanic?”

A few people enter the ship, making you finally turn around. The first speaker is a Twi’lek woman and the second a Human, who squints disdainfully. From behind him, Mando pushes past their little crew—including a protocol droid and a massive Devaronian—to approach you, deciding to stand next to you rather than them, which brings you immense pleasure for some reason.

“No. (Y/N) owes me a life debt and, apparently, credits don’t cut it,” he explains shortly, sounding frustrated and exhausted.

You nudge him companionably—it’s an argument you’ve had a few times, the paying of your debt. He doesn’t want to be free of you, per se, but he doesn’t want you to be in his debt. Having that kind of power or hold over you makes him uncomfortable, you can tell, as every time it comes up he gets twitchy.

“Kinky,” the Twi’lek snickers.

You grimace. That would explain why Mando sounds like he wants to die. “Fun group. What’s the job?”

“One of theirs got caught. We’re getting him out,” he says. “And we’re using our ship.”

Our ship. Maybe it’s a slip of the tongue or maybe he’s making it clear that you’re with him, but either way, it brings a smirk to your face. The Twi’lek looks disgusted.

“Well, at least my hard work won’t be going to waste,” you huff.

“Mando,” the Twi’lek interrupts, “you haven’t introduced us.”

You can feel him rolling his eyes. “(Y/N), meet Mayfeld, Burg, Xi’an. Mayfeld is running point, the droid is flying, and the target is a New Republic transport ship.”

“Ugh. You guys better be good; I’m not getting arrested.”

“Mayfeld’s former Imperial,” Mando says before any of them can answer.

You scoff. “A stormtrooper? My shitty blaster skills would be better than his.”

“I wasn’t a stormtrooper,” Mayfeld spits, annoyed enough that he must’ve said it once already. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

All but the droid stay, scattered around the hull. Mando follows soon after the jump to hyperspace, having hovered over the droid while it set their course. He stops Burg from getting into the weapons cache right after he hops down the ladder and the two look like they want to kill each other.

“Someone tell me why we even need a Mandalorian,” the Devaronian grunts.

Mayfeld huffs. “Well, apparently, they’re the greatest warriors in the galaxy. So they say.”

“Then why are they all dead?”

They all laugh at that—Xi’an with a particularly nasal one, which is irritating beyond belief. You frown deeply, but try not to show how pissed their laughter makes you. That sort of shit isn’t to be made fun of; a dying race. It’s all too familiar these days, what with the death of Alderaan and the crater on Scarif.

When you come back into focus, Xi’an is talking in low tones.

“See, I know who you really are,” she says to the Mando.

You roll your eyes. Unlikely.

(Something in your brain goes: I do, which is stupid. You don’t know who he is, under that helmet, sure, but you’ve seen a lot of him through his actions. He’s reckless, terrifying, and a badass, but he’s also patient and...kind, in his own way. The way he treats the child is like nothing you’ve seen in another bounty hunter. It’s gentle, caring. The kid has really grown on him, you think. And the way he treats you is just straight up polite, even though you’re practically his servant in terms of a life debt. Still, he treats you like a person and doesn’t ask you to do unreasonable favours just because he saved your life. He doesn’t hold it over your head.)

And then they start goading him about the helmet.

Burg actually goes for it, which Mando beats him back for. You jump forward, but just as you do, the door to the sleeping cot flies open, revealing the child.

Instead, you rush to the child, pulling him into your arms.

“What is that?” Mayfeld asks, approaching.

“Back off,” you hiss.

He looks between you and Mando. “Wait, did you two make that?” When you scoff, he frowns. “What is it, like a pet or somethin’?”

“Yeah. Something like that,” Mando says quickly.

Xi’an frowns. “Didn’t take you for the type. Maybe that code of yours has made you soft.”

You snort. Soft. That isn’t a word you’d use to describe him, ever. You haven’t seen very much action since Tatooine, but you saw enough there.

Mayfeld reaches for the child and, without hesitation, you lift your blaster. The way he’s looking at the little guy makes you uneasy.

“Fuck off,” you warn instantly.

“Aw, c’mon, I just wanna hold him,” he teases.

Over the comms, the droid’s voice echoes. “Dropping out of hyperspace. Now.”

The entire ship shudders and shakes, sending everyone flying off their feet. You happen to ram into beskar, your face slamming into the metal, which makes you yelp. The baby wails in your arms as gravity makes to tug you away again. Before it can, Mando grabs your arms and holds you in place against him until the ship is steady once more.

“You okay?” he asks, helping you to your feet—again, you think miserably.

“Ugh, no,” you groan, putting a hand on the left side of your face. “That’s gonna bruise.”

Mando takes the child from you. “Sorry. We’ll deal with it after.”

You wave him off. “I’ve had worse. You worry about the job, I’ll watch the kid,” you say, taking the child back. You can’t help but smile when he coos happily.

“Right,” Mando mutters. For a moment, he watches you both, considering.

“Mando!” calls Mayfeld. “Let’s go!”

Before he goes, he puts a hand on your shoulder. “Be careful. I have a bad feeling about this.” You nod, which seems to appease him, and watch him leave.

Petting the child’s floppy ears, you wonder if he meant that to be as comforting as it was.

*

I should’ve known, Din thinks when Qin walks out of that cell.

I definitely should’ve known, he decides, returning to the Razor Crest to find a sparking droid corpse and a shaking child in your arms.

He tosses the cuffed Twi’lek to the side and rushes to yours, stepping over Zero’s limp form. You look relatively unfazed, for someone who’s just ripped a droid’s head off with their bare hands, but the child is rather distressed. The kid squeaks at the sight of Din and, much to his surprise, lifts your hand to show him.

It’s bleeding.

“What did you do?” Din questions, crossing the hull for his medical kit.

“I...may have tried to punch the droid,” you admit hesitantly. “It didn’t work.”

He scoffs, returning to kneel in front of you with bacta patches in his hands. “No karking shit.”

Your face falls as he reaches for your hand, pulling it toward him so he can patch it up. “It was gonna hurt the kid.”

“You did good,” he murmurs. “Stupid, but good.”

It never occurred to him that you might save the child again. You’re here out of necessity, after all, because you owe him, because your honour depends on paying that debt. The child is just another being in the vicinity, but you still saved him. Again. You’re either very stupid or very kind and he can’t decide which one is more concerning.

“Maybe you should teach me a bit of hand to hand, too,” you suggest warmly, wincing at the bacta’s sting.

Din makes a noise that’s sort of a laugh. “I’ll add it to the list.”

He moves to put bacta on the bruise his beskar gave you—He feels ridiculously guilty for that; here you are, paying off a life debt to him, and he still manages to hurt you—but with a hand, you stop him.

“Don’t waste it,” you say immediately. “I’ve had worse bruises, seriously.”

He frowns. “It’s not a waste.” Before you can protest, he puts the patch on top of the bruise.

You huff. “You’re a worrier, aren’t you, Mando?”

“Apparently,” he replies dryly. He hadn’t realised it, either.

“Will you stop flirting and get us out of here!?” Qin shouts from the other side of the hull. “The New Republic will be on our asses!”

You roll your eyes. “I hate to say it, but he has a point. Where are the others?”

“Dealt with,” he says simply. “It was a double-cross.”

“Well, I figured,” you shoot back with a knowing look. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The drop is easy enough, especially since Din knows that New Republic signal is beeping steadily from Qin’s pocket. He escapes quickly, dipping back into the Razor Crest, where you wait at the top of the ramp, the child hanging onto your boot.

“Let’s go,” he declares, the ramp shutting behind him as he enters.

“Already?” you question with a raised eyebrow. “There are a few repairs I could make out of hyperspace that might be useful.”

He waves you toward the cockpit. “Later. We need to leave.”

“Oookay.” You frown but do as he says, plucking the child from off your foot. “C’mon, little guy,” you mutter to him.

Din waves away all your questions as he starts the take-off. Finally, when the Razor Crest is a safe distance away from the space station and X-Wings appear out of hyperspace, he glances back at you.

“Holy shit!” you cry as they open fire. You look back at him with a slack jaw, which makes him smile underneath the helmet. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, but it’s enough of an answer.

“You’re a maniac, Mando,” you laugh, watching the scene through the transparisteel.

Din thinks over it, staring at you for a long moment. There’s light in your eyes—maybe it’s the reflection of the explosion, but it’s captivating.

“Din,” he says.

You look over. “Hm?”

He clears his throat, trying to shove aside nerves. “My name. It’s Din.”

“Oh. Oh,” you repeat, eyes wide. Then, you smile, more genuine than he’s ever seen from you, he thinks. “You’re crazy, Din. You know that, right?”

He laughs—and that’s the first time you’ve heard a proper one from him. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

*

When Din drops a pair of gloves in front of you, you laugh.

“You’re telling me the gloves are out of convenience?” you ask him disbelievingly.

“The more skin you cover, the less likely you are to get cut up by a vibroblade,” he replies dryly. “Put them on.”

You raise your hands in surrender and take them, slipping them over your fingers. “Surprisingly comfy.”

It occurs to you that this is...sort of a big deal. You’ve kept your hands bare for as long as you can remember, mostly because you’re a romantic and finding your Soulmate has been at the forefront of your mind for a long time. But now, you think, it’s not such a big deal. You have a debt to pay and, besides that, you’re pretty happy with how things are now.

