#so maybe im allowed to be scatter brained

[gretavansmooch]

All he ever wanted ~ Jake Kiszka x Reader

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ Minors DNI!!!!!!

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral (m rec), oral (f rec), unprotected sex, a little fluff, a little angst, light choking. Pleae let me know if I missed anything <3

A/n: Just some cute friends with benefits turned lovers with Jake. <3 (I posted this months ago and then deleted it so now Im reposting it!

Word Count: 2.6K

All he could do was stare. 

A shiver ran down his spine. 

Panic. 

He knew that if he did not do anything to stop her, this would be it. 

All of his limbs felt frozen as he watched her frantically pack up her stuff scattered around his usually peaceful bedroom. 

Do something! He thought, though his feet felt as if they had been nailed to the hardwood floor.

She turned towards him as if to give him a chance to undo what he had done. 

Her tear streaked face made her even more beautiful, and for the first time that night he truly realized the depth of the damage he had caused. 

Her sad eyes stared into his own tear filled ones. 

“I feel like I’m drowning, Jake. And you seem to just be fine, floating around treading in a sea of chaos,” she finally spoke in a whisper. Her energy was long gone, her throat sore from the screaming match that had taken place earlier in the evening. 

Gaining some strength he shook his head and stepped forward cautiously. 

“All I’ve ever wanted is to be with you.”

“You are everywhere all at once, but at the same time you’re never here,” she shook her head at him and stepped back, both of their stances faltering. 

Realization hit them both at the exact same time; maybe it was best if they went their separate ways. 

He immediately shook the idea out of his head, he did not want that. 

He began racking his brain for things he could possibly do to make her believe his words, because he knew that his words were nothing but empty promises to her. 

“Are you actually leaving me or do you just need some space?” He whispered, his voice smaller than she’d ever heard it. 

“I don't know,” she sighed. “You’re leaving, and for a long time. I know what I signed up for when we started this agreement. It was never meant to have feelings involved.”  

He grew frustrated, maybe even angry. 

He knew he had been the one to make it all come crashing down around them, their own little bubble bursting into a million pieces in a matter of seconds. 

How could she not see how deeply he felt for her? 

How could she not see the yearning for her in his eyes every time she got out of his bed in the early mornings, the moon shining strategically onto her form as she picked up her clothes, leaving him there alone, in a now cold bed. 

He allowed himself to reminisce for a short moment. 

-

Her long hair fell over her shoulders as her naked form moved above him. 

Both of them were close to a bursting euphoria that they only felt when being in each other's arms like this.

Jake watched intently at where their bodies were connected as she leaned forward towards him, her knees getting weaker the closer she got. 

Both of their moans filled the room as they came.

His whole body was trembling as the intense, blissful white pleasure took over him. 

He wasn't entirely present but he was sure he might have let out a long drawn out yell like moan. 

He had never in his life experienced such intense euphoria as he did in that moment. The pleasure so pure it made his head spin even as he was coming back down to the present again. Back to her.

Their eyes locked, and in both of their eyes were a thousand words neither of them dared to say out loud.

He didn't know what his soul was meant for or what it was made of, but in that moment with her, he knew that they were one in the same. Bound to be connected by not only sex but love. 

I will surely screw this up, he thought.

-

And screw up he did, though not in the way most might think. It had been his idea, after all, to not involve feelings, making it a strict friends with benefits relationship. 

And although she had agreed, he could still see the hurt in her eyes.

For months they ended most of their nights in one another's beds. Sometimes even in hotel rooms somewhere as he traveled and lived out his dreams with his brothers. 

But, it was him that uttered those words that were strictly off limits just mere hours ago.

She’d recoiled back from him as if he had physically struck her in the face.

All he ever wanted, all he ever needed, was her. But how do you make someone understand the depths of your love when you have simultaneously been the one to deprive them of that same love for months?

Never in his life had he felt so at a loss for words, now when he needed them the most. 

He wasn’t sure what he would do if she actually left, though he did know for sure that if she did go, a piece of him would leave with her. 

It was truly now or never, he had to get it right this time. 

Taking a step towards her once more, he waited to see if she moved back again. But when she didn't, he closed the rest of the distance between them and placed a gentle hand upon her still tear stained cheek. 

“Will you please just listen to me for a second?” He begged.

“If you decide that you still want to leave after then you can, I will never force you to do anything. But please just give me a few minutes.” Not only did his voice beg her but his soft, sad brown eyes that she knew she would not be able to say no to, did too.

When she didn't say anything he took that as a yes. 

“At first it was just sex for me, and I know I hurt you when I told you that I didn’t want more than that,” he explained and took a deep breath. 

He was about to attempt to put his love for her into words, say it to her face and he did not know if she would accept it or give him her love in return. But to him, in this moment he knew it had to be done. Even if it meant that she might potentially break his heart. 

“Words don't come easy to me so forgive me if I stumble and make a fool of myself.”

“I don't know when it shifted for me, maybe the feelings were there from the beginning and I was too stubborn to acknowledge them.”

“I love you. And not how I love my friends and family. I love you as in I want you around me at all times because you make even the gloomiest of days shine brighter. I love you as in whenever we are apart, it feels like a piece of me isn't there. And I know our moments together are short, but they don't have to be, not anymore. I want you in all aspects of life. I want you in the morning while you sleep in so I can slip away to make you breakfast for no particular reason other than because I love you. “

“I am not trying to get you to stay by saying all these things so we can keep having a sexual relationship only. I am saying it to make you see that I truly want you. All of you.”

By the time his eyes flicked up to hers, her eyes had filled up with new tears though he wasn't sure what kind of tears they were. 

“Everytime I kiss you, I hope you can taste all the words I want to say to you that I know I shouldn't. Ever since you stepped into my life everything has been better. I wake up and my first thought is how you are feeling and what you are up to. I know I have not been fair to you, but I promise you this; I will dedicate all of my remaining days into showing you just how much you mean to me. I love you,” he concluded as he swept away her tears. 

“I am scared,” she admitted quietly. 

“I am scared that if I give my heart to you, you might break it without meaning to.”

He smiled softly at her, “I have proven time and time again that I am unworthy of your love, and I know I stumble into situations that end up hurting you. But if you are willing, even in my darkest moments I will cradle your heart with such gentle hands that it will never break. Never at my hand and never by anyone else’s, for as long as I am alive.”

Before he could really comprehend what was happening her lips were on his. Her bags dropped to the floor with a loud thud. 

In their kiss there was no longer pain and sorrow but a newly found higher passion and love.

The need to be as close to each other as possible grew intensely as their frantic hands pushed and pulled at their clothes that now felt like one heavy barrier. 

He laid her down on the bed as he’d done so many times before, though this time with purpose and much gentler hands. 

“I love you too,” she whispered out as he poured his love out onto her in his kisses. 

He lifted his head to look at the girl under him, enamored by her soft spoken declaration of reciprocated love for him.

“I want all of you too, and I’m also sorry, for being so cruel to you earlier with my words and actions. I’m sorry for denying you as well and making you feel as if you were wrong for telling me how you feel when we said that we would be honest with each other from the beginning,” she said, stroking his cheek and the little patch of hair on his upper lip. 

He shook his head at her as he leaned down to kiss her lips quickly before he replied. 

“You don't have to say you're sorry.”

“Okay, but I am and I know we need to talk more about this, but right now all I want is you,” she spoke, to which he smiled and silently agreed.

Her hand came up to his chest and gently pushed him to lay beside her. 

As she crawled over him, she left kisses everywhere, and as she descended down to where he wanted her to be most, she whispered a final I love you to him.

She began kissing his length all the way down and up again as her right hand grabbed him at the base, and with a final kiss on the tip she opened her mouth and gently guided him onto her tongue, his cock laying heavy and throbbing with need for her on it. 

As she bobbed her head up and down he threw his head back panting, all the while letting out tiny whines. His hand reached down to hold onto her hair, he knew she was there but he needed to feel her so as to not lose himself completely.

As he felt himself growing close he gently pulled her off him, to which she whined and pouted.

“I don't want it to be over so soon, besides I have been dreaming about the way you taste for weeks,” he smiled up at her. 

He laid her back down onto the bed, kissing his way down to the place he never wanted to leave, and as he got the first taste he's had in weeks, his eyes rolled back and a low growl came out directly onto her clit. Her back arched off the bed as she let him take her in any way he wanted to. 

Her moans filled the room as he worked on her, switching between sucking her into his mouth and shaking his head vigorously. He knew though that the trick to get her there was to circle his tongue around her clit in fast tight circles. So that's exactly what he did until she was calling out his name and putting a trembling hand through his hair and if she had not stopped him right then he would have continued for the next several hours. 

When she came down from her high he captured her lips in an even more passionate kiss than before, if that was possible. 

“Please, please fuck me Jake,” she pleaded with him, though she did not have to beg nor try to convince him to do it. 

“Oh, I plan on it, Sweetheart,” he said grinning. 

She layed splayed out on the bed, hair wild and for a moment he allowed himself to admire her. Her big eyes were sparkling at him with a hint of lust in them. 

Snapping out of it he grabbed himself and looked up at her to see if she was ready, only to find her in a similar trance-like state, looking at him lost in her own head. 

His grin grew as he slapped the head of his cock down onto her sensitive clit to snap her out of it. 

She gasped lightly as a similar grin crept up on her face.

“Are we doing this or-'' she didn't get to finish her sentence before he pushed himself into her in one thrust. Both of their eyes rolled back into their heads. 

“God, I've missed you,” he panted out as he set a pace that was borderline brutal. 

“I lo-love you, I love your cock so much. Fuck…” she cried out, grabbing onto him by his shoulders. 

“I love you, s-so much too. Fuck, come here,” He moaned out as he pulled out of her flipping her over onto her stomach.

He laid his full body weight onto her and began thrusting deeply into her from behind, as his arms circled to hug her around her neck. 

He reveled in being this close to her, to feel this connected to her on a deeper level than they had ever shared before, because now they could. There was nothing holding them back from each other now.

He could feel her getting close as he panted and whined directly into her ear and flipped them both over so they were now both on their backs. 

As he drove into her so hard their skin grew red, he moved his left hand up to her neck lightly squeezing it, just how he knew she liked it and when his other hand reached down to circle her clit she cried out for him.

“I got you, Love. I got you. Let go for me, show me how much you love me and I’ll do the same. I'm so close, God! You feels so fucking good,” He exclamied as his moans grew louder, nearing his end. 

His hand tightened its grip on her throat and as he moved to an even faster pace than before she reached her high and as he felt her cum around him he reached his as well.

High pitched, whiney and long drawn out moans filled the space around them as they both experienced that same euphoria they only had being with one another. 

Jake loosened his grip around her throat as they both fell limp against each other. 

She moved to lay down beside him and as they both let out a content sigh the pair locked eyes, and in that moment they both knew that this is exactly where they both belonged. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The end <3

[voidnoidoid]

Donald Na Character Analysis: Undefeated Emperor

I genuinely thought I posted this analysis on tumblr already months ago... but apparently I didn't? Or maybe I did. I don't know anymore. This was written before the webtoon's completion so keep that in mind. If you've seen this already then oops read it again. If not, enjoy! MAJOR WEAK HERO SPOILERS AHEAD. (24/6/2024)

After reading the conclusion of the Eunjang v Union fight, I had some thoughts about who Donald is, why he became the way he is now, and more thoughts about how the fight ended and his parallels with Gray. Apologies if this becomes rambly im just writing off the top of my head. To begin with, 

Who Is Donald?

From the very beginning of Weak Hero, Donald Na has been set up as the big bad, the final boss, the overarching antagonist. He is the sole mastermind behind the Union, controlling it from above in his luxurious office, only descending to force rebellion back in line much like he did with Ben and Myles. He was established as cruel, cunning, intelligent and menacing; but most important of all: untouchable. 

Time and time again we see Donald's sheer strength forcing even the most powerful of fighters into submission. He's both the brains and the brawn, with incredible charisma to boot. He's the sovereign ruler of the Yeungdeungpo region. It's clear he hasn't seen a real challenge in some time. Until the final fight, us readers have never seen Donald so much as break a sweat, even in his (one sided) fight against Changhui Han. 

He's got everything planned out, nothing seems to phase him and he is adaptable to any plan, seeing as he worked around all the setbacks Eunjang threw at him. 

However, Donald's many layers have been peeled back, allowing us to glimpse moments of a troubled childhood that explain why Donald is the undefeatable monster he is now. 

Why Is Donald?

Based on the short flashbacks of Donald's childhood, (as of right now more fleshed out episodes are being released but I haven't caught up yet) he grew up in poverty with an abusive father and sickly mother. He is seen wearing tattered clothes and was gaunt and scrawny. Another was of his getting his school reports scattered on the ground, meaning he was bullied by his peers despite being one of the top scorers in his class or the entire school. At one point he was driven to desperation and broke into a bakery just to eat. This explains why he likes eating bread so much. 

Donald grew up with nothing. No money, no respect, no friends, no food, not even a loving family. Despite trying the best he could in school, he could never be equals with anyone, in fact the seem to look down on him more for doing so well whilst not having financial stability. Because he grew up with nothing, he strove to obtain everything. 

Donald went from dressing in rags, to wearing branded goods from head to toe. He went from having no support system, to creating an army of thugs to serve under him: The Union. He went from being powerless, to having an entire region under his thumb, manipulating everyone from kids to adult business owners. No longer was he the scrawny little boy but now a powerful, cunning, imposing presence. 

It was all calculated. In a recent episode, Donald himself mentioned that he did everything he could to not only look the part, but play the part of big bad mastermind. He got tattoos all over his body to seem more intimidating, he beat down every enemy to strike fear in them, he created a steady source of income to keep his goons loyal, not just by threat of violence but also money. 

To me, Donald seems like someone who tried desperately to reach the top so that nobody could ever hurt him again. And he succeeded, at what cost? 

Is It Lonely On the Top? Eunjang vs The Union

Now that he's gotten everything he wanted, did it make him happy? Perhaps it did, perhaps it didn't. With almost everything under his thumb, it is only natural that Donald craved a challenge, whether unconsciously or not. Hence, when Eunjang high started making a move, it became new motivation for Donald to keep going. 

Of course, Donald already had plans with his many businesses but Eunjang proved to be a source of amusement, then annoyance, then rising to be a legitimate threat. As Eunjang toppled more of Donald's executives and cemented itself as a group to be taken seriously, Donald's empire began to crumble. With one single variable, many of Donald's plans had a wrench thrown in them. He grew complacent at his spot in the top. Long he had gone without a worthy challenger that he took his power for granted. Little did he know, Ben was building up strength to face him head on once more, together with a certain white mamba. 

Not everything could be under Donald's control. Case in point: the Eugene Incident. Because of one careless mistake from one of the company shareholders who approved Eugene's design without thinking, the flaws in the companies Donald had a stake in were exposed and a large portion of profits went down the drain. To make matters worse, he sent Dongha out only to capture Eugene and bring the boy to him, but Dongha ended up beating him to a pulp and facing the wrath of Gray Yeon, escalating the incident further and provoking Ben's wrath even more for real. The Eugene Incident was the catalyst for the big war between the Union and Eunjang. 

All this time, the Union had been weakening. Wolf and Philip turned tail and sided with Eunjang for their personal reasons, and Jake wanted to resign from the Union for good. Donald was losing more and more manpower. This escalated into the massive Union v Eunjang war to end all gang wars. However, this was all a backdrop for Donald's main fight: between Ben Park. Leader vs Leader. However yet again, Donald would not get what he wanted, all because of one of his closest allies: Kingsley Kwan. 

Kingsley is a curious character who's only been shown as Donald's right hand and most trusted confidant. His backstory has yet to been revealed but clearly, he is very important to Donald and only has his best interests at heart. Kingsley is the closest thing Donald has to a friend. Yet, Kingsley unintentionally betrayed Donald by kidnapping Ben Park, taking away the fight Donald wanted most. Donald lost trust in his closest companion, and lost the chance for a fair fight with the one person he thought had a chance of taking him down.

This brings into account what Jake said at the end of the big fight: that deep down, Donald wanted to be defeated. Donald wanted someone to challenge him, to fight against his tyranny and show him the taste of failure. On the surface, it would seem that Donald only wanted to fight Ben just to crush him and show everyone who's boss, but I believe that deep down, Donald really wanted this to all end. His motives are unknown thus far but I think it has something to do with Gray. 

To tie up this (kinda disjointed) section, Donald's newfound power and domination only isolated him from forming any meaningful connection with others. His desire for defeat and victory conflicted with each other, but I think he only realised what he truly wanted when he finally fought with Gray. 

