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#or just not bother with direct comparisons
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I also very much need to mention:
Maddie - Elinor
Jack - Fergus
Jazz - Merida
Danny - Hamish
Dani - Harris
Dan - Hubert
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aeide-thea · 2 years
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rewatching the lord of the rings movies and honestly they really ricochet wildly between incredible and totally fantasy-of-that-era corny
like. on the whole: really good. really hit the important points as an adaptation. but also wow are some of the like. gaussian blur moments really doofy
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redflagshipwriter · 3 months
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Hot Ghouls in your Area ch 4 progress
(read other sections of this and more stories here)
Danny floated miserably through the stacks, pulling out books that looked remotely plausible. Maybe he needed help. Jazz would help him without laughing at him, right?
Sam and Tucker absolutely would not. They would think it was hilarious that he had so little game that the universe assigned him a boyfriend via Jeremy Waters. 
‘As if I could pull a guy who looks like that,’ Danny thought wryly, and then felt a little bad about himself in comparison. Jason was, uhhhh, physically blessed. He was tall and well proportioned and his hands- Danny fought down a shiver and resisted the urge to steal another look. Jason was out of sight anyway.
Well. He still hadn't seen Jason's face. Maybe he was ugly! You never know. Or maybe under the helmet it was totally smooth, no face. That would be neat. Danny paused mid motion to imagine that.
Haha. Sick, man.
That concept cheered him up a little as he grimly opened the first book and started skimming for likely words like marriage, spouse, and concubine. 
He didn’t bother reading anything in detail. He stuck a post it note on each page with a relevant term and then put the book in a pile to take back to his dorm. This wasn’t going to get solved in a day.
Ah, shit. Danny paused. This wasn’t going to get solved in a day. He bit his lip and looked off in the direction where Jason had disappeared to do his own research.
He truly didn’t have time to devote to this right now. He was not willing to drop his school life in order to solve a sudden problem. Jason was just going to have to cope with whatever timeline Danny could manage without setting his life on fire.
On the other hand, Jason was a human guy who probably had a life of his own at the biker bar/fight club. Whatever the hell required that kind of outfit probably kept him busy! So Danny couldn’t like, just leave him in the castle to chill.
“Not to mention the fact that he shouldn’t be able to live here very long anyways,” Danny muttered to himself.
That was troubling him. Frankly, Jason should have been intolerably uncomfortable in the ghost zone for this long without specialized protective equipment. It wasn’t meant for humans.
‘What did Jeremy do to this guy?’
Yikes. Did this mean… Did this mean Danny should have given that little cult thing more credit? But Jeremy was just such a doofus. He grimaced. Embarrassing. Why were his enemies so embarrassing? This shit didn’t happen to, like, Wonder Woman.
Danny buried himself back in the books to avoid the growing suspicion that Jason might have been uhhhh magically altered to make him an appropriate concubine to a dead king. That thought sucked! He didn’t like it. He really didn’t like the idea of bringing it up with Jason.
When he had what he thought was a good first round of research, Danny shelved the books he’d gotten out and went to find where his …
He whole-body flinched at the point where he needed to plug an appropriate noun into that sentence. 
“Jason?” Danny called, juggling books into a stack. “I think we should probably get you back to the re- the human world. Before something inexorable happens.”
A pause.
“I don’t think you know what that word means,” Jason said. A book shut. Danny headed towards the sound, phasing through shelves effortlessly. A spark of curiosity lit up at Jason’s voice. He sounded relaxed, even through the helmet’s filter. 
‘I want to hear his real voice. Bet it’s nice.’
Wait. What? Danny shook the thought away, discomforted. He plastered a wide grin on his face. “I don’t know any words,” he lied breezily. “I’m just ad libbing. Anyway!” He flopped dramatically down onto the big chair next to Jason’s, making sure to be extra physical to get a satisfying whumpf. “We really should go! I can get you to the human world, but, uh, I can’t promise to put you back where you came from.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “I think this is going to be a more than one day affair.”
Jason was watching him. There was nothing visible through his helmet, but Danny got the sense that he was tense, waiting for a threat. 
Which, what? Why would Jason feel threatened by-
Oh. Danny felt a knot in his stomach. Right. That made a lot of sense. He felt kinda sick. 
He didn’t let the feeling show through and barreled on speaking. “I don’t exactly have an easy way for you to contact me, but we probably need to stay in touch to fix this. Do you have any ideas?” 
The lie felt kind of gross. But he could hardly tell the guy; “I’m an engineering student in Gotham, you can just call my cell or come to the dorms.”
Jason seemed to relax at the cessation of control. “If you can stick around, yeah. I’ll get you a burner phone, exchange numbers. You’re not going to…” He trailed off. Danny felt a frown somehow. “You won’t have any signal here, actually. That won’t work.”
“I can make it work,” Danny assured him, hands up. “I mean, I can’t make it work here, or I would have offered to help with your tech. But I can pop in and out of the human world and check my messages.”
“That’ll work.” Jason’s helmet turned ever so slightly. “About the books…”
“You found something good?” Danny asked, impressed. “Yeah, awesome. Just be really careful with them, the librarian is a scary guy.”
Jason’s hand flexed over the closed book on his thigh. “I can take- how many can I take out?”
Danny scoffed. “I’m not your dad,” he said. “Whatever you can carry, man. You ready to go or do you need a minute?” He flipped back to his feet with a grunt. 
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dcxdpdabbles · 10 months
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thought: what if jason had the ability to see ghosts but only when tired. so he ends up thinking he’s hallucinating and doesn’t tell anyone because thats tims thing
There is a little girl singing nursery rhythms and spinning in small circles. Now usually, Jason wouldn't find that too out of place. Kids always found the strangest things entertaining.
No, what was strange was that the little girl was floating just above the rails of the stairway. She looks like a poorly edited clip slapped onto the backdrop of the gala he has been dragged to.
She's wearing a red dress and a large bow in her hair that seems to have been stolen from Alice on her way to Wonderland. Her skin had a greenish hue, and a slight glow was coming off her, reminding Jason of a miniature night light.
"Huh," He mumbles, taking another sip of the water he picked up. Bruce is the one who pretends to get sloppy drunk at all the parties, while in comparison, Jason has gained a reputation for never touching alcohol. It says a lot about how powerful the Waynes are if his presence ensures the hosts have other refreshments ready for him.
This means that the little girl is not a drunken hallucination. Maybe he's more tired than he thought.
"What is it?" Tim asks to his side. His disgusting CEO smile is still firmly in place, a twist of the lips that belie the hidden tension. Tim would appear relaxed and enjoying the party like any other elite if anyone glanced in their direction. "Trouble?"
The little girl is sticking her tongue out at some teenagers heading her way. She's not doing anything but making faces at random guests that walk by. "I don't think so."
"What is it then?"
Jason had a choice here. He could mention the little girl, but that would mean admitting he could see her. Based on the way, literally, no one is reacting; he's the only one that can.
She's likely another hallucination.
Jason has been getting those since he was young, usually due to a lack of sleep. Just last week, he saw a butcher wandering the streets of Gotham, wearing the highest heels he had ever seen. That had been after the five-day mission with the OutLaws, where he thinks he only had a chance to sleep maybe three times.
He should go home before the little girl starts doing something weird.
Not that he would ever let the rest of the family know, especially Tim. Seeing things that aren't there is Tim's thing, and Jason has teased him too often over the years about it to start admitting he's got the condition too.
He nods his head at the teenagers. Tim turns his body slightly, allowing his gaze to take in what he's looking at without making it obvious he's staring. Apparently, he can't make it known he's interested in someone. Ugh, another rule of high society that Jason will never bother to understand. "I've never seen them before."
He means the two accompany Samatha Manson. He's aware of the inventor's granddaughter, seeing as her family had ties with the Waynes, distant as they may be. It was Waynes who bought the rights to her grandfather's inventions many years ago, and his son was the one that started investing in some smaller shell companies of Waynes, further building the family fortune.
Jason didn't see her often at galas because while the Mansons were wealthy, they were new money. They had no connections, mannerisms, or mindset to be welcomed by the elites.
"Daniel Fenton and Tucker Foley. Foley is in the brown suit, Fenton is the one in the black one." Tim identifies quickly. He probably went over the gala invitation guest list to memorize everyone attending even though it wasn't a gala they were hosting. "Her best friends. Nothing that stands out too much about them except for Fenton. His parents are independent ghost hunters and researchers."
Jason blinks down at this brother. "Ghost hunters?"
Both brothers know how real ghosts can be in their line of work, seeing as Deadman has helped them with some cases before. Still, it's surprising to find civilians who are that close to the undead.
"More Ghostbusters than actual hunters." Tim shrugs when he gets a confused frown. "I looked into them to make sure Fenton over there wouldn't be a danger once in Gotham. His parents' inventions are marketed as ghost-hunting equipment but are authentic weapons. He's been known to show signs of rouge potential behavior."
Jason looks back at the black hair boy who is......talking to the little girl? Or trying to? She is spinning again, floating up to the chandelier, not caring for the teenage boy leaning over the railing towards her as Foley and Manson stand guard. If they trying to be inconspicuous, they are doing a poor job.
Jason spots Damian approaching the trio with a tense set of his shoulders. His youngest brother taps his finger against the glass in his hand in a specific rhythm.
If any of the Bats have seen Damian- which is all of them, given that everyone in the family always keeps an eye on Damian at galas- they have all been told the same message.
Possible jumper.
Granted, without the little girl, it looks like Fenton wants to take a leap over the railing. That's worrying.
Tim proves this by tilting his chin slightly in their direction, shoulders also tense. "Let's go."
Jason follows after Tim, trying his best to not make it obvious they are freaking out about a possible tragedy about to happen. Damian, thankfully, has already reached the teenagers but is stalled by Manson.
He can't hear what she's saying, but she's matching Damian's angry scowl with her own. Seeing the only two goth kids standing off with each other is hilarious.
Damian had told Bruce a few months back that he wanted to try and change his civilian persona a bit and had taken their dad's credit card with Raven to do shopping.
He's come back as a goth, giving Bruce a near heart attack, as Damian changed out all his suits to have a scull somewhere on his person at all times. Jason thought it was the best cover plan the brat could have ever done.
Mason's right eye twitches when she sees them, but other than glaring harshly, she doesn't say anything as they come up to stand behind Damian. Tim is in the perfect place to sludge for Fenton should the boy throw himself over. Jason is to tackle the two teenagers should they try to stop his brother.
"Dude, it's okay. Danny always does that," Foley assures as they finally climb up to them. "He's really into, ugh, parkour."
"It's dangerous," Damian particularly bites. Looks like someone needs more sensitive training.
Fenton stops trying to lean over the rail to glance over his shoulder to Damian. "I'm okay. Thank you for worrying about me, though."
Jason is standing in the prime location to see Damian's haughty expression melt away into startled wonder. He watches a tiny bit of red appear on the cheekbones of his youngest brother, and for a moment, all Jason can think is how much he will have fun teasing the boy later.
Gosh, if he wasn't so tired he would realize he wasn't the only one who noticed.
"He's red like a tomato!" A feminine voice chirps, and he can't help but laugh at the comment. Damian's face is slowly turning redder by the curious head tilt Fenton does in his direction. Cute.
"You got that right, kiddo, so red he's ripe for the picking. " Jason smirks down at his brother, who, for his part, dares to look confused.
"What are you babbling about?" Damian snaps as Tim's intense eyes swing over the boy's head to lock gazes with Jason.
"What the girl said"
"I didn't say anything," Manson denies, and Jason finally realizes he has responded to the little girl, who is grinning ear from ear. Shit.
"Oh." Fenton nods, stepping down the railing to look Jason dead in the eye and smile. "You see dead people."
"Cool, one of us. One of us." Foley chants with a grin, and even Mason seems to relax more, going from irritated to indifferent. The teenager stops his chat when the three brothers fail to find humor.
Danny just smiles near-vacantly, which causes Damian to look hot under the collar.
Maybe Jason should leave to take a nap in the safety of his room because he does not have the time to unpack all of this.
"Maybe we should find Bruce," Tim says after a moment, and that is when the little girl choices to fly right up to Tim and flick his ear. Tim startles so hard he slams into Damian, who loses his footing and falls over. Jason is fast enough to catch him before he rolls down the stairs.
Danny giggles, and for the first time since he's known Damian, he looks like he wants the ground to swallow him hole. What a weird night for Jason.
"What the hell was that?" Tim mumbles, looking around.
Manson grins a sharp, wicked thing. "A ghost"
"Of course it is." Tim sighs then he gives Jason a near-eye glare. "How long have you been able to see ghosts?"
"Honestly? Probably since I was six. I thought they were hallucinations."
"And why did you not tell anyone about having what you thought were lifelong hallucinations?"
"I'm not you. Hallucinations are your weird thing. Mine are guns."
"I like them," Fenton announces, and the other two finally step back. Only then does he come to the startling observation that Manson and Feley had been acting like bodyguards by placing themselves between Fenton and the Waynes?
What a strange night indeed.
"Todd, let me up!"
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ashwhowrites · 6 months
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Enemies to lovers Eddie Munson x Cheerleader! Reader, maybe some months ago Reader was trying to tell Eddie that she liked him, but Eddie was talking with his friends about how he doesn't like cheerleaders and jocks and that made Reader angry at him bc she thought that he liked talking to her (she was his client) so after that Reader started to act cold towards him, and Eddie did the same with her. One day, they got paired together for a Literature project, and they went to Reader's house to work on that but they only spend the afternoon fighting, a day later they went to Eddie's and they were fighting, again, but then they just stayed in silence and started kissing each other and that's when Reader confesses her feelings for Eddie and tells him that's she heard what he said, and he's like I wasn't talking about you, I liked you too, I still like you, and then they have make up sex (if you're comfortable writing that!) and start their relationship
No smut :/ I'm sorry
I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting <3
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Y/N spent as much time thinking about Eddie as she did talking about Eddie. If she ever wanted to hide the fact she liked him, she couldn't. It was written on her face.
Which is why her friends are sick of her doing nothing to make a move. Chrissy was a girly girl herself, she knew Y/N wanted Eddie to make the move. She wanted Eddie to go after her so she felt wanted. But Chrissy also knew Eddie would never ask out a girl he believed to be out of his league.
After weeks and weeks of Y/N's friends pushing her to ask out Eddie, she was ready to do it.
She tried to shake off her nerves. Her fingertips gripped her textbooks tightly as she walked toward Eddie and his group of friends.
She was a few feet away, close enough to hear him but not close enough for anyone to recognize her.
"You asked my opinion and I gave it. I think asking out Rachel is a disgrace to our kind. She's a cheerleader and friends with all those jocks. Is she going to stand up for you when your ass is being kicked? Nah, I don't think so. Because she's a cheerleader and those are heartless shells."
Y/N felt herself freeze at Eddie's words. Any bit of confidence was washed away as his words traveled down the hall. She knew Eddie didn't like the popular crowd, but she thought he moved past it. She thought she was changing that perspective. Is that all he saw her as? A cheerleader?
Before she heard anything more hurtful, she raced right past.
~~~
"Oh yeah? What about Y/N?" Mike snapped back, ever since his breakup with El, he's had his eyes on someone new. And all he wanted was advice and instead, he pissed off Eddie.
"She's different." Eddie shrugged, in his mind there was no comparison between Y/N and any other girl.
"Because she's yours?" Mike argued.
"He wishes!" Dustin laughed.
"No! Because Y/N has shown to be sweet, kind, and accepting with everyone. She's more than just a cheerleader, but I can't say the rest about the team. Mike, you need to understand some girls are only cheerleaders when the outfit is on, find one like that." Eddie said, smacking down on Mike's shoulder.
~~~
Y/N felt too embarrassed to be near Eddie. She didn't know if this whole time he couldn't stand her. They never hung out outside of deals, maybe he only dealt with her because he had to.
She stopped buying from him and went cold turkey. She didn't bother talking to him in the halls, didn't look in his direction, and acted like he didn't exist.
Eddie noticed the cold shoulder immediately, and it hurt. He didn't understand the sudden change of attitude but he also didn't give it a second thought. Maybe she wasn't as good of a person as he thought.
~~~
Over the next few weeks, they didn't speak to each other. Until they got paired together for a school project. Y/N immediately wanted to beg for someone else but the teacher was strict and didn't handle the backtalk well.
It was awkward, and they both hated that feeling. Eddie sat on her floor, her feet dangling off the bed. She read out loud the book, but his mind was elsewhere. Her room was what he thought it would be, and he adored all the framed photos she had. Her room looked just as sweet as he always thought she was.
"If you aren't going to pay attention, I'll just do it myself." She snapped, and the heavy book slammed shut.
Eddie jumped at the noise but recovered quickly. "Sorry, I was just observing your room." He admitted.
"Well don't. Not like you'll ever be in it again anyway." She snapped again. It hurt her a little to say, a small reminder that they weren't friends and they wouldn't hang out like she wished.
"Yeah, got it." He said back, same snappy tone.
"Look you don't get to have an attitude with me!" She argued she didn't do anything wrong.
"Oh, why? Because we don't get to speak unless it's on your terms? And I'm just supposed to be cool with that? You completely flipped the script on me so yeah, I'm a little pissed!" He argued back. If anyone was allowed to be annoyed, it was him. He was ignored without an explanation.
"Flipped the script? No, what happened was you talked shit behind my back and I finally figured out how you thought of me." She said, her anger leaving as a small amount of sadness settled in her chest.
"Who told you that crap?" Eddie said he felt the want to roll his eyes.
"YOU!" She yelled, she stood up and towered over him. "I heard everything you said to Mike. You went on and on about how cheerleaders are heartless. I can't imagine the other things you said before or after."
Eddie tried to remember what she was talking about, the realization hitting him. He stood up fast, a fast apology on his lips.
"No no no! I did say that yes, but not about you! I would never say those things about you." He tried to grab her hand but she smacked it away.
"Ow" he muttered
"How did you not say that about me? I'm a cheerleader!"
"I know!" He panicked, "but I said so many things after that. You must have walked away or didn't hear me because I explained you were nothing like that."
Y/N felt a part of herself believing him. He sounded so panicked, which meant he was caught or he was trying to prove his innocence and needed her to trust him.
"What did you say?" She asked
"I explained to Mike that the girl he's interested in doesn't care about him. And I knew that because of what you showed me. I see how sweet and caring you are. You're nice to everyone and you don't use your popularity to have power over anyone. You aren't just a cheerleader, you are so much more than that. That's why you are different and that's why I'd never say mean things about you." His words and eyes were pleading for her to believe him. "I'm so sorry you got hurt."
"Well I shouldn't listen to people's conversations," she shrugged, " I appreciate your apology and I accept it. I'm sorry for not talking to you about it. I was hurt because I like you. And I was planning to ask you out when I heard everything." She admitted she turned her head to the floor, her cheeks flamed with embarrassment.
"Holy shit!" He exclaimed, "You like me? And like me enough to want to ask me out?" Eddie couldn't believe his ears. He wanted the same thing, obliviously, but he never thought he had the chance.
She gave him a look and he moved on. It was clear she liked him and she gave him an opening.
He moved his feet forward until there wasn't space between them. His eyes searched into hers for a sign, when her eyes flipped down to his lips he got his answer.
He licked his lips nervously, his hand reaching to cup her chin as he leaned in. His heart raced when she leaned in, both closing their eyes in sync.
Her stomach fluttered when she felt his lips. He smiled when he felt her kiss back, her hands slid around to his back. Her palms were flat against his shirt.
They kissed for as long as they could. Whenever one of them went to pull away, they'd drag them right back in.
Eddie couldn't wait to shove this in Mike's face.
Tags!
@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37
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yandere-daydreams · 7 months
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Title: Well Directed.
Written for a very lovely, very patient anonymous commisioner.
Pairing: Yandere!Arlecchino x Reader (Genshin).
Word Count: 2.0k.
TW: Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Intimidation, Biting/Blood, Unhealthy Relationships, and Slight Dehumanization.
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Arlecchino greeted you the way she always did – through touch.
Despite everything, you had to admit Arlecchino’s ability to dampen her footsteps, to muffle her breathing, to somehow disguise the weight of her state and heat of her unnaturally warm body and the very fact of her own existence was undeniably impressive – even more so when she managed to hide herself from someone like you, someone so preoccupied with knowing the exact position of every actor as soon as they stepped onto your stage. Your first hint that she was coming to see you was the feeling of her talons on the dip of your shoulder, drifting upward to the curve of your neck, then the sight of her reflection in the mirror of your vanity, appearing as if she’d always been there, as if your eyes hadn’t been fixed to the door of your dressing room since locked yourself behind it, content to spend your intermission in peaceful seclusion. You’d planned to use what little free time you had to clear your head and prepare yourself properly for the rest of the night, but as always, she was there to make sure your mind would be filled with only thoughts of her. If Arlecchino had it her way, there was a good chance you’d never be able to think about anything else.
When you tried to stand, crumbling under the reflex to put any amount of distance between you and her, Arlecchino’s hand rose to your throat, catching you just under the chin and burying her claws in each corner of your jaw. Immediately, you went still, and she rewarded you with an airy chuckle, a tilted head. “Good puppet,” she praised, loosening her hold on you with the assurance that you’d learned your lesson quickly. “You were brilliant out there. Truly, the rest of the production is paler for having to stand in comparison to you.”