Life isn’t exactly nice with Din and the kid, so to say, but you’re content. You love the child and he adores you. The Razor Crest feels more like home than any planet ever has. And Din is...well, he’s something. Being around him is mildly addicting and whenever he’s gone, something feels incomplete.

“Better?” you ask, lifting your gloved hands.

“Much,” he says. Then, he holds out his own hand. “C’mon, up.”

You take the hand without thought, but before you know it, he’s swinging you around and shoving you to the ground.

“Ow!” you cry. “What the hell, Din?”

He huffs. “Lesson 1: Never take anything for granted.”

“Rude.” You hit his arm meaningfully, but he just rolls his eyes; just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean you can’t tell it’s happening.

“You’ll thank me someday.”

“But not today.”

“Nope. Today, you’re gonna hate my guts.”

*

He’s dying.

It feels unreal, what with everything you’ve watched him survive so far. A newbie bounty hunter, a group of pissed off bounty hunters, lots of bounty hunters, and the New Republic but a group of stormtroopers is what gets him?

Moff Gideon is what really gets him, though. The bastard that helped destroy his people is going to destroy Din Djarin. Hearing him speak Din’s name makes you nauseous, furious, even. He gave you that name in confidence, trusted it to you, the only one of his handful of friends to even use it, and Gideon decides to declare it to Nevaroo in its entirety. It makes your blood boil, enough that you get out of the initial firefight mostly unscathed.

But Din doesn’t. And now he’s dying in your arms and you feel like you failed.

“Go with them,” he tells you, all croaky and half-assed.

“No. No, I’m not leaving you here,” you declare, carefully leaning him against the rubble.

Flames flicker all around the room and the child is crying. It’s not loud or consistent, but it’s enough to break your heart.

“You have to go,” Din says again. “You’ll die.”

You laugh ruefully. “That’s kind of the point. A life debt means I save your life or I die trying.”

A pause.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he hisses through the pain.

“Afraid not, dumbass. You’re stuck with me, remember?”

He grasps your arm, his hands still gloved. If you’re going to die here, maybe you should ask him to take off the gloves. A part of you has wondered…

“C’mon, tell me it’s transferable—some ‘dying wish’ shit like that.”

You nod, though the action sinks uncomfortably into your chest. Leaving him here...that doesn’t sit well with you. But if he asks, then you’ll do it. “Yeah, you name it, but it’d better be a big one, something equivalent.”

The breath he lets out is one of relief. “Take care of the kid. Go find his people and return him to them. Protect him.”

“With my dying breath,” you swear, the words holding an air of ceremony.

Din grasps your arm tighter and pulls you down, your forehead meeting his helmet. You’re not sure what it means, but it must mean something because he mutters words in his own language, which you’ve never heard him do before.

“Ret’urcye mhi.”

May we meet again.

Din does what little he can in saying goodbye to you, as deeply as that cuts. You’ve grown on him, a little too much maybe, and it kills him to think that you’ll be without him now. You still can’t hit a headshot, he realises, suddenly worried for how you’ll fare.

And so he gives you what he can: a Keldabe kiss and a goodbye, instead of the action he wants to take. He wants to take off his gloves and see if he can figure out the colour of your eyes. On the other hand, though, he doesn’t want to leave you with that, of all things, to leave you seeing the red of his blood and the blue-tinged orange of the flames before any other colours.

You take the child in your arms and, with one last glance at Din, leave the room for the covert’s tunnels underground.

The child whimpers up at you.

You look down, sniffling, and pet his ears gently. “I know, little one. I’m so sorry.” You place a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Cara appears, tugging on your wrist. “C’mon,” she says gently. “We need to get out of here.”

It occurs to you, as the three of you and Greef move on, that Cara might help you with the child. For Din, obviously. She’s a good person and, frankly, she and Din seem pretty friendly. The second she saw you, she’d offered her bare hand and bemoaned the fact that her vision was still black and white, much to your amusement. It was all in good fun, but Din had looked a little uncomfortable, for reasons you didn’t know.

“(Y/N),” Cara says quietly, calling your attention back.

You shake yourself from your thoughts. “Sorry.”

She smiles sadly. “It’s okay. Just keep up.”

The small group turns a few corners before footsteps sound from behind. You immediately place the child in the bag hanging from Cara’s shoulder and draw your blaster, watching her and Greef do the same.

From the distant hall, two figures approach: IG-11 and—

“Din!” you half-cry, half-breathe out. Holstering your blaster, you meet them halfway to take more of Din’s weight from IG. “How—?”

“No living thing can see me without my helmet. IG isn’t alive,” Din says dryly.

You laugh, a partly manic sound. “Thank kark. You’re not getting out of this that easy.”

The noise he makes is both amused and resigned. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Where’s the—?”

“He’s with Cara,” you say, finishing the thought before even he can, in his groggy state.

It’s safe to say that when the Armourer gives him his sigil, Din almost considers correcting the Clan of two to a Clan of three. He doesn’t, reminding himself that you’re here because of a debt and nothing else, but the thought is there.

*

The months after Nevarro are more peaceful than the first week of your time with Din. 

You finally get to pull a proper sleeping space together for yourself. Well, it’s a hammock in the hull, but it’s better than the seats in the cockpit. The child gets his own hammock, too, though it’s in the cot space with Din. He loves it, so much so that he squeals when he sees it. That’s your proudest moment, for sure.

Most days, you tend to forget that you still owe a life debt. To be honest, it just feels like the three of you are normal. Din takes bounties, you take short mechanic jobs on different planets, and the two of you trade off on child-duty. It’s pretty regular, more than what your life used to be, anyway.

Din is still training you in hand-to-hand and blasters, of course. You’re getting better with the latter, but the first is difficult. On the way to Tatooine, where there’s supposedly another Mandalorian, he decides to have another training session.

“Fists higher, do it again.”

Huffing, you wipe your wrist across your sweaty forehead. It’s easy enough to obey the order—the first part, anyway. Getting into his guard is difficult, though.

One hit, two blocks—there. You slip under his guard and make an abrupt drop to the ground, sweeping his legs out under him with a fierce movement. He goes down in a tumble of beskar, joining you on the floor. As soon as he’s down, you flip over and straddle his hips, an arm over his neck in false threat.

He barks out a laugh. “Much better.”

“I’m not entirely hopeless!” you declare joyfully before bursting into snickers.

Leaning down, you thunk your forehead against his helmet. The gesture is fond, you’ve learned, something shared between close companions—or at least you think. Din told you that it’s called a mirshmure’cya in Mando’a, that it doesn’t have an equivalent word in Basic.

(Which is technically true. Literally, it means brain-kiss, but the outsider term for it is Keldabe kiss. It can be used for close companions—vode in arms, family—but it’s also used for romantic partners, so he’s mildly horrified at the idea of explaining its cultural significance to you and having to face his feelings for someone that may or may not be his Soulmate. He hasn’t gotten up the courage to ask if he can check. Or try to do it discreetly.)

A distant beeping starts up, coming from the cockpit. It’s the approach warning, which means the training session is over.

“I’ll get the kid,” you say, climbing off Din and offering a hand.

He takes it without hesitation, dragging himself up and making a beeline for the cockpit.

Tatooine is about what you remember. That is, it’s dry, sandy, and the worst planet you’ve ever been on. Stepping out of the ship and into the hangar makes you smile, though, at the not-so-distant memory of Din saving your life. It hasn’t been that long, but it feels like it’s been years.

“Oh, hey!” says Peli, after greeting the child—which is fair, he’s adorable. “You’re still with him! Haven’t repaid that debt yet, huh?”

Your face falls. “Uh, no, not really.”

On the way to Mos Pelgo, your thoughts linger on the life debt. One of these days, you’re going to save Din’s life—then where will you be? Will he want you to leave? What will you do if you have to leave? Your old life was nowhere near as interesting as this, nor did you have anyone close to what Din and the child are to you.

The dreary grey slopes of sand only make it easier to think of the worst possible outcomes. Now you remember why you hated Tatooine so much.

You don’t even realise the speeder is approaching the small town until Din taps your arm, which is wrapped around his waist. Jumping at the touch, you loosen your grip sheepishly and glance at the child, who looks like he’s enjoying himself immensely.

After the speeder comes to a stop, you take the kid while Din enters the cantina.

When you enter yourself, you find that he’s about to shoot someone, while the Weequay behind the bar looks rather distressed.

“Perfect timing, as always,” Din remarks without a glance.

You raise your free hand. “You’re the bad luck charm, I’m just here for the ride,” you retort teasingly.

“You brought a kid to a gunfight?” his opponent asks, raising an eyebrow.

Finally, you glance over at him and see why Din looks ready to kill him. He’s in Mandalorian armour but his helmet is off—clearly, he’s not Mandalorian. “You’re wearing beskar and you’re not a Mandalorian, buddy. I think you’re in more trouble than the kid is.”

“He is,” Din gets out, a twinge of viciousness in his voice.

Before they can even reach for their blasters, though, the ground starts to shake.

You grab onto the doorway for support, eyes wide as you grip the child. Din and the Mandalorian poser move toward the door, joining you and staring out at the street outside.

The entire planet feels like it rumbles and chaos reigns outside.

Something is moving the sand—coming toward the town.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper as it goes by, shifting the sand like it’s an ocean rather than earth. It flies out of the ground, sharp teeth the only thing you see as it consumes a bantha whole.