Donald Na vs Gray Yeon: Two Sides of the Same Coin

These two are shown to have interesting parallels with each other, going so far back as to have Jake comment on the similarities between them. 

Both Donald and Gray are shown to have a lust for power and love for the thrill of fighting. Donald fights to cement himself as the strongest, and Gray fights to teach bullies a lesson, and to protect those he cares about. Gray slowly develops a dark bloodlust, which he hones as his deadly precise and calculated fighting strategy. Donald let his bloodlust consume him in his rise to power and control. 

They are also similar in their intelligence, planning and problem solving skills. Both make plans and like it when events happen according to predictions. Donald makes lengthy schemes and manipulates people behinds the scenes, getting angry when things don't go according to plan. Gray only fights when he is certain he will win, with the exception of his Wolf beatdown. Gray analyses his opponents and "studies up" so he can have every advantage to beat them, making up for his lack of physical strength. Donald relies on his superior strength and cunning to carry him through fights, to which he has become complacent but he can adapt on the fly too. 

The two have also battled in their academic prowess, duelling each other in creating and solving math problems. Usually, the questions are formulated by Donald, and Gray comes up with solutions to solve them. Notably, the questions set by Donald are complex and mind boggling, but Gray comes up with a creative and straightforward way of solving them. This implies that since they have a similar way of thinking, Gray could easily see a path through the problem. Or on the other hand, Gray is more innovative, creating a new way of problem solving that even surprised Donald. This battle of intellect has been Donald's way of getting to know Gray. Donald's statement at his final math problem was "this is the last time we play together, white mamba." Implying that all this time, Donald was toying with and testing Gray's capability, yet also enjoying the mental exercise and anticipating their in-person meeting. 

Personally, I think that the key difference between Gray and Donald is the presence of a Stephen. Or... Friends. Gray's backstory shows that before Stephen came into his life, he was just drifting. An empty shell that kept searching for something, anything to fill the void in his heart. Gray lacked a purpose, endlessly consuming random knowledge and "studying like an idiot." Stephen was a welcome friend, a light in Gray's darkness, and became the purpose for Gray to keep living. Stephen became Gray's catalyst to change the world around him and stop standing by. Since Stephen made an effort to change his surroundings for the better, Gray decided to do the same, albeit in a more violent, cold manner. 

Both Gray and Donald are connected by the concept of "absence" or "lacking". While Gray wasn't financially struggling, his parents weren't around and he didn't have friends. He lacked emotional connection with others, and lacked a purpose for living, thus creating that empty void within him. Gray became motivated by friendship to create a better environment for himself and his friends. Donald on the other hand lacked safety, security and power, so this became his personal purpose to rise above everyone and have the control he lacked as a child. However, he lacked FRIENDS, those other people he could count on emotionally. 

Gray made new friends who he cares about and who care about him, but Donald sits atop a lonely throne, having nobody but himself he could fully depend on, since everyone around him disappointed him in one way or another. He has no equal, not even Kingsley. That was who Donald was looking for: a friend, an equal. 

Donald made this realisation during his fight against Gray, who repeatedly outsmarted him using cunning tricks, who was the only one brave enough to take him on aside from Ben, and who was the other contender who pushed him to the brink. Ben made Donald realise the fear of losing, but Gray made him realise what he was chasing after this whole time. He thinks to himself, near the end of the fight that in another life, if things played out differently, could he and Gray have been friends? This means that Gray is the one he finally saw as equal to him, the one he wanted to befriend. He found someone who could potentially understand him, but circumstances pit them against each other. And when he beat Gray, any hope of potential connection was shattered.

Donald's Defeat: Last Man Standing

Technically, Donald won the fight against Ben and Gray, and against Eunjang. On paper, this is a huge win for the Union. Logically, this would mean that Donald could further his conquest and rise even higher on the chain of power. However... this ended up being the Union's loss overall. Donald wanted someone to beat him, he wanted someone to take him down a peg, he wanted a true equal in strength, character, ideals, which Ben and Gray had combined. (Ben's sheer power and Gray's character) But after Donald won, there wasn't any point in going on. He knew he was the strongest, but he wanted to be proven wrong. Now there is no chance of anyone who could take him down anymore. 

The Union was just a means to an end, a method of accruing more power and wealth, all of which has lost its meaning for Donald. Hence Donald essentially put the Union on hold. His unrivalled might is still evident as he beat the piss out of Myles Joo and his cronies while severely injured. But mentally, he's destroyed. He's lost his purpose and meaning and snapped. 

So what does he do? He tries again by seeking out Gray. In a semi-crazed delusion he calls out to Gray from below an overhead bridge for them to fight again. Only then could he relive that sense of connection and rekindle the hope of defeat. Gray and the eunjang gang are understandably shocked... but Donald is too fascinated with Gray to care. He just wants to fight again, to understand Gray even more. 

Then he got hit by a truck (Donald isekai when?). The only thing that could take down Donald wasn't even a person but a whole vehicle. 

In the end, Eunjang lost the fight but won the war, as Donald became demoralised and shut down Union activity. Donald lost, as he lost what he desired most (friendship) and whatever he still had didn't mean anything anymore. He was someone who lost himself in dark ambition, and deep inside wanted someone to save him from his endless spiral of violence that he trapped himself within as its kingpin. 

[riveranova]

(A/N): Aaaaand mama's back! First of all, let me say how grateful I was and am to get so many messages from people sharing their stories and wishing me all the best - made me tear up multiple times not gonna lie. Thank you all so much and let's dive right back in. <3

IkePri NSFW Headcanons x GN! Reader - Part 2

Warnings: Smut | minors DNI, would this really be a Nova original if there wasn't at least a lil bit crack?, Licht's getting a little sad

Characters: Chevalier, Luke, Yves, Jin, Licht, Leon, Ikemen Prince

Word count: 690

Chevalier Michel

yk i had a thought for this one

obviously hes a top

but but, hear me out - what if he wasn't?

:)

imagine his cold, blue eyes that normally resemble a frozen lake

well that thick ice is now shattered as he's pressing his head into his pillow, trying not to wake up his annoying brothers (Clavis) while you suck him off

hes a lil bit embarrassed about the way his fists and thighs are clenched together because hes Chevalier Michel, no one makes him this weak

well, exept for you of course

but no one is allowed to find out

i think that hes a little bit bratty as a bottom

like, you want to make him beg? well beg for it.

its kind of a back and forth

but just threaten him to stop and its like a different man lies before you

just imagine him beg for you to get him off in that deep voice

Luke Randolph

i'm a huge suporter of the 'luke only cuddlefucks' theory that a great researcher (me) brought to life

i mean that man sleeps the entire day so why not, right?

he gets horny really fast, just like Gilbert

hes also big, and i dont only mean his body

big boy, gimme a big booooy-

strong hands hold you in place - in front of him, holding you against his chest while slowly fucking you from behind

100% whispers sleepy shit into your ear

honestly so sweet

idk why this is so funny to me but imagine him just falling asleep mid-sex

you're just laying there like '...uh''

lucky for you, this man is into sleep play, so just finish the job yourself~

Yves Kloss

honestly? i think hes one of those really cute and soft tops

soft tops are the best, are they not

but i don't think hes really focused on the sex part

hes a big aftercare guy

he honestly just wants to spoil you and make sure you're all pretty for him

150 step korean skincare routine after every single session without fail

bathing together with him is the most normal thing in the world

hums into your ear while massaging your shoulders

praise praise praise

i honestly think that Yves would be so fucking obsessed with you - in a non-weird way tho

if youre comfortable then he is too <3

Jin Grandet

alright, heres my completely objective take on him

daddydaddydaddydaddydaddydaddy

god i love this man so much

crush me with those honke- okay, sorry

i think hes the kind of guy who doesn't want to have one big session but like short ones scattered across the day

lil quickies yk

hes also shameless

so he just pulls you away whenever he wants to and you know what he wants

he has these 'please im so horny its not cool anymore' eyes

and if youre like me then fuck it, leggo

gives zero fucks about how loud you are

castle staff hates it when he does that but as i said

shameless (hot) asshole

Licht Klein

grumpy ass bottom

not even bratty, just grumpy as fuck

but i think thats what makes the entire thing so thrilling for him

yeah so what if he doesnt care what you do? what are you gonna do about it?

okay maybe hes a little bratty

not the guy that makes a lot of sounds while having sex

he kinda just lays there enjoying the attention hes getting from you - the sex is just a lil bonus

tries to take control on very impatient days

but nuh- uh, his moody ass is staying down

100% sure that he has these 'pls humiliate me' days

theyre rare, yeah, but getting told hes the 'bad sibling' his entire life fucked a little with his brain

pls give him aftercare

Leon Dompteur

i swear i need three tries to get his last name right every single fucking time

anyways, this mans obviously a top

he treats you like youre the deity hes praying to every single day

literally worthsips you so much

i think hes a big vanilla boi

no choking or bondage, just sweet sweet vanilla sex

his hands are huge and everywhere, like a blanket that just never ends

big praise guy too

loves to give it and absolutely thrives off of getting some back

please tell him that hes doing a good job, tell him how good his cock is making you feel

hes a big cuddler too, so get ready for some cozy aftercare <3

[the-s1lly-corner]

hii

I've seen you're taking creepypasta requests ? I really like your Zalgo's concept ! so..

can you drop some of your headcanons about him?? I'm really interested!!

stay safe!

Zalgo headcannons!

hihihihi i promise i saw you send this in a few hours after you asked this and i truly didnt mean to push writing this off for so long ive just been going through it (2 new interests have been kicking my ass for the past 7 or so weeks) but we're back !!

CAUTION these hcs are heavily centered around my concept!! i wasnt totally sure if you wanted these as romantic, so i decided to go down a middle road and just make it how interacting with the guy would probably go down + other ideas!! warning this is a lot of scattered rambling because my brain is all over the place and its 7am

the main thing that my take on zalgo and the main fandom interpretation have in common is the fat that theyre both powerful entities capable of causing mass destruction and chaos

however my zalgo exists more so as a... weird half concept half tangible entity if that makes sense? like he indirectly interacts with the world around him instead of going out and wrecking things himself; a close comparison i can think of is mother mabuka from fran bow but even then it seems she has more direct influence in that universe compared to zalgo... or maybe my interpretation of her is all whack too but eh

exists everywhere and nowhere at once, in my au he's responsible for the creation of the other creepypasta characters. for demon characters like slenderman or the rake he hand crafted them himself to cause torment. for characters like ben or eyeless jack he plants the seed to cause them to become what they were. for ben he allowed him to come back as an angry ghost, and for eyeless jack he made the curse that eventually infects the guy (although jack was just the unlucky host, zalgo had no specific target)

and keeping true to the original zalgo comic stuff, he can corrupt media in anyway he wishes, and perhaps implant subliminal messages or 'viruses' to infect more people? that second part is mostly a concept idea but i vibe with it

so how does one interact with a being that doesn't totally exist?

well

you dont

at least you cant initiate it; no if zalgo wants to be perceived by you he'll come to you, typically if you can offer something to him (usually the ability to cause issues for others, ie general creepypasta character criteria)

injecting this really quick but admin is really into the concept of certain characters/entities being just a simple part of nature, zalgo falls under this idea. he just exists because of the laws of the universe

is he capable of forming bonds? sure he definitely has some sort of favoritism towards certain creatures thanks to how effective they are, but like, what about emotional bonds?

probably not, if im being honest; like sure he can check in on you more often than his other agents of chaos, but that doesn't necessarily mean hes your friend

but lets pretend you somehow made friends with the omnipresent and almost omniscient birthplace of wrath and doom:

you cant touch him but he can touch you, kinda. it kinda feel like being wrapped around with a huge freeing cold and immensely heavy blanket when he decides to grace you with his presence

you know how when in adventure time, the lich makes the screen go dark (ex. the fall meme) i feel like itd be something like that

though ive never watched adventure time/never got too far into it SOBS i plan on changing that i promise

oh he is so so so clingy and he so truly hates your mortality

even in death he wont let you go, he'll probably forcefully bring you back, and by extension twisting you into something you weren't before

like this dude is genuinely not someone you want to fuck around with

even if you dont end up dying hes probably going to change you in some way at some point

on a lighter note hes the type to tear the world apart for you, both in the "i care about you as much as a creature like me can" and a "if you ever leave me im going to find you, i already know where you are because i have eyes everywhere"

like i dont like writing stuff that can dip into yandere territory but like. zalgo would do that kind of shit

bonus hcs, he doesnt really care how people perceive him.. because they cant, and even if he allows it he still doesnt care. wanna use any pronouns for him? he doesnt give a damn. see him as a god? as a devil? he doesnt care. truly could not give a shit what you think, he is unbothered

i feel my hcs for him have shifted a bit since i last brought him up in a post but i think

out of all the creepypastas, zalgo is the one i have with the most changing hcs

esp since in this au hes like. the reason everyone exists as they are, and why everything is going on; he is literally the reason all the bad things happened to everyone and hes responsible for the monster-type characters existence

okay thats all i apologize again if this is a mess i simply got. silly and im running off two hours of sleep and im scratching my brain trying to remember my ideas since i havent really thought of zalgo in 2 months (thanks to other brainrots SOBS)

[joocomics]

screamed and jumped for joy when u followed me just now LMAOHDJD but ty for the tips!! i'll definitely keep them in mind! music is definitely a must, i think i just need to find some better music to listen to and i need to just really get in the zone and allow myself to get lost in my writing. i think i'll maybe go sit outside with my computer tomorrow and try to write bc i think im just wayy too scatter brained to actually think properly and it just makes it so so much harder 😖 so i'll definitely have to try some things out!!

now for a jooyeon thought! i saw ur post about him with face slapping and it got me thinking!! i feel like he's the type to really bounce off of his partner during sex, the type of mood or vibe that you're on is the type of mood or vibe that he's in. he gets rough sometimes, holding ur hips down as he thrusts into u sharply and i feel like he'd end up finding that he also has a thing for face slapping.. like if u and him are bickering and it ends up turning into sex i feel like if you reached up and slapped him because you're just so pissed at him, something mean sliding off your tongue through moans he'd reach right back down and slap you back, telling you that he's gonna ruin u for that, the frustration just building up in his stomach,, i feel like he also has a thing for like very in the moment sex,, like he doesn't even bother to get fully undressed like he'd be holding onto your skirt or your shirt or whatever he can to help him hold ur hips in place idk 😖😖 idk if any of that was even coherent but jooyeon isn't a want anymore,, he's a need 😞😞 (also i miss long hair white streak jooyeon so so much 💔)

OF COURSE ILY!! writing outside sounds soo nice 🤌🏼 is the weather sunny? ~ hope you have a great writing day tmrw!! sometimes getting in the zone takes some time, but when you finally get into it it’s the best feeling ever 😩

it’s no surprise jooyeon is obsessed with boxing - he likes letting out his stress and frustrations through hits, and it’s really messing up with my brain 😣 just simply imagining how strong his hand would be around your throat, on your jaw or when it’s pulling your hair makes me DIZZY. let’s not forget how a while back the members shared that none of them can beat him at arm wrestling, and NOW after he picked up boxing?? what’s his strength like now?? DON’T TELL ME

i agree SO much with everything you wrote, he can really match your energy very well and bc of that i think he’s pretty chill with trying out anything you might be interested in. OH he would be SO turned on from face slapping especially if you do it first to him, before he’s ever done that to you… he would be stunned but in the best way possible. he’d instantly pin your wrists down pounding into you even harder, even deeper so he can make you choke on your mean words; get you to shut up when the last thing you want is for him to have the last word. however, a moment later he’d release your hands and trace his lips on your neck all the way up to your ear, “do it again, i dare you”

choking and face slapping (giving + receiving) are two big turns on for him and no one can change my mind ☝️ he also loves slapping your pussy like sometimes he prefers it over smacking your ass as a punishment or even just for the funsies

(i love long hair white streak joo, but ngl my fave is his brown hair so i’m kinda thriving rn you have no idea how badly i wanted its return ❤️‍🩹)

[ladygreenfrisbee]

Hi, I was hoping if you have time maybe you could answer some in depth questions? I'm a huge fan of your LMK fics and I'm reading your BNHA stuff in the meantime between updates.

But I notice that you juggle your fics, updating some fics a couple chapters and then another fic. As a writer who loses momentum/motivation for good ideas quickly...how do you juggle them all so well without getting details mixed up? Your chapters all flow exceedingly well from one chapter to the next! I was wondering if you could share maybe how you organize things or share some other writing tips? I'm thinking that a similar method of cycling through fics snd updating them may work better for me to keep writing continuously and I was hoping you wouldn't mind sharing if you have the time or energy to do so. (If you don't, I completely understand!)