You wished you could’ve preened, could’ve basked her praise the same way you did when one of your performances caught the eye of a particularly flattering columnist, when you overheard one of your costars gushing about how proud they were to be working with someone of your renowned. Instead, all her words – no matter how kind, no matter how adoring – ever seemed to do was send a chill down your spine, to make you regret ever auditioning in the first place. Could her praise be considered sincere, if you knew she wouldn’t remember a single line you delivered a few minutes after the curtains closed? Could you take her compliments as anything but blatant condescension, if you knew the only reason she’d sat through your performance at all was to admire her newest toy?
But, you couldn’t say that out loud, so you only bowed your head, settling onto the stool of your vanity as you attempted to find your voice. “It was only the first act,” you mumbled, eventually. “And my scenes were hardly anything noteworthy. My character doesn’t really find their footing until the climax.”
“I disagree. Try as I might, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” She didn’t have to tell you that. You’d felt stare prying into you every time you were on stage, and if it hadn’t been for the blinding lights, you were sure you would’ve been able to see her in the dead-center of the first row, grinning wildly as she watched you put on a show she’d already attended half a dozen times since opening night. If she actually bothered to pay attention, you were sure she would have the script memorized, by now. “Although, I couldn’t help but notice you weren’t wearing my last gift. What if I lost track of you up there, dear?”
Her last ‘gift’. Your heart skipped a beat at the reminder. It’d been a gaudy thing – a rose-shaped breastpin, crafted with tens of hundreds of pinprick rubies and lined with a frame of pure obsidian. She’d let one of her masked soldiers make the delivery, but her note had been clear enough. You were supposed to wear the awful thing during your next performance, in front of a crowd of hundreds. You’d crushed it under your heel before your anger could turn into mortification. The dread had only taken root as you cleaned up the broken pieces and began to imagine how Arlecchino might react to your ungratefulness. She could weather most things, but such blatant disobedient had never gotten you more than a bruised cheek, rope-burnt wrists, and a few days spent in the guestroom of her manor.
“I’m sorry, my lord. I tried, but the costuming department overruled me.” You let your eyes fall to the ground, playing sheepish. As if you were genuinely apologetic. As if any part of you regretted not being able to wear her claim on you in front of half the population of Fontaine. “You know how it is. Everything has to be approved by the director, lest a misplaced prop lead the audience to the wrong conclusion.”
She hummed, letting her hand fall to the low collar of your top. It was far from the most risqué costume you’d ever worn, but the plunging neckline suddenly left you feeling more exposed than you would’ve liked. “Give me a name.”
You stiffened. “…excuse me?”
“Who made the call? Give me a name and I’ll take care of the rest.” Her pitch-black claws ran over your collarbone, playing with the idea of breaking the skin. You already knew that the ghost of her drifting affection would linger for seconds, minutes, hours after she was gone, when you were left alone with her voice still ringing in your ears. It was more than likely that you’d spend the second act performing under the careful supervision of her phantom touch. “If it’s the director, don’t bite your tongue. The show can go on without that bumbling idiot.”
“No, I—” The threat was clear, direct. She’d made similar promises before – when the man behind the counter of her preferred bakery called you by your name as you hung from her arm, when one of her subordinates seemed just a little too excited to attend one of your shows. In her ideal world, you’d be little more than a ballerina twirling in one of her music boxes; there to smile and dance when she desired to see you and locked away from prying eyes when she did not. You’d do nothing but giggle and laugh and bend to her whims, too happy in her gilded cage to ever throw yourself at the bars. “I’m sorry,” you said, again, and this time you tried to mean it. “I… I lied to you, earlier. I damaged it this morning while trying to put it on, and—” A pause, a laugh. “Archons, I’m so embarrassed. I just couldn’t stand the idea of letting you know I was so thoughtless with one of your presents.”
It was far from your best work. Your speech was too stilted, your tone too dire for the occasion, your body language too stiff to convey much of anything beyond the simple hope that she would believe you. You would’ve been mortified to let anything so visibly improvised make it in front of a real audience, but Arlecchino was far from a critic. Her grin – as unwavering as it was monstrous – softened, her sadism partially sated by your complete, unabashed submission. Her hand fell away from you completely, and you beamed, letting your heart soar at the thought that she’d finally found some scrap of empathy for you.
Of course, your elation was quickly punished. It always caught you off guard – just how fast she was, just how strong she was, just how much she enjoyed reminding you of exactly why she could afford to be so self-indulgent when it came to her ever-growing collection of pretty little things. One moment, you were smiling at her reflection, and the next, the mirror had been shattered into more pieces than you could ever be able to count, anything it might’ve once shown distorted beyond all recognition. An intricate web of hairline fractures stretched outward from the point where her fist connected with the glass, but she regarded the devastation with little more than a slight hum, a sleeve dragged over her bleeding knuckles. “I think it’s my turn to apologize.” The sound of her heels against tile, the feeling of her arms wrapping around your waist. “You know how I get when I’m upset.”
Upset. You could’ve laughed, if you hadn’t forgotten how to use your lungs. You could’ve cried, if you weren’t too scared to move. If your unresponsiveness bothered her, if she noticed you hadn’t blinked since she lashed out, your paralysis wasn’t deemed worthy of her concern. Instead, she only pulled you against her chest, letting her chin rest on the dip of your shoulder. “You’re special, you know. I don’t lose my temper for every little actor who thinks they can get away with being so…” Her claws skirted over your side, threatening to tear through the delicate fabric of your costume. “Unappreciative. That’s a good word for it, isn’t it? You’ve always been the more eloquent one, between the two of us.”
Multiple temptations surfaced in you all at once. Part of you wanted to cry, to beg for her forgiveness, to promise you’d never be so selfish and so stupid again if she’d only let you go unharmed tonight. Another more rebellious faction screamed at you to run, to try in vain to hide yourself away from such an obvious predator, unwilling to acknowledge how many times you’d tried that before and how many times it hadn’t worked. And yet, neither impulse overwhelmed you, in the end. Arlecchino’s training took control and you left you speaking hollowly, the words finding your way to your tongue before your conscious mind could so much as realize that you’d opened your mouth. “Unappreciative, my lord. I’ve been unappreciative.” Then, leaning against her, “What can I do to earn your forgiveness?”
“Good little thing,” she said, by way of an answer. Her grin was the widest it’d ever been. “My perfect little puppet.”
This time, you were able to find a note of joy in her praise, to seek comfort in the fact that her faux-affection meant you wouldn’t be the next thing crushed under her rage. That happiness was only partially dampened by the weight of her lips against your shoulder, then drifting upward, latching onto the tender patch of flesh just below your jugular. Her teeth, like her fingertips, were sharpened to fine points, each able to pierce your skin with all the thought it would’ve taken her to swat a fly out of the air, to pluck a wildflower from its patch. You felt warm blood trickle past her lips and down your collarbone, let a low whimper slip past your grit teeth as she dug that much deeper, as she carelessly tore through everything she touched. When you shifted, attempting to relieve a fraction of the pressure on your throat, of the burning ache just underneath your skin, her hands clamped down around your hips, her hold on you tightening and dragging you that much closer to her chest, that much deeper into her embrace.
By the time she pulled away, there was a dark ring of bruising carved into the side of your neck, emphasized by the bright red stain of her lipstick against your skin, the trail of crimson dripping down your chest and pooling above your collarbone. You weren’t able to stop yourself, cursing as you scrambled for something on your vanity table that you could use to limit the damage, but Arlecchino stopped you, taking up either of your wrists and forcing your arms to your sides. “Trying to hurt my feelings again?” She ran her tongue up the side of your throat, adding a vulgar smear to the mess she’d made of you. “Leave it as it is – I want you wearing my mark for the rest of your performance. And, if someone tries to stop you, tell them I’m the only one you’ll be taking direction from, from now on.”  
You were too stunned to respond, too mortified to blink. Somewhere in the distance, a stagehand called five minutes to curtain, and Arlecchino let out a breathy laugh. With no small amount of hesitancy, she detangled herself from you, making her way to the door of the dressing room, the space now too contaminated to be called your own.
As her fingertips grazed the knob, her glanced back to you, her eyes meeting yours in the shattered remains of your mirror. You could’ve sworn you could still see the faint tint of your blood on her teeth as the corner of her lips tugged upward and something buried deep, deep inside of you withered and died.
“I’ll be watching, dearest.”
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greenandsorrow · 9 months
Text
"Boytoy"
WARNINGS; 18+, shameless smut, ken x fem!reader, reader uses she/her pronouns, praise k!nk, size k!nk, virgin!ken, switch!reader, sub!ken, dom!ken, the plot doesn't connect with the movie, kinda slow burn, grammar mistakes
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Part 2
"his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room"
~wildest dreams, taylor swift ~
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Y/n's pov:
Y/n wakes up in the morning, feeling groggy and disoriented.
No one can find out about the encounter she had last night with her Ken doll. (Not that anyone would believe her if she were to tell them!) Still, she certainly wants to keep Ken's access to the real world secret from her father, because his company's policy is to put the dolls in boxes and send them back to Barbieland once and for all.
''Her Ken doll'' sounds wrong. It sounds wrong because Ken had looked like more than just a pretty object. The previous night, she realises, she met a real man, with real feelings and real desires (as oblivious as he had looked). She almost makes herself blush thinking about their small make-out session. Y/n can't deny just how attracted she's to Ken, he's meant to be perfect lookin' after all. But his character had managed to shine through as well, energetic and enthusiastic, but also emotional and in need of constant reassurance. "If that doesn't make him real, I don't know what does."
"Does that all mean that I want to see him again? He's probably not coming back, I literally kicked him out like a dog..."
These are some of the thoughts that preoccupy her mind as she's showering, having breakfast and as she's getting ready. What pulls her out of it, is in fact, Ken.
As soon as she opens the door of her apartment y/n steps on something and looking down she spots...her old Ken doll, the one she accidentally put in her backpack yesterday (also the one she still has to repay for years of ignorance, the one that kissed her with a need and held her with a desperation that made her knees all wobbly). However, right now he isn't a six foot tall man, but a plastic toy y/n is once more putting in her backpack.
~~
Ken's pov:
Ken wakes up to the sound of someone calling his name. To his distaste, that someone is not sweet y/n but Barbie. He has to get up for another "perfect" day at the beach.
It takes great effort to go through his everyday tasks (greeting Barbie, smiling at Barbie, complimenting Barbie), especially when the only thing he can focus on is the memory of the moments he shared with y/n. He thinks of consulting Weird Barbie, but he changes his mind as quickly as he made it up.
Throughout his day, Ken is trying to only think about how y/n's plush lips fitted perfectly, locked flawlessly against his own, about her fiery gaze, a gaze that was directed to him (maybe even caused by him). At the same time, he's doing everything within his power to keep out of his mind the dryness of her last words. She had asked him to leave. Did that mean that y/n didn't want him as a boyfriend?
Something is changing inside him, he can feel it. He wants to meet y/n again, prove her he's worthy of her attention. She had made him sweat just with her closeness, she had made him shiver merely by using her hands (small, delicate hands in comparison to his big, manly ones) and she had also made him gasp when she had deepened their kisses.
Ken is determined to return the favour, though he's not entirely sure how. He's feeling the primal need to hear her repeat his name over and over, while... what?
Ken's shorts continue to bother him all the while he's making these thoughts. And so they were bothering him last night.
~~
Both y/n's and Ken's day goes on and on, seemingly endless. They're both feeling an intense sense of restlessness. The Barbies are often catching Ken zoning out with a starstruck expression clouding his blue gaze, while y/n's mind is constantly putting together the dirtiest of fantasies instead of paying any attention to her classes.
But there's also an underlying question they both try to push away. Can this happen again? Can Ken just wake up in the real world like it's no big deal? And even if it does happen tonight, what are they to do?
~~
Y/n's pov:
Y/n returns to her apartment at 22:30. She's exhausted, but has to admit her first day as a university student wasn't that bad. Y/n met a group of three other first-years that seemed like nice company. They had actually just had a group study session at the library.
As soon as she locks the door behind her, y/n opens her backpack, taking out Ken and gently placing him on her small couch. She then proceeds to have a hot, refreshing shower before ordering pizza or something for dinner (her mom would be rather disappointed).
~~
Ken's pov:
"Good evening Barbie!" he calls for the seventeenth time (that's how many Barbie dolls y/n is in possession of).
Ken is finally free of all his duties. He can't help but let out a giggle at the thought of meeting y/n again. But when the giggle leaves his mouth, he isn't smiling. He can't be sure whether y/n liked men that giggled. He craved for this adorable, sweet human to see him as a man, the way she probably saw the men he noticed on some of the posters that were decorating her bedroom.
With a great deal of effort and patience, Ken was able to fall asleep, while wishing with every fiber of his being he would wake up somewhere close to his dear, fingers crossed.
~~
"Ken...Ken hun, wake up"
"Hmm, y/n..." The way he pronounced her name in his half asleep and half awake state, caused one of y/n's giggles to surface. Of course Ken fully wakes up at the sound of such a clear, angelic sound.
"It's good to see you beautiful" he tells her in a too casual short of way, in order to mask his uncontainable joy (and pride) that he made it back to her.
Ken then yawns, a satisfied grin spreading on his face as he's standing up from the couch, looking down at y/n. Y/h has just come out of the shower and she's currently wearing nothing but an oversized tee and a pair of comfy panties with a matching bra hidden underneath.
Y/n's eyes widen momentarily, making Ken feel suddenly self conscious about his behaviour.
"So you're not angry at me?!"
"What-
why would I ever be angry at you, y/n?"
He definitely isn't the epitome of intelligence.
"You wanna sit?", she asks motioning to the couch. And so they sit in awkward silence.
Ken has never felt so nervous in his entire existence. Before going to sleep, he had come up with the perfect plan so that y/n would let him stay with her instead of tossing him out again. He was supposed to ask her to have a pyjama party with him, but now that they're sitting next to each other, arms and calves touching, the only thing he can focus on is his sweaty palms.
"You're really handsome you know", y/n mutters and she immediately regrets it, blushing.
On the other hand, Ken, who had never been called "handsome" before, physically feels his chest swelling up with pride.
"Yeah, I get that a lot." (yesyesyes she thinks he's handsome)
"Of course you do...
I just wanted to say, about last night, I can't stop thinking about it Ken, and I can't stop thinking about you either. I know that in the past I failed to treat you... in a decent enough way?? but I want to try again."
For a while Ken doesn't speak, not because he didn't like what he heard, but because he's taking it all in. He is in awe that y/n deems him important enough to have a place in her mind for him -hopefully in her heart as well- (Ken is very sentimental about that stuff).
"I had never done anything like last night y/n. That doesn't mean it was bad! It felt...good actually... and- and I've been thinking..."
That must be the hardest thing Ken has ever done. But the sincere and kind way y/n is looking at him gives him strength to continue.
"...now that we are boyfriend and girlfriend, we should have a sleepover."
"We are what?!"
"I thought we-"
Ken can't go on as he's once again aware of the heavy weight settling in his chest, making him cast his gaze downward, but y/n, remembering the way things work back in Barbieland, understands the meaning behind Ken's words.
"I didn't mean for it to sound like that sweetheart. I guess, I can't believe it, that's all. I just am too excited to be your girlfriend!"
And she's speaking the truth. She just has to explain, or better, show Ken, how girlfriends and boyfriends' sleepovers work in the real world.
She reaches for his hand, giving it a squeeze and their eyes meet. Ken is wearing the biggest, most smug and boyish smile, making y/n smile too in return.
Ken is very pleased with the way things have worked out so far. Y/n is *his girlfriend*. Y/n is *his human* and that makes him the luckiest Ken ever created.
"So, are we gonna have that sleepover?"
"Sure! It starts now!", y/n says with a genuine excitement that makes her y/e/c eyes sparkle. At that moment she forgets about ordering dinner, about the consequences of her actions, Mattel and her father. She's determined to spend the night with her new special boyfriend, no questions asked.
~~
And so they spend a good two hours talking about anything and everything. While y/n is showering Ken with questions about Barbieland and her favourite childhood companions, the Barbies (Ken has no problem answering, he loves how y/n seems to hang on every word he says), the blonde man also has some questions for his human. (he has to know; does she like the beach?)
But, as their silly conversation goes on, Ken (and y/n, she's just hiding it better) finds himself staring at her lips. This time, they're glossy (she had applied lip balm after her shower). His mouth is practically watering and his chest is beginning to heave.
"Ken are you okay sweetheart?" y/n asks him in her most innocent voice, placing a hand on his (thick) thigh and she swears she felt the muscles there tensing involuntarily under her palm.
"Can you-
can we do it again?"
"Honey, please be more specific", she almost feels bad, teasing him like that (and he has seen nothing yet).
"Sorry y/n (he does get butterflies from all the petnames). I meant, like yesterday."
He places a hand on her arm, gripping it slightly. Y/n is smiling at herself, he's so eager.
"You remember yesterday? We kissed, but...like a lot...Let's do it again."
His voice while uttering the last sentence sounded grave but Ken is needy, too needy to hide the impatience in his eyes.
Without another word, y/n's hands search for and find a place at Ken's platinum blonde hair and then she places herself on his lap, before he even manages to register what is happening. Out of reflex, his own hands are on her waist in no time, so as to prevent her from losing her balance.
Tonight, the kisses that they share are rougher, lips getting swollen and reddish fast.
In a moment of bravery from Ken's side, he fights for dominance with his tongue, wins it, causing y/n to moan in his mouth. The vibration of her trembling moan travels all the way to his core, resulting in him to shiver.
Soon after that, y/n breaks the kiss, desperate for oxygen. Ken whines pathetically at the loss of contact. He looks so hot like this. His bare chest is covered in sweat, his expression is almost adorable as he tries to slow down his breathing, cheeks flushed and hair sticking to his forehead.
When y/n leans in for a second round, she's hungry, tasting Ken again and again, until she notices he has begun to shift beneath her, in a very uncomfortable short of way. His breaths have also become more shallow and quick.
Concluding Ken has zero knowledge regarding the human body is easy for y/n, but that doesn't stop her from taking off her t-shirt, throwing it behind the sofa. Ken's blush deepens but he's unable to take his gaze off y/n's full breasts, roundness enhanced by the bra she has on. His hands are roaming her back, nails emitting shudders and mewls out of her.
Y/n on top of him, glistering with sweat and holding on to him by flatting her palms on his chest (she can feel his heartbeat beneath her fingertips), so small in his arms, so light, makes him whimper with need and buck his hips against her, well, core.
He groans loudly.
How is it possible? Ken looks so irritated and troubled because of his growing erection.
Can this mean he never had one before, while living in Barbieland?
Y/n attempts to readjust her position on his lap, but the firm grip on her hips is preventing her from moving. Ken looks deeply into her eyes, pupils blown.
"Y/n...wait...just wait a min-
a- ah, something is happening to me."
Now he's a panting mess, wearing a concerned expression, that quickly turns into embarrassment when y/n explains to him that it's all normal and no, nothing is wrong with him.
"But why is it growing and it hurts too!!", the whines that escape his mouth are only making y/n wetter by the minute.
She cups his face in both hands, calming him down, before helping him out of his flannel. Y/n then gets off him, planting her knees in the carpet in front of the couch. Ken immediately averts his gaze away from her, preferring to look at the ceiling.
"Ken, please lift your hips for me" Ken is hesitant, hesitant to be seen completely naked in front of y/n, but he trusts her.
Y/n manages to get him out of his beach shorts and underwear, his already too hard cock springing free, accompanied by a breathy moan coming from Ken.
Y/n almost gasps at the sight of it. He's a doll, he's literally perfect, even his member. To be honest, y/n had never given a blowjob in her life, but she had collected enough information on how to do it and right now she wants nothing more than to please Ken.
"Y/n, love, what is happening...mmfff"
Ken moans as his beloved girlfriend starts to kitten lick his tip, dripping with precum. His face is as red as a tomato and he's doing his best at trying to hide it behind the cushions.
Y/n steals glimpses of him through her lasses as she raps her soft lips around his thickness, holding the base of his now throbbing cock with one hand. Ken's head is laying on the back of the sofa, his Adam's apple visible, bobbing up and down with each sound that leaves his mouth.
Ken almost cries at the feeling, bringing a hand to muffle a series of moans he really isn't proud of. But he can't help it, he's too overwhelmed by the sensation of y/n's tongue swirling around his tip and then massaging his balls with her hand.
And when y/n finally stops teasing him, only to start bobbing her head up and down, Ken audibly gulps before fisting a handful of her hair.
She monetarily takes him out of her mouth with a loud pop. She's now caressing his thighs, throwing praises his way, in hopes he'll stop acting so shameful.
"Babe the sounds you make are driving me insane. You are so big, you are being so good Ken." At the sound of all those praises his dick gets impossibly harder, twitching with want. Y/n is entranced by the way his tip's color has darkened and it's literally pulsating.
Ken's hips have also started trembling, indicating he's super close. Y/n decides to use her tongue on him for a little longer, satisfied when she notices his white knuckles and protruding veins as he's gripping the pillows around him for dear life.
But when she feels him about to explode, she takes him in her hand, giving him a few pumps. Ken is soon whimpering and squirming under her touch, calling her name over and over like a prayer. He comes hard all over y/n's hand and his stomach.
When sure that he's emptied, y/n kisses his knee, then the insides of his thighs, all the way up to his neck and lips. Ken accepts the kiss, melting into y/n's warmth like always. He's still panting when he gives her the heartiest embrace, inhaling the sweet smell of her hair and whispering"I love you" so quietly y/n barely hears it.