When it’s gone, the poser huffs. “Maybe we can work something out.” He turns to you, offering a hand, which is covered by fingerless gloves. “Cobb Vanth. I’m the Marshal here.”

You take it hesitantly, glad that things are still black and white when you make contact. “(Y/N).”

He notices your hesitation and chuckles. “The Weequay in there is Sala, my Soulmate. I’ll see if they can’t whip up something for the kid; I’m sure he’s starving.”

“Very,” you say, just before he goes to leave.

When it’s just you and Din, you look over at your companion. “Krayt dragon, huh?”

“Yep,” he sighs, already sounding tired.

You laugh. “I know I said I could bring you to one when we met, but I was totally kidding.”

He looks over at you and you can feel the low-level glare behind the visor, but it only makes you snicker. “I hate you.”

“You’re so full of shit,” you retort immediately.

*

You finally get to repay your debt.

It’s not what you’re thinking about when you shove Din out of the way of the krayt’s projectile venom, but it’s repaid nonetheless.

Din doesn’t think of it immediately, either, as he’s rather more concerned with the fact that you’re sent flying across the desert into a pile of debris and sharp rocks.

“(Y/N)!”

Before he can run to you, Cobb grabs his arm. “The dragon!”

To be honest, killing the dragon feels like a bonus when he pulls himself together and figures out a plan. When the great beast explodes, the Tuskens and the villagers cheer, but Din races back to the place he saw you last. He pushes aside the remains of one of those massive weapons they built to find you, laying on the ground. For a moment, panic clutches his heart, but then you groan.

“Am I dead?” you ask.

Din lets out a breath, hardly managing it, as he kneels next to you. “Dumbass.”

“Because it feels like I’m dead.”

“Dumbass,” he repeats, ripping your shirt away to find a deep cut in your side, just above your hip. “Of all the ways to pay your debt—”

You sit up, wincing. “Oh,” you say, as if you hadn’t realised it, “I guess I did that, too.”

Din’s heart is still beating a million klicks a second at how close you were to being dead, but for a second, it flips, realising that you hadn’t saved him just to pay the debt. And then, as he’s helping you off the ground and bringing you toward the others, who have bacta patches ready, his heart sinks.

Your debt is paid. You don’t have any reason to stay with him and the kid. As soon as you get back to the city, he’s going to have to watch you leave.

Shit. He didn’t think this through.

Meanwhile, you’re on the same train of thought. Does he really think you saved him for the debt? Does he want you gone that bad? It makes sense. You’re a pain in the ass, with all the training you need. But...well, you thought he might’ve—

“I’ve changed my mind,” you declare.

Din, terrified, attempts to sound neutral. “About?”

“The worst job we’ve ever taken. This is definitely it,” you huff as he helps you down onto a smoother boulder, taking patches from a Tusken.

He goes to use them, but you raise a hand.

“If you even think about getting near my wound with those nasty gloves, I’m going to skin you,” you threaten.

Frankly, Din is too shaken to even laugh. The silence lays there, stilted, as he removes his gloves and sits somewhat behind you, on another close stone. You’ve taken yours off, too, seeing as one is ripped all the way through.

He’s careful with the bacta patch and his bare hands, making sure not to touch your skin.

Now, of all moments, would be the worst time to find out that you really don’t have a reason to stay.

While he works, he thinks, briefly, that he should say something. “(Y/N),” he starts to say. “I—”

But that happens to be the moment he’s putting the bacta patch on. You suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, wincing. Your hand flies out, reaching for something to ground you. Of course, because something out there has it out for you, you grab his hand, forgetting that his gloves are, for once in his life, not there.

You realise, ridiculously, that his hand is warm.

And then the world around you explodes into colour.

The faded yellow of the surrounding desert is overwhelming with how it burns into your eyes alongside the brilliant blue of the sky. The surrounding Tuskens are in browns and greys, simple things, but so, so beautiful to your new sight. You breathe out, a shaky action.

Behind you, Din comes to see the same, but his gaze is stuck on the back of your head—the (h/c) of your hair and how the light catches in it, despite it being a complete mess.

You barely have the breath to gasp, but you do, whirling around to face him.

His beskar is beyond what you’d pictured: a shining, sparkling silver that could stand out on a star. No wonder rooms fall silent at the sight of him.

Din has the same thought about your eyes. On death’s door, all he’d wanted was to know what colour they are and now he knows, but it feels so useless now. He doesn’t even know what to call them. Sure, (e/c) would work, however weakly. You are...something else. You always have been, but now it’s like he can see it, the beauty of who you are so plainly painted into your features.

Din doesn’t even have the time to be afraid of your reaction before the words are slipping out. “I don’t want you to go.”

You just stare at him for a long moment, words processing.

It...kind of freaks him out.

He jumps when you fling yourself at him, arms wrapped around his shoulders in the tightest hug he’s ever gotten. Immediately, he responds, clutching the back of your shirt like it’ll save his life.

“Thank the Force,” you breathe out, just beside where his ear is under the helmet. “I don’t wanna leave.”

Din lets out a breath of relief and tugs you closer so you’re practically sitting on his lap. It can’t be comfortable, but you don’t seem to mind. When you do finally pull away, it’s to press your forehead against his helmet. It sends a swell of affection through him again, your constant Keldabe kisses. He taught you something important to his culture, to him, and here you are, using it without thought.

“Is it too late to tell you that this is the Mandalorian equivalent of a kiss?” he murmurs, more than a little embarrassed.

You laugh softly, arms reaching to rest around his neck. “And I thought you were so cool.”

“I just blew up a krayt dragon,” he argues.

“Oh, you’re plenty badass, Din,” you tease back, “just...not smooth.”

He huffs. “I’m gonna kick your ass next training session.”

A grin comes over your face and, for a second, he can’t comprehend why that would make you smile—until he realises that he just promised a next time. You’d genuinely believed he wanted you gone and Din thought you wanted to leave, but neither of you were right. 

A whine from below catches both your attention.

The child reaches up from the ground, making grabby hands.

You laugh, a noise Din echoes quietly, and pluck him from the ground, holding him in your careful hands. “Hey, buddy. Feeling left out?”

He squeaks a confirmation, his little hands—green hands, you realise, deeply amused—reaching for Din’s helmet. Once he has a comfortable hand, he bashes his head against the helmet.

Din yelps, not out of pain, but concern, grabbing for the kid, who wobbles dizzily.

“Oh, shit—” Din says.

“Woah, woah,” you get out between wheezing laughs. “Don’t do that! His head is much harder than yours.”

The kid makes a weak huff and curls against Din’s chest stubbornly.

“I think that was an attempted kiss,” you suggest to Din.

Underneath his helmet, he grins. Petting the child’s head with a gentle finger, he looks back up at you. “It was cute.”

“Very,” you agree.

Without prompting, Din reaches for your hand again, a little hesitant. You take his gladly, running your thumb across his knuckles, which makes him shiver.

“Clan of three,” he whispers.

You lift your gaze. “Hm?”

“The Armourer, she said, ‘Clan of two’ when she gave me my sigil,” he explains. “I wanted to correct her then.”

The smile on your face is beyond words. “Clan of three has a ring to it. You’re stuck with me for good now, Din Djarin.”

He snorts and raises your hand to his helmet, touching it briefly to the metal in lieu of kissing it.

Tatooine might be the worst place in the universe, Din thinks that it doesn’t matter so much where he is. Sitting here, with you and the kid, he thinks that this might be home.

*

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

[autumnsart22]

Kidnapped: Feitan x fem reader💀

Little angsty fic for my torture gremlin 🤪 

Tags: Brief description of torture, mentions of sex and violence, almost rape scene (not with Fei)

You didn’t think you had ever hated anyone more than Feitan Portor. He was cruel, arrogant, and selfish, taking every opportunity to humiliate you and get on your nerves. Unfortunately, he knew exactly what to do to piss you off, and there had been more than one occasion when your arguing had gotten you two in very tight spots during missions. 

It didn’t always used to be that way. When you had first joined the Phantom Troupe, you had actually been pretty good friends with him, closer than most of the other Troupe members. But over time he had become cold and cruel, turning his back on you and becoming your tormentor instead. 

Which was why you were pissed off at Chrollo for pairing you up with Feitan for the next mission, but the Troupe leader insisted that you worked well together when you weren’t constantly arguing...which was rare. And unfortunately, this was going to be a big heist. 

Tonight you would be infiltrating the underground auction in Yorknew city to steal all the goods up for auction. It was a large job, especially facing off against all the mafia bosses, and you had to look the part in order to blend in. You were done up in a pretty red dress, your hair swept up to reveal crystal earrings and your lightly done makeup. Honestly, you were kind of feeling yourself, which was unusual because you didn’t usually care about how you looked. 

Feitan walked silently beside you as you made your way from the Troupe’s hideout in the direction of where you would be entering the auction. He was dressed up as well, wearing a black tuxedo and missing the usual bandana over his face, which you knew made him uncomfortable being so exposed. You might have tried to be nice if he’d not given you a once over when he saw you, a sneer pulling up his face as he scoffed. So instead of politely ignoring him, you grinned coldly and said, “You look like shit.” 

“You look like whore.” 