And lastly, I just wanted to say thank you for sharing your fics. Brotherhood and Reverse are my favorites, so well written and put together and god I love toddler Mac so much. (Also a mood on how you start to write a crack fic and then it gets Emotional and Plot and Angst.) I hope you have a great day! ❤️

Sure thing! First thing first you have to understand taking breaks from writing is VERY important! Although it does look like I'm constantly writing, I actually take lots of breaks -because most of the future chapters are planned out, and I know exactly what I'm doing -and most of all, I've already written most of the next chapter out by the time I get to it.

When I start a fic, generally I set up a Chapter Zero -that one contains all my notes, drabbles, pieces and bits for the story. Any string of words I imagine for it, some scattered bits that jumped to my brain -all serve to not only make the chapter writing faster, but to preserve the thoughts I had in that moment while I was imagining what to do next. It makes jumping back and forth between fics a lot easier, since if you properly document everything, you only need a easy peak in that file to catch up on your planning process for the fic! This also ends up with the result that some large parts of future chapters are written out long before you get to them, and you only need to polish what is there after that. Fun fact -Sunbreak's ending climax is already written out. It might be tweaked in the future, might be changed drastically, but I am happy with the current version and this also allows me to sprinkle some good ol' foreshadowing in the current chapters! Jumping between fics is also a technique I use to write faster in and out of itself -let's be honest we've all had those writer blocks you can't get out of (looking at you MHA fics, Im like so close to finishing the next chapter for a few of them) and the best way to claw yourself out of that hole is to step away. Don't stress about reaching that deadline. Take a break. Not only go do something else, experience something new, detach yourself from the computer for a while -but in terms of writing, write something different.

Each one of my LMK fics are angsty, but they are different flavors to write. Fire and Sparks is snarky, MK's monologue is funky and peppy to write, Red Son too. Sunbreak is a complex, slow beast with lots of build up and time. God of Shadows is pretty out there and abstract. Reverse is meant to be crack on the level of my MHA fic Missy but it ended up something else for now, and that's fine. I will stuff crack and funsies into that fic at one point, just gotta get the sad bits out lmao... What I'm trying to get to, is that write what you feel like it. Don't force yourself to spit out lines, otherwise you're going to end up feeling sluggish and stuck. Variation! Breaks! Twist and turns! Write what flavor you feel like it in that moment helps a lot at coming up with just the right words you need. This is what works for me, and it might work for you! After all, we write for fun, right? To put onto paper, or screen, what our crazy minds come up with!

Hope this answered your question, have a good day!

[no-shxme]

if you feel like giving a stuck writer advice.... how do you get inspiration when head no work right or produce the right words

hey anon, sorry to hear about mush brain :C my advice is scattered but i'll list what helps for me. it's long because im verbose, i hope you dont mind. skip around or whatever (SOB)

something that might help is literally writing about that shitty writer's block feeling. i dont know about you but when i write i usually have to write towards something. usually i have a fragment of a sentence or scene that i want to get to, or just a mood, etc--as specific or unspecific as possible. Then its simply a matter of spewing enough words to get there. I'm not sure what you're trying to write (or maybe you dont have an idea, i'll get to that) but if you're looking to warm up and loosen some brain cells and you can't think of where to go with your words then you could always write about how your head-no-work. cause that's a very powerful and potent feeling in itself. i dont worry about a full scene or anything, just spitting some words on the page about how im feeling, or a character that's feeling the same thing, is often enough to spark more. i think too often people get stuck in their writer's block bc it understandably SUCKS, but there's often something to be explored there, in a good way.

sometimes to get inspiration or get out of a funk i have to really switch things up. i listen to new music or stuff that i haven't listened to in a loooong time. i'll read a book or a comic or ill go look at some pretty art and see if anything clicks. adding to that, a break can really help. a day or two or a week or whatever where you tell yourself that you're absolutely not allowed to write anything. a break! usually i can do that for a day or half a day and then i'll be good to go. (that's also because i write every single day so writing is very much a habit for me, which helps. if it takes longer then that's okay.)

opposite of this, sometimes i'm especially desperate to get something done so i just brute force it. i dont really believe in only doing something when inspiration strikes, (though inspiration is helpful and so are breaks) so sometimes i just throw up all over the page. the worst dogshit ive ever read. and that's ok, because at least it's on the page and not trapped in your brain. even if it's literally just a summary of what happens in the scene. you can always go back later and add more/flesh it out/etc.

back to idea generating. sometimes if im out of juice i literally just take something i already like (movie, book, trope, for example: indiana jones) then plug characters into it (ff or otherwise), and then just twist said material until it becomes its own thing. usually the characters will do that themselves. for example. if i inserted sett and talon into a jungle traversing indiana jones au i know just based on their characters that there'd be friction, so we'd already be looking at conflicted allies (since i want them to be allies). but then you ask, how would they even be allies in the first place? logically i decide that they must want the same single objective in order to work together in an uneasy alliance, even if i havent yet figured out what that objective is. that's a start. then i can begin thinking about that dynamic and how itd work and how i can still generate tension. thats how i end up with the idea of them handcuffed together, both fighting over the same objective even tho they both don't get along. that was a really long winded way of me saying that sometimes writing character focused stories/fanfiction can get you bogged up because it's hard to get your character to do something. it can feel like a slog. dunno if you're having that problem or not but sometimes i gotta take a step back and figure out if there's a better way for my character to do things. i try not to force anything and think about how a character would actually approach a situation and then a scene pretty much writes itself. for comparison, my train of thought for building scenes isn't "character Y is going to do xyz and abc." instead it's "these are my goals for character Y, now how do they GET there?" and designing the plot around that. which i guess doesn't' seem like that much of a difference but,, imo it's a big one. maybe that doesn't apply to you, in which case ignore it lksfdjjklfsd.

uhh i know i have other tidbits or crumbs or whatever but this is what i can think of off the top of my head. i know those mucky muddy brain times are such a struggle so maybe something here can help. just know that it'll pass, eventually! whether you take a break, brute force it, fight it, etc. everyone's different, don't be discouraged! and remember that even dogshit on a page is better than nothing. there's no rule saying you can't revise your own stuff 15 hundred bajillion times. good luck anon!

[lordsardine]

.

[ackermental]

Today I've witnessed a comment calling Eren and Historia step cousins...

The lvl of brain gymnastics antis are capable of is simply insane.

[bollur]

tomorrow, summer ends // percival de rolo (1/?)

a/n: this was a beautiful idea from a couple of lovely people: @strawberryjamwitch & @theriverstyx-runscopper (i'll tag you two in each addition, and if anyone else wants the same let me know) and i really couldn't pass it up. i hope no one minds that this is going to be multiple parts as my imagination ran wild and it would feel far too rushed for me to put it into a one-shot.

this is set in a little more of a modern!au, so things might be a little bit different. maybe i'll botch (i'll definitely botch it bc that's all i do with anything actually) it like a bad nose job and it'll be uber shitty, idk, but i'm gonna keep on with it bc my brain laid an egg and i am determined to hatch it. im so fired up rn i don't even care if everyone hates it.

now excuse me while i go try and feel again. p.s. no i couldn't think of a better name for the doctor so just sue me already

It was almost chaotic, the setting of the office; papers strewn and books scattered on glass tables, chairs moved in an unorganized fashion, and he could see the specs of dust floating in the sunlight peeking through slitted blinds. One would have to wonder if this was actually a respectable establishment with its unkempt appearance. Perhaps whoever took care of the managerial aspect could blame the fact he was there before opening but is a place not supposed to look its finest at all times in case of an inspection, and if operating times really mattered why was the damned door unlocked?

He idly picked up a Cosmopolitan magazine, only to carelessly drop it back down on the table, not even bothering to give an uninterested once-over, an overwhelming need to do something. A moment of silence passed his thoughts, like a radio tower shut-off and suddenly he exhaled sharply, hanging his head, slowly leaning forward and allowing it to lightly bump the wall. That tower powered back on, bringing massive feedback in its wake as he asked himself one simple question:

Why the hell was he here so early if he didn’t even want to be here at all?

He could have laughed at the predicament that question now left him in, and what better place to sort that out if not in this fucking office. He could take the time to dwell on it, but as the front door to the office suddenly flew open with more force than needed, his back straightened and he wiped any noticeable expression off his face, bringing himself back to a presentable front. Percival wished he could say the interest working its way onto his face was feigned, watching you look back at the door in confusion before you cautiously closed it, opened it, and repeated the process at least twice. “Oh,” a soft noise escaped your mouth, and if he hadn’t been listening intently, he probably would have only heard incoherent mutters. “I guess he fixed it.”

There was doubt in his mind about this place, to begin with, so maybe it was biased that he wasn’t surprised the door was apparently broken at one point, or perhaps it was just his desire to be anywhere but here, rather. He was bound and determined with a negative attitude to find everything he could wrong with this place, an excuse to never step foot into it again. He didn’t need to be here - it was only a waste of good money for him to not be here.

It was only a waste of good money for him to be here.

Perhaps he could have stopped staring - well, yes, he should have stopped staring, actually. With the group of people he associated with, the idea of someone being perplexed by a door really shouldn't have interested him so much, or maybe their uninhibited actions were beginning to rub off and have some influence on him. So when you turned around, finding him staring at you, he couldn't do anything but quickly turn his head to stare interested at the wall, just a hint of heat rising to his cheeks.

Good on him for trying to use the typical 'i actually happen to find this non-existent spot on the wall the most interesting thing in the world' play of action, but looking at it now, he couldn't deny that it was a rather beautiful shade of sage green. He might have to remember that - his workroom was in need of a new coat soon, maybe a change wouldn't be bad for it. Everyone (whose opinions really didn't matter) kept nagging at him to brighten it up there, but he wasn't about to do it because they told him to.

A soft titter met his ears, pulling him to glance from his peripheral. "Well, this is a disaster," your head turned, surveying the room.

It was obvious you were talking to yourself - you had no reason to address him, he was a stranger that you - him assuming - embarrassed yourself in front of. But Percy couldn't help but quip sarcastically, "On the contrary, I thought it looked rather charming." you stopped mid-push of returning a chair to sit against the wall, gave a small snort of amusement, and finished your mission.

Silence fell over the room, the only sound being your shuffling around, moving things here and there. Perhaps he could have been ... less rude and offered to help, but it wasn't his job (if it was even yours - you didn't look like you worked here), he didn't even want to be here.

Why was he here?

'It's just not healthy to bottle everything up, darling,' the sound of Vex's voice echoed in his mind, reigning on top of a cluster-fuck that could build in his chest until it exploded and shatter his ribs for all he gave a damn. At least, he told himself so, because what was the point in any of it?

Percival de Rolo was well enough acquainted with the villains that lived in his head that he had become bigger than them, better, meaner. He beat them away in his shop, pounding iron and steel to the heat of the forge until they were nothing but a material molded for his personal use. His heart held vengeance, hatred, and his soul craved for the idea of redemption on what was taken from him and he could bury them behind a consistent pile of work that would occupy him for hours on end, a sickening feeling of power as he used and manipulated them as he had been.

Inwardly he felt himself wince because when he put it that way, of course, it sounded wrong, but he was dealing with it in his own comfortable way. What was so wrong with that? He had made it this far in life with a devil on each shoulder, so why did things have to change? Fingers dug into the fabric of his pants, fists lightly clenching, the silence in the room rang in his ears, and he could hear the thrumming of his own heart. One might find it soothing, but to him, it was only a reminder of what he lived for.

Looking up, Percy was met with a set of eyes looking at him from across the room - he expected pity, muscles tensing before he even read the expression on your face, but he was met with a sight of apprehension. He wanted to throw a snide remark as his lips pursed in displeasure, but when he held that gaze, feeling irritatingly vulnerable, a timid smile crossed your lips and the golden rays peeking in the room felt a bit more alive.

Whatever connection was being made broke as the door flung open once more, the both of you quickly looking away, amaranth light dusting your cheeks as the air in the room became quickly awkward. He could vaguely make out your fingers fiddling with the corners of the pages of your book, but he was trying not to look at you. Not that it wouldn't be fair with how you so rudely watched him like he was some bird in a fucking tree.

"You must be my 9 o'clock," a new voice entered the room, and Percy looked up to see an older (though not much older than himself) gentleman with tied-back hair and a shadow of a day late shave.

They exchanged a firm shake. "Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III," he confirmed, letting his hand drop to his side. "But you may call me Percival."

The man smiled, nodding his head. "Wonderful - I'm Dr. Mercer, but you can call me Matthew, or Matt if that makes you more comfortable." Percy held back his look of distaste at the man in front of him. There were no real hard feelings, he didn't even know this man, but he couldn't help but slightly project his undesire to even be here.

Nothing could make him comfortable right now.

Dr. Mercer's face changed, confused, looking between Percy and you for a moment. "How did you two get in here?"

Neither of you skipped a beat responding to his question:

"The door was unlocked - "

" - you forgot to lock the door, again."

He found himself looking at you once again, both of you perplexed before turning away quickly, looking in opposite directions once again. He could see Matt flash a quick but very curious look between the two of you. The Doctor shrugged nonchalantly. "At least there's nothing important in here."

Yeah, there was definitely nothing that could Percy comfortable with being here.

The walk back to his actual office was uneventful, to say the least. Percival could only keep a straight face, mentally running through a hundred scenarios and answers to different questions, perhaps in a way that would cut all this short and he would never have to come back again. Walking through the door, all Percy could think to himself was that at least it was more organized than the waiting area.

Matt gestured to a seat, any seat, in particular, Percy assumed as there were three armchairs and a couch, before sitting down in one of his own beside an end table that had a legal pad, a cup, and a pen on it. Once he took a seat, the Doctor rubbed his hands together almost playfully. "So, Percival," he began laying his forearms across the arms of the chair, his one hand resting right on his notepad. "How - "

While anyone would appreciate the casual setting, a Doctor trying to seem normal for a situation akin to walking on thin ice. It would have been comforting if he had half a mind to even care about being here. "Listen, Doctor," Percy began, sitting down in the armchair right across from him, crossing an ankle over his knee in a subtle display of comfortable dominance. "I'm not here for you to prevaricate your questions - in fact, I'd be rather insulted by it," he admitted smoothy, gaze not wavering from the Doctor.

There was a moment of silence and Percy could feel his finger methodically tapping against one that it was laced with on his lap. Hostility it was it could very well be viewed as, and while he felt like he had something to defend, it wasn't a lie that if he was going to sit here, he wasn't going to be treated like porcelain that could crack with one wrong word.

He was stronger than that.

Dr. Mercer's demeanor didn't change one bit, in fact, he seemed almost more relaxed than before. "You're right, my apologies - we're both adults here," he agreed, nodding his head and proceeding to ask: "So, why are you here?"

Now that was the fucking question, wasn't it?

Whatever flame Percy held in his chest slowly began to simmer out, dwindling down to burning embers and he felt his breath catch in his throat, suffocating him. He had an answer, he just needed to say it. It wasn't hard. He had faced horrors beyond this. But why did something within him hold back on his scripted words?

Collecting himself, his back straightened. "I'm here because a group of assholes decided to pay for several sessions in advance," he began steadily, igniting the flame of confidence, building up a wall as sturdy as Rome. "and one of them values money more than life itself."

"So you don't feel the need to be here?" Matt asked genuinely curious, and they watched each other intently. "There's nothing you want to talk about?"

It was an honest question that would receive an equally honest reply. "No," Percival responded, turning his head to look out the window. The sun was shining, birds plucking berries from the trees and the sky was clear, and he was wasting his time here. Not that he would even be outside enjoying it if he wasn't. "I don't believe in talking about the past when it cannot be changed."

A thoughtful noise came from Dr. Mercer, followed by a soft click. "I see,"

Percy's eyes narrowed slightly, turning his head to look at the Doctor in suspicion as the sound of writing. "You - what are you doing?" he asked, seeing the doctor's hand off to the side, moving the pen against paper. "What are you writing?"

Matt only gave him a sheepish smile in response, finishing his work and then fiddling with the pen between his fingers, flicking it back and forth like a metronome and Percival sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

Maybe he should just let Vex kill him for letting the money go to waste. He felt like it already was.

[amoristt]

Grazing the Fire | IV

well hello. here i am, four years later, once again enamored with nathan enough to finally dust this baby off and pick up where i left it. im a little rusty so bear with me this chapter! much more to come <3

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)! it also helps motivate me!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Warning: language, very vague s/a mentions

want to support me? heres my kofi!

__________________________

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?” 