~~
After y/n takes the time to explain to Ken some basic human biology stuff, she brings a wet towel from the bathroom, cleaning the mess they made on his stomach and thighs. Ken is looking at her with a newfound adoration and he's thanking her for making him feel so good 'till they fall asleep at her bed, together, cuddled up.
~~
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notes~~
So, this was part 2 of my Ken fic! Definitely more spicy than the first one. It's not meant to be perfect, but I'm trying to make it somehow cohesive. Also, I did think this was going to turn out just a straightforward smut, but I'm ending up adding some emotion to it too.
Dividers by; @cafekitsune
my masterlist
TIPS; CLICK HERE(PayPal link)
Tags; @notleclerc @hope4rain19
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transmutationisms · 11 months
Note
thots on astrology? related, thoughts on mbti?
k i like that you guys just pop in my inbox from time to time and invite me to run my mouth about topics and concepts. like truly what else is this website for.
anyway astrology (& sorry, most of what i know here pertains specifically to europe in the middle ages onward) is genuinely such a bizarro historical case of a science whose core epistemological presupposition (a geocentrist and specifically anthropocentrist cosmology) has completely fallen out of favour in both popular and professional discourse, and i don't think most people appreciate how weird it is for astrology to continue existing with this degree of popular and mainstream participation lol. like most fringe science actually bothers to have some semblence of its own reactionary epistemology to fall back on; astrology just doesn't seem to care. it would be like if the medical guilds fully endorsed the position that blood is circulated in the human body by the heart, but then also recommended as treatments for clotting disorders medical practices that only make sense on the supposition that the liver is the origin of all blood and is continuously creating more of it. like no other science that i can think of tries to have it both ways to the extent astrology does. like, one reason phrenology and eugenics are bad comparison points here is because they're very much copacetic with post-enlightenment naturalism and evolutionary transpositions in the social sciences. astrology, like, intellectually is not and yet here it is anyway. ideology innit.
anyhow i assume the reason you asked about this in conjunction with mbti is because today's astrology is largely purporting to provide psychological analysis and is therefore more similar to a system like mbti than to the historical use of star-reading as a predictive science. obviously both astrology and mbti are deeply reactionary in this respect and belong to a larger trend toward attempting to categorise, measure, and taxonomise the psyche, tho an important difference here is that mbti has hereditarian elements, which no form of astrology that i know of does. i think astrology's shift in the personal-psychological direction has to do with a few different factors, including medical astrological practice (orthodox in the european middle ages, then varying degrees of heterodox from the early modern period onward) and self-help movements in the 20th century.
but in any case it, mbti, and similar attempts at psychometry are, like, staggeringly essentialist in conception and practice, and i do think their current popularity reflects some deeply reactionary tendencies amongst people who often (not always) consider themselves otherwise progressive or leftist. it's honestly kind of worrisome how many people will jump on a project that explicitly aims to define static and immutable human 'types' as long as it's dressed in quasi-spiritual or psy-scientific terminology. like i do think we all need to pause and think about the ideological ends and consequences of how we talk about each other and our bodies, minds, and birth circumstances 😵‍💫
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erosuguru · 9 months
Text
Shiu word vomit, he's cute
MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI, Shiu and reader are married, Toji calls reader sweet thing/beauty, suggestive near the end, implied toji x reader, 1k words
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"Oh god.." Your husband, Shiu, groaned quietly to you as he turned away. You followed curiously and asked."What's wrong?"
He took a moment, debating on whether he should tell you or not before he tipped his head in one direction subtly. "Don't look now, but you see the big guy over there?" He whispered to you, and you waited a moment before taking a subtle glance at the man, disguising your peeking as just reaching over to pick a product off the shelf.
"He's from work."
"So a colleague?" Shiu nodded at your words. You smiled and nudged him gently. "You scared me. I thought he was your boss or something.."
Just as Shiu prepared an answer to you, he stopped when he noticed the man began approaching you two. "God- just ignore him–"
"This guy bothering you, ma'am?" The man asked you specifically, a grin on his face as he examined you. You stuttered for a moment and shook your head. "Oh no- he's my husband!"
"Very funny, Fushiguro.." Shiu wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closely to him as the man, Fushiguro, let out a chuckle. "You're married? To this sweet thing? Bullshit."
Warmth bloomed at your cheeks. You waved off the compliment. "Oh, he's not all bad. Sure, I'd love for him to put away the cigarettes, but it's not a dealbreaker." Shiu pouted at you. You only gave him a glance that said,'What? I'm right!'
"I'm not sure we met, Fushiguro, was it?" You asked as Shiu seemingly refused to introduce the two of you. You held up your hand, offering the man a polite handshake.
The man took your hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the top of your hand. "Yeah, but for a beauty like you? Call me Toji."
"Back off Fushiguro, she just said I'm her husband." Shiu's arm tightened around you as you took your hand back. You settled a hand over Shiu's and squeezed gently."So - you two work together? You two must be pretty close then!" You pointed out lightheartedly, noticing a glare in your husband's gaze.
"Not close enough to know he married! I'm kinda hurt here, Shiu!" Toji mocked, and Shiu rolled his eyes at the tone. "Right, we've got grocery shopping to get to, so I'll see you."
You knew your husband's work, you knew not to interject as long as he was careful and came home in one piece, this man exuded an aura screaming at you not to invite him into your home, no doubt he does the dirty work in this partnership.
Toji frowned once at Shiu. "Hmph, sure, whatever." Glancing at you, the same grin stretched over his features; the more he smiles at you, the more you notice that scar over his lip. "It was a pleasure meeting you, miss~"
"Ah, yes! You too!" Was all you could blurt out as Shiu dragged you away, holding you closely and taking away the shopping basket from you. Shiu let out a sigh as soon as you two were out of earshot, he mumbled under his breath. "Can't keep his dick in his pants for 5 seconds.."
"Shiu?!" You yelped at your husband's crude language, making sure no one was around to hear him say that– especially not his work friend. "What? You seriously didn't see the way he was watching you?" Your husband asked as he turned to you fully. His physique took a familiar interrogative stance, one you were used to whenever he'd try to get answers from you.
"What? He just introduced himself and said I was pretty! Nothing more!" You folded your arms, concerned by this sudden territorial behaviour. Shiu continued. "He was practically slobbering over you, staring at you like some discount wagyu beef or something.."
You squinted at him. "What's with that comparison? That was so random.. wait- are you calling me a piece of meat?!" You blushed heavily, feeling embarrassed. He panicked in turn.
"No! No, no, honey, listen– I didn't mean that, I just mean you're gorgeous, okay? And he wasn't exactly respecting that ring on your finger.." his explanation clarified his intention, but you were still offended at his claims. You scoffed at him and turned away.
"Too late, you revealed what you really think of me!" You busied yourself with browsing across the items on the shelf. Your husband wrapped his arms around your waist, setting his head on your shoulder."Honey, I was kidding, I'm sorry, okay? I just got a little... jealous." He spat the word out, unable to believe he was acting like a possessive child over a toy because Toji of all people.
"... fine, but I'm still mad at you!" You gave up. He can tell even after you announced your anget to him, He was always so clear with his intentions and words. This time, it was really a slip of the tongue. He kissed your cheek. "There's my girl, come on, let's finish up and go home.."
You turned to him with a small smile. "You were nagging me to go with you when we were home. Why the rush to get back now?" Shiu hummed, thinking of how to word his answer properly while lowering himself right next to your ear. "I think I need to fuck you to remind you who's your husband~"
You gasped and slapped his chest, he laughed at your flustered state as you could only spout out "SHIU!" In a harsh whisper. "What? Its not a big deal, we're husband and wife, we fuck all the time."
His vulgar language frustrated you and aroused you at the same time as you squirmed while his arms tightened around you. "Maybe we should go back and invite him for dinner, make him watch me fuck you after that.."
Sputtering, you took the basket from him with a pout and turned away as he followed you. "Come on! I'm just messing with you!"
"Time and place, Shiu!!"
Unknown to you both, Toji listened intently to your exchange in the very next aisle and hummed, biting his bottom lip subtly as the idea took root in his head. He hoped you two would invite him to dinner at some point.
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usedpidemo · 1 year
Text
Tell your friends (Ive Yujin & Wonyoung)
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—————
Thank you @capslocked for the input/advice <3
—————
“What do you think?” asks Yujin, casually, as you’re both walking up the long, winding stairs. A scenario you’re familiar with, but this is completely different from before.
“Of this place?” Your eyes wander around, scope out the surroundings like you’re evaluating real estate. “Eh, it’s fine—I mean, I’ve already been to your place and it’s really nice.”
“First time I’ve heard anyone call this place just fine.” Completely surprised at your reply, her eyes go wide, along with her jaw, as if you’ve said something taboo. “This place is no joke, it makes mine look like an average joe—just like you!”
“Hey.” Offended by her personal taunt, you counter, “At least I’m content with what I have instead of pouring needless amounts of money for this narcissistic shit.” 
She simply laughs off your retort. You’re not even trying. Part of the game is you actually playing along. “Gotta keep the image up, after all.”
“What image? That you’re slutting out every night for a ‘random nobody’ off the street?”
“If I wanted a random nobody off the street, I could have at least gotten someone with a bigger cock,” says Yujin, trying to get under your skin. This kind of banter should render you poisoned with all the toxicity, but you’re almost numb to it at this point. Her words hit hard, because she’s speaking the truth. Anyone else could be in your position right now, and you’re luckier than 99.9% of the people on this planet, because she’s still An Yujin—variety queen, fashion icon, and pop star—after all. “Or maybe someone who’s willing to rip through my clothes when I tell them to—”
“Yeah, I get it. You get new clothes that you’ll use for a week, only to stash them away in the storage.” Might as well put on those imaginary headphones to drown out the noise, but you’ve heard it so many times, your ears simply block out her voice. “You’re rich and famous; I’m a nobody. We get it.”
She shoots you a devilish smirk, complemented by a wink before going ahead. Her flawless body and model strut serve as the perfect hall pass; you're willing to give every excuse and exemption just to be with her in bed when it’s all said and done.
The huge front doors swing open automatically. The living room alone dwarfs your entire house and makes Yujin’s look miniature in comparison. Collective chatter fills the atmosphere as guests convene everywhere. Not a single space remains unoccupied with at least two people engaged in conversation over drinks. 
Like the visitors at your girlfriend’s party, you have no idea who these people are or what their intentions are. Some of them turn their heads, stare at your direction and greet you hello. They’re not actually meant for you, but for the woman right beside you. To your dismay, she remembers how awkward you are at large gatherings and takes advantage of it. Bumping shoulders, she encourages you to wave back at them. Not the name you want to make for yourself.
So you sneak away from her and escape into the crowd. Passing through different rooms, you eventually run into a familiar face in the entertainment room. The person turns around, meets your gaze in dramatic fashion, and her excitement immediately rises to dangerous levels. 
“Hey! Oh! Were you invited too?” asks the girl, enthusiastically, running toward you.
You vividly recognize her cute face—and her Japanese accent. She was the girl who almost uncovered you twice in a single night.
“Oh God—” You grumble, bothered, silently praying your whisper drowns in the sea of loud gossip. “Oh—hi, Rei.”
“You must really be someone special to be invited to Mistress Jang’s party.” Rei suddenly pulls you by the shoulder to whisper something secretive in your ear, closing any opportunity to escape. “You know this is a blue card invitation, right? Only those deep in her social circle can come here, and her private circle is really, really small. Just so you know, there’s an industry rumor going around that the son of a government official offered millions in a bid to woo her, and she turned him down.”
“O-oh, that’s—cool.” 
Respectfully, what you wanted to say was that you had no interest in the so-called Mistress Jang, or the corrupt children of the officials running the nation with puppet strings. You were only there at Yujin’s insistence, and nothing else. “Surely he must be fuming that Jang—”
“Shhhh.” Rei puts a finger between your lips to quiet you down. She briefly looks left and right, scanning everything and everyone around you. “We call her Mistress Jang, Miss Jang, or Miss Vicky Jang. The title is very important here.”
“What?” For a moment, you thought you had stepped inside the palace of some ancient dynasty, the way titles are held in high regard. “What are you talking about?”
“You don’t know, huh? Are you living under a rock? Miss Jang is one of the biggest names in the country! She’s Korea’s it girl and national princess. Gosh, every brand she wears—and touches—becomes instant sell outs. She’s like a god even among celebrities!” Rei turns around, scouts the place a second time, as if she isn’t already screaming. Surely, this has to be hyperbole because you’ve never heard anyone with a description this grand, only in children’s role play. “She’s practically royalty, even if she doesn’t have a title.”
“Oookay.” Your lack of interest shows through your dry tone. “Yeah, well Yujin invited me here so—”
“Well, that makes perfect sense. I was thinking you were some kind of celebrity or photographer, but now I also know you’re Yujin’s boyfriend. So, the guy hidden in some of her Instagram photos was you.”
“Right.” Shake your head, slowly drawing away from her and this conversation before you become the center of discussion and treated like an actual celebrity. “So, yeah, it was nice seeing you again—”
“Can I ask you one question?” Her narrow eyes and pouty lips are practically pleading to you. Might as well amuse her just this once. Maybe she’ll finally leave you alone. “Please?”
“Fine, what is it?”
“What kind of person is she in bed?” The question elicits an animated reaction on your face—the kind that gets passed around on the internet as a meme. “I bet she gives really good head—”
“There you are!” Yujin suddenly shouts, interrupting right before it becomes extremely awkward. “Hey Rei! What have you been talking about?”
“Yujin!” The Japanese girl abruptly releases you, meeting her in embrace and exchanging friendly kisses. “Not much, just catching up with your guy about some—” she suddenly pauses, making up an excuse on the fly. “—stuff. Anyway, did you know he doesn’t know who Miss Jang is?”
“I was about to take him to her, actually.” 
“Oh no—” You impulsively blurt, losing control over your volume at that moment. 
Forget that they’re right in front of you. Forget that you value your own life over some pussy you can get any other time you want.
Surely Miss Jang would be the kind of person who immediately comes for the life of the offending party when the smallest rumor or slander reaches her ears—how much more at an occasion with some of her most esteemed guests, making you an example of what not to do to cross her.
Fortunately, the two friends then turn their eyes toward you, seemingly unaware of your dismayed reaction. Yujin takes you by the hand, but her soft touch doesn’t relax you in the slightest. “I’ll take him to her now. See ya!”
“Of course, have a great night, you two.”
There’s no light at the end of this tunnel; it’s more of a series of unfortunate events connected from one to another. You’d rather take the option of sharing the freakiest, lewdest secrets of your sex life with Rei over meeting this Mistress Jang face-to-face. You had no say in the matter, not when you’re Yujin’s partner and she’s just as highly esteemed of a name, if not greater, as everyone else in the room.
After a flight of stairs, she scans the second floor, where more people are drinking and chatting it up, before heading in. With you in-tow, you head toward the center hallway together. Seemingly uncaring of your hand getting crushed by her grip, she weaves around dashing from one side to the other until she suddenly stops. Her eyes light up when she sees several suited men assembled in a circle surrounding something—or someone. 
“She’s over there. Give her a minute,” she says, observing them without giving a moment to consider your squished hand—or you for that matter.
“Understood, Miss Jang,” says the oldest man at the center, nodding. The suited men disperse in different directions like a trained, coordinated army unit. A young girl emerges from the assembly with a cold, steely expression in her eyes and her features. 
You expected Miss Jang to be of intimidating, imposing stature, like she could snap you in half like a twig, when really, you’re more likely to toss her around instead. At first glance, everything about her appearance makes her akin to a doll. Pearly white skin, soft, silky lips, and a lightweight figure—everything about her seems curated and designed for maximum appeal to the unrealistic standards of the public. It wouldn’t surprise you if she was actually a life sized model in disguise, with metals and electrical wirings operating the body underneath several layers of unnatural beauty.
Your assumption seemingly comes to pass when she turns her head in a rather mechanical motion, then the blank look on her face shifts to a fixed little beam, hiding any sort of emotion behind them. “Yujin.” Her voice comes out near silent but honeyed, eyes curling into a smile as she recognizes your girl.
“Wony!” She lets go of your hand to hug and give her a kiss on the cheek, treating her like every other acquaintance or friend of hers.
“So, a boyfriend huh? Congratulations,” the other woman replies, reciprocating her friend’s gesture with a kiss on the other cheek. “I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks. He’s kind of a bum, but he’s all right.” Even around friends, Yujin couldn’t help but make the gap between you and her obvious. You’re properly dressed for the occasion (disregarding the fact she bought and tailored it for you), but otherwise, you’re a fish out of water. 
“Come here.” Mistress Jang shoots you a cold stare. Frightened, you immediately follow. Releasing herself from Yujin’s hug, she extends her hand out for you to shake. “You must be Yujin’s boyfriend. Welcome.”
“Um,” You try to think of something—anything—respectful to reply to her with, but ultimately come up with nothing. Sure, she’s not the dangerous boss or demanding overlord you envisioned, but she’s still the most important person in the entire mansion, with emergency protocols practically marked all over her. “Thanks.”
“Please, make yourself at home.” Her eyes lock onto yours, curls into a friendly smile, inviting you to act comfortably in her presence. “I know it’s your first time here, so enjoy.”
“Thanks,” you reply twice in quick succession because it’s the only word you can think of. Other words aren't necessary when it’s the safest option available. 
Patting you on the shoulder, then giving it a playful squeeze, she reassures you again, “I know you’re nervous because of the whole Mistress Jang thing, but please, I don’t bite. I would never.” 
A little teasing smirk and wink from her makes Yujin giggle. The two women rub foreheads, share a brief stare into each other’s eyes, reveling in their strong bond. “Please just call me Wonyoung.”
“Um, okay. Thanks for the welcome, Wony,” you say, looking over your shoulder, trying to escape those magnetic eyes of hers, but they ultimately draw you back in. No one else in the room other than you three. “You two know each other, Yujin?”
“Of course!” The energy Yujin answers you with is infectious. Your girlfriend plants a kiss on her cheek, hooking her arms around her shoulders. If you weren’t around as a third wheel, they’d make for a perfect pair. If she had her way, she would talk about her all day long. “We’ve been friends for a long, long time. Then she got bigger and richer than me and—”
“No need to compare,” interrupts Wonyoung, facing her with a wider grin. “Let’s not make our guests here jealous.”
A hearty laugh from the two follows, and you can’t do anything but smile. You don’t really find their jokes funny, but at the very least, their tight friendship warms your heart. The way their eyes glimmer when they meet, how rosy their cheeks burn, and how close their lips are from making contact—they love each other dearly and intimately it’s almost invasive that you’re awkwardly watching them, as if you didn’t exist in that moment.
You have places to be and other things to do. Inelegant as it sounds, you’re forced to interject, respectfully. “I think I should be on my way now.”
Wonyoung turns her gaze back at you. “Oh, right. Almost forgot you’re there,” she replies, almost bursting into a giggle at the end of her sentence. “The main event will begin soon. Go and have fun in the meantime.”
“Yeah. Go and have fun,” Yujin repeats, almost taunting. It’s almost second nature for her to tease you. The twosome turn around and walk away, hands still clingy like they can’t live without the other, and their collective laughter echoes all over the room as they leave you alone.
—————
You promised yourself not to stir up a commotion during the party, knowing that anything you do has a high probability to snowball out of control very fast. Only one drink will suffice. It’s not like you’re deeply hurting at all, unlike in the past. 
You’re sifting through framed photos throughout the house, mostly of Wonyoung’s silver spoon childhood, but one picture sticks out from the rest—one with her and Yujin that was certainly taken recently. It becomes even more apparent that she’s most likely her only friend, considering she’s the only one present in the photos who isn’t connected by family or bloodline.
“Yo!” A shout breaks your introspection. Turn your head and Rei’s fastly approaching you. This time, you don’t even try to hide your annoyed expressions. “Enjoying the place? Have you met Mistress Jang yet? What was she like?”
Remaining silent, you feign ignorance, looking the other way, back to the photos. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work.
She’s standing right beside you, smiling mischievously. It's almost trollish, almost pervasive, and downright annoying. You wonder how anyone puts up with her, and how she even gets invited to these gatherings. “Did you see her and Yujin holding hands? They look so cute together! I bet they would make an amazing couple, you know?”
You raise your eyebrows, partially in agreement, but mostly to entertain her, if it means she eventually leaves you alone. 
“You know, you’re such a weird guy for being Yujin’s supposed ‘boyfriend’,” she continues, pushing her face close to yours, lips pouting and shooting you mischievous, playful looks. “I mean, I don’t get why she’d want someone like you, unless you’ve got something big down there—”
At this point, you’d rather cut your ears off than listen to another minute—no, five seconds—of her grating prattling. 
When you walk away from her, she takes a hold of your hand, causing you to look over your shoulder, furious. Glaring at her, you snap. “Back off.”
“I’m not backing off until you answer me!” Rei’s shouting, trying to make a scene out of this heated exchange. “Serious, I’ve been nice to you the whole time, yet you don’t even look at me with equal respect!”
“What does that have to do with respect? You’re being annoying as fuck!” You don’t mince your words. “I mean, why does it matter to you that I’m fucking Yujin every night?”