Your hands curled into fists, but you managed to not punch him. You did look slightly whory, but that was the point. You wanted to tempt all the big business men into spilling their riches into your waiting palms, even if it meant flashing a bit of bare leg and cleavage. The little gremlin didn’t have to point it out though. 

It was easy getting inside the auction, and soon you and Feitan were mingling with the guests as you waited for the event to begin. Feitan scanned the room with narrowed eyes, searching for our main target among the many rich mafia bosses throughout the area: Teika Rubin. 

As the son of one of the largest syndicate bosses in Yorknew city, Teika was set to inherit almost 20 million Jenny once he took over the business. He was at the auction in place of his father, and he currently held a diamond worth at least 5 million Jenny--more if you sold it right--in order to sell to a private buyer. It was your job to get him alone so that you could steal it. 

“He there,” Feitan murmured, his hair brushing your ear as he gestured towards the back of the room. He was right; at the center of an excessive number of bodyguards was Teika himself. 

He was young, maybe around twenty four, but you could tell by his eyes that his age didn’t mean inexperienced. You honestly had expected a pampered rich boy, but this was different. Cruel, smug, and powerful. And, if the way his eyes scanned the room with careful observation skills was any tell, smart. Not a good combination. Your mission may have been a bit harder than you expected, but there was no way you were going to tell Feitan that. 

“I’ll get him alone, but make sure you follow us.” 

You didn’t wait for a response as you slid away into the crowd. 

It ended up going exactly as you wanted. You spilled a drink on yourself and one of his guards, and like the charming person he was, Teika offered you a change of clothes. It only took a few sultry looks and suggestive words before he had you pinned up against the wall of one of the private rooms, shoving your dress up as he checked the clock. 

“I think I have enough time,” he said, smiling slightly. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay you well for this.” 

What had Feitan called you? A whore? You pushed that thought violently from your head as Teika started to kiss down your neck. 

You shuddered, clenching your teeth as he slid his hands along your thighs, your dress riding up almost to your hips. You were willing to do whatever it took to succeed in this mission and not let the rest of the Troupe down, but it was hard to force down your disgust and fear. 

Even if you wanted to escape, you weren’t sure you’d be able to. You didn’t have any weapons on you, and your Nen wasn’t exactly a combat tool. You were able to see the near future of yourself and people you loved if they were in life threatening danger, but although the power had gotten you out of many tight spots, it had holes. For example, if your opponent was just aiming to injure rather than kill, then you were completely in the dark. 

Plus, Teika was powerful. You didn’t know what his Nen power was exactly, but Chrollo had confirmed that he could be considered around the same level as a Phantom Troupe member in terms of combat ability. 

Please, Feitan, hurry.

The syndicate heir held your throat tightly as he went to tug your dress from your shoulders, and a small whimper of panic escaped your throat. 

And then Teika was being thrown across the room, slamming into the wall as you slid to the floor, gasping for air. Feitan stood over you, his eyes blank as he surveyed your rumbled hair and the way your dress had ridden up. 

“Let’s go,” he snapped, and you straightened your shoulders, snatching the knife he tossed you out of the air. 

Teika was quick to give up the jewel in his possession when he realized that all of his guards were dead, but he didn’t seem very upset about it. In fact, the manic look in his eye was almost gleeful as he watched you exit the room with Feitan. 

“Phantom Troupe,” you heard him mutter as the door clicked shut, and you set about locking him in there. 

“Why don’t we just kill him?” You asked, but Feitan didn’t even look at you. 

“Take too long,” he finally grunted. 

It was true. You could already hear the sound of gunshots coming from the main auction hall where Shizuku and Franklin were taking care of the rest of the mafia bosses, and soon the entire place would be swarmed with law enforcement and other mafia members. A fight between Feitan and Teika would be so destructive and long that it would cause more harm than good. 

“Thanks for coming in time,” you said as you walked side by side towards the back of the building where you were going to meet the other Troupe members.

Feitan snorted. “Seemed like fun.” 

Your mouth fell open, and you gaped at him. “I was just doing my part.”

“All you good for anyway,” he muttered, and you froze. 

“What?” 

Feitan crossed his arms, turning to you. “You useless.” 

“Y-you-” You were struggling to speak. You were used to petty insults, but this was different. He was dead serious. So you said the first thing that came to mind. “You’re just jealous.” 

Instantly, Feitan’s eyes flashed and turned lethal. “Jealous? Of what? You nothing but a burden to the Troupe with your arrogance and annoying personality. You weak, and the only thing you can do is…” His eyes trailed significantly down your short dress. 

You thought such things on the daily, but hearing them from him in particular made it worse. Tears filled your eyes unprompted, but you weren’t going to cry. Instead, you straightened your shoulders and turned your back on him, walking away without another word. You weren’t sure you could forgive him this time. 

------

3 hours later: 

“Where Y/n?” Phinks glared at Feitan as he met him outside of the auction hall, but Feitan only shrugged. “Is she ok?” He pushed, and the short Troupe member flipped him off. 

“She left.” He finally said. 

Feitan hadn’t been able to get your hurt expression out of his head, the tears shimmering in your eyes. He had never seen you cry before, or at least not because of him. He had gone too far. 

He had just been so enraged, seeing you pushed up against the wall by someone who wasn’t him. And then you had let out the sexiest sound he had ever heard, as if you were enjoying yourself, and he had lost it. He hadn’t meant to take it out on you--he never did. But that’s always what seemed to happen. 

“What did you do?” Phinks said in annoyance. Phinks and Shalnark had been trying to get Feitan to confess to liking you for years, and had eventually resorted to getting him blackout drunk. Shalnark had pretended to boast about seducing you, and Feitan had gone nuts. That was all the confirmation they needed. 

Since then, they had both tried to get him to confess to you, or at least not act like he hated you. But the issue was, Feitan wasn’t going to be weak over some girl. He wouldn’t allow you to take priority over the other good things in life, like torture, murder, and stealing. Caring about someone meant putting yourself at risk for them, and Feitan wasn’t willing to make that sacrifice, not even for you. 

But damn, that dress. He had had to talk himself out of dragging you back inside and forcing you to change, so that no other person except for him would ever get to see you in it. Perhaps his feelings were purely physical; that would be perfectly normal. But it didn’t explain why he wanted to be with you all the time, or why he enjoyed how red your face got when you were pissed at him, or why he loved watching you get all animated while telling a story, even as he pretended not to listen. 

But this time he could tell that he had gone too far, and you weren’t going to forgive him easily. Shit. He hated the idea of apologizing, but he hated the idea of you ignoring him even more. Maybe this one time he would put his pride aside…

Feitan began to walk a little faster as they approached the Troupe’s hideout, but he froze as they entered the abandoned building. 

There was blood everywhere. It covered the floors and was splattered along the walls, as if a major fight had gone down. In the center of the gore was a black screen. 

Machi emerged from behind some of the rubble, her eyes dark as she approached. “I just got back, but it looks like this was the work of one of the syndicates. I don’t know how they found our hideout though, or why they’d come when it was empty.”

“Where’s Y/n.” Feitan’s voice was soft, fury dripping from every word. Maybe she hadn’t come back to the hideout. Maybe she would be walking through the doors soon with Chrollo, and Feitan could apologize. 

As if in response to his question, the black screen flickered, and footage of a grey, concrete room appeared. In front of the camera was a familiar young man, and Feitan’s mind went blank. 

“I’m assuming that you’ve returned to your base by now,” Teika Rubin grinned, adjusting the camera. “I hope so, because this is live footage and you’ll miss the show!” 

The rest of the Troupe members had gathered around the screen at the center of the room, silently assessing as Teika stepped back...to reveal you.

You were tied to a chair and blindfolded, but you wrenched violently on the bonds holding you. “You disgusting shithead,” you snarled, and Teika backhanded you across the face. 

Feitan couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. 

Teika continued lightly, “As you can see, I have your lovely member here with me, and we’re going to be spending some quality time together. If you want her back, you will return my money.” 

“How did they get her?” Nobunaga growled, fists clenching. 

“They must have some sort of tracking Nen user. Or--”

“Does it matter?” Feitan interrupted. “We go--” 

He froze as he watched Teika pick up a knife and drench it in a familiar amber liquid. It was an extremely rare mix that Feitan had used on a number of occasions with tricky patients, and it always got them talking almost instantly. The pain from a single drop was almost enough to knock someone unconscious. Feitan had tried a bit on himself once out of curiosity, and even he had been surprised at how awful the experience was. 

Teika was smiling sadistically as he lifted your arm, pressing the knife against the skin of your wrist and sliding upward. Your scream was almost enough to make Feitan throw up as he watched you jerking against the hold of the chair. 

The short Troupe member had fantasized about hurting you a number of times, especially after Machi had accidentally let it slip about your masochist preferences. He had barely been able to keep his hand out of his pants for weeks after that, getting turned on every time he saw you. The number of times he had stood in front of your door in the middle of the night, wondering if he should just give in and fuck you, was almost ridiculous. But tying you to the bed, choking you until you cried, or whipping you until you were cumming everywhere was different from this. 

Feitan was literally shaking with fury, and he didn’t say a single word as he strode away, your screams still echoing behind him. 

“Where are you going?” Shalnark asked, but Feitan didn’t turn. 

“I get her back. Kill them.” 

No one stopped him. 