A few hands raise in the corners of your eye, but yours remains atop your desk. Eyes far away, mind in a murky haze and almost completely unaware. All you could focus on were the memories playing on repeat within the confines of your tired, tired brain. Hours ago, you were warm, you were comfortable. Safe.

Cheeks heated to a dusting blush when you remind yourself just how you had awoken that morning. At some point in the night, an angel had blessed you. Allowed you to wake up wrapped around none other than big, bad, Nathan Prescott. Your face nuzzled into his chest, broad but wiry hands pressed firmly over your shoulder and his arm slung over your waist to keep you against him. Thankfully you had been the first to wake up, blinking away the morning sun blazing through his blinds and painting the room stripes of gold. At that moment, before your headache came crashing down onto your skull, you were astounded by him. 

Eye lashes brushing the top of his cheeks, his lips parted ever so slightly, chest rising and falling rhythmically. In that moment, there was no anger, no bitterness. Just a soft and peaceful slumber. It was like being the sole viewer of a magnificent painting- each stroke and detail placed just there just for you to pick out, to remember the curves and sharp edges down to the very foundation. From his unkempt hair down to the way his hand flattened onto the mattress where your indent still lived. Nathan was so beautiful like this. 

For a long time you stayed there. It was as though you were afraid to move- you couldn’t bear to disturb him. You had wondered, if he was always like this, so at peace, what would he be like? Likely soft voiced, mild mannered. He’d do his school assignments without hassle and donate to the charity board. He would wander the town with his friends and listen to music in a beat up truck flying down the stretch of highway overlooking the bold, blue, and beautiful ocean. An entirely different version of himself- carefree, and a fair blue as opposed to a burning flame of red. 

But, if that were the case, you’d never have gotten here. You’d never been both the outsider, and the only seeing eye. A lucky, albeit firstly unwilling witness to the display of depth before you. 

It never hit you like it had quite in that moment how lucky you were.

But- just then- an alarm disturbed what serendipity existed. You nearly leapt out of your skin, clutched your hands to your chest at the sudden sound. A headache wove its way into your once untouched temples. Nathan groaned, mumbled, ‘god damn it’, under his breath, and thus his body was reanimated into life. He rubbed his eyes and he stretched, that familiar scowl coming over his eyes and lips as he took in the sunlight damn near blinding him. A polar opposite to the being you’d appreciated just moments earlier.

“Ugh, fuck, how the fuck is it seven already.” He groaned. “I feel like shit.”

“Well good morning to you too,” You started, welcoming Nathan into the world. “‘I’m feeling pretty shitty as well.” 

You said that, but really… You were more than alright. Your head had hurt, slight nausea crept into the wells of your stomach, but other than that you’re sure you were phenomenally better than you’d have been waking up whereverTate would have left your ass.

“You need to get outta here, before everyone gets up.” Nathan drawled, but he didn’t sound as urgent as you expected him to be. You’d expected him to be angry that you were still in his room, but instead he just… accepted it. 

You snickered, climbing out of his throne of a bed. “Wow, you’re giving me the morning after treatment?” 

“Sure am. Get outta here, whore.”

“Oh fuck you.” 

You located your heels from last night, resting upright near his dorm room door. Heels didn’t sound like the most  practical to sneak out of a dorm with, so you instead opted to grappling them by the straps and carrying them at your side. Hair a mess, outfit riddled with wrinkles and makeup smudged under your eyes, you stood before Nathan in all your glory. He stared at you for a long, odd moment- and you for some reason felt exposed, or even, shy. 

“What?” You ask expectantly, placing a hand on your hip. 

His eyes trail to your line of vision. He shakes his head. “Just thinking about how now you really do look like my morning after.”

“Yeah?” You hummed. “Find it hard to believe you get a lot of those.”

Nathan shoots you a suggestive glance. “You’d be surprised. Everyone wants a piece of Prescott.”

Surely, he was joking, or maybe he wasn’t, but you… Didn’t like hearing that. It made your stomach feel odd, uncomfortably heavy.  As he stood up, reminding you how many inches he had over your size, you swallowed and cleared your throat to flush out that crappy feeling. “Well,” you started, mood having dropped. “I’m gonna go, then.” 

“What got your panties in a twist all the sudden?” He asked, raising a brow and pulling some clothes from his closet, tossing them onto the bed.

The bed you two had shared.

You hated the idea of his morning afters- whoever they may be. 

“Not feeling great. Probably a side effect of the roofies.” You mumbled.

Nathan breathed a laugh. “Probably.”

He seemed so calm, right now. Perhaps due to it being so early, before the outside world had a chance to remind him just why he was so uptight all the tight. Before he needed to be so uptight all the time. He really did have so many versions of himself- all of whom you were slowly becoming familiar with. Compared to the person you’d believed him to be before your run ins, you’d never have assumed someone so dangerous could be so soft as last night, as this morning. In the beginning, you’d feared him. Avoided him like a plague, or a wild animal. Even when you were enraptured in the existence of him, you still wanted to keep away. You’d never have believed someone like you could wake up clutched to his chest, as though he were afraid if he released you, you’d be gone long before he woke. 

Then, a sudden thought struck your mind. 

He’d held you so tight. He’d welcomed you in the morning. No anger, no annoyance. His soft laugh at your banter and taunts. How your heels were standing upright instead of tossed haphazardly into some random corner, where he’d watch your struggle to find. 

How he’d stayed awake to ensure your sleep.

“So are you just gonna stand there?” Nathan called you back to reality, hands gripping the hems of his shirt. “I gotta get ready and you need to wash up so you don’t look like a five dollar stripper.” Cruel words, but with absolutely no bite. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah. But, hey,” You started. “Thank you for last night.” 

“Yeah, yeah. You gotta start learning to watch your own back.” He says. “There’s gonna be times I won’t be there to drag your ass out of the fire.”

If you’d been charged, if you’d been stricken with a strange defensiveness, you’d have retorted, ‘than stop helping me’, but… Instead you allowed yourself the comfort of protection. You allowed Nathan Prescott to watch you.  

“I know,” You reached for the door. “Thank you.”

With that, you bounded out of the dorm silent as a mouse. 

-----------

In hindsight, you should have left earlier. Class was merely 15 minutes away when you slipped out of Nathan's room and bounded towards the women's dorm. Albeit not exactly a long walk, by the time you discreetly snuck back into your own dorm, you had roughly twenty minutes to somehow pick an outfit from your countless unopened boxes and make yourself even slightly presentable. 

Wiping off whatever make-up you could get and reapplying it, brushing out the tangles of your hair and nearly tearing off your scalp in the process, scattering your nightclothes over your floor and managing to scrounge out a semi-decent outfit for the day… You still looked a mess. If the mirror could laugh, it would have. Black mascara smudges under your eyes and frizzy untreated hair. What a lovely look. 

You’d made it to class just five minutes late, but those five minutes were all it took for all eyes to be on you as you tried to slide into the classroom unnoticed. A couple classmates whispered to their table mates as you passed by, smelling of oversaturated cherry blossom perfume to hopefully cover the scent of alcohol. You sauntered to your seat and sank down with all your weight, suddenly exhausted. You’d made it with just five minutes tainting your record of attendance. The teacher greeted you with a disappointed sigh, and thus, the day began. 

But, it was so hard to focus. All you could think about was Nathan. 

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?” 

You lowered your head. 

“Ah, how about, ___?”

You snaked back into reality, blinking up at the chalk board that was somehow already riddled with math equations. Since you hadn’t been paying attention even in the slightest, your mouth gaped wide open, eyes scanning for something you understood even slightly so you didn’t look like a total idiot. 

Sadly, you were out of luck. The teacher shook his head. “I’m shocked,” He said. “You're normally so on top of things. Oh well.”

“Oh, I’m sure she was on top of things,” A female voice sniggered behind you “Last night.”

Your face flushed a red, hot, ruby. What the hell was she talking about? How had they found out you were with Nathan? You were so sure of being sneaky, there was no way-

“Her and Tate totally got it on last night.”

You whipped around in your seat, facing girls who looked to be clones of some sort. Both with the same dark eyes, short brown hair, and freckles. “What?”

“Alright-” Your teacher blurted. “That's enough. April, May, enough. Let’s not discuss things outside of the classroom.”

The two girls batted their eyes. “Sorry sir.” One spoke, twirling a hand through her hair. Her sister's wide toothy grin never fumbled. 

“Back to it then. Kate, can you help out __ with number four?” 

The small, blonde girl nodded quickly, brushing a lock of hair behind her eyes and offering an empathic nod. 

As you turned around in your seat, her answer fell on deaf ears. Your heart was racing in your chest, hands balled into fists while you stared ahead blankly.  

They couldn’t seriously think that you chose to leave with Tate, could they? Surely someone must have seen the state you were in. Someone other than Nathan.

The clock ticks forward but time feels like it's passing almost unnaturally slow. With just 10 minutes left, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket.

‘Nathan: consider ur favor officially returned 

Your tongue poked from your lips, the tiniest of smiles taking over your once sullen features. Terrible thoughts and worries flew out the window while you type back, ‘damn. here i was gonna to ask you to do a backflip off the roof with me. there goes my plans.’

Nathan types for a moment. Typing, stopping, typing again. 

‘Nathan: soundz like a blast. where and when?’

A small blush heats your cheeks. ‘very funny. thanks to last night i have an entire 24 hour session of studying to catch up with.’

His response is almost instant. ‘Nathan: boringgg. txt me when ur fun.’

Rolling your eyes, you shove your phone back into your pocket. It seems you’ve been able to secure enough of a friendship with him for some mindless banter even outside your little visits. You smile. He’s… Fun to talk to. Surprisingly. 

Class comes to an end and you start to pack up the books and papers you’d hardly even glanced at the whole period. Whatever had been upsetting you before is lost in your mind while you think of the morning, the night before. All the things in-between. But, your happiness doesn’t last long. As you get up, you’re almost forced right back into your seat as a weight shoves into your shoulder. Your books scatter to the floor. April, the one who’d remarked about you earlier, glares at you in what looks to be disgust. 

“Careful April,” Her sister hums as she saunters past you, keeping distance and raising her already shrill tone of voice. “Might wanna watch where you’re walking- I’d hate for you to catch something from this slut.”

You absolutely gawk at her. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

April scoffs. “Oh come on, like everyone doesn’t know what you were up to last night.”

“Sleeping around isn’t a good color on you.” May hikes her bag over her shoulder and snickers at you. They both leave the class together, sickeningly in sync. You’re left stunned where you stand, unsure how the hell your life came to this so quickly. How you’ve stooped so low that the daughters of the world's most uncreative parents are able to bully you based on something that didn’t even happen.

Next class goes no better. The person to your right, a jockey looking brunette guy, asks, ‘have you ever heard of a Tate?’. You say no, that that’s the dumbest name you’ve ever heard. The idiot grins and goes back to marking down likely wrong answers on his test sheet and you debate kicking the leg of his chair out- but you don’t to avoid even more eyes on you. It makes you sick to your stomach- even more than recovering from the roofies does. How can everyone believe it? You barely even knew the guy and you were clearly uncomfortable with his advances. No one saw that? 

After everything you’d worked for to build a reputation, trying so hard to not call out peoples shit for the sake of seeming friendly, tainted over something that didn’t even happen? And the kicker was that it hadn’t even been your fault! He’d drugged you, he’d have taken advantage of you! Yet you were the bad person? 

Class came and went in the blink of an eye this time. Your mind wrapped up in the situation, your stomach churning. You wanted the day to be over with but you still had 4 more classes to suffer through. Why was this happening to you? Was Tate being treated just as horribly, or was he getting pats on the backs of his unaware friends?

Wandering down the halls to your locker, you noticed Lance and Kaz hanging around one of the drinking fountains. Your nerves quelled- your friends would surely make you feel much better. Especially since they had witnessed how awful you were feeling as you left. You approach with a relieved smile, ready to say your truth and finally have someone on your side.

“Hey guys.” You smile, but Lance looks down at his feet while Kaz places her hands to his hips. Your smile fades.

“You could have told us you were gonna spend the night with Tate,” Kaz snaps. “You didn’t need to lie like that just to leave. We were all worried about you and it was for nothing.”

“What?” You feel like you could cry. “No, Kaz, I really did try to leave. Tate tried to drug me and take me home, and-”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Lance interrupts, with a frown. He looks back down at the floor with knitted brows. “I’ve known Tate since before time. He wouldn't do something like that, especially not to one of my best friends. Plus he told me he was really into you. Why would he even try?”

“Are you serious?” You sputter. “You think I’d lie about something like that?”

“You’ve been lying about all sorts of things!” Kaz huffs. “What’s going on with you lately? You’ve been so distant, and secretive. What are you hiding that’s making you lie like this? We’re supposed to be your friends and then you lie to our faces just to go and fuck the first guy that shows you attention.”

“What…?” It was like acid. It was like the rug had been pulled from your feet sending you spiraling down the unending cliff. Kaz, your best friend, all that venom. How could they turn against you like this? What the hell is going on? You felt your throat tighten. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been distant, but I’m not lying to you, I-”

“We gotta go.” Lance isn’t in the mood to hear it. “We’ll catch up to you.. Some other time.”

Kaz says nothing as she pushes past you. Lance, at least, spares a short glance over his shoulder. You stood there alone in the hallway, your bag falling off your shoulder and clattering onto the floor with a thud echoing off the walls. Everything you had, all gone at once. 

No one believed you.

---------

With nowhere to go where you felt like you could truly allow yourself to process the day's events, you went to the only place you knew. 

Just outside of campus, where rocks lined the edge of the boundary, overlooking the outskirts of the town and the ocean stretching as far as the eye could see. You settled yourself there, staring at the vast waters and wondering how this had all happened. Unlucky didn’t even begin to cover how it felt. Not only did you feel violated with Tate attempting to do unthinkable things with your unconscious body, but you also felt alone, and walked on. Your best friends hadn’t believed you. While Lance seemed saddened, Kaz was so… Angry. Her words cut like knives into your skin. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve this.

You want to talk to Nathan, but knowing him, he’d see your state and bounce instantly. After all, this isn’t exactly very fun of you.

As the sun began to fall, splaying orange and blues over the wide open sky, behind you, you could hear voices. A group of them, some male, some female. Memories of when your notebook had gotten snatched by those two horsed face assholes came flooding back and with all your alertness, you stood up, and decided that this sitting place was no longer safe. Nothing was.

Before you even made it ten feet away, the group had found their way to your spot and gotten comfortable, one of the girls cheering, ‘this’ll be our hangout! look at how pretty the view is!’

You took a short drive down the stretches of road and decided that if you were going to lament in your own sadness, you were at least going to do so in a place that had something to cover the sound of your tears. Plus a nice view.

The beach, littered with its picnic tables and the sounds of crashing waves would suffice just fine. So, you pulled in the desolate parking lot and wandered down the sandy shores until you stumbled upon a picnic table shaded by a large willow cascading lushious branches to block out the sun- a perfect canopy for you to wallow under. 

You had nothing at that moment. No friends, no reputation, no one to believe your tragic tale. And now, you’d just lost the one spot that made you feel comfortable when stress was building into your body like concrete. Tears pricked into the corners of your eyes and you bit your lip, dreading that feeling of a lump in your throat. Why you? Everything had been going so well. How could not even a single person believe that Tate had tried to hurt you?

Well, actually, there was one person.

Of course Nathan believed you. He’d been the one to rescue you, after all. Time and time again it seemed.  How was it that even the ones closest to you would turn their back so fast, yet Nathan seemed to be there even when you didn’t want him to be? Even when you yelled at him, and he yelled right back, fire and sparks falling into embers around the two of you. 

In that moment, you almost felt like you could finally relate to him. A reputation based on lies and things out of your control, paired with a hardheaded attitude to try and combat all the assumptions. 

No wonder he was so angry. 

“Hey bitch,” A voice suddenly called, and you had a split second moment where you were terrified of once again being the victim of a cruel prank or some classmates boredom. “How about next time you have a pity party you don’t fucking call me in the middle of it.”

You blinked away your tears and through the blurriness saw a figure coming towards you. All that sass, the tone...

“Nathan?” You breathed. It only takes moments before he’s in front of you, holding his phone in view, seeing that the call that had been running for nearly ten minute. You flush in embarrassment, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “How did that happen?”

“Well, can your ass dial numbers?” He taunts, ending the call. 

“Damn it, dumb phone must have butt-dialed you. I knew I should’ve gotten a different one.” You mentally kick yourself. “It must have unlocked in my pocket.”

“You don’t have a password on your phone?” He taunts. When you shake your head, he whistles. “You are just begging for a robbery. I’ll keep that in mind when I’m in the mood to send random messages to all your buddies.” 