She staggers back, eyes wide in shock, jaw slack, and the hand that seized you covers her mouth. It’s the answer she wants, yet it sounds unbelievable. It also draws the attention of everyone nearby, some approaching to see what kind of commotion is happening. There might as well be a huge spotlight shone on you both. You’re the main characters now.
One glance and it rips you from the immersion of the moment. Dozens of eyes focused on you and your co-star, eagerly anticipating what happens after the cliffhanger. The break is long and awkward; nothing exciting happens while you both freeze in place, like the script hasn’t been completed yet. In your mind, you’re hoping someone slaps some sense into you—or wakes you up from this elaborate dream. 
“We’re just talking here, not much is happening!” Somehow, you’re able to break character to break the tension. It doesn’t seem to work initially. The onlookers remain observant of the situation, unconvinced, until one person leaves, followed by another, and more disperse, until you’re completely irrelevant in their eyes once more. Even more amazing is how not a single butler stepped in to intervene during the sudden uproar.
Deafening silence follows as you’re both left alone to contend within yourselves without outside interference. One look at Rei and you find her still motionless, like every part of her malfunctioned. Perhaps it’s the bluntness in how you’ve admitted a lewd secret to her or the way you snapped against her that caught her by surprise. You’re not entirely responsible though. She should have known what she was getting into by poking the bear.
Still, you’re a nice guy, and it’s still a heat of the moment action you’ll definitely regret in the morning. “Um, look, I’m sorry, but yeah—”
“Gosh.” Rei suddenly blurts, eyes still wide, staring at you without a single blink that it’s a little unsettling. You expected her to finally calm down after such a quiet, low answer, but instead, she follows with, “I wonder how well she takes your cock—I mean—how well does she give head?”
“Is this how you talk to friends and acquaintances, Rei?” you reply, tilting an eyebrow, more amused than annoyed. 
“Maybe—” she rolls her eyes, avoiding your gaze, and you can spot the faintest sign of a devious smirk on her lips. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you showed me with your girlfriend’s consent—”
“To all house guests. To all house guests.” An artificial voice echoes over the speakers, interrupting the conversation and grabbing everyone’s attention. “Please gather outside. The special show will be starting soon.”
After the brief distraction, she faces you again with a friendly, mutual smile, saying, “We can talk about this another time.”
Leaving you on another cliffhanger, she spins around and follows everyone outside.
—————
The interior of the mansion is nothing compared to the courtyard. An enclosure so large in scale; it can host a concert or festival. While you and the guests pick seats, butlers form the stage for the performance. Surprisingly, Rei opts not to lurk close by, instead choosing a seat far behind. You, on the other hand, settle for one in the second-most front row area. She doesn’t spot you spying on her a fair distance away, and probably for the best, too, after what had just transpired.
Ignore her. You’ll want to avoid her for the rest of the night. Perhaps if you’re luckier, Yujin decides she’s had enough and wants to leave, but it’s very, very unlikely. It would take the ground beneath you splitting to separate her from her best friend.
Smoke rapidly fills the platform as the stage goes dark. The entrance is grandiose; the audience around you erupts in thunderous applause as two silhouettes flash themselves behind a door-shaped window. You can recognize both figures with ease. With all the times your fingers traced her skin and curves, you could recreate Yujin’s body from memory alone. 
The cheering grows as the windows swing open, their faces now in clear view. Yujin and Wonyoung make this sexy pose side by side. It’s almost unbelievable how radically different their attitudes are on stage, and you were just speaking to them a while ago. A handful of phones are stretched out to take photos of the duo, while you’re mentally taking pictures, taking in their overwhelming beauty that cameras don’t do them enough justice. Your girlfriend was always the first thing you had your eyes on, but admittedly, Wonyoung’s making you feel some kind of way, too. 
They follow up with a parallel strut that outshines any model. Yujin shoots your side of the audience a flirtatious smirk, and your reaction is no different than anyone else, falling head over heels for her, as if you weren’t her lucky one. Wonyoung’s smile is more innocent, dainty—the kind that warms even the coldest of hearts. Had your fingers not bore deep into your thighs, self-restrained, you might have quietly snuck them between your groin, irrespective of where you are and who you’re with. 
You don’t realize they’re singing on stage with the stationed mic stands. You’re mostly immersed in their little sensual movements and the way they motion to the crowd with their hands. You don’t know the lyrics to every song, but you’re bopping lightly, imagining how their tight bodies would react when they ride you in private. There’s a little hum quietly dripping from your lips, not because you’re following along with the tune, but because you’re moaning. 
Yujin and Wonyoung perform for half an hour, but you don't waste a single second of it not admiring them. There are times when one of the girls waves or shoots a pair of eyes at your direction, but you remain reactionless, taking in the sight of their perfection before you like they’re a present for your patience.
One more wave to the audience before they leave, to the loudest wave of resounding cheers. They walk back to where they stood in the entrance, flaunting their cheeks before the doors close and they disappear in a puff of smoke. In a different setting, you'd have ran onto the stage and taken them both, right then and there, in front of the crowd, without a care in the world. 
—————
You don’t hear a word from either of them for the next two hours. Biding the time, you wait on the outskirts of the courtyard, beyond anyone’s sight, taking solace under the fresh mountain air, occasionally looking through your phone with no texts or calls, looking for a sign to leave. One look over your shoulder and it’s very clear that no one’s going home anytime soon. Taking photos of the two was the smarter play, in hindsight.
“Miss Jang would like to have a word with you.” A steely voice catches your attention. Tilt your head to find one of the many nameless butlers standing upright before you. “Come with me.”
“Oh thank God.” You’re not even hiding your excitement, as evident by that lively pep in your step. You feel your patience is finally being rewarded.
You follow the servant back to the mansion proper, avoiding eye contact with anyone, even when you catch a glimpse of Rei around the corner interacting with another guest. Back up the stairs to the second floor. Not another soul around and not a single sound can be heard. Ultimately, he leads back to the room where you first met Wonyoung before turning around and leaving you there alone.
“Wait, what does she want—” The door slams shut with a loud thud before you can even finish the question. Run back to chase him, but the door remains firmly shut and you’re unable to open it. Knowing how much surveillance there is everywhere, it wouldn’t surprise you if she knew of your little exchange with Rei, whether it be cameras, microphones, or guests disguised as moles. 
“No, no, no—” you grumble, each one more fearful than the last. Try as you can to turn that knob, it refuses to budge. Texting Yujin’s your only other option, but you can’t get a good signal inside the spacious chamber, despite previously seeing 5G on your phone. The lights suddenly shutting off would be the last thing you want to happen, and against your wishes, it’s what does end up happening—leaving you entirely in the dark. 
It’s the stuff of nightmares: completely shut inside a rich manor, with lights suddenly going off at random, and with no forms of communication. The only thing missing are the windows swinging open to let strong winds blow, but you have to stop thinking more of these grim thoughts before they become reality. 
Desperation sets in so quickly; you’re banging aimlessly at the door, at the window, but not even your hardest efforts can move a single inch. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Your fate is basically sealed.
A little gleam clears darkness from the other side of the room. A call to judgment. A slim figure walks in, judge, jury, and possibly executioner all at once. Then the lights come back on, blinding you. 
“Hi.” She calls to you gently, ignoring that you’re walking in aimless circles. “You okay?”
A scream escapes your breath, leaving you in your most embarrassing state. “Wonyoung!” You don’t give her any space to ask for context. “Look, if this is about what happened earlier, then I’m sorry—”
“Sorry?” She raises an eyebrow and her lips curl into a frown, concerned for different reasons. “Incident? Are you okay?”
“Didn’t you know? Me and Rei got into an—oh.” Realizing there’s no reason to panic, you relearn the ability to pick up cues, and act like everything’s normal. Wonyoung’s shooting you a wary look, and it’s not far off from how everyone else at this party saw you—at least at one point. “Yeah, no. I was kinda scared because the lights suddenly went off and—”
“The lights? Well, Yujin told me you were a scaredy cat,” says Wonyoung with a small smile. You roll your eyes to the side, far more annoyed than anything else that happened tonight. Take back what you’ve said earlier. Yujin’s the kind of person who’d actually pull those tricks on you, and of course she’d allow her friend to get involved in her own warped games to avoid suspicion. That’s how cunning she can be. She sees you as a sandbox to play with.
“I’m sorry. I called you so I can apologize and because I want to speak to you.” Wonyoung continues quietly, bowing reverently as if she committed an unforgivable crime—something she most likely learned being under intense scrutiny all the time. Forgiveness was going to be given, regardless. This seems completely unnecessary, but you appreciate the sincerity and effort.
“Wony, or Miss Jang, whatever you want to be called—it’s fine, there’s no need to cry about it.” She lifts her head, sobbing a little, and her lips contort into a gentle smile. You can see and understand why she’s so beloved; beyond the wealth, she’s so innocent, pure looking and sounding, all the elements of a likable character in a cute package.
“Thank you.” She nods her head energetically, shaking your hands in appreciation. Dramatic behavior for something relatively minor, but you’re a guest without any authority in her house. Besides, how can you say no to that endearing face? “I’m really sorry. I just wanted to be close with my friend—”
“Yujin? Don’t worry about it. She likes to tease me a lot,” you interrupt, rolling your eyes to the side again, tone mildly disgruntled. Another one of her playful tactics, out in the light. “And I can see you two are really close.”
“Yeah.” Wonyoung brushes a finger against her pink cheek, pouting her lips. “We’ve been friends for so long, I don’t remember anything before we met.” 
She suddenly stops, looks over your shoulder, before adding, “We should take our little talk to another room.”
—————
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“Thirsty?” asks Wonyoung, walking around the room, scouring for the tea infuser.
“Kind of,” you reply, unsure if you really want a drink—or to drink her. Either way, you’re dying for a taste of something sweet. 
While she’s preoccupied with serving you tea, you scan her from head to toe, still dressed in her showy outfit from earlier. A red corset covers her white dress shirt and tie, complemented by her hair wrapped in a cute bun. None of it steals your attention more than her short shorts, showing a glimpse of her plump ass cheeks that ripple when she casually walks back and forth. Her attitude is nothing compared to what she displayed on stage, yet she renders you speechless. In your head, she’s still the daring woman out there performing.
She walks over to you, casually reclined on the comfy sofa, with a fresh pot of tea in hand. Pouring a drink on your cup, she shoots you a heartstopping smile, like she’s facing the cameras; it’s second nature for her to charm. A memory you’ll keep forever. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Lean over to grab the cup and take a sip. Very hot that it scalds your tongue, causing you to flinch, but it’s tasty. “Mmmmm—hot, hot, hot.”
She giggles in the middle sipping her own self-made drink, but it doesn’t bother her. Admittedly, you’re no religious tea drinker to tolerate it, but on the contrary, she handles it with such well-trained poise. It’s in the little details: how straight her sitting posture is and how she holds the cup in her delicate hand, despite the long nails, along with the saucer—very princess coded.
“Not used to tea?” she asks, before taking another swig at it. “It’s healthy for you, you know that?”
“Don’t really have time for it,” you reply back, mirroring her motion, but the second nip is just as sizzling. As a result, you end up looking even more stupid. She has this neutral, deadpan look on her features, but the little shift in her lips as you burn your tongue on her tea reveals cracks in her well-manufactured character. A very embarrassing display, even behind closed doors. “Shit—I mean, crap, that’s hot—”
“Hey, you can swear here. This isn’t a church.” Her cup is half-empty or half-full, depending on how she sees it, before she puts it down on the table. “So where were we again? Right. Yujin.”
Her name sets off red flags in your head, activating your fight or flight response. Even when you’re in the most secure place in the world, where nothing can hear or see you, she’s lurking around the corners of your mind rent-free. Knowing she’s close with Wonyoung means she’s more than likely in the know about every part of you, down to your most personal parts. The lights prank was the biggest proof of this.
“Tell me. What is she like as a girlfriend to you?” No mincing words, no gentle mood setting opener, she goes straight to the point, yet you’re still on edge. The wary side of you believes she’s probably extracting info that you’re keeping for yourself. It’s the perfect lure; behind all the flashy lights, she has a kind and friendly aura wrapped in a sweet package.
It takes a few minutes to process and think your answer through. Her eyes demand honesty, but to you, it’s probably just a front. She’s a celebrity, after all. She wears a mask everywhere she goes. 
“That’s a very personal question to ask,” you reply, emphasis on very. There are lines that can’t be crossed, and this is one of them. You’re not falling for the bait so easily. 
Wonyoung tilts her head, cocking an eyebrow, unbothered. “I know. Yujin tells me you’re a great lover, but I wanna hear it from your side. How do you feel about her?”
“She’s a great lover too,” you reply, testing the waters’ depth. Very treacherous. Hope it doesn’t pull you down and drag you to the bottom. “She likes to tease, she’s very playful, and she likes to make me look bad in front of her friends, but otherwise, she’s great in just about everything.”
She lifts her eyebrow and nods, taking mental notes of every spoken word. After a pause, it’s on to the next question. “In what way does she make you look bad in front of your friends?”
There’s still time to swim back to safety, but the waves are growing more turbulent by the minute. 
“Er—” you struggle to formulate anything that doesn’t raise a suspicious eyebrow. Either it breaks continuity, or makes no sense. Maybe you’ll float, somehow, but that sinking feeling remains stronger. “She likes to stick it in my face that she can own me if she wants to.”
“And is that not true? You know you’re dating a celebrity right?” Wonyoung places a finger on her chin, staring deeply into your soul. She’s the taller person in the room, but not the bigger person. “We’re kind of narcissistic like that to anyone. You should have known that.”
“If I knew all celebrities were like that, I’d have never come back to her,” you say, using every bit of your willpower not to yell at her. 
“Yet here you are. And you’d never be here without her presence.” Wonyoung crosses her legs, mildly entertained as you gradually pull those metaphorical hairs off in front of her. “You told me she was great at everything, right? I guess ruining the bedroom must be part of that, too.”
The sound that comes out of you is almost inhuman. Wonyoung’s no longer acting sincerely, breaking character to laugh at your misery. It was bound to happen with how shallow your brain thinks. Then again, you weren’t in the clearest state of mind when you reconnected with Yujin.
“I get it. She’s very hot. Everyone wants a piece of her. Consider yourself very lucky she’s just that—and not a naggy bitch, unlike some of the people in this party,” she adds, smarmy in delivery that it doesn’t feel like proper consolation.
“Yeah, but what else am I supposed to do? I don’t like being her punching bag.” 
“To be honest, I don’t know what you two are like, I really don’t.” Wonyoung suddenly stops, hops off from her couch to sit beside you. Disarming of a tone it is, the answer is anything but reassuring.  “But think of it this way. Gotta take the bad with the good, right?”
“I guess.” You take a deep breath, uncertain about what to feel, or do. 
“She hasn’t done anything to you tonight, right?” She quietly wraps an arm over your shoulders, inching her pristine face close to yours. Another line crossed. Forget about that, she’s dancing back and forth between those non-existent lines.
“Nope. Haven’t seen her after the performance, either.” 
Your eyes meet, and hers twinkle brightly, worthy of a star of her name. It’s the thing you wanted the least to happen.  You’re drowning in her gaze.
“Can you do something for me?” she asks, whispering softly. Her breath fills your nostrils with inviting warmth.
“Sure,” you say, without hesitation, throwing all caution to the wind.
“I wanna know what she feels,” she says, each word dripping with honey and rapid growing lust. “I wanna know how she feels with you in bed.”
“Are you sure?” you question, but it’s pointless. Your hands are already tracing the outline of her back, marking new territory to explore, until they cup soft, bare, round flesh. 
“I’m ready,” she replies back, eyes gleaming with desire. She shifts her entire weight onto you, pushing you to the bottom of the couch, asserting dominance over you. “She told me how amazing you are in bed, and I can’t help but be curious. I really wanna know what it’s like.”
Before you can even question the security of the place, she’s right ahead of you. Kissing the ridge of your nose, she whispers, “Don’t worry if we’re being too loud. Only the both of us will know.”
Kiss her on the lips in return. A lure until you flip positions. Suddenly, you’re hovering above her. Your hands drag along upward until they grasp the zipper of her red corset. You meet resistance when she quivers beneath you, shaking her head vehemently.
“What’s wrong?” you ask, pulling yourself back into a crouch.
“I want to keep my clothes on,” she whispers, timid and nervous, her demure character gone in an instant. “Um—it’s not that I suddenly changed my mind, it’s just that I haven’t done this before.”
You sit up on the couch, perfectly understanding, quickly formulating a way for you to make her first time feel comfortable. “Tried any toys before?”
Wonyoung follows you, softly grasping your hand. “Played with a few dildos, but that’s about it. I find it quite uncomfortable at times.”
“Hmm.” An idea suddenly hits you like lightning. It’s ridiculous, but you might as well swing for the fences. “Watched porn?”
“What?” Wonyoung’s jaw slacks, caught off-guard by such a rather obscene question, even by lewd standards. She lets a moment to let the question sink in, more on the side of disbelief than looking for an answer. “Yes, but—why?”
“Well, I was wondering if you want to learn how to suck a cock.”
“Mmm, that sounds interesting, but I’ve seen enough ‘movies' to have an idea.” Wonyoung hops off the couch, promptly drops to her knees. Frisky fingers latch on to the hem of your pants, already ahead of you. “Would you like me to suck your cock?”
There was no need to elaborate any further. 
You give her an approving nod. Immediately, her fingers work on your zipper, sliding them down. The rest of your pants and underwear follow. Her eyes light up at the sight of your cock, springing to life after being freed.
Looking up at you again, she asks, “Can I?”
Nod again, completely hypnotized by the sight of your shaft close to the perfect, young starlet’s face. It’s almost scandalous how you have what’s basically a goddess in everyone’s sight brought down to earth in such a filthy manner. 
“I’m not really good at this, but I really wanna try.” Wonyoung’s being apologetic again before anything happens, and it’s repetitive, but you’ll let it slide over and over. She sticks out her tongue, nervously inching it close to your cock, until it plants atop your tip, breaking your resolve almost immediately.
“Mmmmm.” She gets her first taste of real cock. It's bitter, salty, and everything she expects, everything she craves. That first slurp cools her dry throat, like finding an oasis in the middle of a desert.
“Christ.” You lose control of your senses, eyes growing weary at the sight of her dainty fingers, the way they wrap around the base of your dick, pumping you to full hardness. You can't believe it. There's this surge of ecstasy, and it renders you helpless under her control. "This was your first time? Fuck--"
Sloppy slurps and smooches from her lips reduce you into a groaning mess. She spreads globs of precum all around your shaft, unintentionally spilling little specks on her chin and cheeks. Her eyes continue to watch intently while you fall weak at the knees, clinging nails to the sofa’s linen. Ignore the collateral damage you’re making. It will barely dig into her deep pockets. 
The more Wonyoung continues to blow you off, the more seed splatters onto her, making her sparkly features even more glinting. It’s difficult to comprehend just how incredible she is at sucking cock—or maybe it’s just you struggling to think beyond pleasure and nothing else. She claims it’s her first time, yet the way her fingers stroke you with confident and elaborate precision means anything but. The little bits of white that taint her flawless face do nothing but make a masterpiece shine even brighter.
Her tongue continues to slide and make itself known all over your length. It’s almost impossible not to give in to your urges and force yourself down her throat. She’s doing well so far; you can barely hear her gurgle or complain while she takes more of you inside her, little by little. Caress that dark hair, still bundled together in a cute package. She reciprocates your compliment by pushing a little bit further, even when her maw tries to resist, only to cross a line she hasn’t reached.
“Ghhhk, mmmph, ghhhk!” Wonyoung coughs into your shaft, overwhelmed by the fullness of your length, tickling her sensitive part deep in the gullet. You pull her by the bun, release her throaty grip on your shaft with a sloppy pop, letting saliva spill onto the floor and her dress.
“You okay?” you ask, concealing the bliss you feel with a frown. Compared to her, you’re not a good actor.
To your surprise, she slaps you away from her harshly, then shoots you a disappointed pout. More adorable than intimidating. “I was still adjusting, asshole. If your dick wasn’t so fucking big—”
“Gotta take the bad with the good, right?” you deflect what she said to you earlier, chuckling at her cute scowl. Unknowingly, Yujin’s mannerisms are rubbing off on you, but you refuse to give credit where it’s due.
Wonyoung rises from the floor, opting to straddle herself on your lap instead. Your shaft lines against soft, wet flesh. Her hands grab the bottom of her shorts, pulling them up for easier access to her folds. It’s impossible to look anywhere but those magnetic caramel eyes, staring deep into your soul, telling you what she wants, without the need of any needless words.
“I’m ready now.” She rests her hands against your shoulders, looking at you expectantly. That was only a warm-up. It’s time for the real test. “Fuck me.”
You’re briefly taken aback just by how blunt her demand is, but those two words spoken in such a sensuous tone linger. Denying her at this stage would be downright criminal. Her slim thighs wrap around the area where your cock stands, the softness of her skin more than capable of making you cum before you can do anything. 
She leans forward to capture you in a passionate kiss, hotter and more passionate than the first. The spell that pushes away whatever logical and moral barriers remain. There’s an angel placed before your lap; time to make her sing. 
Lift her up until she gently descends and makes a graceful landing against your shaft. Upon impact, the kiss is disrupted, rocking her entire body with a new, electric sensation. Moaning music  into your mouth, she makes it clear how heavenly you feel. 
“Mmm—oh God, you’re already stretching me out,” she purrs against you, shutting her eyes and letting all the pleasure wash over her. 