It didn’t take him long to track down where you were being kept. Chrollo had been keeping track of all the main syndicate bases, so it was just a matter of narrowing down which one the doomed heir would be using. The entire search took less than an hour, and then Feitan was headed down the hall, killing everyone in sight as he looked for you in the rooms. 

Teika was still talking to the camera when Feitan slammed into him--clearly he hadn’t expected to be found so easily. You were slumped in your chair, unconscious, and your arm was a bloody mess. 

Feitan was so angry that his Nen came almost instantly. “Pain packer,” he hissed, wrapping himself and you in powerful armour to protect against his attack. “Rising sun.”

The room erupted. 

-----

You woke as Feitan carried you through the molten hell that used to be the syndicate compound. All around you, you could hear the screams as people burned to death, but all you felt was a nice pleasant heat. 

“Fei?” You murmured, and you felt his arms tighten around you. 

“Here.” 

“I’m surprised you came,” you managed. 

“Tch.” He paused, and then he muttered, “I always come for you.” 

It wasn’t an apology, but you knew this was as close to one as he could handle. You relaxed against his chest. “Ok.” 

You closed your eyes, but you heard him from above you as he said, “Don’t walk away again.” 

It may have sounded blank and cold as always, but you could see the panic in his eyes at seeing you wounded. And by the heat of the sun around us, he had been utterly enraged that you’d been kidnapped. 

Perhaps you could forgive him after all. 

[mypoisonedvine]

Ok ok ok😆 How about step dad lee has a “take your kid to work day” and has to bring the reader to work. There the reader can be wonderful distraction at the sharif’s office by hiding under lee’s desk *wink wink* or even being a distraction to the other officers making lee jealous. Maybe this could even progress to the reader getting a part time job as a secretary working at the sharif’s office where they have excuses for being together more!!

(warnings for semi-public sex, almost getting caught, sexual harassment (not by lee), some violence, oral sex)

"Uh, Lee, don't you think your stepdaughter is a little old for this?"

You nervously tugged at the hem of your dress, silently agreeing with the officer.

"My wife insisted," Lee shrugged.

Someone in the back of the room emulated the sound of a whip cracking, and the other officers laughed. One glare from the Sheriff at the offending men and they all straightened into silence. Was it weird that it turned you on to see him exert his power over them so casually?

"Have her help you with simple stuff, okay? She can type, which I can't say for half of you anyways. Treat her like a secretary for a day. Except, treat her better than you did the last secretary," Lee frowned. "I'll be in my office if you need me," he informed you in a softer voice. You nodded and watched him walk away, turning your gaze back to the room of men eyeing you. Some seemed not to care much that you were there, some seemed offended by your presence somehow, and some... some made you wish you'd worn slacks instead, with the way they were staring at your legs. She's adorable, one of them mumbled to his deskmate, apparently not as subtly as he thought. No wonder he keeps her locked up at home, another added.

"Um, I'm happy to help however I can," you offered with a smile.

"Here, let me show you how we fill out case reports," one of them offered, motioning for you to stand by his desk.

You started to get in the swing of things after that, commandeering an empty desk with a typewriter and using it to help some of the men finish up some their work. You actually sort of enjoyed it, although you thought all the dirt you were seeing on the residents of Knockemstiff was wasted on you since you didn't care to gossip-- your mother would've had a field day with the information you gathered.

Lee came out every hour or two to check on you, move papers around, regular business stuff. Things got a little stranger just before lunch, though.

"Whatcha workin' on now, sweetheart?" Officer Lupitski asked, his hand descending onto your shoulder and squeezing a little. You didn't like that he was touching you, but he leaned down to look at your work and effectively caged you in.

"Uh, just this open vandalism report... I think I know who did it."

"Really?"

"Yeah, the witness said it was a short man, about 5'6", but she said he had on a blue cotton hoodie-- and that sounds like something Cynthia Fremont wears sometimes, and the height matches. Plus, the tag said CF, so..."

"Look at that, we made you a secretary when you oughta be a detective!" Lupitski laughed.

"Oh, I don't know about that," you smiled, your chest warming from the praise, "I'm just more familiar with the teenage girls of Knockemstiff than most of the officers are."

"Hm, you may not be as right about that as you'd like to be," he mumbled. "But anyhow, you don't feel bad about ratting out your fellow girls like this? I thought you were really into that feminism stuff."

"I don't know if feminism means letting somebody spray paint the library just cause they're a girl," you protested. "Where'd you hear that, anyways?"

"Your dad talks about you a lot," he explained.

"He's my stepdad," you corrected quickly, "so take it all with a grain of salt."

"No, no, he only says good things. Says you're a good girl, don't mess around with the law," he recalled, voice getting lower as his hand started to move to your back. "Sounds like he's right."

"Uh, I try to stay out of trouble, yes," you agreed hesitantly.

"But a little trouble is natural; I mean, a girl your age should be having all sorts of fun, that's the point of being young."

"I guess I find most of my fun within the confines of the law," you defended, trying to find a way to lean so that he wouldn't be so close to you but finding yourself trapped.

"Is it cause you're afraid of the Sheriff?"

You shook your head. "He doesn't scare me."

"Good for you," he praised, patting your knee and letting his hand rest there. "He doesn't scare me either," he purred, moving his hand a little higher, fingertips drifting under the hem of your dress as your breath hitched and your heart began to race. He was looking right at you with something sinister burning in his eyes, smiling with sharp but crooked teeth.

"Maybe he should," you suggested gently.

"Yeah?" he laughed, tilting his head and leaning in further. "Why's that?"

"'Cause I have a baton," Lee answered his question before hitting him swiftly in the face with it, which sent Lupitski tumbling back over your desk onto the floor. You giggled a little, and caught a few smirks from the fellow officers as well (though some others had that scared-straight look on their face).

"What the hell, man?!" Lupitski protested, spitting blood onto the floor.

"You tryna make your way to an early grave, Lupitski?" Lee challenged. "You've found a pretty speedy method, if that's the case."

"She's grown! She was into it!"

"Did you like gettin' felt up by this perv?" Lee asked you facetiously.

You shook your head, grinning when the officer on the floor looked back at you like you'd condemned him to death. Honestly, you might have.

"Get up," Lee rolled his eyes as he motioned for Lupitski to stand. As soon as he was up, though, Lee punched him and knocked him to the ground again.

"The fuck?! I thought you wanted me to stand!"

"Yeah, I did, but it was just so I could see you fall twice," Lee chuckled. "Clean up the blood and get back to work." Directing his attention to the rest of the room, he opened his arms in challenge. "Anybody else wanna take a spin, huh? Cop a feel, lose a tooth, it'll be fun!"

The men just looked around, shuffling their feet and clearing their throats nervously.

"...No takers? All right then," Lee nodded, turning to you, "you're spending the rest of the day in my office."

You stepped over the groaning form of Lupitski as you followed behind the Sheriff eagerly.

"Shut the door behind you," Lee instructed as he sat down at his desk. Once you'd done it, he patted his knee for you to sit on his lap. You felt a little nervous that someone would come in, but you were still excited to be in his arms again. He embraced you from behind, pulling your back into his chest. "I'm sorry about him," he sighed, "it's my fault, I should've known I couldn't trust them alone with you..."

"It's okay," you dismissed, "it wasn't that bad, he just put his hand on my leg."

"How high did he get?" he asked with concern in his voice. "Show me where he touched you, sweetpea."

You grabbed his hand and placed it on your knee, the comforting warmth making you relax a little. "Well, he started here," you explained, "but then he moved up... to here," you demonstrated, sliding his hand up until it reached where Lupitski's had.

"And then?"

"And then you hit him in the face, twice," you recalled with a shy smile.

"That's right," he beamed. You felt his hand moving higher from where you'd left it and you melted into his arms, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. "You know nobody can touch you there except your daddy."

You nodded, biting your lip as his fingers traced over the edge of your panties. Slipping inside, he growled a little when he felt that you were wet. "What's this, princess? Don't tell me you actually did like being touched by somebody else..."

"No, daddy, it's not that," you denied. "It was just... I thought it was really nice that you stood up for me..."

"Well, I don't care for it when other people touch my things."

"I know, daddy. And I couldn't help but think about what it would be like if-- if you had touched me in front of all those men, and showed them that I was yours..."

He grinned, finally rubbing your swollen clit as your back arched. "Mm, you're so shameless, baby. Is that what you wanted me to do? Beat him up and then bend you over the desk so I can beat up your cunt, too?"

You whimpered and nodded, hips bucking up into his touch.

"Dirty slut," he purred. "You know why I couldn't do that... but lucky for you, I have another desk right here that I can bend you over."

You giggled with delight as he pushed you up and over the wood, flipping up your skirt and pulling down your panties.

"Fuck," he groaned, "such a pretty little pussy you have, princess. And so wet for me, as always."

He didn't unbuckle his belt right away, instead leaning in to lick long stripes between your lips, the tip of his tongue teasing your clit and your hole-- wait, make that both your holes.

"Fuck, daddy," you gasped.

"Can you keep quiet, little girl? Or do I need to make you quiet?"

"I'll be good, daddy," you whispered.  It still took all your strength to keep that promise when he pushed his cock into you.  You gripped tightly at the edge of the desk, biting back moans every time the fat, swollen head of him plunged directly into your g-spot.

“You can’t imagine how many times I’ve been stuck at my desk and thought of doing exactly this to ya,” he chuckled lowly.  You wiggled your legs but he held you down, fucking you deeper and harder.  “Is this what you were hoping for, princess?  Is this what you want me to do to you in front of my men?”