“Fuck off.” You scowl, and he grins, hopping up on the picnic table next to you. The sun flatters his skin. He’s almost glowing. 

“Speaking of buddies, how the hell did it pick my number out of your sea of friends?”

You shrug. “Probably cuz’ it’s a priority contact.” 

“Oh lala, I’ve been upgraded to priority huh? Does it display a superman logo whenever you give it a ring?”

“Nope. When I press call it rings the nearest asshole in my vicinity. The fact that it’s you is your own problem.”

“Haha, fucking ha.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He stares out at the water, watching waves pull and crash onto the beach. It’s almost beautiful, until he ruins it. “Yknow, you’re a really ugly crier.”

“Wow, thanks.” You shake your head. “That's exactly what I needed to hear right now. Why did you even stay on the line?.” Wiping your eyes, you start to forget your tears. “Couldn’t have been that wild of a conversation.”

Nathan shrugs. “Between the crying and the sound of the waves it was pretty nice.” He grins. “Very educational.” 

“Awesome. Glad I was able to make your day.” It doesn’t feel like your usual bitey remarks. You’re tired, you’re still a little hurt and you can’t stop thinking about how such an amazing morning had turned into such a horrible day.

“So what’s got you all fucked up? Never seen you act like this big of a baby before.”

“Nothing. You already paid off your debt to me per this morning, so feel free to resume our regularly scheduled mutual hatred.” You say, lying through your teeth. You know you’re both past the point of hatred, but you’re feeling jaded, you can’t help it. 

“Oh shut the fuck up,” He groans. “I didn’t drag my ass all the fucking way out to this shit hole of a beach just for you to give me that bullshit. What, did you fail a test? No one matched you on tinder?”

“Everyone thinks me and Tate slept together last night.” You blurt. “I think he’s telling people me and him had sex.”

Nathan tenses his shoulders and grimaces. “Fucking werido.”

“I told my best friends that he tried to take advantage of me and they don’t believe me. One of em’ even said he wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Fuck em’. Who needs best friends.”

“And to make everything so much better, these two bitches that I share four of my classes with harassed me all goddamn day. I mean, fucks sake, how the hell are girls named April and May of all things able to get to me. It’s bullshit. And to make matters worse, Tate is just… Getting away with it.”

“Yeah well, something tells me that Tate’s gonna get a real nice fucking taste of medicine eventually. I just gotta find him first. He’s got a lot of nerve spreading shit around given I knocked his ass onto the pavement.” Nathan brows knit at the memory.

You test the waters. “Why would you do that for me?”

He seems caught off guard, or maybe, surprised that you’d ask. Maybe he thinks you’re both beyond that point. He grumbles, “Why does it matter.”

“I’m just curious. We don’t owe each other anything, remember?”

“Yeah, well,” He huffs. “Don’t ask me questions to shit I don’t know the answer to.”

“You say that an awful lot.” You tease.

“Yeah well you ask dumbass questions an awful lot. Not everything I do has to have some weird ass motives behind it, ___. Maybe I’ve got beef with Tate that’s outside of you.”

“Uhuh. Sure.” You’re about to say something else, when your phone lights up with a text. The display makes your heart fall all over again. 

Unknown Number: you should just pack up and go somewhere else. no one wants std’s from breathing your air xoxo

You don’t even know who that is. Now absolute strangers are on your case. You want to throw your phone into the ocean and leave.

Nathan scoffs. “Don’t even bat a fucking eye for that bitch, whoever the hell they are. Half the hoes you’ve mentioned have slept with half the football team,” he pinches his jacket, “and I would know.”

“Ew, Nathan,” You grimace, that same feeling from the morning returning. It feels, oddly, like jealousy.  He nudges your arm with his elbow and grins playfully. It’s cute.

“Chill, I’m just fucking with you. You gotta know even I wouldn’t fuck girls that desperate. I’m a man of class.”

That last comment actually forces a laugh from you. It’s soft, but it’s real. The first laugh you’ve genuinely had all day. “That’s horrible.” You remark, giggling again.

It's almost like the slight restoration of your mood puts him at ease as well. He leans back on his hands and stares off into the ocean, those sparkling waters under the setting, orange sun. “I’m for real though. Those hoes aren’t worth your time. One day when we blow this shithole of a town they’re not even gonna matter.”

Your brows knit, eyes blinking up at him. Had you heard that right? 

“We?” You ask, perplexed, albeit a little… Hopeful.

Nathan sputters. “Well- Like, when everyone’s older and-”

“You know what, it's fine.” You interrupt. “Fuck it. You’re right. We’re gonna blow this town and they’re just gonna be some shitty memories.”

He sucks in a shaky breath. You’ve never heard him scramble like that, like he’s been unmasked. The look he casts you when you agree, when you don’t tease or patronize and finally hop on the idea that yeah, what if the two of you really didn’t have to deal with it anymore.

What if the two of you could just exist, without the anger. 

You look up at him. “Would you actually do that though?” You start. “With me, of all people?”

He swallows. His expression is tense, but he’s not upset. He appears nervous, caught off guard. Nathan tries, “I-”

Your phone rings. Shrill, piercing. Mood destroying. 

“Jesus Christ, it’s my mom.” You grab your phone and Nathan looks forward, stone faced and silent as you hop off the table and answer. It’s your mother, who all but shouts into the phone that her and your father are taking a surprising visit to Arcadia Bay while they’re traveling by on their vacation. She insists that you be ready in about an hour for dinner, and likely there will be family photos. 

Which means if you still look as wrecked as you did this morning, you’re gonna have a lot of washing up to do. With a quick goodbye, a short and sweet, ‘love you’, you hang up and sigh. 

“You still tell your mom you love her?” He teases. “What are you, five?”

You frown. “You don’t tell your parents you love them?”

Nathan side eyes you, and just shrugs. It is all the answer you need, really, and for his sake you decide it wouldn’t be best to press the issue. Not now. But- it still makes your heart hurt just a little. You wished that he’d had it better growing up. 

“Right… Do you want a ride home?”

“Fuck no, what am I,” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “a fucking girl scout?” 

“I was just offering, weirdo.” When he doesn't get up, you feel like you’re missing out. Like if you stayed, maybe, just maybe, you’d get to know him a little better. “Hey, if you want, I can stay for a bit longer.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re needed elsewhere. But,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. Fuckin’... Text me or something. Or not, I don’t care either way.”

There’s a small warmth in your chest that rises to your cheeks. He wants you to text him. “Yeah,” You say. “If I’m feeling fun.”

And with that, you bid him farewell, beginning your descent to the parking lot. 

“Hey,” He calls, and you turn just in time to catch a small item he’s tossed right at you. A tiny key resides in the palm of your hand. “Spare. If shit hits the fan again-...” He shrugs, and actually looks away. “Just don’t be too fucking loud of I’ll kick your ass out myself. No Madison needed.”

The widest grin plays over your lips. “I’m gonna re-decorate your room while you’re gone.”

“Ah, you fucking better not.” He shouts. “Actually- you know what, give it back.” 

“No, no! I’m sorry.” You play with the key between your fingers. “Thanks for this.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t lose it and remember- emergencies only. I don’t need you watching me sleep like fucking freak. We’re past that stage.” 

“How many times will I have to say I was never watching you. Christ… But, alright. See ya, then.” The key is heavy in your palm. 

You place it into your pocket and give him one last glance before you take off, leaving him to enjoy the sound of waves, birds, and the absence of your tears.

[keilemlucent]

long days for bad people

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~6k

Being a prized, adored possession was far better than you thought it would be.

warnings: light daddy kink (no age play, just the name in mostly jest), spit kink, crying kink, degradation, brief descriptions of blood + violence, kidnapping (consensual?? read a/n), brat taming, light sadomasochism, mind break, praise kink

------

here it is, mafia au, villain hawks, dom, brat tamer, soft(?!) hawks. what more could you want? 

there’s briefly described kidnapping at the beginning of the fic but it is reiterated throughout that this is consensual! no yandere/stockholm stuff in this fic. 

i’ve been working on this one for a while and i’m happy to finally share it. hope y’all enjoy!!

||||||||||||||||||||

You shouldn’t have fucked around with the League.

God, it was common knowledge in the parts of town and circles you inhabited. Of all criminal syndicates, mobs, to fuck with, the League wasn’t one of them. They were known for their complete cruelty and violent delights. The League had such a reputation due to the fact that they openly left bodies carved up and burnt as they pleased.

But, you were a fucking idiot and got involved anyways.

It was a small loan, Giran almost seemed to scoff when he gave you the cash. You and your almost-stranger of a roommate were just very late on some bills and were going to lose a lot of material items if you didn’t scrounge up at least two paychecks in about three days. 

You swallowed your pride and took the first and easiest loan you could get. That just happened to be with gap-toothed, wide-grinning Giran of the League. He, you knew from what you’d heard, was somewhat fair in matters like yours. 

You had two weeks to pay him back.

...

You didn’t make it in time.

You were close to the amount, notably. You scrounged and clawed your way into getting the cash back. You weren’t much of a pickpocket, but you snagged some odd jobs around the apartment building that you and your roommate were still fortunate enough to keep a room in.

After one particular job, a nasty carpentry gig that you weren’t qualified for, you returned home tired and worn.

Sure, you were a day late on payment. But with this last gig, you were so close. The League would have to pity two, stupid, stupid young girls?

They didn’t, you realized, as you stepped into your apartment.

Your roommate's slain corpse was laying over the arm of your cheap couch, eyes vacant and mouth dripping blood onto the old beige carpet.

You dropped to your knees, horrified and completely stunned.

“You should’ve known better,” it was a hum from across the room, from a figure you didn’t even know was in the room until then. “Really, you’d expect folks to be smarter.”

Your mouth dried as the figure moved from the nighttime shadows, flashing a dazzling smile and ruffling crimson wings.

Hawks.

You’d heard of him, everyone had. Terrifying, fast, precise, and cutthroat. He took orders and didn’t ask questions other than snark. He talked too much, fucked too much. 

“W-wait,” You didn't know why you were pleading, but you had to try, right? “I’m so close, wait—”

Hawks sauntered up to you wielding one of his feather blades, the red of blood mixing with the filaments of his feathers.

He crouched down in front of you, tsking, “I don’t like begging, angel. I’ll make this quick for you. Your friend there?”

Hawks jerked his finger behind to your dead roommate.

“She fought, pleaded, begged, all that normal shit I don’t like hearing when shitheads like you two don’t make payday,” his voice was slow, talking about death like some casual thing. “I’ll make this nice and fast if you don’t run your mouth anymore, how about that?”

You swallowed, nodding.

The small percentage of your brain that was fully functioning figured dying quickly was a much better way to go than whatever the hell had happened to your roommate. There was far too much blood for that to be quick.

Hawks hummed, the tip of his feather blade tipping up your chin so you were forced to meet his gaze. You vaguely heard the pitter-patter of your tears hitting the carpet below. Blood rushed in your ears as you stared death in the face.

Hawks appraised you.

You watched the metaphorical cogs and wheels turning in Hawks’ skull as he looked you up and down before flashing forward, gathering you in his arms and flying from the apartment. 

Your first thought was obvious as you clung to him in the open air:

He’s going to drop you and kill you.

When you screamed, tears growing thicker, he slapped a gloved hand over your mouth, “I’m giving you an out, kid. Trust me. You’ll prefer this over death.”

 ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 Your new existence was certainly better than death.

If you were ever caught and convicted of any of the illegal things you participated in, you’d be fucked, thrown into prison until you rotted, until you were just dust and bone.

But, until then, you worked for the League.

You had groveled at the feet of their leader, Shigaraki, hands clasped on your lap, claiming your worth, or maybe lack thereof. Not many attachments, not many people who’d miss you, a semi-useful quirk. 

With a boot shoved into your skull, he sneered that you’d be the League’s new errand dog. 

The real reason they accepted you was due to the threatening air Hawks was exuding and the fact that their old ‘errand bitch’ had died the week prior. They needed a new body to act as a civilian and do things that only an unsuspecting-looking ‘civilian’ could. You fit the bill, and Hawks had taken a liking to you.

 Oddly, working for the League was actually pretty okay.

You got your own room. It was small, but you only had to share a bathroom with the somewhat unhinged Himiko, but she was fairly nice once she warmed up to you. Everyone lived in the League’s HQ and went about their business, getting drunk at their bar front each night.

Most of the mess happened at night, but it was important to put on a nice veneer and keep spirits high. Not to mention that no one would dared to fuck with the League, anyways. The cops and federal government had long been paid off due to the resources that the League had acquired for them. 

You felt somewhat untouchable.

A lot of this confidence was due to the fact that you had become Hawks’s... Keigo’s...

‘Songbird’

As he liked to call you, anyway. 

Keigo was the general, loveable annoyance of the League, but his connections were invaluable and his skills were unmatched. Despite how he could grate on people (read: Dabi and Shigaraki), he was respected and feared just as much as everyone else was, if not more so. And being his metaphorical and literal pet had its perks.

Sure, the first time he had you come to his ‘office’ and he fucked you against the window until it was smeared with cum and blood was a bit surprising, but god, if you didn’t fucking love it. Being Keigo’s personal fucktoy came with protection, pleasure, and a surprising amount of genuine attention. The dude was lonely, and so were you. The two of you made a good ‘couple’, if you could even call yourselves that. The sadism he doled out was always counterpointed by affections that did seem genuine. 

Keigo was fond of you, and you of him. Maybe your brush with death had twisted something in your head, to even allow yourself to get close to a man like Keigo, but you couldn’t make yourself care. 

You were comfortable and content. 

...

[bird boss]: hey babe ;^) get to my office in the next thirty minutes 

[you]: what if i don’t

[bird boss]: do u really want to find out

[you]: ...

[you]: im just curious 

[bird boss]: don’t get cheeky songbird 

[you]: u make me wanna u know

[you]: i know it gets you riled up

[bird boss]: tread lightly kid

[you]: oooo i gave you some guff over text

[you]: what’re you gonna do about it?

[bird boss]: use your imagination

[bird boss]: 25 minutes now, songbird

[bird boss]: don’t make this worse for yourself <3

 You set your phone on your cheap duvet, quickly primped yourself to see Keigo. He wasn’t too strict about your appearance but wearing dark clothes and some of the more expensive gifts he’d gotten you over the months he’d been screwing you never hurt. Something about ownership with him always got him hot and bothered. 

You tried to remind yourself frequently that Keigo saw you as some sort of possession, but a possession with feelings.

Meandering through HQ was always a bit daunting, despite your protections. Your skimpy outfit choice and hardly-hidden lingerie made you feel a bit more like an object than you liked too. 

There were hardly hungry mouths around the League, they kept you all fed, but god, were there starving eyes. 

Dabi wolf-whistled as you walked past him through a common room, shouting something about how Keigo was collecting his pound of flesh for the day. Maybe a line or two about being a whore, but that was all flavor at that point. Keigo called you far meaner, more sinful things. And hell, it wasn’t like Keigo hadn’t... shared you on more than one occasion. 

Maybe you were a little fucked up for enjoying your lifestyle to the degree you did, but why not indulge where you could? Life was far shittier scraping paint off old fences and picking up cans to just scrape by. 

Opulence was a breath of fresh air. And if you were Keigo’s fuck toy? Then, god, you were Keigo’s fuck toy.

When you arrived at Keigo’s office, you knocked gently on the door, quickly adjusting your skirt and blouse. 

The door opened, though no one was behind it. Only a single one of Keigo’s feathers allowed you entrance. 

His office seemed daunting and extravagant for a man who did most of his ‘work’ in far-shadier, far-bloodier places. The walls were covered in mirrors and old paintings, something out of vanity and pride, knowing how Keigo saw himself. There were several black leather couches scattered around against walls, some stained by your various... activities. There was a broad desk parallel to a back wall made entirely of windows. 

Night had fallen, leaving the room lit by a few lamps and warm fixtures. 

“Hey, boss,” You hummed as you stepped in, shutting the door behind you just before the lingering scarlet feather flicked the lock on the door.

And the other one.

And the deadbolt.

You swallowed thickly. 

As much as you enjoyed a lot of the perks of your... position, it was also daunting.

Keigo was daunting, all bloody colors, vanity, and hunger. 

He sat behind his desk, wings puffed up, and partially extended over the back of his chair. The desk chair was massive, specifically acquired so that you would have enough room to properly straddle his lap for hours on end if he so wished. 

Keigo idly clicked around on his desktop computer. He leaned slack and back into the chair, legs spread wide and exuding casual confidence that reeked of his own ego. 