“Better than any dildo?” 
“Better than any dildo.” She nods, lifting her head to expose her neck, clean and pure—ready for ruin, just like every other part of her. 
“Just moan for me, okay?” you say, whispering against her nape. “I’m gonna fuck you like how I fuck Yujin.”
Her body locks as you push deep into her tight, overwhelming cunt. To say she was suffocating would be an understatement. Her sopping pussy proves to be a strong vacuum when you draw back for the first time, pulling every bit of you deep into her core. She’s grasping at straws to not fall apart so quickly. Tugging your hair, neck, and into your expensive dress shirt—none of that bothers you in the slightest, thrusting in a second time, adjusting quicker to her heat than you expected.
You release a breath you’ve unknowingly been holding, looking up at her pleasure ridden face. Her expressions melt in every direction, chest heaving deeply from all the built-up pleasure. “You’re really tight, Wony.”
Resting her forehead against your temple, her palm grips the back of your skull. “And you’re so big.” Praise you’ll never grow tired of hearing from anyone. “C’mon. Do it already.”
In an ideal world, all her clothes would have been gone while you pound into her wet, delicious pussy. This is just as hot, too—maybe even hotter. The usually imperfect Wonyoung looking like your typical girl at the local bar arouses you. So you weaponize those nasty thoughts and do your God-given purpose—to fuck pleasure into their needy, wanton bodies.
Pushing your strained hips up, you pound her, make her sing to high heaven. Hungry fingers hike up the rest of the leftover fabric in her shorts being sucked in by her gap, partially stained from pent up excitement. It’s a familiar feeling, reminiscent of when you were young, innocent and didn’t know any better. Now it’s playing out again, scene by scene, with a few key differences. The girl is different, and you’re nowhere close to being drunk, but here you are—stuck in that old place.
Wonyoung is nowhere close to assertive, unlike her. Her confidence and emphaticness immediately crumble after the first thrust, and freefall even further on the second. She’s not ripping through your clothes, nor is she eager to lead you to bed right away, how she has you glued to the couch with those slender legs. None of that matters when her moans are pornographic, unbefitting of her otherwise pure, princess-like charm that she’s famously known for. On the contrary, her torrid, frantic kisses perfectly embody that trademark allure.
You’re testing those waters again to see how far you’ll go before you inevitably drown. One hand rests at the zipper of her corset, imprinted with your fingerprints, eagerly anticipating her go-ahead for undressing. The other confides on her plump ass molding into your grip, into something truly yours. Meanwhile, she continues to alternate between a mewl and a moan, crashing her body against your shaft to stretch her out even further. Soften her up more with kisses and nibbles on her chin and neck, leave crimson marks as red as her dress. As glowing as she already is, she will shine brighter than the lights above.
“Yujin must be so lucky to have you,” whines Wonyoung, huskily, tilting your face up to meet her fluttery eyes glazed with pleasure, expressions twisting with every overwhelming sensation. She kisses you again. The taste of strawberry flavored lipstick will never leave you. “This dick is so good—”
“I’m still holding back, babe.” Kiss her reddened neck and collarbone. The way she moans in response reminds you of her, a pleasure they both share. “I want you to feel good since it’s your first time.”
Yujin would demand you to up the pace, and lead you to a rushed ruin, but not Wonyoung. “It really feels so good. Keep going.”
Even as you engage in small conversation, your slow, loving tempo rocks her light frame vigorously, releasing sweet melodies you’d never hear from that mouth otherwise. Her tight, sopping cunt flexes against your cock, allowing you smoother and sloppier glides in and out of her core. You’re nowhere close to hitting the perfect angle, but her silvery mewls offer consolation. She continues to envelop you in her tight embrace, hands reaching all over your back, wanting more of you merged with her as possible.
The hand itching to undress her roams down her back to rejoin the other in squeezing her soft, cheeky flesh. To your amusement, she yelps in your ear and she violently quivers, eliciting a silent giggle out of you. A test of the room’s soundproofing, and it works as intended. Her entire body is in your grasp, moldable and malleable in any shape and form to your heart’s utmost desires. 
“I don’t know how much longer I can last. I’m so close to cumming,” she whispers, and it only spurs you on to lead her into a satisfying climax. Slow as you are penetrating her, you want the moment to last longer. A few minutes isn’t enough for you to relish the warm sensation of your cock buried in her incredibly tight hole. Still, she has this look in her weary eyes demanding you to pull through, which you happily oblige.
“Where do you want me to cum?” you ask, slowing your pace down that even snails move faster. You’re unwilling to take any risks, especially with someone like her.
“Anywhere you want.” Wonyoung continues to fuck herself against your cock, apathetic about everything else except the high she intensely seeks. “I swear, if you pull out now, I’m going to—”
A kiss on those sensitive collarbones tempers her demanding mouth, back to those broken, varied moans. Another reminder that she’s nowhere close to grabbing you by the balls like Yujin could. As punishment, the dress must come off, but you know it’s not worth the rest of your life in perpetual harassment in exchange for temporary pleasure. You’ve already learned your lesson; she’ll understand it one day.
For now, you settle into that laid back pace, lifting yourself a bit off the couch as much as your legs allow you to. Wonyoung has basically marked down your whole back with her nails, hoarsely squealing and whimpering as her body trembles. You can feel it in every part of her how she’s ready to cum with the way her pussy clenches against your cock, unwilling to let go, just like the first time you entered her.
“Oh god, I’m gonna cum—” 
Right on the dot, Wonyoung finally gives in, throwing her head back to let pleasure run its course. It pulls you deep, gives her juices to liberally coat your shaft with delicious waves of slick, dripping on the couch and down to her thighs, forming a lifetime connection with you. The force sends you back down on the sofa, enough to stop you right in your tracks, long before you’re even close to cumming. 
“Oh my god, oh my god. I came so much.” Firmly clinging to you, she rests her head on your shoulders, completely zapped of all her strength. Her eyes tilt down to note the wet puddle blocked by your legs. It doesn’t alarm her in the slightest; to her, a replacement couch is cheaper than a thorough cleaning. 
Kissing her ear and placing her beside you on the sofa, you quietly ask, “How was it?”
“I came so much. Oh my God,” she says, unable to comprehend she spilled that much. Her gaze remains glued to the wet pool formed on the couch, now seeing the full extent of her wreckage. A curious finger taps the sticky pool to make sure she’s not imagining things. “I don’t think I ever came that much with any dildo.”
Putting back your pants on, you smile at her innocent reaction. She’s still fresh to it all, but there’s a curiosity in her eyes, wanting to learn more. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I really wanted to undress you, you know.” you follow, examining her from head to toe, all sweaty and clothes soiled from a simple session—and you weren’t trying too hard. “I can’t help but imagine what’s beneath all that clothing.”
“You’ll see.” Her eyes have a fiery glint reminiscent of your girlfriend, and all of a sudden, she has this renewed life. “Just so you know, you didn’t cum in me, asshole.”
“Just being safe,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders. “Wasn’t sure if you were on the pill or not.”
“Of course I was on the pill.” Wonyoung looks away, but you can discern the scornful expression on her features, seemingly offended by your comment. “I would never.”
You flash a taunting smirk, ready to play her preferred trick. There was no way this would end after a one and done. “Why don’t we take this to the bed right now, then?” 
—————
It was so obvious right from the start. 
The door barely grants access to Wonyoung’s bedroom, but you already had a finger directed at the center of the mattress, pointing out the glaringly obvious figure laying on its edge. It doesn’t surprise you in the slightest, and looking back in retrospect, everything building up to this moment was all part of an elaborate plan.The questions, the setup, the secretive location—they were all red flags. Then again, you always think with your cock, not with your brain, especially when there’s a pretty girl begging for it.
“Hey sweetheart,” says Yujin, whimsically, posing on her side like it’s one of her typical photoshoots. Like Wonyoung, she’s still in her performance outfit, but with her hair down in contrast to her junior’s bun. “Having fun?”
“Was,” you retort, but your complaint has no ground when you’re unable to keep your eyes off your seductive girlfriend. 
She smirks and giggles, knowing everything’s falling into place. “Wony baby. How was the experience?”
“Pretty good,” replies Wonyoung, smiling from ear to ear. “He didn’t cum in me though.”
“Hey,” you suddenly blurt out, turning your gaze to the younger woman, not even trying to hide your annoyance, because you know what really happened.
“You’ll get yours, babe.” Yujin rolls off the bed to approach you, retaking control of what’s hers from her friend. She then pushes you onto the mattress, staring you down like a hungry predator stalking down her prey, aroused by the taste of blood—or in this case, lust. If not for those fiery pupils watching your every little move, hammering home the fear of God into your soul, there would be some fight in you to resist.
Now that’s a lie, because you would never—she always had her way with you.
“Watch and learn.” Climbing and hovering atop you, slowly spreading your legs, Yujin looks over to her best friend, watching on eagerly to see what it’s really like with you two. She’s seated on the edge of the bed, having restored much of her elegant poise to its clean, camera friendly form. 
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“You did a great job warming him up for me,” says Yujin, grinding her hips against your clothed prison, already on the verge of blowing up. The two beauties watch in amusement as your tent pitches a second time. Fuck. You’re already leaking copious amounts, it’s quite obvious, and she’s humping you at such a relaxed tempo. 
“He really wanted to undress me,” comments Wonyoung, still flashing that princess-like beam, looking innocent in the matter, when in fact, she’s the instigator. “I told him not to, and he thankfully didn’t, but I felt his hands on my zipper a few times.”
“Mmm, being so naughty when I’m not looking?” Yujin’s tone is honeyed, but her movements are anything but. The pace she grinds herself against you quickens, and you’ve never felt so desperate for release, but you had no say in the matter—not when she has your hands tied over your head, kept in place by Wonyoung’s delicate but firm grip. “Were you ready to leave me for her? Good choice, but typical.”
Quick fingers make near-instant work of your pants and underwear, pushed down to the floor in an instant, freeing up your hard cock. Such relieving freedom is taken away just as quickly as it’s given when Yujin seizes you by the balls and your length, setting you alight. Each second burns hotter than the last, a kind of fucked-up form of punishment typical of the justice system. 
“Jesus, f-fuck, Yujin—” you hoarsely whimper, visibly struggling to gather air, but it only serves to arouse Yujin, and she reprimands your feeble oppression with a tighter lock on your most sensitive parts, smirking devilishly. It’s useless. For Yujin, this is all play, an elaborate demonstration to teach Wonyoung, but the pain is real. There’s a good likelihood you may not have a functioning pelvis in the morning. 
“You’re being very rough on him.” Wonyoung watches on concernedly, but also intrigued by the rather torturous method being performed. She knows she couldn’t overpower Yujin if she tried, and well, she most certainly didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her hands, either.
“He actually enjoys being handled like this, dear.” Yujin makes sure not a single spot in your shaft is left unchecked by her steely hold. The deflated, helpless expression on your face says otherwise, but it’s only a front for what comes after. Little white spurts spill from the tip of your shaft, sufficient evidence to prove her point. “See?”
“Mm, are they like this all the time?” Wonyoung remains unconvinced. 
“Not always, but you’ll find one someday—someone who’ll beg on their knees to fuck you.” Her stranglehold on your cock loosens, finally giving you some actual breathing room—at least in your groin. “Didn’t you have that Korean government official sending you birthday ads and flowers?”
“Too ugly for my taste.” The younger woman grimaces at the reminder of that particular man, wishing he never be brought up in conversation ever again, much to her friend’s laughter. “I would never.”
Yujin nods along in agreement. “You’re too pretty for him. I bet he doesn’t even have a big dick like our little friend over here.”
“True.” Suddenly, both pairs of eyes turn in your direction, stare you down with a malicious smirk, full of purposeful intent. You would meet them halfway with your own confidence, but not when you’re in such a powerless position and with most of your strength sapped.
“Come up here.” Yujin gestures to her keen friend, hopping off your lap to make room for the lighter woman. Hiking up her equally short shorts, she hovers above you, giving you a peek of her splayed out pussy—the one you’ve craved for so long. Meanwhile, Wonyoung occupies the space previously occupied by Yujin, smothering you in a sea of soft, creamy thighs. The older woman spins around to face her untrained partner, hanging her cheeky flesh atop your face—a perfect view and obstruction.
“What are you gonna do to him?” asks Wonyoung, eyes wide with curiosity at Yujin’s seemingly awkward and strained position.
“Don’t pay attention to him.” Yujin promptly rests her ass against your face like a pillow, followed by her thighs muffling up your ears. “Get on top of his cock.”
Wonyoung complies, gliding her hips down in a graceful manner until she hilts herself down to your base, impaling her cunt with your hard dick. The inviting, suffocating heat that surges throughout your sensitive body makes you violently tremble. What a position you are in, something that most people in the country could only dream of. Two beauties in the prime of youth, desired by everyone, sandwiching you with their perfect, goddess-like figures. At this point, you were simply an outlet of pleasure to two wanton, hot bodies and nothing more. 
“O-oh God—” Yujin lets out a prolonged, tense whine as your tongue licks between her glistening folds, indulging in the sweet taste of her wet juices. Her thighs tighten up in response to your stimulation, closing spaces where you can breathe, but that doesn’t bother you. You craved her more than a drink in a dry desert with the way you lapped up her slick, and her suffocating legs were nothing but practice to hold in your deep breaths. For once, it was nice to have some form of control in the situation.
“You okay?” asks Wonyoung, clambering her palms against your thighs, looking hesitant.
“More than okay. This feels so fucking good.” Yujin’s confident expressions gradually melt away to make room for pleasure to take over. Before long, her slender, hourglass-shaped hips ride against your face, maximizing the areas your tongue can dig into. Her hands cling to your clothed chest for support, unable to remain balanced while you continue to feast on her. Miraculously, she’s still able to formulate a follow up, albeit with a string of stammers and stutters. “S-see? You’ll w-want your guy to be l-like this.”
“C-come on, ride h-his c-cock, d-dear. I-I-i’m s-sure h-he won’t mind.” Yujin reassures her friend with a weak smile that immediately folds under the helpless, blissful sensations her body feels. 
Fueled by newly found courage, Wonyoung glides and slams her hips against yours in delicate, graceful motions, still testing her limits. Your primal instincts take hold of you and you thrust upwards in kind, making her thin figure move atop you in smooth waves. It doesn’t take long before their collective moans form a harmonious symphony that you wish you could hear perfectly, if not for the two layers of silky, thick skin blocking your ears. 
“F-fuck!” Wonyoung whines, clutching at your waist, but the overbearing pleasure coursing through her body almost makes her fall off multiple times. Thankfully, her closest friend is there to keep her on her toes. “O-oh my God, o-oh God—”
“Feels good, doesn't it?” Yujin rests her hands on her junior’s shoulders while grinding her ass against your face, allowing you an endless fill from her slick fountain. “Just hold on. I’m here, okay?”
Wonyoung nods. Unsatisfied with her limitations, her hips increase in pace riding you. She wants to prove she can handle it, and that she’s ready for more of it. Soon, she grows comfortable, fully adjusted to your length. No longer needing Yujin’s help, she helps herself to her own lewd pleasures, using your cock roughly as her conduit. 
Not a single second passes by that you feel your body split in half, moving in two different wavelengths: one half preoccupied with eating Yujin’s delicious pussy, and the other slowly pumping into Wonyoung’s tight, sopping cunt. You’re a quick learner. You know all their sweet spots to hit and create the most satisfying sounds from their lips. Subtlety is the least of their priorities—a point proven when they’re loudly cursing and passionately declaring how good you feel, echoing across several rooms. The rooms might be soundproof, but the entire mansion may as well hear you three fuck.
Between clean licks of Yujin’s wet folds, when she lifts her ass out of your view, you can barely make out her and Wonyoung’s pleasure-ridden expressions. The two friends have begun making out with each other in between lewd moans and whispers, while never letting up the pace they ride you with.  
You’d love to lay in this position forever, as the complementary piece for two of the most beautiful girls you’ve ever met to pour out their pleasure in. But you knew deep down it wouldn’t last long, especially with Wonyoung, freshly recovered from your first session with her. She was always a ticking time bomb with a shorter fuse, accelerated by the now vigorous rhythm she rode your cock. It was always on your mind that this was her first, but she was fucking you like she had racked up a significant body count.
“S-so c-close,” whines Yujin, huskily, the first spoken word in a while that isn’t either your name or some kind of profanity. 
“M-me too,” adds Wonyoung, breaking sequence with a deep kiss of her partner’s lips. There might be no competition, but the twosome’s intensity rises even higher as they desperately chase after that climax. Your body is close to falling apart, cock throbbing wildly, also on the cusp of sweet release, but you’re merely a silent witness with little to no say. You’re just a channel for them to bask in bodily, sexual pleasure. 
It’s all but inevitable at this point. The real question is: who would be the first to cum, the first to start a chain reaction?
Their cries bounce loudly against the walls of the bedroom, past opened rooms as they lose control of their bodies, fucking themselves on you until the dams finally break. Yujin’s muscles spasm and crush you between her thighs. For a moment, you’d think she could snap you in half like a twig. A waterfall and a lake forms on opposite ends of your powerless body, creating two sticky pools on both sides. The powerful double surge of their climaxes is enough to bring you to a full stop, allowing them to drown you in their orgasmic bliss, creating one last crescendo as a swan song to their peaks. 
The wave of Wonyoung’s orgasm washing over your cock should make you orgasm too, urging the tightness in your balls to burn up. Thank your lucky stars you grinded to a standstill right as they came, giving you enough time to put up some form of resolve not to cum in her right then and there. You’ve been holding the impulse for so long, but you wanted your load not to belong to her first.
To your regret, Yujin clambers off you, parting her bountiful ass away from your face and bringing you to the light. Similarly, Wonyoung gingerly slides off your lap, rolls over to the side, wrapping an arm around your body, completely zapped of all her energy. Yujin rests opposite her junior, not as fatigued as she is. She can’t resist giggling when she sees the aftermath done to you, your entire face a canvas for her cum, which you clean with your tongue. 
“You did a number to her. Good job,” she says, darting her eyes over to her tired friend. She plants a finger on your groin, collecting a sampler of Wonyoung’s juices to taste in her mouth before gathering more to put in your mouth as well. Licking her wet digits, she adds, “Tasty.”
Her words barely register in your brain, and so does the little slick she places in your mouth. Your mind only focuses on one particular thing you’ve always wanted to do the whole night besides fucking, and that is to undress both girls and fuck them.
“You okay, Wony?” You turn over to face the worn out Wonyoung, who shoots you a weak but satisfied smile. She lifts her tired arm to give you a thumbs up, as if her beautiful beam wasn’t enough of a reassurance. “You know Yujin and I fuck more than once, right?”
“I know,” replies Wonyoung, coming out as little more than a faint whisper, mirroring her exhaustion. “Give me a minute. Maybe two.”
Eager as you were, you needed a breather, too, and there was no better place to rest than in the middle of two hot girls, lovingly resting their arms around you like they belonged to you.
—————
You take a beat to wipe the nonexistent filth off your chest as the two beauties stride ahead of you towards the desk table. With the way they walk, it doesn’t look apparent that they were railed to oblivion minutes prior. An insignificant detail that quickly becomes forgotten when your eyes take in the seductive and inviting manner they present themselves to you. Two sets of mouthwatering cheeks peek through their particularly short shorts—the most intrusive thing between you and them.
“Come on and fuck us, sweetheart,” says Yujin, looking over her shoulder with that sultry, near-impossible to resist gaze to entice you with sweet, dirty pleas, as if you weren’t already intending to fuck them hard. You always loved to hear those two words, but it’s a lot more special that she’s not alone. 
“You still owe me your cum, baby,” adds Wonyoung, trying but cutely failing to mimic her friend’s motions and sexy voice. There’s still an air of elegance and cutesiness in her projection that almost makes you giggle in amusement, but you wouldn’t dare—not when Yujin’s there, eying your little every move, growing impatient and testy, likely because she would pick her over you any day. 
Count your blessings.
It’s not difficult to get hard again, especially with the delicious sight in front of you. You finally rid the pesky dress shirt they’ve never removed and expose yourself down to your barest essentials. Positioning yourself between their legs, you stroke your cock with your hand, paint flecks of precum on their round cheeks, warming yourself up to embrace their heat. It’s impossible not to give their flesh a good smack as a reminder that their clean image is nothing more than just that—an image, a facade. You know them more intimately than anyone else.
“You two are so fucking hot,” you say, peppering their asses with a palmful, first to Yujin, then to Wonyoung. “And so naughty. I wonder what those people would say when they see you looking like this?” 
“What did I tell you about kissing ass during sex, sweetheart?” Yujin shoots pointed daggers in your direction, unamused. Wonyoung’s not innocent either, following her senior’s eyes with an intrigued gaze. “Put it in already, babe.”
And that was all she said. 
It only takes a moment before Yujin falls back to earth. All of her confidence instantly crumbles as you line yourself between her folds, then promptly invade her tight, welcoming pussy, foregoing all manner of pleasantries. She’s as warm and divine as you always wanted her, made easier and slicker by all the juices dripping and flowing down her toned legs. Her face rolls and slams against the surface, yet it can barely contain her strained cries of pleasure. Frantic nails scratch against the board’s edge as her body reacts to every little jolt, surrendering herself to your every whim.