You nodded with a whimper.

“You’d better hope nobody else steps out of line today, including you, or I might just be tempted to,” he threatened.  “I’d love for someone to give me an excuse to remind everyone that I’ve never been good at sharing my toys.”

After a few more minutes of pounding into you hard enough to rattle everything on his desk, you came with a choked moan and a sigh.  You were a little disappointed when he pulled out, because you wanted him to come inside you, but when he asked you to get under his desk and suck him off, well... you couldn’t say no to that.  Literally.

“Fuck, such a perfect little mouth,” he groaned.  “Wanna taste your daddy’s come, sweetpea?”

You nodded, without knocking his length out of your mouth, thankfully.  You always loved when you could taste yourself on him, as filthy as it made you feel.

“Then you’re gonna have to work for it.”

You were using your lips and tongue to suckle his tip while your hands worked tirelessly to pump the rest of him-- yes, you needed both hands-- when there was a knock at the door.

“Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he hissed at you before calling for the person to come in.

“Uh, I have these accounting sheets for you,” an officer explained, and you heard something set down on the desk above your head.  You looked up at Lee and watched his face as you kept going, though you were trying not to slurp or choke or make any other noises.  

“Thanks,” Lee nodded.

“Hey, wasn’t your daughter in here?”

“Stepdaughter,” Lee corrected quickly, just as you thought the same thing as the same time.  “And yes, but she’s using my private bathroom at the moment.”

“Oh, okay,” he agreed, although he sounded a little suspicious.  “I’ll leave you be.”

As soon as the door shut, you popped off of Lee’s cock and looked up at him nervously.  “Do you think he knew?” you asked.

“Did I say you could stop?” he countered; you got back to work quickly, not wanting to anger him lest he make good on his threat to fuck you in front of the station.  “I’m close,” he warned you.

You kept working until you felt him pulse and flex and, finally, come all over your tongue.  His hands tightened on your hair as he filled your mouth, the salty taste and the pressure on your throat making your eyes water.  He pulled you off of him with an exhausted groan.  

“Show me,” he requested, and you opened your mouth dutifully as his come pooled on your tongue.  “Good girl,” he smiled, “you can swallow now.”

You did, and licked up the small drop that had almost spilled from the corner of your mouth as well.  

“I think you should come with me to work more often, princess,” he grinned.

“I could use the typing practice,” you pondered aloud.  

“Oh, honey,” he chuckled, “you’re not gonna get in any typin’ practice, I promise you that.

[obeiii-mee]

Hi there! Im back, tysm for doing my HC ;;/ it was super cute, i really liked Mammons and Satans!! If you dont mind if i ask for another? Hdjsks Recently, i slipped while walking home with some pals and scrapped my knee. It wasnt too bad, but it sure looked bad lmao If you can could you do HCs for the boys reacting to MC slipping and scrapping there knee while walking w them? Im sure Mammon would have a heart attack hfjd Tysm!! Keep up the good work♡

Thank you so much! I hope your knee gets better and that it wasn’t too painful! The brothers would all be panicking in their own way but I agree, Mammon would faint or something lmao.

Hope this was OK.

————————————

The Brothers with an MC who fell and scraped their knee:

Lucifer:

-It was a miracle you managed to convince him to come out on a walk with you at all

-The man doesn’t know when to take a break from his work

-He’s more likely to accept if it’s you asking tho, he has an obvious soft spot for you

-The others call him a suck up behind his back because of it

-You were so happy that you managed to pry Lucifer away from his desk, you were basically skipping alongside him

-Long story short, you tripped over your own two feet and fell

-Luckily, your knees and palms were the only things that got a bit scruffy

-Well, actually your right knee looked as if someone tried removing your entire knee cap with a scalpel, skin and all but adrenaline was kicking in and you couldn’t feel much

-You’ve never seen Lucifer freeze the way he did then

-His mind just drew a blank

-You were about to shrug it off and call it a day, get up and continue your walk but daddy Lucifer can’t have that

-He has six younger brothers (and a younger sister at some point) he is pretty experienced when it comes to treating injuries

-You aren’t walking for the rest of the day, let me make this clear

-He will carry you back to the House of Lamentation no matter how much you protest

-In case it wasn’t obvious already, Lucifer gives off massive dad vibes and now he’s bandaging your leg while you’re laying down on his bed

-While the rest of the brothers watch the two of you from behind the door frame because they are all equally worried

-Get ready for the three hour lecture coming your way

-He’s pissed and amused at the same time tbh

-Silly human, falling over like that and hurting themselves

-Lord Diavolo forbid you try to get out of that bed, he will drag you back and make sure you stay there until your knee is better (kinky)

Mammon:

-He was on his merry way to the casino to blow off all of Lucifer’s money and you tagged along solely for the purpose of making sure he didn’t spend all of Lucifer’s money

-You’d both be done for if he did

-But I guess fate really had it out for you on that day since your foot slipped on....something and you tripped

-Both of your knees looked bloody and damaged as hell but you were more irritated than anything

-Mammon on the other hand did a fucking double take and almost passed out

-He screeched his lungs out

-One look at your injured knees and he was ready to drag you all the way to the human realm on foot to find you a doctor

-“MC ARE YOU OK WHY THE FUCK IS THERE SO MUCH BLOO-HOLY SHIT STAY STILL DON’T MOVE! THE GREAT MAMMON WILL FIX THIS...SOMEHOW.”

-It was very dramatic, he cried

-You stood up to prove that you were alright because you thought he was going to have a seizure soon enough

-OK, that helped him calm down a little

-At least now he knew your legs weren’t about to get torn off and you weren’t on the verge of death

-Fuck the casino, you were going home

-Like Lucifer, don’t expect you will walk home by yourself

-He will carry you, a bit embarrassed by his initial freak out but still eyeing your wound, concerned

-As soon as you get home and the other brothers help you out because he’s shit at bandaging, he just sits in his own pool of misery and guilt

-Your poor knees wouldn’t be so jacked up if you hadn’t come along with him today

-He was so determined to make it up to you, he stayed by your bedside like a loyal puppy with a wagging tail (flashback to the animal event)

-Overall, he almost went into cardiac arrest and was too panicked to realise you were fine

-You thought he was smothering and overprotective before? Good luck for the rest of the week

Levi:

-“See, this is why I don’t like going out. There’s always some normie laying on the groun- OH MY LORD DIAVOLO, MC IS THAT YOU?? ARE YOU OK?”

-HIS HENRY ALMOST DIED ON THE NEWLY POLISHED FLOOR OF AN ANIME CONVENTION, HE HAS VERY MIXED EMOTIONS

-You fell knees first and hurt them quiet badly but you could stand, even if the pain made you twitch a little

-This confused Levi because you looked fine even though your knees certainly didn’t

-You told him you felt alright and it wasn’t that big of a deal and he absolutely rolled with it

-But you guys still went home after that

-He said it was because you bled all over your cosplay but that’s just him being a tsundere

-Levi is usually very shy when it comes to physical contact but he firmly insisted that he help you walk home

-I mean, he knows you said you were feeling OK and maybe humans just have a lot of tolerance for injuries like that

-But he still felt it was necessary that he took you home and checked out your injuries

-He kept the mood light while disinfecting you’re wound with some help from Satan by talking about how the convention went

-High low-key relieved seeing you walk around like normal two minutes after that

-He started bitching to you about how you made him miss his the event but he didn’t mean any of it

-“Stupid normie, making me miss my favourite Ruri-chan event. You’re lucky I love you and think you’re cute....did I just say that out loud??”

Satan:

-Oh dear, why would you go out for a walk in the middle of a rainstorm? What were you thinking?

-Actually, it was Satan’s idea

-He may be a demon and the prince of Wrath no less, but he is such a sappy, cheesy bastard at times

-He definitely thinks that walking and kissing in the rain is very romantic (bet he read something like that in an erotica)

-You know what’s not romantic blondie? Slipping on a very small puddle and potentially fracturing your leg

-It was just a scraped knee but you were frustrated enough to be extra

-He’s helping you up before you even have the chance to realise you fell in the first place

-Your knee was looking pretty bad so you guys went home just to avoid any further casualties

-He’s actually chuckling all the way back while you playfully glare at him because how dare he laugh at your misery?

-Date night was ruined but at least he got to take care of you

-He knew your knee must have hurt and he felt bad but he couldn’t help but giggle a bit to himself because your fall was so comical

-Ah but he does enjoy fussing over you for the rest of the night a bit too much

Asmo:

-You thought Mammon was melodramatic?

-Take a look at this fucking guy

-He actually screeches even louder than his brother and probably falls to his knees too (but not really because those pants were expensive)

-His screams definitely got the attention of at least 10 random passerbyers

-He’s actually on the verge of crying

-I mean, can you blame him?? Look at your beautiful knees!! They were ruined

-He felt so bad for you, he actually babied the hell out of you that day

-“Asmo, it’s fine. It’s just a scrap.”