Keigo normally wore a mix of black and red, as edgy as it was. He liked to seem clean, hide the stains of sanguine that undoubtedly lingered on him no matter how he tried to cleanse himself. His black slacks were pressed, the seams pristine. The black shirt he wore was rolled up to his elbows, the buttons of his red vest undone as well. His black tie hung half-undone and limp around his neck. His tousled gold hair was mussed as normal, ruffled by his flights. His feathers might’ve needed preening, but you doubted that that was the reason he called you to his office. 

And based on the deep set of his brow and the sickly smile on his lips, he was already on edge and in a mood. 

“Songbird, come over here, will you?” Keigo sat back from his typing, watching you from across the room. He took you in the same way a parched man sucks down red wine, greedily and soon to be fucked. “On my lap.”

You complied, despite your earlier attitude. You padded across the room, going around his desk. 

As you moved to straddle his lap, worn hands gripped your waist. His amber eyes gave you a warning, crinkling at the edges, “Not like that, sweetheart. Do daddy right.”

Oh, so it was one of those moods. 

Maybe you were Keigo’s sexual punching bag so he could exert control on something he could later kiss better and patch up. 

Sure, he was going to fucking ruin you, but part of the fun with him was that the more it hurt, the nicer he was after. And, all things considered, with some of the... other folks the League brought in to satiate its member’s desires, you fared far better. Keigo cared about you, in his own particular way. 

You tried to lean over his lap yourself, but his hands and feathers positioned you perfectly as he wanted. With the tight grip he had on your waist and shoulders, dragging you just as he liked, it was easy to see his need for control. 

Your head hung off of one of his thighs as you squirmed in his lap. His bulge already pressed into your ribs, a wonderful reminder of the reward you’d reap later on. Keigo’s hands gathered your hand to the small of your back, a feather replacing their grip a moment later.

“Sit with me while I finish this shit,” Keigo grumbled, going back to clicking the desktop. His leg bobbed absentmindedly, his free hand rubbing over the curve of your barely-covered ass. “Be a good girl, (Y/N). If you can stand that.”

He laughed under his breath. 

You let your head dangle limply downwards, blood rushing to your cheeks. 

You’d thought you’d be in for more of an ass-kicking, but it appeared Keigo was taking things unusually slow. You knew better than to complain, but kicking up a bit of metaphorical sand couldn’t be that bad, right?

“I dunno,” You hummed, kicking your legs lightly. “I don’t think you like it when I’m a ‘good girl’, daddy.”

“Watch it.” A single, sharp smack to your butt was hardly enough to shut you up, but Keigo did so all the same, rubbing over the covered flesh a moment later, “I’m not in the mood.”

“Are you sure about that?” You wriggled, intentionally pushing up against his growing erection.

His breath stuttered, a smirk pulling at the corners of your lips. The hand on your ass didn’t rear again, rather Keigo kept thumbing smooth circles as he continued to click around on the computer. He might have been actually doing work. Or, he was ignoring you, egging your sass on. 

“If you didn’t want anything, why’d you call me in here?” You asked, way too cheeky for the way Keigo’s body was practically vibrating underneath you. Pissing him off had consequences, of course, but you weren’t in the mood to play ‘good girl’ that day.

“I told you, I want you to sit with me,” Keigo pinched your ass. “But, you’re too mouthy to do just that one thing. You’re usually better than this.”

“Am I?” You played innocent, craning to give him a wide smile. “Hadn’t noticed. What I am noticing, is your already-hard cock, dear.”

“Oh, ‘dear’?!” Keigo paused on the computer. “Cheeky. Cute.” 

Keigo would just dig in more, lean in, before ‘snapping’, if you could call it that.

You gulped as his hand swatted at upper thighs, his nails almost knicking your skin.

“Up and don’t get smart about it.”

Oh, you were going to be remarkably smart about it.

You rose but hardly stayed upright for long. Sliding down to your knees, you pushed at Keigo’s legs, “Wouldn’t you prefer me down here? Just for a treat while you finish your work?”

Keigo clicked his tongue, gaze flickering down to you, “Fine. Behave yourself.”

Yeah, right. You both knew that that wasn’t going to happen. 

You were already tucked underneath his desk, undoing the fly of his pants. 

You pulled his cock from his trousers, pumping his cock to full hardness. Smearing around preek for a bit of extra flare before inching forward.

Wrapping your mouth around Keigo’s dick was somewhat of a feat— he had a decent girth to him, so you usually took the opportunity to warm him (and yourself) up with a bit of tip-kissing and kitten licks.

But, you were feeling bold.

You spit on his dick, a move that normally would have earned you plenty of verbal snark, but anything Keigo could’ve said to you was swallowed as you took his cock down to the back of your throat.

You sucked around it, massaging the vein on the bottom with the flat of your tongue. Drool began to pool at the side of your lips as you let the head bump your throat, gag reflex be damned.

All the while, Keigo had stopped moving above you. The fabric of his trouser balled up in his ringed-fingers as he gazed half-lidded down at you. 

You smiled around his dick, looking up at him innocently as you began to slowly bob your head. His wings fluttered, twitches and air stirring around you. 

Keigo stifled a laugh, a hand tangling in your hair, “All that talk earlier and now you’re treating me to a blowjob without even me having to tell you to? Dove, you’re too much.”

You pulled off of him to reply, “I can only try.”

Before he could reply, you spit on his dick again, and went back to slurping around him.

You held the base of his cock in your hands, twisting and spreading spittle. It almost felt like your actions were for show, but Keigo’s eyes were rolling back in his head all the same.

You smirked.

A drool pool from your mouth, puddling in your lap and soaking your skirt. Not like you weren’t already dripping from the sinful sounds Keigo stopped trying to hold.

“A-ah, that’s it, angel,” Keigo fucked into your mouth with his hold on your hair. “Just like that.”

Your hand rose to play with Keigo’s balls, teasing at the sack as he cried out a high moan above you. 

Considering the performance you were giving, it was unsurprising to feel him tensing above you. You’d been on your knees for him hundreds of times; you’d learned to see the little twitches and puffs of breath he’d give when he’d get close to coming. 

You pulled off his cock with a pop, detangling the hand from your hair in the motion. It was all fast enough that Keigo couldn’t have stopped you in his hazy, pleasure-filled state. 

Based on the look of rapid disbelief he was giving you, your trick had worked well. Knowing Keigo’s... tendencies made you hesitant to push him too much in the past, but for whatever reason, you were feeling stupidly bold. 

Consequences.

“Sorry, daddy,” You wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand. “Didn’t feel like swallowing today.”

Keigo’s disheveled appearance was more than gratifying. Knowing how easily you made him come undone by that point was one of the perks of your position.

His hair was more than ruffled, strands and tufts chaotically curled around his cheeks and ears. There was a bright blush on his face, spreading from his nose to the apples of his cheeks, down his deck. At some point, he’d popped the buttons at the top of his shirt. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, half-panting and based on the darkness in his brow and the far-too peachy smile on his face, Keigo was fucking pissed.

His wings stood on end.

You gulped from below him.

Maybe you pushed your luck too far.

Maybe. 

“You’re playing real cute today, aren’t you songbird?” Keigo didn’t move, but his feathers twitched above him, wings flaring out even farther. “Real fucking cute.”

You were fucked.

Good.

A few feathers flew from Keigo, one snagging at your wrist, wrapping around it, and pulling you up from the desk.

You wobbled as you stood, dragged across the room as Keigo leisurely followed behind you. When you tried to set your own pace, Keigo swatted your ass with a huff, “You never learn, huh? I thought I’d trained you better than this.”

You opened your mouth to spit some dickish retort, but you were cut off as Keigo’s shoved you onto one of the leather couches.

“Don’t.” Keigo’s tone was acidic as he stood over your, wings still flared out. “I told you I wasn’t in the mood for your cute bullshit, dove, and you still decided to test your luck, huh?”

You kneeled on the cushions, sucking down air, shaking with anticipation.

“You don’t feel like swallowing today? That’s fine, I can work with that,” Keigo shrugged easily from above you.

Keigo had an... active sexual imagination, and you could tell by the crook in his lips that he had something devilish planned as retribution.

A sharp slap came down on your cheek, Keigo catching the opposite jaw and keeping you from recoiling too far. You blinked as the pain spread around your skull like licking flames against a frostbitten body. 

You wanted more.

A little grin stretched against your mouth as Keigo rubbed at your cheeks with his thumbs, “Aw, you always get so sweet like this, dove. You can be a good girl if you try, can’t you?” 

His actions carried candor and his words absolute torment. 

Despite how Keigo was trying to goad you into submission, you had a bit of spark left in you. 

Plainly, you spit on him.

The glob of saliva landed on Keigo’s cheek, under his eye.

He blinked at you. 

You continued to smile.

His own expression grew strained.

“Oh, songbird,” Keigo damn near lamented, wiping away the kind gift you’d given him. His voice was smooth without any bit of waver, all of the sexually-charged anger rolling just beneath the veneer. “You’re just being pain slut today, aren’t you?”

You were, absolutely. You could feel your arousal wetting your panties, the heat of the strike from your cheek beginning to boil something in your gut. 

“You just need a bit of special attention today, right? That’s all.” Keigo tsked, fully removing the tie from around his neck. “You just need a little reminder.”

“Reminder of what?” You asked, tilting your head quizzically. 

Keigo flipped you, feathers pushing and bracing you as needed while nimble hands tore off your clothes without reverie.

“Plenty of things, especially with this attitude you’ve got today,” Keigo’s tie looped around your wrists, binding them together at the center of your back. 

“You definitely need a reminder of who’s the boss around here,” Keigo shoved you forward, stomach flush with the back of the couch.

You reeled from the pace of it all, shifting your knees for any bit of stimulation you could get. Keigo’s feathers were slicing and pulling your clothes from your body faster than you could keep track of. It was overwhelming, making your mind swim in the best possible way. You throbbed. 

“Maybe a reminder about who fucking provides for you,” Keigo’s own clothes were shaken off, dropped to the floor and forgotten.

It was true. Keigo always made sure than you were taken care of, in more ways than one. Despite how fast-paced and laid back he could seem, he was always on top of making sure you had more than enough material and immaterial pleasure whether than be in the form of food, fucking, or otherwise.

You yelped as a smack fell across your ass. A feather caught the elastic of your panties, snapping a moment later, leaving you fully bare before him. 

Keigo’s worn hand came to press at your throat and jaw, tilting your head back as he climbed behind you, “Maybe, you need a reminder about who keeps you safe.”

This phrase was softer than the others, a sweet kiss pressing to your cheek and his voice a bit more gentle. It was jarring at the skin still stung from his earlier strike, but you cherished the heat besides. 

Once again, true. The folks in and outside of the League were greedy. There were plenty of unwanted souls that stole glances at Hawks’s prized songbird. There were starved eyes that tore into you whether you were dolled up for Keigo or not. There had been some... close calls, one could say, but Keigo always was there, in the end, unafraid to get his hands dirty. 

“You know what the most important reminder is, dove?” Keigo rolled his hips against you, cock wedging between your thighs.

“N-no,” You stuttered, brain turning gooey as Keigo’s arms snaked around your waist, sharpened nails leaving indents in your hips.

He nosed at your neck, leaving a few love bites in his wake.“‘N-no’, what?” 

“I don’t know,” You leaned back into Keigo’s chest, rubbing your thighs around his cock. 

 “Oh, songbird, you sweet thing,” He chuckled, all teasing and self-indulgent. “I’m the one who makes you feel good.” 

He was so right, wasn’t he?

With the way he’d learned your body over the last few months, he’d had some undeniable pursuit to make you feel the best. 

Keigo was inquisitive by nature. He had kept you on your back for hours while he finger-fucked you, watching every twitch and roll of your hips to figure out just the right ways to break you. He’d kissed and sucked and slapped every inch of you, sussing out the perfect ways to make you writhe and cry for him. 

Sure, you were an absolute terror to him sometimes. Not to mention that Keigo jumping you covered in the blood of that day's targets was as macabre and horrifying as it sounded. 

But, fuck, if he didn’t know how to bring you to ecstasy that fucking ruined you in the best way. 

Keigo got off on watching you shatter for him. It was the reason he’d torn you from that cheap, bloodied apartment in the first place. A kind, naive little morsel that he could play with as he wanted. You didn’t complain. Fuck, you reveled in his attention. You gave it back to him, like the fucked up, semi-divine being could be any more debauched than he already was.

Corruption spreads, but you’d never complain. If being plucked from struggling for pennies to being fucked stupid by a man who could kill you at a moments notice, a man who would kill for you, somehow poisoned you?

You’d die with a bitter taste on your tongue and a smile on your face.

 Keigo rubbed at your clit, nipping at your neck, and rolled his hips greedily. His cock was covered in a mix of your slick and his own preek, easily sliding between plushness of your thighs.

“You love pushing me, acting all tough,” Keigo chastised, clicking his tongue. “I mean it when I say it's cute.”

You don’t have any more quick retorts in you, not when his fingers are down your throat, gagging you as spittle dribbles down your chin onto the leather below. It was sure to leave a mark.

“Behind all that bark and snark, you’re just a good girl, aren’t you?” Keigo punctuated his words with a bite and nip to your neck. “Just needed a reminder, right, dove?”

You whimpered against his fingers at the praise, grinding against Keigo’s touch needily. 

His fingers pushed pinched your tongue, breath curling over the shell of your ear, “What are you?”

You mumbled against his fingers, “A g-good g-girl.”

It was humiliating in the best way. Keigo’s light laugh at your attempt. The way he nuzzled his nose into the sweat at the crook of your shoulder was just aloe on the burn.

“I misspoke, if you can believe that,” Keigo’s cock pulled out from your thighs. “Songbird, you know what I meant to call you?”

You squirmed at the loss, but he was quick to hush you. His fingers left your mouth with a thick trail of spit. 

“You’re my good girl.” 

You melted in his arms.

Falling back against Keigo’s chest, you craned your neck to lock your lips to his. 

Maybe that was it, why all the filth didn’t bother you. Because you had worth. Maybe it was insecurity, or maybe it was self-aware in the face of your lived experience. Before being taken, the life you’d lived made you just a rusty cog in a dying machine. You wouldn’t have amounted to anything, probably. 

But with the League?

You were the prized, beloved consort of an angry god. 

Keigo owned you, body, mind and soul, and you let him. That’s not even to mention how you had him wrapped around your finger. He adored you, under all of it.

Fighting with him was for sport, not blood.

Keigo licked past your lips, pressing his cock to your cunt teasingly. You whined against him, wriggling in his arms.

“What does my good girl want?” Keigo loved making you beg for him, claw for any bit of stimulation. He liked it even better when you were already soft for him.

Stray tears pricked at your eyes, “Y-your cock.”

He pinched the meat of your thigh, shaking his head, “Not good enough. Speak properly, dove. Clear and correctly.”

You swallowed, searching for the words in your own haze.

Your words were willed to be solid.

“I want your cock, daddy.” 

It was just enough.

Keigo pushed forward, the head of his cock already stretching your cunt. Consider the girth of it, the lack of preparation stung and burned more than you would’ve liked, as good as it felt to finally be filled.

Keigo cooed at your soft tears, keeping your face to his with a firm hand on your jaw. He shushed you, far too sweetly while licking the salt from your cheeks, “Relax, angel. Big breaths.”

You nodded, sputtering as he speared into you. Keigo’s free hand went back to toying with your clit, encouraging the tension to drain from your body.

As he bottomed out, you shuddered, falling back into his chest. Keigo’s wings fluttered, twitching in wait. Hot breath fanned over your face, Keigo groaning and locking his jaw. 

The stimulation was overwhelming. You had expected Keigo to be meaner, considering how mouthy you’d been. 

Yet, it made sense. Keigo had figured out one of the better ways to make you break was softness. 

(Truthfully, it made him crack in the same way, but he’d never tell.)

“Feel that?” He asked, just barely rolling his hips. 

Keigo released your jaw in favor of wrapping a hand around the front of your throat, tugging you as close he could manage.

“Uh-huh,” You panted. 

You could, the kiss of his cock head against your cervix was almost uncomfortable. The delicious pressure and sensitivity already had you reeling in his arms, unsteady and wanting.

“I fill you up so good, don’t I?” Keigo praised his own ego, his cock, but he wasn’t wrong. The curve of his cock rubbed against all the right spots. He stretched you just right, the burn ebbing away into a need for more, more—

“Please, Keigo—” You gasped. Your legs shook as Keigo slammed into you, shoving you forward and into the wall.

His pace was brutal. Hands and feathers kept your back in a harsh arch as he rearranged your insides to his liking. He was kind enough to keep stroking at your clit, bruising your hips and babbling filthy nothings. 

“I’m the one who makes you feel this good, only me, right, dove?” Keigo growled into your ear with a particularly hard thrust.