You don’t leave Wonyoung unattended either. You slip a finger between her soaked lips, watch as her sweet, innocuous face crumbles into something lewd, something corrupted. Her eyes immediately go shut and her mouth goes wide with a whine a pitch higher than her senior before they melt into the desk. She’s a bundled mess, moaning into her friend’s ear as her pussy graciously coats your fingers with thick sheens of slick.
“P-please, o-oh God—”
“F-fuck, f-fuck, aaaaah—”
Their combined voices of strained, distorted bliss, dripping from their pleasure-laden faces spur you on and motivate you to ruin them some more. It’s unbelievable how they present themselves out there with a clean image when they have the most salacious, lewd tongues in private. None of it makes sense, how they could wear skimpy clothing in the sight of the most esteemed and well-regarded people in the room and no one would bat an eye, and they certainly wouldn’t raise an eyebrow with how loud they are as they’re being pounded from behind.
None of that ultimately matters to you. You don’t see two big celebrities in front of you. You don’t see your girlfriend and her partner asking for sex. You only see two of the hottest girls you know demanding pleasure, and you’re more than willing to give them everything.
With one hand gripped on Yujin’s ass and two fingers on the other deep inside Wonyoung’s cunt, you dive in and indulge into their overwhelming wetness. This is the kind of sex you always preferred—without any banter, without any further demands, just mindless submission into each other’s heat, filling the air with only the most pornographic sounds and nothing else. There’s nothing the two can do in response, especially when their bodies are squirming and vibrating beneath you, tightly clinging on the desk for dear life, growing wetter with each pump into their wanton pussies.
Without any voices in your head giving you directions, you have free reign to toy with them, use them as your outlet of pleasure now. So you switch your position behind them, sliding your wet dick inside Wonyoung’s pussy and replacing your cock inside Yujin’s cunt with your fingers. Even as you skip a beat, they’re too enamored in their own pleasures to realize your sudden absence, and far preoccupied by the new presence in their loins to care. 
That’s the sequence you follow: mindlessly stroking yourself deep into their hot, drenched cunt while fingering the other, back and forth, ignoring the discomfort you feel in both your legs and fingers from this disruptive cycle. Your only regret is not being able to see the twisted expressions in their stained features without a mirror to revel in their perfect, pornographic image, but the chorus of moans accompanied by your flesh slapping against their flesh are more than enough of a validation. 
“Going to cum, fuck,” you quietly announce, not wanting to let one seize demand over the other, but their ears catch wind of your little words. They tilt their heads slightly upward, still in the throes of bodily pleasure.
“Please cum for me.”
“Cum inside me, baby.”
Distinct as their voices are, they’re indiscernible to your ears, especially when they’re so husky and strained. Using the last of your strength, you pull out of someone’s pussy, stroke your throbbing cock with your hand, gasping and grunting as you finally let go. Gripping the other hand on someone’s waist, thick streaks of seed stain both girls’ clothes and cheeks, coat reddish spots of pounded flesh, letting it drip down their butt and thighs, to their boots.
The two girls lie motionless on the desk while you cling to their waist, gasping for air, barely holding out after your powerful release. Their legs and ass glow with your freshly coated sheen under the orange lights of the bedroom, and they sparkle brighter than any diamond in the world. 
“You okay, sweetheart?” Yujin’s voice brings you back to reality. She’s the first to catch you in her embrace, cheekily smiling. 
Unable to muster up the strength to speak, you simply nod, head still spinning.
“Is it okay if I ask you a question?” Wonyoung asks, having unlatched herself from the table to join in the embrace, pecking your cheek with her soft lips. Your eyes glaze over the young beauty in response.
“Whose pussy was better? Mine or hers?”
A question you certainly have no answer to—nor do you have any intention of answering.
“I guess he’s still undecided,” says Wonyoung, turning to her senior, smirking. “Do you know?”
“Nope. I have no idea either.” Yujin’s sweet grin turns into the same, wicked smirk. 
Something’s wrong; you can feel it. You feel yourself staggering backward, saved only by their embrace of you. Yujin and Wonyoung kiss and moan into your body while moving you in the direction of the bathroom.
Possession of control swings back in their favor. They have you exactly where they want.
“Only one way to find out.”
—————
(A/N: Holy shit this one was an uphill one to create. I'm not a Wonyoung simp, not in the slightest even after writing this piece, but her SBS Gayo outfit made me feel some kind of way. Then there's Yujin being perfect as always. This is barely my new longest fic, topping out at a little over 12K words, and working on it became a chore at times. I only revisited this universe only because of those outfits and how good they looked together. Thank you for reading!)
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gloomy-prince · 4 months
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Original vs New RAINBOW! comic comparison!! It's not completely exhaustive but I've given some insight on the original version, just because it's fun to compare and they actually still have a lot of similarities despite it all! There's going to be a lot of jumping around though as some things happen in a different order. This will be long too, so it's under the cut!
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I will preface this by saying that even the newer pages are still a few years old and have been edited for the book release, but I couldn't be bothered to find where I saved them, so these versions are a little out of date. The most obvious difference is that Boo has pink eyes in them, where as now they are green. So, enjoy that tidbit I suppose.
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Boo recalls why she was demoted from waitressing
She was demoted for the same reason, though in the original, Boo is explaining this to the audience as she talks about her job. The original version had much, much more internal dialogue from Boo. The way that our comics work is that Sunny writes them in a novel form and I adapt them into a comic, rather than them being comic scripts from the get-go. This allows us to both work our own creative muscles in the process. So originally, I had not yet learned that different mediums call for different means of storytelling and I just copied a lot of her thoughts outright and put them directly into the comic, where as in the new version, I add in her internal dialogue pretty sparingly. So get used to lots of Boo's thoughts in the original.
Also, fun fact, in the original Boo has spilled coffee on me, Sunny, and one of my friends @mxbloodybooart on the left.
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Boo daydreams of dancing with a prince
Her daydream is much shorter and less immersive in the original version, only lasting a single panel. A lot of telling and not showing in the original due to getting so much of Boo's direct thoughts. She also bumps into Milo, but doesn't cause him to drop anything as she does in the new version.
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Mimi shows up at the cafe
In the original, this is Mimi's first appearance, where as now, Boo has already seen Mimi punch someone and her imagination has gone completely haywire over her, so she is pretty nervous to interact with her. Since Boo doesn't have any of this context in the original, she is merely intrigued by someone who has a style that stands out as much as she does, even if it's in a different way.
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Drunk Debbie sleeping on the couch
Our first style change in the original version! Really a style evolution though.
Technically this page is pretty similar, but with a much more devastating line from Boo in the new version along with several cans around to imply Debbie probably passed out drunk, where as in the original you really only see her asleep on the couch. Boo also still has the same cute little teddy bear backpack in the original.
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Boo takes the bus to school
Boo is implied to be bullied in the new version and utilizes her imagination to drown it out, while in the original she merely talks about feeling different. The bunny head on her shirt is a callback to the bunny shirt she's wearing in the original. Sunny and I are cameoing in both versions as the students sitting in the seat in front of Boo, featuring egg!me in the original version as I was probably 15 when I drew it. It also still apparently rains on her way to work in the original version, although this is never seen because she takes the bus to work rather than bike as she does now, so who knows why she called that out.
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Boo daydreams in class
Boo daydreams that her classmates are monsters, though in the original, she also dreams that she is a princess. Some of the monster designs were kept. She doesn't get in trouble for calling her teacher a witch (even though she does still say that, it's only in her imagination) but for laughing and spacing out during class instead.
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Boo sees Mimi at school
Originally Boo does not see Mimi punch another student, but rather hears her arguing with the principal after the fact about why she did it and then sees her leave the office. This is also not the first time she's seen Mimi, so she recognizes her, where as this is Mimi's first appearance in the new version.
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Boo meets with Mr Dahl
Since she was not a witness to the altercation between Mimi and the other student in the original, her visit with Mr Dahl is much shorter, only concerning her getting in trouble in math class. Mr Dahl is the same character, but in the original he was the principal, and now he's the dean. Also Mimi apparently KNOCKED SOMEONE'S TEETH OUT in the original, where as now she just gave him a bloody nose, so let's just hope Boo is exaggerating here.
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Boo mistakes another student in the hall for Mimi
Pretty similar, though the student she bumps into is more of a jerk in the original.
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Boo is plagued by daydreams of Mimi
Pretty good example of how the over reliance on internal dialogue diminished the actual story. Originally there is only one shot of Boo seeing Mimi at school, which very well could have been the real Mimi, and Boo simply saying she was seeing her when she wasn't there, so we have to take her word for it. In the new version, she might plausibly think she is seeing her at first, only to start seeing more and more of her to the point of seeing multiple Mimi's in the same place, making it clear that they can't all be real, or that possibly none of them are real. The only dialogue is Boo expressing confusion.
and oh, look at that! another cameo of egg!me and Sunny in the original, waving at each other in the hallway! I am also cameoing in the new version as a student sleeping at the desk in the fourth period panel, but Sunny is not.
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Milo tries to cover for Boo
Art style change again! You might notice this one is finally starting to look more similar to my current style than the previous ones, as it all evolved from here...
Originally, Milo accidentally scares Boo and causes her to drop some plates, where as now, Boo bumped into Milo while having her princely dancing daydream and made him drop the plates. Clarice was originally pretty eager to accept Milo's lie and allow Boo a second chance at waitressing while now, Clarice asks Boo to admit the truth before she is willing to give her any chances. Clarice now is also dressed in green to differentiate her as the owner/manager.
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Boo gets to be a waitress again
An obvious homage to the original version, the layout is almost exactly the same, and even some of the customers are the same. Another really good example of how much internal dialogue there was in the original compared to now.
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Boo serves Mimi her coffee
This one is not all that different aside from the fact that originally, Boo was already delivering the coffee before she knew who it was for, just which table, where as now, Boo knows beforehand that it's for Mimi and is nervous the whole time. This is the final page in the original version, so I made the final panel in the new one as an homage to it. The color scheme was also finally really starting to expand on this last page compared to the colors in the beginning.
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A Fresh Start [1]
Din Djarin x F!Reader
Warnings: use of fake name, reader is hiding from a shady past
Word Count: 4,506
Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn't meant for everyone.
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Chapter #01: TWO PORGS, ONE BLASTER
Chapter Summary: The Marshal is looking to hire a nanny, and you just so happen to be moving into the city.
“remember to live while you’re busy surviving.” -d.j.
Din Djarin was busier these days than he ever had been before. Even compared to years ago, when he was picking up dozens of bounty pucks and collecting quarries left and right, it was nothing compared to now. If he had known that being Nevarro's marshal would be so hectic, he may have never accepted it. At the thought, he sighed. That was a bold faced lie. He still would’ve taken the job in a heartbeat because the pay was better than anything he had ever made previously. Speaking strictly in terms of credits, it was significantly less than the various bounties he’d pick up, but the job brought him peace of mind. It brought safety to Grogu. More than just safety, it gave the child the opportunity to grow and learn in an environment where he wasn’t at risk. They had settled here a couple of months ago, and for most of that time Grogu had been happy and free of night terrors. It was a blessing Din couldn’t quantify. He’d work every second of every day if it meant the child grew up safe and loved.
At the thought of his son, he picked up his pace toward the repair shop run by Peli who had ventured from the sands of Tatooine to the growing and thriving Nevarro. She was usually the one who watched Grogu while he was working. When Peli couldn’t, there were a handful of others in town who were more than happy to help out. Din was eternally grateful that the community was willing to go above and beyond as a favor to him. In the beginning, he had actually brought Grogu with him on the job. It wasn’t absurd. Back in the day, when his journey with Grogu first began, he brought the child along on bounties. A day in the life of a small community Marshal was actually quite tame in comparison. Still, that wasn’t normal, and Din wanted normal. School would be starting up soon, as summer ended, and Din was excited to get Grogu enrolled.
He had a stable job and they had a home. Starting Grogu's education was the next step in establishing picture perfect normalcy.
The loud noise of Peli’s shop filled the air as he got closer. All three of the garage’s hanger doors were lifted and open, and Din could see it had been a busy day for the mechanic. Ships, speeder bikes, droids. There was a large collection of mechanical works being actively repaired.
“Peli! Marshal's here!” A mechanic barked out the moment he stepped into the garage. Din turned his way, but the employee didn’t bother looking up from the work they were occupied with.
Din pressed further into the shop. Helmet glanced around, looking for a blur of chaotic green, but his eyes didn’t land on his son. “Mando!” Din spun in place as the curly haired woman marched up to him. Peli was one of the few people in Nevarro who didn't refer to him as Marshal. She said she didn't want it to go to his head. Other mechanics dove out of the way to avoid her path. Though she was short in stature, Peli could command a room with voice alone. Her jumpsuit was covered in splotches of engine oil. “Took you long enough!”
“Peli.” Din nodded in greeting. “Where’s Grogu?”
“Your son,” Peli jabbed a finger in his direction, “ate a handful of bolts today.”
Din stiffened. “He what!? Where is he?”
“Just joking. He didn’t.”
“Peli, that isn’t funny.”
“It’s not a joke.”
Din resisted the urge to palm the front of his helmet into his hands. He let out a weathered sigh, “Did he eat metal bolts or didn’t he?”
“Not today. No telling about tomorrow.” Peli scoffed. “This shop is no place for a kid! I’ve been telling you that for weeks now!”
Din set his hands on his hips. “No, you haven't.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking it!”
The sound of familiar babbling alerted him to his son’s presence, and Din turned in time to see Grogu quickly waddling in his direction. Argument with Peli forgotten, he grinned and scooped up the child who continued to babble enthusiastically.
“Hey there, you little womp rat.” Din rubbed his belly and Grogu wrapped his arms around his hand in response. The sound of his laugh made Din chuckle himself. As important as his goal of normalcy was, Din missed the uninterrupted time he used to have with his son. There was a lot wrong with their previous adventures, a lot of danger, but nothing beat the long days in hyperspace and hiding where his only responsibility was to care for the child. “I heard you’ve been giving Peli trouble.”
Grogu laughed again⏤ not even attempting to hide his guilt. Peli wagged her finger in his direction once more. “You see? It’s only a matter of time until he swallows one of my tools. Then what would we do? I’d be a tool short!”
“I’m sorry, Peli.” Din chuckled. “School will be starting up soon. You won’t have to watch him during the day then.”
“He’ll still need watching after, won’t he? Your work day isn’t done until evening!” Peli argued. “And what about the nights when you get called into work?”
Din winced, but he kept his head still so Peli wouldn’t notice. She wasn’t wrong. There had been a handful of times when Din's presence was required at the station and he was forced to drop Grogu off with Peli in the dead of night. She lived in a small apartment beside the shop, and her shop was on the way from their home to the station. Stopping to leave Grogu with her was too easy to resist. It wasn't like he could leave the child at home alone.
Grogu began to tap on the side of Din’s helmet and he began to bounce the child in his arms to distract him. “I’m sorry, Peli. I really appreciate everything you do for us. You know that, right?” Peli waved his words away with a huff. As brash and grumpy as the woman could be, especially on a busy day, he knew Peli loved spending time with Grogu and he knew that complaints aside she’d always be willing to help out. It was why he was so grateful for her. “My hands are tied right now. I don’t know what else I can do.”
“Hire someone, you lug!” Peli scoffed. “Get a live-in nanny.”
“Live-in nanny?” Din questioned, not bothering to hide his skepticism.
“Yeah. Someone who can watch little bright eyes around the clock when you can’t. Someone who’ll be there at 3AM when you get called into the office. Why do I gotta come up with all the good ideas around here?”
Din didn’t love the idea, but he couldn’t deny the merits of it. Once upon a time, he would’ve shot it down immediately. However, he wasn’t who he once was. Din had learned that going out on a branch to trust someone didn’t always end bloody. The community was filled with people Din had taken a chance on and was rewarded in his risk. He had friends he trusted, and they never would've been in his life if he hadn't taken the risk in the first place.
“Where…” Din cleared his throat. “Where would I even find one?”
“Whoop, whoop!” Din and Peli both turned to see a mechanic a few feet away. They had been buried under a speeder bike but jumped up in excitement. Dirty goggles hung around her neck and the light pink color of her skin made the black grease stains stand out more. “Howdy, Marshal Mando.”
“Nima.” Din greeted with a nod. He didn’t know every single person who worked for Peli, but Nima was Peli’s right hand mechanic. The young Twi’lek was extraordinary with a wrench if Peli was to be believed, and Din knew it took a lot to impress the older woman. “How are you?”
“Real swell.” Nima stepped closer, rubbing her hands on a rag tucked into her overall pocket. “Not to be nosy, but I heard you got a job that needs filling and I have a cousin who needs a job.” Din tilted his head and waited for her to elaborate. “My cousin is moving here⏤ well, let me clarify, she’s not my actual cousin by blood. We’re cousins by marriage. Her mom’s sister married my mom’s brother. We⏤ wait, they actually got divorced like a year ago so I don’t know if we technically⏤”
“Nima!” Peli barked. “The point!”
“Right, right, right.” Nima shook her head. “My maybe not cousin is moving to town, and she’s looking for work.”
Din lifted a hand to lightly grasp Grogu’s hands as the kid tried to pry his helmet up. “Does she have experience with kids?”
“Oh, absolutely!” Nima nodded. “She’s a superstar with kids. Total magic.”
Peli slapped her hand against the beskar of his chest plate then pointed at him. Din sighed and gave them both a slight nod. “I’d be willing to meet her, but that’s it. No promises.”
“She’ll be in town by the end of the week!” Nima cheered. “I’ll bring her around!”
Grogu began to whine, and Din thanked both women before making his way out of the garage. It was time for dinner and the child was quick to get fussy when a meal wasn’t on its way. Plus, Grogu had gotten accustomed to nights in the privacy of their home when Din would remove his helmet. It had become a part of their routine.
“Buir, buir, buir.” Grogu chanted.
“I know, I know.” Din chuckled as he unlocked the front door. Once in, he used his free hand to pull his helmet off and tucked it under his elbow with a smile.
Grogu patted his face in excitement. “Buir!”
“Let’s get some dinner ready, ad’ika.” Din stepped further in. Hearing Grogu speak Mando’a warmed his heart. Hearing him speak at all warmed his heart, really. Din was convinced his son knew more basic and Mando’a than he’d shown. The few things he did say he only said in the safety of their home. Another reason Din was excited for school to start, he hoped it’d excite Grogu into speaking more.
Din set the boy down so he could move around the kitchen easier, and he couldn’t bite back the smile of ease on his face. He loved his life, he loved his son, and Din didn’t think things could get more perfect than what it was right now. He just hoped adding in a new face wouldn’t disrupt their routine.
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You absentmindedly let your fingers trace the ugly, jagged scar along your collarbone. The wound had healed months ago, but there was something about the rough skin that haunted you. It didn’t hurt. If anything the tissue there was numb, and that bothered you more than anything else. For some reason, it felt wrong that you weren’t in pain.
The transport ship rumbled to a stop as it landed, and it snapped you back into the moment. You straightened in your seat and glanced out the window. A year and a half ago nobody ever spoke of Nevarro. It had been a blip in the Outer Rim for bounty hunters and those hiding from the New Republic. Now, it was a bustling trade post flourishing with life. From where your ship sat on the landing pad, you could see the white and gray buildings of Nevarro stretching out into the black, glassed land of the mountains that sat on the edge of the lava plains. It still wasn't a very large community. Not yet, at least. Your eyes scanned the land beside the landing pad. You had lived in the beautiful greenery of Naboo, the bustling cities of Coruscant, and the sandy dunes of Tatooine. This was vastly different in comparison.
You let a few others leave before rising yourself. As you followed the very small crowd off the ship you stretched your legs out best you could without stopping. It had been a long trip from Mos Espa to Nevarro. The second your feet stepped onto the landing pad you heard your name being screamed by a familiar voice. It was almost odd to hear it said aloud after so much time, but the voice of your old friend kept you from flinching. A broad smile crossed your features and you barely had time to turn before you were tackled in a hug.
“Oh, I missed you so much!” Nima cheered in your ear. She squeezed you tight enough that all you could manage was a small pat on her back considering she had your arms pinned to your side.
“I missed you too.” You wheezed. “And now I’m beginning to miss air.”
Nima released you, taking a step back, and you sucked in a large breath. She bounced in place, her pink lekku whipping around her, “I’m so happy you’re finally here! It’s been way, way too long!” It was true, and seeing Nima brightened your mood significantly. “How was your trip-”
The beginnings of your name began to slip from her mouth, but your hand snapped out to cover her lips. Her eyebrows rose in confusion, and you just offered her a sheepish smile. "Soran. Call me Soran. Remember?" Her eyes widened and you could see a flash of regret in her eyes. She had simply forgotten. "It's okay. No biggie. Just... Soran, okay?"
"I'm so sorry. I just got so excited." Nima apologized. "Don't worry, I didn't use your real name with anyone in town or anything." You nodded and made your way to where luggage was being placed on the landing pad from the storage bin. Nima walked a step behind you. You scooped up your bag, wrapping it around your shoulders, and Nima looped one arm through yours. "I'm so happy you're here."
The words were said with such sincerity that it warmed your heart. It made you wish you had taken her up on her offer ages ago. She began to drag you across the landing pad toward the start of the town. Her cheery attitude and happy-go-lucky demeanor was contagious. She was talking up a storm, something about work, while you gazed at the street you walked down. The path was paved and the street was filled with people milling about happily. A few vendors sold goods in the open at stalls, and you could hear the music of a band from further down the street. It was a cozy and warm atmosphere, and it wasn't the kind of place you expected Nima to settle down.