-“A SCRAP, MC IT LOOKS LIKE YOUR KNEE IS ABOUT TO FALL OFF YOUR POOR SKIN-“

-It was just a scrap but Asmo’s secret talent is being extra as fuck

-He totally spilled all the tea to the rest of the brothers when he got home

-And then he ushered you into his room

-Funnily enough, he’s pretty good with injuries. Not as much as Satan and Lucifer but still

-He pampered you for the next few hours but that image of your skin being all grazed like that will forever haunt him

-How can you not be so bothered by it?? He’d die if he was in your place

-I love Asmo just because of how dramatic he is

Beel:

-Your shoelaces were undone and of course that meant a fun little trip to the floor of Hell’s Kitchen

-Beel didn’t notice you fell at first, he was concentrating on his food and assumed you were next to him

-But then he realised that you weren’t and for a moment he thought you disappeared or something

-Before he turned to find you laying on the floor, curled up because life was pain and you were suffering

-“Are you OK? Or are you just tired? Belphie does that a lot when he’s tired.” Or depressed one might say

-But for real, he’s good at identifying serious wounds and less serious wounds since he’s an athlete

-He can tell your knees were bleeding way more than they should have from just a simple scrap

-He slinged you over his shoulder and carried you, calmly, back home, with a burger still in his hand

-He’s actually really collective and talked to you while cleaning up your injury to take your mind off the pain

-He knows humans are a little more fragile than demons so even though he knows it’s not a big deal, he can’t help but worry

-It’s kinda hard falling around him tho because chances are, he will actually catch you even if he happens to hold something

-He’s sad if you’re sad so please don’t cry he will bandage your scraped knee do you want the last bit of his burger to make you feel better?

-Comfort hugs afterwards!

-Which is awesome because Beel gives out best hugs :)

Belphie:

-Ah yes, another beautiful day at RAD

-Walking alongside with your grumpy and sleepy boyfriend when a random demon bumps into you

-Wel not bumps, more like shoves you so hard you fall down and tear the fabric of your pants

-While the dude shrugs it off and speeds away

-You were a bit pissed off because rude

-But Belphie was fucking fuming

-He felt so offended on your part

-I mean, the nerve of him

-He was tired as shit but he wanted to chase after him and throw hands, possibly fill his pillow with rocks and hit him over the head with it

-He forced himself to focus on you first before hunting the moron down

-He was a bit concerned when he didn’t see you come back up after you fell

-Turns out, you scraped your knee pretty horribly and now you were bleeding all over the floor

-He’s even more quiet than usual as he helps you up and half carries you to your next class

-He starts taking care of your knee in the middle of DevilDom history he doesn’t give a flying fuck

-He’s still furious by the time he gets home and most of his brothers know to leave him be when he makes that scary ass face

-No talk to him

-He angy

-“Does your knee still hurt?”

-“A bit but it’s not-“

-“Come nap with me.”

-“Why?”

-“Naps shall cure your pain.”

-“...”

-“Nah but for real come take a nap with me.”

-Next day at school, the dude from yesterday walks by him and Belphie smashes his head against the wall

-Before walking away as if nothing happened

-I stan protective Belphie

These HCs are really bad but I love them anyway

Al~

[booksweet]

Heaven and Earth

starring: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

Synopsis: what If your favorite character became real the moment you needed the most?

Warnings: if you squish you can see angst at the beginning, fluffy, implied major shibuya incident arc spoilers, grammar mistakes, both reader and Gojo are +18

word count: +3.4k

A/N: hello! I present you "real" series season finale and I hope you all enjoyed the adventure so far there. Also, I want to say thank you for reaching 100 followers, I couldn't be happier! Thank you, thank you 💛 Hope y'all enjoy!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

tagging: @noritoshiikamo

“Satoru?” You mumble after several minutes. Hours have seemed to pass away since you told him what happened with his friends, his students, the ones he loved and cared about. It’s awful to say he’s speechless, there’s more sorrow in his body than shock. You feel silence deepening crave in him. “Please, talk to me.”

You both are at home again. He brought you back teleporting, using his powers. And he felt cold. There’s no more warm within him, not that one the made your heart rush. He is on the other side of your dinner table, dropped body on the wooden chair. There’s no light, no warm, no soul.

You could not help but to thing about your new realization. You have your own powers.Cursed energy runs through your body, shivers running down your skin feels like your own jujutsu powers, even though you don’t know how to manipulate it. Yet.

You had a long night, so long with so many secrets revealed for a night. Unveiled feelings, unveiled meeting, unveiled secrets.

But now, you know everything is gone. He will go back to his world. With you or without, he would go as fast as he could. How could he not? If he knows about Nanami, Yaga, Yuuji, Maki… What does bond him here? Nothing.

“They all…” He stars saying, voice breaking through the silence. That ominous silence. You hate that. His voice is lifeless and just want to hold him tight in your arms, however you stay in your place. He has the right to cop what you revealed, he has the right to mourn them. “No. This is impossible.” His voice full of violence, you can’t see his eyes behind his blindfolds, but he’s clenching his fists roughly his knuckles are white. His lips pursed.

“It’s true.” Your answer slips from your mouth slowly, trying to remain calm – even when you just wished you could scream as loud as your throat could endure. Words heavier on your shoulders. He stayed here while he could have saved his friends, he stayed here with me…

These thoughts running wild through your mind, regret, pain and… Love. You eyed at him again, sure he would lose his composure. Yet that moment never came, you spent hours staring him in his numb state and it felt wrong to find him so beautiful amidst such grief. White locks, tall body, the pain, the love… He looked divine as a romantic masterpiece you could find on a museum.

And, after being with him for the past weeks, you knew you loved him. You loved him beyond your first relationship with his character, you loved him now as a person. As person you wished to have by your side, a person who could be your pillar. Gojo Satoru is the one and only you loved and longed the most. And the only one you long for is now ready to leave you behind and tore your heart apart. Not that you cared, not at all.

“Satoru,” You say louder, and your voice almost weakens, but you don’t allow it to reveal your true feelings, never. “Teach me how to master my cursed energy and I’ll get you back to your world at the right time, the right moment. And you willsave every single one of them.”

He’s close to you, bare eyes craving your soul, his tall form now smaller than you thought he could ever be. “Please,” his voice is barely audible, your heart seems louder than him. He kneeled in front of you, hands cold on your knees. “I need to get back. Only you can do this.” Teary eyes mirror your own expression as you move your head up and down in agreement, your hands on his as you close your eyes a place your forehead on his one. He’s cold, so cold you wish you could warm him up again.

His scent all over your nostrils, you’re face to face now. And you feel guilty you want to kiss him, there’s so much more you should’ve cared about. He leans on you as you lean on him, desiring to be together but your cursed reality screaming on your brains.

You release a sight, and you get away from him, he eyes you again, that broken eyes and you can’t help but to touch your lips on his forehead. “Let’s go, there’s a lot we have to do”.

When you move away, sudden his hands are lying carefully on your shoulders, thumbs caressing your shoulder blades and his face is near yours once more, his breath is yours and yours are his. Lips ghosting over one another, his nose hovering in your own and when you closer your eyes you feel guilty squish your heart again. “y/n…” he says softly and your grip on his hands tighter. “look at me…”

And when your eyes meet his, you don’t mind any guilty you could have ever felt. Not this moment. The last thing you remember is your hands on his white locks, your lips and his lips connected, tongues fighting over control and his warm on your body. His hands on your waist, on your back, all over your body. Tears on your cheeks, tears on his. Your warmth and his warmth.

“Try again,” His voice rash, earnest on your ears and you release a frustrated sight. Your sore muscles screaming from your efforts. It’s been weeks since you decided you’d control your own cursed energy, yet you managed no progress at all. “C’mon, y/n, I know you can do this.”

You were endeavour training since then. Your body, your mind. You tried so hard to acquire control over all your abilities and all your efforts were not enough. It’s not enough, not enough…

“It must be.” He comes closer to you, your breath heavier and heavier from your physical effort. Your hands on your knees as you curve your spine panting, you just want it to stop. You can’t feel your power at its fullness, not even the hint Satoru showed you that painful day. And, oh, you vocalized your thoughts and here he is leaning closer to you. “y/n, don’t give up, I believe in you…”

“It’s not about believing in me, Satoru,” You answer as you catch your breath, your body aching and your muscles begging for you some rest. “It’s been weeks, weeks. And I couldn’t summon nothing… “

“But that day…”

“Yes, Satoru,” You pry his words, and you feel miserable as your bitter voice cuts him off. “That day I saw cursed energy there and there, that day I managed to control a wisp of my power and then nothing more, nothing.”

He stays silent, contemplating your angry expression. “Let’s call a day off.” That’s all he states.

“Yes,” You agree, and you recompose your body and stars walking. He follows you. “I need some time alone” You stop to take a look at him, and you swear you see a hint of pained expression, but you need time to yourself. You need to think about everything, you need to think about you and him.

“Ok,” He frons his lips as he seemed to be about saying something to you, yet he just moves his hands together. “If you need anything, just call me, I’ll be around.” And then he teleports leaving you all alone. As you wished.

By yourself at room, staring at the ceiling you sight again. Satoru is out for hours in a row and you wished he were by your side, even though you wish he weren’t due to the fact you couldn’t bear his faithful eyes at you. No, you could not.

You shrugged on your bed, what was wrong with you? Why could you not summon your powers?

And then you contemplated, where had this all begun? That day you were crying over his prison and you wished so hard you could be by his side to, at least, give him a hug. But you don’t remember if you felt some wave of power, he just appeared on your room and everything started. And then he was all by your side, his smile, his jokes… His mouth on yours.