You nodded against the wall, aware of the drool slipping down your chin as your mouth lolled open. Your insides were hot like white flames, searing any ability to use coherent speech. 

Keigo snickered at your state. Slowing, he gripped your ass cheeks. You yelped, inside jumping as he pried them apart. You flinched, hole twitching as he spat down, the liquid cool against the flushed skin.

It was little moves like that, Keigo just subtly making your shudder and feel dirty that got you the most fucked up and fucked out.

You pressed back on his cock, panting against the wall and keening. You would’ve spoke, if you could, but anything that you had the ability to say would’ve been torn apart by Keigo’s sharpened, silver tongue. 

“My filthy little dove, huh?” Keigo sneered, watching you try to bounce on his cock the best you could. “Such a glutton when you get broken down like this, needy whore.”

The pleasure of Keigo’s cock tearing up your insides was all you could focus on through the fog of your mind, desperate and wanting and greedy.

“Y-your,” You corrected, the words bubbling from your lips, disjointed and messy. “Yours.”

Keigo may have been avian, but he purred like a damn cat at your admission. He held you like a possession, cock throbbing as he fucked you just right. 

“God, you’re sweet, angel,” He nipped at your jaw before wrapping his hand around your throat. “Even all fucked up, you know who you belong to so well, don’t you?”

You nodded, rolling your hips back. 

Keigo must’ve taken pity on you, squeezing at the sides of your neck. Cruel as he could be, he must’ve noticed the way your thighs and knees trembled against the leather. Keigo knew the cloud in your eyes well— how to get you hazy and how to fuck you perfectly through the fog.

He fucked back into your dripping cunt, pace harder and faster than before. You were helpless to do anything other than fall forward into the wall, cheek squished against the scarlet. 

“Who’s brat are you?” Keigo squeezed a bit harder at your neck as you swallowed against his palm.

“Y-yours—!” You squeaked out, mind going numb from the stimulation and pressure.

A wicked sneer curled against your ear as Keigo’s movements grew sloppier. His tongue lolled over your shoulder, messy kisses and slobbery bites and marks left in his wake. He was close, but you weren’t far off easier.

“Little bird,” It was sweeter, closer and hotter. “Can you come for me? Come all over my cock?”

You nodded.

“Not good enough.” Keigo bit down, nearly breaking the fragile skin of your neck. “You know I like words, angel.”

You gave him words, plenty of them. 

Nearly incoherent pleads and cries poured from your bruised lips as Keigo pounded into you. Each blabbering wail was met with Keigo groans and grunts, condescending little phrases spitting over you without release.

Your lack of leverage and use of your arms made you thumping against the couch and wall, vision darkening on the edges as the pressure in your gut and the hold on your throat remained. 

You were breaking in his arms, tears rolling down your cheeks as you held yourself from cresting. The exertion of it all was taking its toll, legs jellied and chest beading with sweat. 

Keigo sensed it, shifting his hips to hit the spongy spot in your cunt, “Come, dove.”

You let go.

A sob shattered in your throat as your climax crashed through you. Keigo released your throat, holding you by your bound arms as he bottomed out. His own harsh cry panged against yours as he stuffed you full. 

Surprisingly gently, he rocked his hips against your own, letting the ambient throb of your cunt milk him dry.

You came down, rolling and spinning as you sucked down air a bit too fast. Keigo panted behind you, though the sound seemed dull.

The pressure from your wrists released, soft thumbs rubbing at where the fabric had bitten into your forearms, “Hey, angel, you with me?”

You could only nod weakly, exhaustion and aches creeping in. 

Keigo repositioned the two of you, setting himself against the arm of the couch, wings up free to drape and splay over the floor. He dragged you with him, pulling you to lay on his chest. The stickiness of his spunk, your slick, and general sweatiness might’ve been uncomfortable, but you weren’t quite lucid enough to care.

“How are you feeling? Still feeling a little mouthy?” Keigo teased, already knowing your answer. 

You muffled a groan against his chest, shaking your head against the sweat of his chest. 

“Awww,” Keigo chuckled, fingers brushing over your cheeks, “Is my dove a little fucked out?”

“Keeeigo, b-be nice.”

Your voice broke, parched.

Keigo snorted, pressing a kiss to the side of your forehead, “I guess I can manage that. Just for you, though. Can’t let the others see me get all soft.”

You wouldn’t; seeing Keigo warm and gooey, both of you mutually fucked-out, was a pleasure only you got to indulge in. And you loved every moment of it. 

++++++++++++

taglist: @sinclairsamess (msg me if you’d like to be on it!)

ko-fi

[kamil-a]

using the last of my monthly wifi allotment to gowlandpost

dont worry it resets on monday. also this is mostly extremely scattered thoughts/tweet reposts sorry my brain is still a little fuzzy i wish i had the sharpness to do him justice rn but ah well

-you’ll forgive me won’t you, sister vs ‘do you think you can be forgiven’?

-i’m thinking about how alice's happiness in this ending depends on deciding for herself that lorina moved on with her life and would in turn forgive alice for moving on with her own life. she needs that guarantee. because as she’s said, she feels a responsibility to *something*, and a feeling of “i must not become happy”... she needs to imagine her sister allowing her to be happy, giving her permission to be happy. 

-"im going to pretend im being actively kept from seeing her cause she lives far away" and this are neck in neck for "REALLY REALLY CLOSE TO THE ROOT CAUSE". lorina is chilling and partying in the golden land, guys, its fine,

-also. i wonder if gowland has been an outsider’s guide before tbh? he seems to know a lot about the subject but speaks in a "you guys-" sort of way so i dont think its his own experience. maybe the previous outsider he met went home at the end...

-or, HUGE brain theory: baby gowland was baby blood's guide. im sure this ones definitely impossible im just saying words right now but it explains why blood knows gowland's deadname and why gowland knows so much about being a guide . but im just saying words i KNOW it cant have happened [telling myself not to get attatched to this one]

-i think the talk below is directly a talk about "escapist fiction enjoyment vs cruel reality". its been a loooong time but its bringing to mind the nitw "just shapes" bit, about mae realizing her favorite characters werent real and meaningless in her depressed state- an alice that chooses to fully throw herself into reality won’t give meaning to a pleasant dream. and he’s almost correct, but not quite- she chooses to wave it away as a dream in the truth ending not because it seems less important to her in comparison, but because she can’t handle that real live people were nice to her of their own free will.

-GHHHGHH SOMEBODY MAKE THIS CHOICE FOR ME SO I CAN NOT BE RESPONSIBLE FOR IT. i REALLY wish we'd gotten this spelled out so clearly in blood route, actually, it would have made his ending click into thematic place really well (begging for the choice to be taken away from her -> him pressuring her into marriage -> she got her wish, yknow?)

-alice has been unearthing some big future-memories, but she does inevitably hit a point where she can no longer access certain things. she has the emotions all there, but the events they relate to are locked away. OOF. why DOES she feel the need (but not the want) to go home, indeed...

-btw i paid extra attention this time- its still a bit confusing for me, but i BELIEVE her ‘current’ self refers to her repressed/regressed self, and her ‘present’ self is the self that’s been through all of her experiences. obviously this is a matter of translation and i cant speak for the original feeling, but i do like that its ‘current’ and ‘present’ and not ‘past’ and ‘future’.... like, both of these words express being in the here and now. she’s all of them.

-YOU DONT EVEN HAVE ANYBODY WAITING FOR YOU, RIGHT? gowland oh my god. you got it more than you’ll ever know.

-i’m talking about this a lot in terms of what gowland does for alice, emotionally, because it’s her POV, but i think its also important to point out that he’s really attached to her and gains a lot from her!!! he enjoys her personality and is really distressed at the idea that she thinks its all a dream. the idea of “well id never really date you but if im in a zone where its all fake and my consequences don’t matter..... then, okay” is particularly distressing to him, and i totally understand why. he was having a rough time those last few events and i totally empathized ;o;

-i cant believe how much i enjoyed this route mnvnmvjvjhfvjhfvjh

[hansoulo]

thread count

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Reader (gender neutral, no Y/N)

Warnings: liek… cursing? mentions of nightmares. bed sharing. the works.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: posting this at noon bc im tired of staring at it in my drafts 🤡also i recognize that star wars decided glass is called transparisteel but given that it’s a stupid ass decision i’ve elected to ignore it. enjoyyyyy :)

“No.”

“Mando-”

“No.”

You let out a frustrated groan, your rucksack dropping to the floor with a heavy thud as you flopped back onto the bed. The one, single bed.

“It’s too late to go anywhere else, alright? We’re basically stuck here. Let’s just make the best of it, okay?” He grunted at this, still standing at the doorway gripping his disintegrator rifle. “Drop the ‘tude, tin can. Could be worse,” you mumbled as you reached to wipe a hand over your face, sinking into the soft sheets.

It was kinda nice, actually. You couldn’t remember the last time you slept on a real mattress, with real pillows and blankets that didn’t feel like sandpaper. The inn owner was sweet, a wizened old woman who’d only smiled when you asked if there were any rooms available. Just the one, she had said. Down the hall.

This was ridiculous.

The Mandalorian stepped forward, closing the door with a large hand on the rusted knob. The room was small and sparsely furnished, but it was a far cry from your usual, less than ideal sleeping arrangements, so you relished in the feeling of the pillows beneath your back before propping yourself up on one elbow, eyelids already drooping as you watched him. He looked… awkward. If you had any more energy, you’d probably laugh. “I could- ” he cleared his throat, setting the rifle against the wall, “I could sleep on the floor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoffed as you reached down to pull off your boots, throwing them haphazardly into a corner. You’d helped him with the occasional bounty for years, and known him for longer than that. You could share a fucking bed. Besides, it’s not like anyone else was around to see. Minus the baby of course, but it (he? she?) didn’t really count, right? It was already sleeping. “It’ll be fine.”

“No, I’m going to just-”

“Mando,” you glared, standing up. “If you sleep on the floor, you’re gonna be even more of an ass tomorrow morning. Just do us all a favor,” you waved a hand towards the baby in its pod, “and get over yourself, alright?” You reached down to the hem of your top, tugging it above your head before you heard him make a low, distorted sound - probably a cough, but the modulator made those kinds of things hard to tell. Left in your undershirt, you crouched down to stuff the fabric - dusty and soiled from a day of travel - back in your bag. “What?”

He shifted on his feet, his helmet ducking slightly at the sight of your exposed skin. “Oh c’mon,” you groaned, your expression teasing. “You stabbed a guy with a serving fork yesterday, Mando. I don’t think this could be any worse.” If you could see underneath his helmet, you’d be willing to bet he was blushing. Funny, how that worked. How he worked.

The bedsprings creaked underneath your weight as you laid down again, pulling the blankets out from their tucked corners. The window on the other side of the room lay open, bringing in a chill that had you drawing the covers tighter around your shoulders. “Could you close the window?” you whispered, tracking the glint of beskar through half-closed eyes as he complied with your request. His armor reflected orange light - dim and flickering from a small lamp hung beside the door - before it was snuffed out by a gloved hand. You let out a quiet thanks, not bothering to fight the exhaustion dragging at your mind as he stood above you. “I’m going to sleep,” you mumbled, turning on your side to face the wall. “Do what you want.”

⫸ ——-– ⫷

Flat, white light crackled across your vision and you opened your eyes with a groan. You could hear rain beating against the windowpane, glass rattling with every new roar of thunder in a way that had goosebumps erupting across your arms. It was dark outside, inky and fogged over save for the few flashes of lightning that cast the room in sharp relief. You didn’t really mind the storm - you usually liked them - but something about the way it sounded had you on edge. It was a bitter kind of rain, unrelenting and loud and really, really cold. Bracing yourself on your hands, you lifted your head, only to knock it against the edge of something metal. “Ow what the fu-” Oh. Oh.

He hadn’t been next to you before - no, you would’ve remembered if he had - but now... now he was. Next to you. And he… had a hand on your hip and- and you were still facing away from him but you squirmed, feeling the weight of his arm on your waist, heavy and slack. No gloves. No vambrace. No pauldron. Just… the helmet. No shit, bantha-brains. The Mandalorian let out a breath, the sound low and seeping syrup in your bones. Was he still asleep? Maybe you should- “Stop moving,” he rasped, his voice hoarse.

“Sorry,” you whispered, your words thick with sleep. “M’just cold.” It was a half-truth. You were cold, but the fact that you were pressed up against one of the most feared bounty hunters in the galaxy probably didn’t help either. Neither did the fingers digging into your hip. Or the arm tucked underneath your neck. Or the hand attached to said arm that was skimming across your collarbone, seemingly unaware that it was touching anything at all. He drew you in closer and you could feel his legs slotted into yours, your toes brushing the bare skin of an ankle (that didn’t belong to you) before your scattered thoughts were forced elsewhere.

“Then why’d you take off your shirt?” he mumbled. The rain pounded a rhythm in your head, lulling you down and allowing yourself to sink back into his arms. You didn’t really want to think about tomorrow morning. If things would be weird. There was a chance neither of you would remember this when you woke up, though, so it’s not like it mattered. Even if you did - if he did - you knew it was all business.

“Hm?” you said, tucking your chin and scooting back slightly. Your back met the hard planes of his chest, his skin hot and thrumming even underneath the thick material of his shirt. The man was like a fucking space heater. Ha. Space heater. Funny. You were funny. And tired. And- wait did he ask you something?

“Why take off your shirt if you’re cold?” he repeated. The last word trailed off as a palm moved across the expanse of your stomach, his thumb rubbing circles across the raised seam of your undershirt and burning the skin beneath.

“I wasn’t cold then,” you huffed, reaching a hand over his and guiding it below the thin fabric until it rested still on your sternum. A better version of you, more awake and with more critical thinking skills - with the power of thought in general - would probably kick you for using the Mandalorian like a fucking hot water bottle, but that didn’t really matter. You were cold - and exhausted and laying on a bed that was very, very comfortable - and he was warm. You couldn’t really be expected to take any responsibility for this. “Plus, the shirt was dirty,” you added, only dimly registering how your fingers laced with his, tracing battered, scar-shiny knuckles in your half-sleep. He hummed and leaned forward, the metal of his helmet rounding smooth against your hair.

“You’re thinking too loud,” he said, his breathing falling back into tandem with yours as you felt your eyes fluttering shut. “Go to sleep.”

⫸ ——-– ⫷

“Mando, wake up. Wake up, please.” Your voice was tremulous as you shook his shoulder, stretched over tight with desperation and knocking against the walls of the room. Your plea bounced back hollow, a high, unrelenting tone that made your ears ring. Everything was caving in on itself, crumbling slow and then all at once in a way that had the sweat on your temples icing over. You weren’t a child anymore. You shouldn’t have nightmares. “Please.”

He sat up quickly, a hand bolting out to the blaster tucked underneath his pillow and aiming steady at the enemy that had yet to show itself. “Is someone there?” he asked, graveled over but still frighteningly alert. A light sleeper, you supposed.

You shook your head, wet tracks crackling on your cheeks as you spoke. “No, no one. It’s fine.” He relaxed at this, setting the blaster down at his side. His palms were dry when they came up to your face, slightly calloused but still soft as they traced over the rolling tears.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” you whispered, meeting the dark slit of his visor before ducking your head. “It’s nothing, I-” you sniffed, swallowing the air that was caught in your throat. “I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Hey,” he called out, hesitant and a bit unsure. “You okay?” You nodded, closing your eyes in an attempt to clear your vision before opening them a few moments later. The Mandalorian only stared, his helmet tilting with a cock of his head.

“Just nightmares,” you said when he remained quiet. “But they aren’t normally this bad.” The remains of a sob fragmented beneath your ribs, bubbling up in a wet cough that burned your throat. His hands came to rest at your back, flat and steady against your spine until your breathing evened. “I’m sorry,” you repeated after a few minutes.

The Mandalorian let out a quiet noise, gruff and a bit pained-sounding. “It’s okay,” he said, his fingertips pressing softly into your shoulder blades. You could only just hear him through the storm outside. “I get them too.”

You faced the beskar, gaze searching for the eyes you knew were looking at you and finding nothing but darkness. It was enough, though. To know he was looking. “You do?”