You met Nima during your teenage years when part of her family married part of yours. The two of you had grown close and without a doubt she was one of your closest friends. Family really. It was why at your absolute lowest you had caved and accepted her invitation to join her in Nevarro. Nima worked at a local mechanic shop which turned out to be her calling. She had always been good at tinkering with anything mechanical, but she was thriving under the instruction of the woman she worked for. At least, that's what she was constantly telling you. Nima had found her happy place, and you were ecstatic for her.
“⏤and Peli is still awesome.” Nima continued. “When we're not busy, she's letting me work on this old Razor Crest with her. It's some sort of secret project and the ship is in really bad shape, but I'm learning so much. It’s the best job ever.”
“That’s amazing, Nima.”
“Oh! And speaking of awesome jobs, I got you one.”
Your eyes widened. “Huh?”
“A job and a place to live. I got it covered.”
“Wow. I’m…seriously impressed, Nima. So, that means your boss is okay with me helping around the shop with inventory and stuff?”
Nima paused, then cursed in her native tongue. “I knew I was forgetting to do something. I was supposed to ask Peli about you.”
“If you didn’t ask her if I could work there, then where am I working?” You questioned in confusion.
“So, the Marshal has this super cute kid, and he needs a round the clock nanny.” Nima gave you a thumbs up. You blinked in shock, unable to find the words to voice your disbelief. She took this as a victory cheered. “I knew you’d love it.”
You shook your head. “No, no. This is a bad idea.”
“What? No way.” Nima shook her head with a pout. “You need a job and you need a place to live. I got you both in one. Two porgs, one blaster.”
“I⏤That’s⏤You said it wrong.” You said.
Nima furrowed her brow at you. “No, I think you just don’t get it. It means, like, you have two problems, the two porgs, and one solution takes care of both. One blaster.”
“It’s two porgs, one stone.”
“Why would I use a stone to hit a porg when I have a blaster?”
“You wouldn’t, but if you had a blaster you could shoot way more than just two porgs.”
“Yeah, but you only have two porgs right now.”
You waved your arms in the air as if you could swipe away the pointless argument. “This is⏤ No. We're done with that. My point is, this is not a good idea. I’ve never been a nanny before. The last time I baby-sat a kid was literally ages ago, and it was for a few evenings. I didn't live with the kid or the family.”
“You’re great with kids. I’ve seen it!” Nima argued in your favor.
“Being good with kids is not the same as helping raise one.”
Nima shrugged. “Nuance. Besides, everything else in town right now is part time work and you said you wanted a full time job.” You had said that. The more time you spent busy, the less time you had to think. That was the plan at least Bury yourself in pointless work. “I mean, you could pick up the job of local physician.”
You stiffened. “Nima⏤”
“Our main doctor sucks. Like you wouldn’t believe. Laziest asshole this side of the Outer Rim. It's the one fault of Nevarro in my opinion.” Nima scoffed. “You would do so much better⏤”
“Don’t.” You said firmly, and Nima grew quiet. “I’m not… I’m not doing that right now. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m not allowed to⏤ to⏤” You cleared your throat. “I’m not allowed to practice medicine until the trial is over. Officially.”
Nima squeezed your arm. “The trial will be over before the year's end, at the latest, and there is no way they aren’t throwing that kriffing asshole in jail for the rest of his miserable life.” This was the exact thing you wanted to avoid. It’s literally why you ran away in the first place. “Nothing about what happened was your fault.”
“Nima, can we not?” You blurted. “I just…” Your lungs felt heavy and even though you were more than capable of breathing none of the air you sucked in was rewarding. “Tell me more about the job. The Marshal’s kid.”
Nima shot you a concerned look before nodding. “Right.” She forced a smile onto her face. “He’s a Mandalorian and his son is a 50 year old precious, green gremlin.”
“Um, what?”
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Nevarro was shockingly beautiful. You had heard it was, and that it was slowly becoming a staple of the Outer Rim, but hearing it was different than seeing it with your own eyes. The population was about four thousand and it was constantly growing. Every single person you passed took the time to greet Nima, and she took the time to introduce you. It hadn’t been an exaggeration when Nima said it was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone. The two of you emptied out at the end of a street into a large, open plaza. In it's center sat a tall bronze statue of a droid.
“That's the Magistrate's building.” Nima pointed to the tall, intricate building behind the droid statue. It was active with people going up and down the stairs that led into the building. “Magistrate Karga is super cool. He used to hand out bounties to hunters. Wild shit.”
“So, the Magistrate was an Agent of the Bounty Hunters’ Guild and your Marshal is an actual Mandalorian?”
Nima nodded. “The Marshal's Deputy used to be a Shock Trooper.”
“Wow. I’m not sure I’m qualified to even live here.” You mumbled.
“Don’t be silly. You’ll fit right in.” Nima slotted her hand into yours and began to drag you down the street. She had taken you to her small apartment first, to give you time to set down your belongings and wash up, but she was quick to pull you back out into the streets. It was cute how eager she was to show you around Nevarro, and you could tell between her and everyone you met how proud they were of their community.
Nima pointed out a few shops as you passed, but it was clear that her aim was to take you to the Marshal's station. You shot her a dry look that she only grinned at in response.
“Seriously?”
“He needs somebody super soon and you need a job. Plus, a place to live. You think I want you on my couch for the rest of your life?”
You shoved her with a laugh. “I haven’t slept on your couch a single night yet, and you’re already tired of me?”
“Just come on.” Nima dragged you building nestled amongst others. It was decorated similar as the rest of the town with white bricks and dark blue flags.
The Marhsal's station wasn’t overly large. Outside, parked to the side, were a few speeders and inside the front doors was a small lobby with a woman sitting behind a desk. Nima greeted her by name, introducing you in a rush, before pulling you through. The receptionist didn’t seem surprised by this behavior and didn’t make the moves to stop either of you. You wondered if Nima came barging in here often. Was she close to the Marshal?
The hallway from the lobby led into a clean and brightly lit room. The back wall was made of windows where the lava plains could be seen since the station was at the edge of town, and there were three desks planted in the center of the room. Off to the left side were two cells, cordoned off with silver bars, and you found yourself happy to see no one was currently being held in custody. Despite having the cells present, the entire room had a casual feel to it. A dart board was hung up on a wall, darts sticking out of it, and the desks were covered in office supplies and holopads.
“What’re you doing here, trouble maker?”
“Cara!” Nima cheered as a large woman stepped into the room from a different door. She untangled her hand from yours to rush over and greet this Cara woman with a hug. She was tall and broad, and the tattoo band around her right upper arm hinted to you that this must be the Deputy Nima mentioned earlier. The ex-shock trooper. She surely looked like someone who used to work in that line of action. “I brought my cousin by to say hello!”
Cara’s dark eyes rolled over to you in amusement. “Yeah. I see the family resemblance.”
"This is Soran." Nima introduced you with the name you had adopted months ago for the sake of anonymity. “And this is Deputy Cara Dune. Resident badass.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” You offered your hand. “Can I call you Cara or do you prefer Deputy badass or…?”
Cara chuckled. “Cara works.”
“Where is everyone?” Nima glanced around the room. “I’m looking for Marshal Mando.”
“Hey, Mando!” Cara yelled back through the door she came in from. She marched past the two of you to drop down into a chair at a desk. She rested her hands behind her head and casually kicked up her legs. “Our generator out back keeps cutting out.”
Nima's eyes widened, curious, “Oh, yeah?”
“It’s been a wreck since early this morning.”
“Cara, it’s making that noise again. Can you call Peli?” A deeper, modulated voice called out. You straightened in your posture as a Mandalorian dressed in silver beskar stepped into the room. Everything you knew about Mandalorians came from legend and stories. You had never met one before. The Marshal’s broad figure and confident, yet casual pace, screamed power. A blaster was hooked to his hip. He was the picture of intimidation, and you’d find yourself nervous if it weren’t for the baby carrier strapped around his chest⏤ the one with a large eared, small green toddler tucked safely in place. It cooed happily with his hands wrapped around the fingers of the Mandalorians gloved hand.
Nima clapped her hands. “Don’t bother Peli! I’ll fix it right now!”
“I’ll show you where it’s at.” Cara pushed up.
You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out and you watched in shock as your friend abandoned you with the Mandalorian and child. You blinked in shock, mouth held open. Suddenly, Nima stuck her head back in the room. “Oops. Mr. Marshal Mandalorian, this is my cousin I was telling you about.” She grinned at you. “Cousin, this is the mighty Marshal Mandalorian and his adorable green bean child I told you about.”
With no further words, she left once more. You were gonna kill her. Most definitely. The sound of a throat clearing made your eyes snap back to the man standing across from you. His silver helmet had a t-shaped visor of black glass that gave you no hint at the expression he wore. The two of you just stared at one another for a long moment. Awkward silences were the bane of your existence and you tried to avoid them at all costs. To a fault, arguably. You thrust a hand out to him with a nervous smile. "Hi. You can call me Soran. I'm the cousin Nima always talks about, but I'm not her actual cousin, er..."
"Right." The Mandalorian replied. He shook your hand. "Call me Mando."
"Mando? Like, short for Mandalorian?" You chuckled, and he didn't reply. You rubbed your hands against your pants. Thank the Maker, he had been wearing gloves and couldn’t feel your clammy palms. If you hadn't already decided to murder Nima for abandoning you in this situation, you would've chosen to do it for offering your services to this man. A service you weren't even qualified for. Still, you needed work, a lot of it, and if this was your best option you'd do what you'd have to. “So, is this your son?”
At the question, the child began to babble happily. His adorable, nonsensical words were a good distraction from beating yourself up over asking such a stupid question.
“Yes. This is Grogu.” He responded. The modulator gave his voice a husky quality that was hard not to notice. Grogu was still babbling, but now he released his father’s hands to reach out to you. He opened and closed his hands in a grabbing motion and at the small child’s request you couldn’t help but lift a hand up to him. Grogu grasped at your finger and you offered him a small smile. “Nima says you’re looking for a job.”
Your eyes snapped up from the kid to Mando. “Uh, yes. I am.” It was silent between the two of you again, save for Grogu’s happy voice. “To be honest though…" Your brain screamed at you to lie. Tell him you had an extensive history of babysitting and were well suited for the job. However, lying had never come natural to you. It always left a terrible taste in your mouth. You sighed, "I’m by no means a professional nanny. I’m actually not even an amateur one.” Mando didn’t respond or move his head in any way to hint his thoughts. You cleared your throat. “What I mean is, I like kids, and I’m responsible enough to keep one alive." You winced at your wording. "I just- I’m a quick learner and I'm dedicated to the work I put my mind to.” Grogu tilted his head in the cutest manner you had ever seen, but his father stayed silent. You let out a low whistle. “I am not doing a very good job of selling myself, am I?”
As seconds passed, you were tempted to throw yourself out the back window and find the nearest river of lava to jump into. Just to hide from your embarrassment. Finally, he spoke, “Where are you from?”
Your eyes widened at the direction his question took this conversation. “Oh. Naboo. I was born there, grew up there too, but I lived in Coruscant for a long, long time. Only recently moved to Mos Espa on Tatooine. That's where I just came from.”
“What kind of work do you usually do?”
As if this casual interview couldn’t get worse. You rolled various answers around in your head before settling on the best thing you could. “I worked in a medical clinic.” He was quiet and you assumed that meant he wanted more. As much as you hated lying, as terrible as it made you feel, this was a necessity you reminded yourself. This kind of lie wouldn't hurt anyone. It would protect you, keep you safe. “Receptionist." You blurted. "I scheduled appointments, re-supplied the stock, counted out credits. That kind of stuff.”
“Work…keeps me busy.” Mando said. “I just need someone else around. Keep an eye on the kid while I’m out and sometimes at night if I get called in.” Your eyebrows rose. “I haven’t ever hired a nanny before. I’m... not sure what it’s supposed to entail or the usual pay. I just need help.”
You nodded. “I can do that. I can be helpful. I’m not sure of the pay either, but I’m also not picky. Maybe just a trial period, and see how it goes? A learning curve for both of us.”
Mando nodded in agreement and held out a hand for you to shake. A sigh of relief left you and you tried to pull your hand away from Grogu who refused to let go of your fingers. You lifted your opposite hand to awkwardly grasp his outstretched hand and shook it once. You didn't quite know how to feel about this acquisition. This wasn't where you thought your life would end up. The thought of starting this job filled your belly with nervous energy. You had to succeed at this. Honestly, you were just happy the Mandalorian was willing to give you a chance. More than anything that was what your life needed. A chance. An opportunity. A fresh start. On the plus side, learning how to do a completely new job would be a good enough distraction from your past, surely.
A/N: if you see this on AO3 and think ‘omg she stole this’, I promise I didn’t. That’s me on AO3 too. Pinky swear.
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yellowflowerbub · 10 months
Text
small business
꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷
summary. you and gojo run the snacks stand for your class together
wordcount. 1k
pairing(s). teen!gojo satoru x reader
tag(s). friendly banter, gender neutral reader
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The school festival is busy. Students scurry through the building and the outskirts of the premises like rodents, every inch of the school from closet to hallway is drenched in the stench of school spirit. Silence is something you won’t hear until you return home as the whole of the student body fills the air with inaudible conversation. 
The room you inhabit has little to no decoration, in comparison to the rooms adjacent to your own, the classroom is wholly bare. The stand you’ve thrown together consists of brands of sweets organized at random. In front of the table is a sign that reads, “Candy 400 Yen Each”. Running the stand and sitting behind the table along with you is Gojo Satoru. He doesn’t appear to be any more elated to run the stand than you are.
“Can’t we just pack up?” Gojo groans, he’s been steadily complaining for the better of an hour. It’s almost admirable how someone can remain this verbally annoyed for this long.
“No, we haven’t gotten anywhere near our class’ goal.” You reiterate while recounting how much you’ve earned as of now. 1,600 yen. 19,400 yen to go.
He whines, leaning back in his chair, “But we’re nowhere near getting to our class goal!” 
“I just said that.”
“How can they expect us to get that much money in a day from these kids? Everyone keeps walking past our room ‘cause it looks like there’s no one in here.” He twists around in his chair restlessly, kicking up his legs over the armrest and planting them back onto the floor, folding his legs under one another before pulling his knees up to his chest.
“That’s a great idea, Gojo. You should go out and tell people that there actually is a stand in this room.” You suggest, pushing on his shoulder as you do.
His glasses plummet to the tip of his nose as he jerks out of his seat, “I can’t do that! They’d just walk past me. I’d rather jump off the roof than have an underclassman ignore me and chase after them. God that sounds humiliating.” 
You don’t bother responding to him. At some point amongst the nagging, a student wanders through the door. Gojos eyes shoot to the student then to you. 
“Hi, we’re selling sweets for our school's fundraiser. Everything we’ve got is on this table.” You gesture to the array of candy. 
The student looks nervous, almost unreasonably nervous for the circumstances. They feel around in their pants pockets and pull a few coins from one of the back ones. “Can I buy two chocolates?” They ask holding up the coins in one hand and a two in the other. 
“Sure, that’s 800 yen. You can drop it in that jar to your right.” 
They hum, grabbing the candy and flipping the coins in their respected place. 
Gojo looks antsy. The tips of his thin fingers drum on his thigh and his poor posture, fixed eyes, and chattering teeth make him look predatory. Too bad this energy is directed toward the kid who looked like they’d shit themselves before they came in. 
“Why stop at two pieces of chocolate? We have too much shit to only grab one thing.” He speaks like a salesman, a stark change in tone from the groaning and whining senior he made himself out to be a moment ago. 
“Oh,” They sound startled, “Well, I’m just not that.. hungry.” 
“Bullshit,” They jump, “I know an exhausted student when I see one.” He does not.
“Really, I promise I’m not tired at all.” They stammer yet Gojo persists.
“Look at those bags under your eyes, you must not have had any sleep last night. Boy have I got just the thing you need.” At this point, you’re sure this is the cap on how much money you’ll be making today.
“If I put more money in, will you let me leave?’
“Yes.”
Without another word the student drops the rest of what remained in their hand straight into the donation jar and leaves as quickly as they’d come. You resist a strong urge to drag your hands down your face. 
“Dude.”
“Yup?”
“You’re so oblivious it’s infuriating.”
Gojo scoffs, “I am not! You’re too much of a pushover to see when a customer needs to be pushed a bit.”
“‘Pushed a bit’ is an extreme understatement. You nearly made that kid shit themself.” You outstretched to tip the donation jar toward yourself, “Speaking of shit, stop swearing while we’ve got customers.”
His countenance twists into one of genuine confusion, it hadn’t wrapped around his diminutive mind how he could come off as pushy. In his eyes, some people, especially those younger than himself, needed a little push, “Really?”
“Yes.” You deadpan.
Despite his idiocy, Gojo is immensely intelligent in reading people. Of course you probably wouldn’t be making any more money if word gets out that some asshole is berating underclassmen for the few bucks they’d brought to spend however, that kid was loaded.
“Holy- that kid had 8,000 yen on them! We’re close to being done with this now!”
You could see Gojo being physically inflated with pride. With his pointer finger he nudges his shades further up the bridge of his nose, “See?” 
You continue to count the money once more.
“I’m like, the best at reading people.” He boasts, “If it were just you here, you would’ve let everyone waltz out that door without asking them for anything else. I’m just too good. Maybe I should look into sales.” It looks like he'll burst if he pumps his pride any further. You might not be able to drag him down to earth, he’ll continue to drift away until his ego is out of plebeian reach.
“Do you think I’d look good as a car salesman? Hm~?”
“Absolutely not, stick to sorcery.” He deflates. 
“Damn! You’re so ruthless. I’ve got some feeling in my heart!”
“Unfortunately, most of it is complete and utter idiocy.”
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a/n: in honor of the new jjk season coming out
Feedback and Reblogs are Appreciated!
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bots-and-cons · 4 months
Note
Knockout, Breakdown and Soundwave x reader that has self healing abilities. Basically she could lose an arm and then within the hour it’s showing signs of growing back or maybe she loses the entire lower half of her body but she’s just acting like it’s another Tuesday.
How do you think they would react?
Uuu this sounds fun, just another spark attack for the cons. I ended up watching Deadpool while writing this so this might be kind of inspired by that. I didn’t do Breakdown, just didn’t feel like it and I just wanted to post something
Warnings: Gore-ish description of injury?
~Soundwave~
•When you got hurt, he was understandably pretty freaking shocked
•He didn’t even really get upset at first, because he was in too much of a shock
•He just stood there looking down at your body that had somehow gotten cut in half
•Your lower body was thrown in one direction and your upper body in another
•Soundwave just glanced between the two parts a couple of times, before the realization started to settle in
•But then the top part of you pushed itself up with its arms
•You pretty much went like “Ow!” very overdramatically and pushed yourself into an upward position
•That’s when Soundwave noticed there was very little blood and that you didn’t really seem very bothered by the whole thing
•He scooped you up and hurried to get you away from the fighting, picking up your lower body in the process too
•He was obviously quite distressed, seeing you so hurt, but you didn’t seem panicked or in pain
•You notice his panic and start calming him down, telling him you’re okay and that you’ll heal
•Soundwave is pretty confused, because he thought humans were very fragile and easy to hurt/kill
•You ask him to just take you back to the Nemesis and that you’ll explain everything to him once he’s not in danger because of you distracting him 
•When you get back to the Nemesis you’ve already started regenerating, it’s honestly a bit disturbing, because it looks like you have the legs of a toddler
•You sit one the berth and you’ve wrapped yourself in a blanket as to not get cold, your pants are a bit big on your toddler legs
•Soundwave is understandably pretty weirded out but he’s just glad you’re not dead
•He can’t get the image of your cut in half body out of his head for a long while, it’s kind of traumatizing for him to be honest 
~Knockout~
•Knockout was understandably very upset when you got your arm cut off when he got attacked by the autobots
•You didn’t really seem to mind though, but he was on the verge of tears as he tried to figure out what to do
•You just told him to stop panicking and take a good look at your arm
•He stops panicking for just a moment and looks at your arm, it’s not bleeding and even though it’s now a stump, it looks healed?
•You tell him it’s gonna be just fine in a couple of hours and that it’s going to grow back
•He’s obviously quite confused, because that’s not supposed to happen, right?
•But would you look at that, it’s slowly growing back, first it’s like a baby hand, then like a child’s and finally it’s back to being the way it was before
•Knockout is obviously weirded out by this, since he’s never seen anything like it before
•And he’s seen a lot of weird stuff, even by his standards
•He doesn’t know any other humans, so he can’t say it’s wrong exactly, but he’s pretty sure it’s not how that’s supposed to work
•He’s of course never seen you or another human injured before, so he doesn’t really have comparison point
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politemenacephd · 5 months
Text
Arachnophilia (Part Three)
Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)
Chapter Masterlist 🕷️
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Contents (part three): Mating cycles, rutting, P in V sex, monster/human relationship, breeding kink, oral (reader recieving).