“No, you’re not thinking about it, Y/N,” You shake your head to dismiss your mind. “You’re not.”

Palms up to the ceiling you stare profoundly your hands as if it would make cursed energy through them. Nothing.

Arms around your body, you stroke your side arms like you were cold, even thought your room was on suitable temperature. You fret when your mind starts wander one more time. But now, you just let it go.

His kiss so passionate. His hands on your waist, on your hips so warm, so lovely. Your hands on his hair deepening the kiss, you were closer as ever. And there you felt something you know you shouldn’t, you felt love.

You fell for him. Not for his character, but for the man in flesh and bone kissing you. And at the sudden realization his hands are on your cheeks as tears run over your skin. “Don’t cry,” He breathed “Don’t cry” a kiss on a fallen tear, your face warm. “Don’t cry.”

But you couldn’t stop. You loved him, but you were never meant to be together. You didn’t want to let him go. Your heart grieved the fact that one day he would let you all alone again.

“Oh…” You run out of breath and you knew what was restraining you, no, who. The person was yourself, you alone for your selfish reasons was suffocating your powers.

You scratch your throat as you announce out loud. “Satoru,” You shiver and fear what’s coming next, but you know somehow, he will come to you. “Come here.”

After several minutes, you take that odd manga from your desk. Hands sweating, lips dried at the moment he arrives. He’s beautiful as always, but you see a hint of sorrow and grief. Painful beauty in his bare eyes. His voice hoarse when he says, “Are you feeling better, Y/N?” He’s too far from you, and you wished you could give him one last kiss. He stares at the manga you’re holding on your chest and furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “What is this?” He starts to move closer to you, but you stop him.

“Don’t- don’t come close, please.” You breathed heavy and he froze, questioning eyes craving you. “Don’t make it harder than it is”

“Wha-“

“You know,” You began, holding tight the manga. “I have loved you since the first time I met you on the story, you were my comfort character,” You swallow as you fight the words to keep coming out. “But that day, after you were sealed, I wished so hard for you to be real so I could hug you, say everything was to be okay again.” You shrugged as you felt your eyes watering, he stayed in silence waiting for you to continue.

“And, for some reason, the next moment you were here. Somehow, my wish came true, and I met you personally. And then you became more than a well-known character for me, you became someone I could count for, and…” You gulp in guilty. “And true loved, I met you and I found real love in this lonely existence.”

“Y/N…” He stepped forward, but you showed your right palm to him, a signal for him to be where he was.

“No, stay there and let me finish this,” You took a deep breath, eyes no longer with tears. Just acceptance. “I felt guilty this whole time because I wanted so bad to be with you, and then we kissed and, in my heart, I wish you could never go back to your world.” You laugh bitterly. “It’s selfish I know, but there it is, the naked truth about me. I forbid myself to let you go. That’s why our training wasn’t working. And I’m sorry for that.”

You place the manga on your tights, it feels heavier than it should be. One hand on the cover, and the other palm aiming at him. His eyes widened. “But now it’s your time to go. You have to go back to them and save all the ones you love, okay?” You feel something inside you, wavering through your body. It’s your dormant power, now awakening. You’re sense it everywhere, every breath you release. It’s you. It’s overwhelming.

“Y/N, NO,” He tries to run after you, but your wave of power surrounds him and he’s locked in some kind of bubble, you don’t know what that was, yet you knew it would take him back. He slammed the surface in despair screaming for you not to do this. Tears on his eyes meeting your own.

“Goodbye, Satoru,” You close your hands and then everything is gone. You’re alone at your bedroom, silence heavy above your shoulders. And when you stare at the manga on your legs, you finally allow yourself to cry. “It was nice to meet you.”

Two years later

You were walking down your street back home after work. The weather was cold enough for you to use your winter garments, and your breath turning into steam. You pass in front of a bookstore, the wind full of books and other stuff.

You tensed your shoulders as your eyes find that one piece you haven’t read the past two years. You couldn’t bare take a look at it. Two years ago, you sent Gojo Satoru away, back to his world and you remained in yours.

You wrapped a finger around a lock of your hair, and you could sense your cursed energy flowing under you skin. After he left, you had a hard time training on your own, but, after all, you managed to control it. Even though now it is barely useless since he’s gone.

“I shouldn’t do this…” You mutter as your body moves through the bookstore’s door. “I really shouldn’t.”

Your heart races as you come close to the manga area and there’s a few people there. Jujutsu Kaisen seemed to grow higher and higher through the years, and you were not going to lie, sometimes you missed reading it. But the pain you felt made you cry each time you tried it. Then you gave up.

You slapped her foreheard softly. “Don’t lose control now, it’s been two years, Y/N!” And you finally reach upon the latest manga release. You free your breath you didn’t even know you were holding as your fingers walk through the cover, through the pages. All the memories sudden coming back to you. “I miss you” you mewled.

You stiff and shut your mouth as you hear voices on the other side of shelves, two young girls talking about the latest chapter. “Did you see what he made? With Gojo?” Her voice loud on your ears, and you pinch your nose as you lean your body on the shelf pretending to read the manga on your hands just to hear more of their conversation. “I don’t get it, Gojo came back out of nowhere, out of the blue. I expected that everyone, repeat, everyone would be dead by now and Gojo still on Prison Realm.” The girls stop to check something and you almost yell at her. He did it. He did it. He did it.

“And he keeps talking about…” The girl drums her fingers on the wooden shelf while thinking. “About that character we never met… That one, you remember?”

“Oh, wait. I guess he said her name on this chapter.” The other one picks up a volume on her backpack and opens it. “Her name is Y/N…”

“WHAT?” You scream and the girls are suddenly silent. You curse yourself – not vocalizing it, of course – for that and fake a hurt on yourself. “Ouch, I really hit my finger on this?”

“So… Okay. I didn’t understand, he talked about this Y/N and what he said seemed like a confession to me? And the chapters after he kind of mention that the one he loves isn’t from his world? I got so confused.”

You are trembling as you head to them. You know you’ll look like a crazy person spawning out of the blue in front of two teenagers, but you can’t help doing it. Your heartbeat is in rush, a buzz in your ears and you felt you could faint anytime. “Uh, girls?” You approach them and they look at you curiously. ”Can-can I read these chapters? Please?”

They stare at you and you are sure they would call the security guards or whatever. Instead of it, the first girl holds the manga and give it to you. Her eyes fierce on yours. You bow your head in acknowledgment and your legs take you to a place you can sit down and read. You place the manga on the table in front of you, the bookstore’s café is empty, lacking people, so it’s your safe place by now. “Okay, if I’m to do it, then I’ll do it now.”

The first thing you see is him. He’s beautiful, breathless and divine. You always found his beauty unique, even in sorrow, he still would be beautiful like a God. But now there’s pain and age on his eyes, and when you start to read what he’s saying, you felt him looking at you.

“Once I said that upon heaven and earth, I alone was the honoured one.” He laughs achingly, a bitter sound out of his throat. “How presumptuous of me, huh? I’m not the honoured one, not me. I proudly carried the heigh of being the strongest, yet it’s not me. I’m..” He swallows. “I’m nothing closer to her. She is… How can I say?”

“There’s no words I could describe her properly. She’s fierce, beautiful, clever, lovely. She’s powerful. The best place in the universe is in between her arms, her lips… Her lips, I will never forget them. I will never forget how she kissed me that last time and her eyes when we said goodbye.”

“But you know? She’s the true strongest, the honoured one above earth, heaven. She holds the power of galaxies and worlds in her veins. And I wish I could see her one more time.”

He eyes out of the pages at your teared globes. You’re sobbing alone, stains on the pages. You missed him so much, so much and now all your pain came back. And what was he saying? All those words were for you?

“Y/N, you didn’t allow me to say goodbye, and I won’t ever say goodbye to you. I’ll keep talking to the walls, to the stones, to anything if it means you’ll see this and come back to me. You have the powers of Gods, Goddess, deities. You can do anything you want, you can go anywhere you want, to any world. I love you, Y/N,” He’s crying now, the panels focusing on his watery blue eyes. “I love you, please, come back to me. I love you.”

The last thing you remember is your power uncontrolled, overwhelming your senses and the light. You got blind by that light and when everything went dark you felt nothing.

“Y/N?” A male voice distant on your ears, you know that sound. Who’s him? Am I at my room? There’s a man on my room?Your heart starts racing, someone might have trespassed you house and…

“Y/N, it’s me,” He lifts you up, his voice weeping in joy as he hugs you. “It’s me, Satoru. I didn’t burst into your house this time” He laughs and holds you even closer.

You’re out of words when your eyes open and you cross your arms on his back, embracing him tight. I’ve missed it…

“I thought you broke into my room again!” You answer him crying and laughing. When you move apart to look at his face, his tears meet yours as you kiss passionately.

“I,” a kiss on your lips. “missed” on your right cheek “you” on your left cheek. “I thought” a peck on your chin “I could” his warm lips pressed on your forehead “die” again you connected your mouths, smiling during the kiss.

“I’m here now” You hold him tight. “And for your luck, or not¸ I plan to stay and fight some curses.” He’s laughing out loud as he places his head on the crook of your neck. “Uh, the honoured one? Me?”

“Yes, Y/N” His muffled voice on your ears as he hugs you tighter than ever. “Throughout heaven and earth, you are the honoured one.”

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