“Every night.” A beat passed before you hiccuped again, swiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “It’s still late,” the Mandalorian whispered, his hands gentle as they reached around your shoulders. You let him pull the covers over you, feeling his words soak into your back. “Let’s just go to bed.”

permanent: @ah-callie @itzagoodthing @spookypym @opheliaelysia @watsonwise @damndamer0n @amarvelousmandalorian @bunnyart-blog @agirllovespasta @pascalispedro @pascalplease @coffeencontemplation @chelsfic @lesqui @javierpenaspinkshirt​ @symbiont13 @glowingpena @squidlywiddly87 @1zashreena1 @hiscyarika @lostingoogletranslate @keeper0fthestars @bobafvtt @halfwaythereroyal @starwarsiscooliguess @huliabitch​ 

[zukosdumbbitch]

friction

work on ao3

pairing: jet/f reader

warnings: smut, arguing

wordcount: 1873

a/n: im srry but i needed to get this Out of my brain. characters are 18+

-

It was just at the crack of dusk and you were tidying up the room you shared with Jet in the freedom fighters’ scattered treehouse. You were Jet’s age, the two of you barely functioning adults, stubborn, opinionated, and to Jet, devastatingly alluring. He loved the clashing of your personalities, the way you so often disagreed with him and kept him on his toes. He loved his absolute authority in the group, but more than that, he loved a pretty girl deliberately challenging it.

You didn’t mind the arguments as much as you maybe should have. You saw through manipulation like sunlight through a clean window - clearly, immediately, and without doubt. Jet knew better than to mess with your head. And you knew he had a real soft spot for you - despite how much he’d try to hide it around others. You really liked him, even if he was a real pain in the ass sometimes.

Today was one of many designated days Jet and his favorite group of fighters would scout your woods and the neighboring areas. They would come back with food, that they stole, hunted, or plucked from wild plants, or with news about strangers arriving in the area and discussion of whether or not they were a threat. Jet would often return late, having taken it upon himself to do one last sweep of your unofficial territory. Normally you would join him, but you had stayed back to help the younger orphans patch up their clothes or whatever toys they managed to keep.

You carefully put your sewing kit back together, counting all the needles and neatly winding the thread. You closed the small wooden box and noticed a figure appear in your peripherals.

“Hey, baby.” You heard Jet say and you turned to see him leaning in your makeshift doorway, curtain draped behind him.

You went to embrace him and his hands came to rest on your waist. “Any good finds today?” You asked.

“Yeah, Longshot got a nice rabbit. Shot it right in the eye.” Jet pointed to his eye and you made a face. You hated killing animals, but their meat was good food and their fur provided material for blankets and clothes. Jet’s ever present smirk widened teasingly at your reaction. “He’s preparing it with Smellerbee. We’ll have a good breakfast tomorrow. Plus, I got you something.”

You looked at him curiously and he pulled out a glittery silver chain from the pouch hanging on his hip. Hung from it was a round, honey-orange stone with a simple lily carved into its surface, similar to the pai sho tile. “Oooh,” You cooed, taking the necklace into your hands and feeling the smooth stone. “It’s beautiful. Where’d you get this?” You contemplated the material of the stone. Was it amber? Carnelian?

Jet stiffened and said nothing. He found it hard to lie to you. Of course.

“You didn’t jump another innocent person did you?” You asked, desperate for him to say no.

His brows furrowed.

“Jet!” You scolded and he snatched the jewelry from your grasp.

“Smellerbee was right. Shouldn’t have given it to you.” He said bitterly, shouldering past you into the room.

“You can’t keep doing that to people! Did you take all their money and food again? Did you at least let them go without beating them senseless?” You prodded. Your anger boiled in your voice, remembering all the times he returned with food stolen from nomads and the other times that ended in violent confrontation.

“I don’t know why you have to get so upset! They could have been a Fire Nation spy for all you know!” Jet shot back, arms raised.

“Not everyone is a fucking Fire Nation spy, Jet!”

“Yeah, because you would totally know one if you saw one. I very clearly remember having to save your ass after getting kidnapped by a soldier!” He stepped closer, towering over you.

You, however, would not back down. “That doesn’t mean you need to beat up and rob every stranger you see! What is wrong with you?”

“I am trying to protect these kids!” Jet shouted, nostrils flaring.

You were red with anger from his lack of empathy. “At the expense of literally everyone else?” You hollered back.

Suddenly, Jet grabbed your face and smashed his lips to yours. Your fingers knotted into his dark hair. It wasn’t uncommon for your arguments to end like this. It was your way of forgiving one another.

Jet pulled away, teeth pinching your bottom lip and pulling. “You’re the worst.” You groaned and Jet pushed you down to the bed.

“You’re so god damn annoying.” He responded as his lips chased yours and he pulled you in for another searing kiss.

His hands wandered down your backside, grabbing your ass and kneading the soft flesh. You hissed against his lips, hands fumbling with the closure on his pants and untucking his shirt. His tongue lined your mouth, making you shiver as you pushed the makeshift armor from his clothes. He gave your ass a hard smack and you yelped in surprise.

“Why does everything have to be a problem with you?” Jet gruffed against your lips.

“You cause problems, Jet!”

He growled into your jaw and pushed you unto your back. He pushed your knees apart so he could press himself close to you, hips digging into yours. You groaned, tugging on his hair as his lips traced your jaw. His teeth dug into your neck in a hard bite and sucked at your skin, only moving along once he saw deep purple gathering in the indents of his teeth. You squirmed when he found your soft spot, thighs rubbing uncomfortably against his sides and you rolled your hips back against his. Jet was relentless, marking up your neck and collarbones and you impatiently tugged at his shirt and whined.

Jet leaned back on his heels and discarded his shirt and wrist wrappings. You pulled your own shirt over your head and rid of the binder confining your breasts and Jet was upon you once again. He palmed your breasts and his lips trailed down your body. He tugged at your pants and you heard the button snap off.

“You need to stop fucking tearing my clothes!” You seethed.

Jet responded by silencing you with a harsh kiss. He pulled again at your pants and you pushed them down along with your underwear as far as your position would allow. Jet sat up and tore the rest of your clothes from your body and began to make work of his own. You watched him, taking in the lean muscles that rippled under his golden brown skin.

Jet grabbed you under your knees and tugged you forward before taking his erection in his hand and rubbing it across the wetness along your folds. You keened, bucking your hips for more attention and Jet smirked down at you.

“You want it, baby?” He asked, voice husky with lust.

You nodded, grasping his shoulders.

“Beg for it.” Jet commanded.

You groaned. “No.”

Jet growled, smacking your thigh. “Beg or I won’t let you cum for the rest of the month.”

You scoffed at him. “I don’t need you to do that.”

Jet grabbed your face in one hand and pressed his lips back yours in an angry kiss, teeth clashing. He rubbed the tip of his dick slowly against your clit, making your hips roll. “Beg for it.”

“Sounds more like you’re that one that’s begging.” You panted.

Jet grunted in frustration and conceded, slamming into you with one swift thrust of his hips. You mewled loudly and clawed at his shoulders. He gave you no time to catch your breath and held you down by your throat, setting a bruising pace that left your eyes rolling. You hiked your thighs high on his torso and dug your heels into his back.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” Jet moaned. He grabbed under your knee and pressed your thigh next to your chest, allowing him to fuck you deeper. You squirmed under his constraint, whining helplessly as that knot built in your belly. You reached down to rub your aching clit, but Jet caught your wrist. “Nah-uh, baby girl. You’re gonna have to get off on just my dick.”

You had no response, the fast pace of his hips making any words you could form catch in your throat. You clenched around him and raked your nails down his back, digging as hard as you could into his skin and eliciting a groan.

Jet suddenly pulled out and spanked you. “On your stomach, baby.”

You rolled over and Jet quickly possessed your hips, pushing back into you without hesitation. If he was brutal before, now he was just ruthless. “Oh fuck!” You cried, moaning into your pillow.

Jet gathered your wrists against your back and plowed into you. Tears brimmed at your eyes with how good he was making you feel and you pressed your hips back against his thrusts with all the strength that was left in you. You were getting close to your orgasm, that knot winding tighter and tighter as your pussy clenched hard around his cock.

You heard Jet let out a deep moan and that was all it took. You trembled, expletives leaving your mouth as Jet fucked you hard through your orgasm. “Fuck yes, baby girl, cum on my cock.” Jet praised and grabbed your ass with both hands. Your newly freed fists knotted into the sheets as you mewled at the overstimulation, thighs quaking and giving out under you.

“So good,” You cooed, Jet grabbing your shoulder to pull you back against him.

You let him continue to slam into your tender g-spot, loving every second of your drawn-out high. Jet swore and pulled out to release on your back.

You allowed yourself to go limp against the bed and Jet fell unto his back beside you. You tried to catch your breath.

Jet grabbed a scrap of cloth from the nightstand and threw it at you.

You rolled your eyes as you took it. “Don’t be fucking rude.” You grumbled, though your words had little bite.

Jet sighed. You both laid in silence for a few moments and you found your canteen and took a swig water.

Jet put out his hand. "Let me get that."

You secured the cap and answered, "No."

Jet looked at you incredulously. You stared back and he began to move toward you. You hid the canteen behind you. "Y/N!" He scolded and you giggled as he grasped at it and you held it from his reach.

"Say you'll stop jumping people for no reason." You insisted.

"Baby girl, I can't promise you anything." He swung at your hand, but you managed to keep him from grabbing it.

You frowned at him. He got a hold of your wrist and despite your protests, he took the canteen. "Dick." You pouted.

Jet took a healthy gulp of water and said, "Y'know, all we did was search him and take that pendant. We didn't hurt him."

"Still shouldn't have taken it."

Jet swung an arm around you and pulled you in to kiss your forehead. "Whatever, baby." 

[themilky-way]

like water {din djarin}

gif credit: no-droids

pairing: the mandalorian/din djarin x fem!reader

summary: when the one person he cares about is threatened, he lets himself indulge in the aftermath of defending them. 

warnings: some violence in the beginning, choking (not in the fun way), depictions of scratches, punches, and minor abrasions; the reader is hurt basically. oh and mando’s gun bc yeah❤️umm that’s it i think? nothing too horrible tho but if this thing triggers you, please don’t read !!

author’s note: not to be conceited or anything (is that even the right word for it lol?) but im super proud of how this turned out! requests are open btw for anyone who wishes to submit anything (if unsure, just ask which fandoms)!

----------

cyar’ika-> darling, sweetheart

nothing in that exact moment had made much sense. one minute the most precious thing to ever exist to him was snatched away, and the next his hands were gripping the treasure beneath his holster. his knuckles were lily-white at this point, holding the gun as hard as his body would allow him to without crushing underneath him, and the urge to cock it made him visibly shake. he’d been given a command, and out of all the merciless men in the filthy galaxy, he needed to follow it, so his weapon of preference stayed where it needed to. 

the meager specks of emotion that still lived within him betrayed his prominent composure, the view in front of him blocked by the sudden glaze of his eyes. the small drops of saltwater puddled together in his now hazy orbs, holding on until it was nearly impossible to stay put and then rivered down his cheeks. the cause? well, you.

you were filling up the mandalorian’s line of vision, his eyes darting between you and the bounty that had gone wrong. an alienated hand was wrapped around your innocent throat, your feeble hands wrapped around its wrist in a dumb attempt to break free. the ground you were roaming on before appeared to be never ending, and in the same way, the darkened sky absorbed you whole. vertigo was now in full effect; any quick movement caused you to shut your eyes tightly and hope to the maker you’d get through it. it took a few seconds for you to regain your balance, a sharp pain pinging around your neck forcing you to find it. you half expected to be back on the mud again, to have the man you had spent the past year flying around with pulling you to safety. instead, you found din frozen in place, an instinctive action rooted in the steel handle of his pistol. he wasn’t moving, too scared to blink as if you’d disappear if he did. 

perhaps you were; someone like you seemed too good to be true. in all actuality, it may be that you were a fever dream, a celestial that had come down from the sanctity of your home to finally rescue him from his burdens. amidst his frantic glances, he reminisced every second he’d spent with you since your unforeseen arrival, and that somehow worked for him. the gears in his brain started to turn again, and with every ounce of his strength, he pounced on the quarry and did what he should’ve done the instant you were taken from him. anger took over his worry, the effects illustrating themselves in a collage of mitted fists and blood. the pistol residing on din’s waist was useless compared to his hits; the softened position of his jawbone was locked firmly as a result of his gritted teeth and he was going to need more than your delicate hand on his shoulders to ground his senses. 

the mandalorian never expected to succumb to anyone, nor to feel remotely joyful upon hearing someone’s laugh. the idea of kindling a relationship was ludicrous, utterly impossible if only he weren’t bound to the chains of his creed. oftentimes, he wondered if someone would one day traverse his path and make him question every moral he’d been taught. din had dismissed the thought, as any other member of his intricate society would have, but the wondrous insight depicting a different lifestyle always lingered faintly in his mind. 

today, the very same visions behind his recurrent insomnia framed themselves in a frail art piece. din’s focus laid directly ahead, the fingers navigating the center controls as tight as they’d been on his gun. his eyes deserved to rest, perhaps take in the splashes of color nature was offering him, but he landed them on the same lovely sculpture adorning his cockpit. 

you were seated in the chair adjacent from the pilot’s, with your knees closely tucked to your chest. one large scrape designed itself on your leg-a dull reminder of the ordeal you were involved in hours earlier-with flakes of arid blood protecting the wound. bouncing off the skin of your throat were shades of red and purple, now properly mixing into a deeper complexion that’d require you to hide it for some time. besides the scattered nicks living on your face, and the other couple dozen on your arms and legs, the outcome wasn’t as terrible as the one your attacker received. it was a rule of thumb to not mess with a mandalorian, much less with the pretty little lady clutching his arm as if it were second nature. the foolest of fools wouldn’t even have done such a foul thing, and this particular creature came to know the punishment for harming what wasn’t rightfully his. 

it truly amazed him; the way you seemed to be so unphased by a traumatic circumstance. the woman beside him-the same one who couldn’t sleep unless a window was open-had endured pain, and the marks on her skin proved themselves in jagged indications of it. through the darkened screen of his visor, din could make out your hands neatly intertwined around your folded knees, your chin simultaneously resting on top. you’d been as observant as you always were, hardly missing his actions as he navigated his newfound family to a safe stop. sure, you were unaware of the loving term he considered of you and the baby, but it didn’t hurt to keep it a secret, right?

“hey.” it came out more hoarse than he intended it to, but the emotion behind it flowed out nonetheless. “you okay?”

not really. i don’t feel good. it was easy to say exactly that, to speak the truth, but it was even easier to lie. for the sake of his own worry, at most. your eyes were still glued to his armor, taking in the rough outline of where you imagined his skin would be underneath, or moreso the abstract idea of feeling it with your hands. reflections of your yearning came and went like the mandalorian’s missions, almost impulsively at times, and the curious, teasing tilts his helmet would bid you only encouraged that craving. much like now; the black “T” of his expressionless face leaned to the side, asking you to earnestly respond. “mm, yeah. ‘m kinda tired, though,” you mumbled.

you threw him a lie and he caught it. “don’t lie to me.” din swiveled his chair to accordingly match the peripheral of yours, his elbows coming to rest on top of his beskar-clad legs. “can you look at me?” he inquired softly. then, his intent fell on the slow shift of your head and how it turned to face him, your cheek settling on your unscathed knee. a breath fell from his lips at the doting admiration swimming in your stare. “there she is,” he confirmed with an upward curl of his lips. “is there anything i can do?” it was sincere; a genuine concern to accompany his question. you hummed in response, fearful to accidentally voice the confessions you hid from him. you blinked once, twice, until his question became a plea. “please, cyar’ika.”

reasonably, you were too busy exploring the shape of his helmet, permitting your creative imagination to paint images of the man next to you; so when your ears perceived his sudden name of endearment, there was nothing amongst the stars that you could’ve possibly denied him from. “you’ve never called me that before,” you smiled, all big and brilliant. 

“i’ve wanted to,” the man replied. what resembled ages of pent up stress released with a few curated words. his muscles relaxed, something he never believed to be attainable given his vigorous profession. “god, i’ve wanted to.” 

he followed it with a humble laugh. a sound so familiar and warm, so genuine that it empowered your grin to spread higher. “by all means, keep saying it.” now it was your turn to nervously giggle, and him who embraced the noise with everything he could. a mutual infatuation, so wonderfully obvious, yet it was refused acknowledgment. “i think there is something you can do, though.” silence advised you to continue, “can i sleep with you tonight?” 

the misguided pieces of your minds’, maybe even your souls’, reattached themselves that very same night. as the both of you slept, hands, calloused and smooth, intimately merged against the cushions of the warrior’s bed. tender kisses planted to your forehead left electricity in their wake, and the dark ambiance of his dwelling favored the entanglement of your tired bodies. 

“i wish i could see you, din,” you sighed. the manner in which it was expressed, full of sleep and everything akin, urged him to lift your weightless wrist to his lips. 

“you’ll get to one day, cyar’ika. for now just let me hold you, yeah?”