You're a new recruit to the spider society, and you've just been sent on your first mission on one condition: Do not contact Miguel's variant in this universe. When your mission goes wrong you break that rule very quickly, desperate for help, only to find that Miguel's variant here is not what you expected. He's stoic but kind, awkward but sincere, and he's also an enormous human-spider hybrid: a drider, both human and arachnid. You decide to continue seeing Miguel in secret, with the rest of the society unaware. You really want to stay friends after all. That is, until Miguel suddenly goes into a rut. Word count: 6836 notes: smut starts now pls enjoy lol
You didn’t tell Miguel about his variant, nor did you tell anyone else.
You didn’t know exactly why Miguel didn’t like him. Mig had suggested that it was some territorial display, but that seemed hard to believe. You supposed you would just have to live with the curiosity. You knew that any questions you asked Miguel would result in getting stonewalled, or worse, may lead to them finding out you’d broken a direct order.
So you kept your visits secret, and you kept them frequent, because in truth you liked this Miguel a lot. You certainly liked him more than anyone in the HQ. Not to say you disliked your other colleagues, but you enjoyed your time with him in a way you never had with them.
Miguel was strangely sweet. He was incredibly awkward, clearly lacking much social interaction since his unfortunate splicing incident, but he did his best to be kind and accommodating.
You spent full days when not on call just hanging around in the glade with him. At first you just talked, but over time you started getting up to more.
He took you on trips to the top of the forest where you could see the stars, even letting you ride on his back when you got tired. You sat beneath silk shields while it rained and dozed off at his side. You helped brush out the abdomen fur he couldn’t reach, and he in return helped massage your wrists when they got sore from webbing.
You brought him food and tech for him to experiment on, and he in turn brought you little items made of his silk. One time you mentioned that you’d run out of socks so he knitted you a pair, and another time he patched up your suit for free. He always said you attention was payment enough.
You’d started calling him Migs, and he’d started calling you ‘arañita’ as a show of friendship.
You were quickly falling head over heels for the man. He was undeniably handsome and just so attentive to you in ways no one else had ever been, it was hard not to crave him.
Today you were prepped to leave as usual. You hadn’t been called for any missions and you could see your superiors were also free, meaning they’d definitely get picked first if anything happened, making today a sure write-off.
In a quiet corridor you began inputting the location of Mig’s universe. You weren’t expecting anyone to come by here, but you were very unlucky.
‘What are you doing?’
You jumped as a man’s voice barked behind you. That voice was uncannily familiar now.
‘A-Ah, boss, hey!’
You spun to find Miguel staring down at you with his usual sour expression, his lips pursed and brows knotted. Nowadays he always seemed bothered by something. You offered him a polite smile.
‘Is- is everything okay, or—’
‘What are you doing?’
His bark of an order made you freeze. God, he was so different to your Mig. Spider Miguel almost never raised his voice. He was quiet, stoic, awkward but trying his best to be empathetic. This Miguel seemed so tightly wound in comparison.
‘I- I’m just, going home’ you said, shiftily hiding your watch. Miguel narrowed his eyes.
‘Why are you up here?’
‘I’m just… I’m just, getting out of the way so I can send a few messages before going’ you said, your politeness beginning to slip. You didn’t appreciate his prying.
He took a step closer, boxing you into the corner. You felt so small in his presence.
Then, to your confusion, he closed his eyes and breathed. It wasn’t normal breathing though, oh no, this was deep. It was long, drawn out, deliberate. Was he, smelling? Was he smelling you?
When he opened his eyes again, they were burning red, their light reflecting onto your cheek.
For just a brief moment your gut knotted with anxiety. Why wasn’t he moving? What was he going to do? You realized that in your attempt to be alone you’d wound up in a corridor corner with no other spiders around. How had he even known you were here? Was he following you?
‘Hmm.’
To your relief, Miguel grunted and withdrew. He looked even more tightly wound than before. ‘Just- be, safe’ he mumbled, and without another word he stormed away. His body looked rigid.
You wasted no time in drawing up a portal the second he was gone.
On the other side it was a beautiful evening, with the sky above radiating soft, deep shades of indigo and red. You hurried into the forest with just the light of your watch to guide your way.
You tried your best to forget Miguel as you followed the usual landmarks to Mig. The mushroom patch by the dead stump, the little winding brook you had to jump across, the patch of stones which you’d stacked to look like a tiny house.
Why was Miguel acting so weird? He’d never paid attention to you before. You’d felt like a fly in his space, an annoying gnat he was trying to push off onto anyone else, so to have him cornering and questioning you was absurd.
What had changed? Did he somehow know you were visiting his variant?
You frowned at that thought. Jesus, you weren’t a child. You didn’t have to obey him, this was your private, personal matter. Mig was your friend. You had a right to see him.
At last you entered the big clearing where you and Mig usually met to hang out. You were surprised to see he wasn’t there.
‘Mig?’
You called his name and kicked a few stones around. Where was he? You cried his name again and spun in a circle. ‘MIG! Mig!’
A soft, sweet breath suddenly hit your nape. You froze up.
You could feel his shadow at your back. You could feel the weight of his body, the brush of his breath. You could see the little hint that his eyes were close, as tiny, reflected shards of red light began to dance over your shoulder.
You grinned and spun around, wrapping your arms around his waist. You squeezed in tight to that familiar body.
‘Mig! You—ARGH!’
With a groan your body was smooshed into the dirt. His entire monstrous form came down on your frail chest, pinning you to the ground. His clawed human hands found your wrists and your throat, holding them in place, as his abdomen came down on your lower torso. He rustled slightly against you as you wheezed.
‘M-Mig?’ you croaked.
Your eyes met. His were burning red, almost bloodshot, wide and dilated. He panted on your face, his fangs bared. He hissed.
‘You… You…’
He panted those words a few times. He was shaking, you realized, like he was holding something back at great physical expense. After a moments silence he grunted and physically forced himself off.
‘Mierda- mierda, ah- I’m so sorry, arañita, I’m- so sorry.’
You shuffled into a sitting position. ‘Mig? What- are you okay?’
‘You need to go’ he insisted. He was pacing wildly now, drifting closer to you before hurrying back. It was like some invisible force was driving him back to your body.
It was only then that it clicked. The tension in his body, the heavy breathing, the dilated pupils and twitching abdomen. Your spider senses picked it up quickly once the panic died down.
‘Oh, you’re—’
He was rutting. Of course he was, you thought, as your face burned up with embarrassment. He was a spider after all. He was in breeding mode, and your presence must be an unbearable distraction.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t- want to conduct myself, poorly’ he grunted.
‘No, it’s okay- you, I mean you’re doing fine! I get it, it’s not your fault, you’re- you’re you, I get it. I can um- I mean is there anything I can do? To help? I could—’  
You tried to take a step forward, hoping to comfort him by taking his foreleg paw, but he pulled away. He’d never pulled away from you before.
‘No, that’s not- you, you’re making it worse’ he blurted.
Instinctively you frowned. ‘I’m- what do you mean I’m making it worse? I’m not, trying to—’
‘I’m sorry’ he blurted again, his hands raised. ‘I’m sorry, arañita, you- mm, fuck—’ He paused to scrape his claws down his face. They didn’t break the skin but it was clear he was trying to claw back some control. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. You’re right. You haven’t done anything. It’s not your fault, but you—’
He put his hand to his mouth, his eyes turning to the side. He looked horribly embarrassed.
‘You, you’re…’
‘I’m, what?’
He rubbed his jaw and groaned a little, as if it was painful to admit. ‘You- you’re in heat’ he hissed.
You blinked at him, too shocked to reply right away. ‘I… I’m, wh- I’m what?’
‘You’re in heat, arañita’ Miguel repeated through gritted teeth. ‘You’re- ovulating. I can smell it. The- you’re letting off, pheromones, and it’s…’
‘It’s setting you off’ you said, your voice wheezing as you said it. Miguel gave a mortified nod. Now both too embarrassed to face each other you turned and stared into the forest, your arms tightly folded as if they would hold you together. 
‘I’m sorry, Mig, I didn’t—’
‘You have nothing to be sorry about’ Miguel insisted. You began tapping your foot.
‘You- I would have understood, Mig. I DO understand. You could have told me.’
‘You’re my friend’ he insisted. ‘I didn’t want to make things weird, but I can’t… God, you smell so, good—’ Your heart thudded a little harder as Miguel turned in a circle, trying to hide his arousal.
‘I’m a pervert’ he hissed. ‘I’m a- filthy, pervert—’
‘What? No, you’re—’
‘I can’t lie.’
You paused at Miguel’s aggressive interruption. You could see his claws were out, his hands trembling as he struggled to maintain this polite conversation.
‘I can’t- lie, even if I wanted to. It’s not in my nature. So listen to me. Listen to me clearly.’
You slowly nodded and settled down on the earth, bidding him to continue. He swallowed hard. It was clearly hard for him to get out, but as another breeze blew your scent into his nose something primal overtook him.
‘All I can think about, is breeding with you’ he rasped. ‘I want you to have my babies, arañita. All I want to do is just- tear through those clothes, and taste your pussy, and web you down so I can penetrate you. I want to- feel you, from the inside. I want to fill your tight little cunt with my seed and plug you so no one else can have you. I want my genes in you so much it hurts.’
You felt your face getting warmer with each word. You were a little offput by the feel of your own clit throbbing in response to his fantasy.
‘If you stay, I won’t have any control. My- urge, is burning me up. So, please…’
With a soft whine he shuffled again, trying his best to not get erect as your dizzying scent filled his nose. You watched as he tried to turn away.
He was giving you the chance to leave. You could go, now, and presumably return when his rut had died down and your ovulation had ended. You could go and pretend this never happened.
That’s what he was offering. But, is that what you wanted?
Part of you was afraid. You didn’t know what would happen if you stayed, and yet, another part of you was deeply curious, and that part was being fed by your fear. You didn’t want to admit it, but the fear aroused you.
You couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Instead, you began to tread the waters of this strange, unbroached pool, coaxing a little more.
‘Why me?’
He turned at your question. It was clear that it was getting harder for him to resist the urge.
‘Is it, just- I’m close by and I’m in heat, so… You know, I’m just- convenient?’
‘No. No, arañita. You’re- perfect’ he murmured, his voice dipping into a slight moan. He seemed like he was on a hair trigger, physically straining under the weight of his own lust.
‘You’re in heat, yes, but it’s more than that. I like you, you’re- kind, and powerful, and thoughtful. You have spider genes, like me, so- we’re genetically compatible. And you’re- you’re, so, small.’ He whined on the word small, like it did something extra perverse to him. ‘Small, safe, strong, beautiful. Unbred.’
He crept a little closer and you sank into the floor, letting his body overshadow your own. He was shaking with intensity, crawling on his belly like a dog begging for scraps.
‘You’re too perfect, you are- priceless. Mi tesoro. I would do anything to have you. Which is why…. Please, I can’t—’
He turned again and physically bit his lip. You could feel his tension like a force, as if just his desire to grab you was manifesting in the air.
And yet, still, you refused to leave.
You couldn’t help it, something about him enticed you. Perhaps you were sensing his hormonal changes as well, and it was swaying some deep and primal part of your mind. Perhaps you were just horny.
But god, you were a pervert too. The idea of that massive man in all his monstrous glory holding you down and taking you in the dirt was so incredibly arousing.
And it’s not like you weren’t attracted to him outside of that. He wasn’t a normal man, but he was ruggedly handsome. You liked his face. You liked his chiselled jaw and open, honest eyes. You liked his thick, stocky, muscular body.
There was an allure to him, one you were quickly realizing might just be enough to make you stay.
You remained seated in the dirt beneath him, and gradually he began to turn back. His eyes widened. You hadn’t left.
‘Are, you—’
‘I can… at least, relieve some of that tension, maybe. If you wanted’ you murmured.
He moved closer on instinct. You could sense the tension in his body as his spider legs tapped back and forth. He was holding back the urge to do something. Web you down? Grab you? All those ideas excited you.
‘I would be a good mate’ he whispered as he bent down towards you. His legs folded so his torso could find yours, his clawed hands cupping your face. ‘I’m strong. I’m fit. I have good genes. Our babies would be well cared for.’
You knew his hormones were compelling him to speak. You didn’t know how to say that none of that stuff bothered you, that all you cared about was letting this ruggedly handsome beast rail you into the dirt until you couldn’t feel your legs.
‘Can- I mean, can we, actually… Are we compatible?’ you whispered.
‘I have some- adaptations, but, yes. I can attach the genetic package to my pedipalps and transfer, or…’ Almost shyly he moved upward, showing off his abdomen. ‘As a partial human, I could… May I show you?’
You gave a quick nod. He looked a little embarrassed at first, but in the heat of the moment he caved.
A small slit widened on the abdomen beneath his torso, right between his two smaller forelegs. The black and red fur parted to reveal an erect phallus. It was red with black veins, long with a slight curve and a thick point at the end.
‘With you, I can just… transfer directly.’
You felt your whole body throb at the sight. Without thinking your hand drifted forward, measuring his erection with your fingers and palm. You almost choked; he was huge. You wrapped your fist around the thick, girthy, veiny shaft and gave it a soft stroke.
‘Ah- mi arañita—’
Miguel’s lips fell apart at your sudden touch. His whole body shuddered and jolted, trying to push it into your hand. You gave in to your own throbbing clit and gingerly gave it a lick.
‘A-Ah-! F-F-Fuck—’ His mouth widened with a mixture of shock and excitement, as the brush of your tongue caused his fangs to flex and involuntarily squirt venom down his jaw.
His whole body shivered with excitement as his phallus throbbed in your hand, precum pooling from the tip. You tasted a bit of that too; it was strangely sweet.
‘Okay, okay- careful, arañita, I don’t- I’ll ravage you if you keep this up. I don’t want to hurt you. Let- let me do you, instead’ he whined.
‘Do, me? How—’
You squeaked as he tripped you, causing your body to fall into his outstretched human arms. With his spider legs he began to draw a line of silk, carefully knitting a kind of sticky hammock for your body to lay on top of. He dropped you into it the second he was done.
‘Come here, mi cariño.’
He bent until his human half was against your belly, his lips kissing from your navel to your inner thigh. You shuffled on the web but its light, sticky coating kept you stuck on your back.
He cupped your lower back in his clawed hand, drawing you up. With your legs now on either side of his head, he buried his face into your clothed pussy.
‘Mm…’
He breathed in deep, letting those sweet pheromones only he could smell fill his brain. His erect phallus throbbed.
‘You- smell so good.’
With his fangs he grabbed and tore a chunk of your suit aside, revealing your panties underneath.
‘H-Hey--!’
In his ravenous, pussy drunk state he didn’t even wait to remove them. He wound his tongue under the fabric and snuck a taste of your clit, eagerly lapping at the sensitive folds beneath. Your body shuddered with pleasure.
‘F-Fuck- careful, ah-‘
‘Need—more—’
With a hiss he pulled back. He allowed his claws to slice your suit from crotch to neck, splitting it open. In seconds your whole naked body was on display.
‘H-Hey, woah! I need that!’
‘I need you- please, fuck—’
His whole body shifted closer as he began to ravage every part of you he could get at. You felt his clawed hands squeezing and pinching your belly and waist as his lips caressed your chest, eagerly sucking on and biting at your nipples.
He ran a line of kisses down your body to your thighs. There, with one final, guttural growl, he tore your panties aside. You felt him breath in your scent. One deep breath in and one deep, hot breath out, one that caused your hips to squirm at the sensitivity.
‘Mine.’
With that final word he buried his face into your cunt. You let out a breathy scream, one that was quickly drowned by the empty forest. No one would hear you here but him.
Miguel continued to let out muffled groans as he sucked on your clit. He settled with his nose gently bumping the tip of your lips as he lapped at that sensitive nub, his head bobbing with each hard movement as he savoured the taste.
You were embarrassed at how quickly he managed to hit your spot. Your body was already hot and tight from just the thought of this, but the taboo of letting this monster touch you like this in the open forest was making you so much hotter.
You knew you shouldn’t be doing this. You had no idea what he could do to you, but that made it so much better.
Your skin was flushed, beading with sweat, and your clit was swollen to the point that it hurt. It was throbbing with a carnal need to be pleasured, and right now his tongue was doing a heavenly job of easing that ache. Now trapped in his web with his lips on your cunt, his gorgeous face perfectly framed between your thighs, your climax was inevitable. It rose up like a wildfire.
‘Migual- fuck, I’m gonna—’
With a soul-shattering shudder you came on his tongue. Your hips bucked with each flood of pleasure, your body jolting against your will. Your mouth fell open and a low, desperate moan left your lips, all while Miguel continued to suck on your clit.
‘Oh, fuck—fuck you’re so, good, y-you’re so good Mig, fuck…!’
Soon your body was lulling in that post-cum exhaustion, your chest heaving as you panted. You expected to have some time to recollect yourself, but Miguel had other ideas. He wiped his jaw clean of your gushing slick and pulled himself up to leer over your body. He looked utterly intoxicated, practically high off your body.
A low, grating noise left his throat as he put his left hand on your wrists, pinning them together, while his right hand went down to your soaked slit.
You didn’t see his hand enter you, but you felt it. You let out a raspy moan as one of his thick fingers penetrated your untouched hole, followed by a mewling whine as his thumb hit your overstimulated clit. He bit his lower lip as you squirmed on his hand.
‘That’s it’ he murmured, his voice husky. ‘One more for me, please. I need to- I need to make sure you’re ready for me.’
He started with one finger but soon moved to two, then finally pushing you to three. His fingers were rough and calloused from living in the forest, and you felt them very clearly as they began to squish in and out of your body.
Between the hard thrusts of his fingers and his thumb gently stroking your spot, not to mention the terrifyingly arousing image of his half spider body leering down over your head, you quickly shuddered into your second climax.
‘Good, arañita’ he praised, practically breathless as he watched you mewl and whine and spasm on his hand. His cock twitched again with anticipation. ‘Good, good arañita. Thank you.’
Miguel carefully slipped his hand aside, greedily licking your juices from his claws. You were utterly drained, your body limp at his feet.
He narrowed his eyes. You were in the perfect state.
With careful movements Miguel bent down until his hands could find yours. He interlocked your fingers together and pressed his lips to your own, and even in your dizzy state you managed to return the kiss.
The distraction of his lips allowed him to carefully pull away the rest of your tattered suit with his spider legs, leaving you fully naked. When the cold air hit your skin he parted his lips, letting his tongue slip into your mouth to further distract you. You eagerly gave in.
‘Mm- Miguel—’
His name was muffled on your lips by his own tongue as he moved to lift you into his arms. He broke the kiss once you were fully supported in his grip, allowing a long line of saliva to hang between you. He panted, hard, and licked your spit into his mouth before licking his fangs.
‘Now, mi arañita, may I have the honor of mating with you?’ he begged.
You gave a shaky, sleepy nod. ‘Y-Yes, please. Please.’
Miguel didn’t waste any time. He knew this was his one chance, and his primal spider senses were hounding him to consummate. With your body limp in his arms he crept towards one of the larger pines.
‘Shh, careful. I’m- going to put you up here, it’ll make it easier for your bodies to fit together’ he soothed. You just moaned.
Miguel held you with utmost care as he started to spin new webs, this time using them to carefully stick your body in place against the tree. He webbed your waist and belly in place before webbing your legs on either side of the trunk, keeping them spread, and at last finished by webbing your wrists together above your head.
The subtle binding was another part of his instinctual ritual. It was supposed to keep you calm. In truth, as you stirred in his web, it just excited you more.
Now bound and naked against the enormous oak you shuffled in the web, testing its strength. It held firm. It was sticky on your skin, warm and sinewy on the flesh, tight but not constrictive.
You could squirm, yes, but you couldn’t break free, and most importantly your legs were stuck in their separated position. You were shamelessly spread wide, and the cold air on your drenched sex was sending chills up your spine. Your hole clenched around nothing.
‘F-Fuck, ah- okay, okay—’
You glanced down and watched as Miguel began to climb the tree. He mounted you with absolute care, keeping his human torso close to yours as his spider body curled between your spread legs.
‘That’s it. I’ll be gentle’ he whispered. ‘I’ll be- careful, just- please, let me fuck you.’
You bit your lip as he pushed up. You could feel his phallus twitching for attention as his breath hit your forehead. You could tell even just from the tip nudging at you, desperately probing your slit, that he was going to split you open.
‘Ah- Miguel—’
He nestled into your hair, breathing in your scent. ‘This- might hurt a bit, but, I will be gentle. Just try to relax.’
‘F-Fuck—’
Your breath came short as he started to slip inside you.
His phallus was huge, smooth but huge, and his entrance was a struggle. He had to pump it carefully to get it deeper. Your slick was helping him loosen you up but even at your most aroused it was barely enough, and he was forced to nudge at your cunt to make it stretch for his girth.
He grit his teeth to stop himself pushing you too far. ‘Come on- come on, let me- in, please—’
After a good few pumps and a few squirms from you, he finally fit. He was inside you. You winced as he bottomed out.
‘F-Fuck, Mig you’re- huge—’
‘Ah… ah, that’s it. That’s it. You’re mine now, arañita. It’s done. It’s over.’
You were stuffed to the point of being immobile. Every little motion you did made you painfully aware of his cock inside you, throbbing and compressing on every inch of your insides.
You stole a shaky glance down, and realized with both horror and arousal that there was a bulge in your belly where’d he’d pushed in.
Miguel groaned and dug his claws into the bark on either side of your head. He must have sensed your discomfort as he quickly moved to keeping you distracted.
‘Mi hermosa arañita’ he praised, his lips brushing your forehead. ‘You feel- delicious.’
As he showered you in kisses and praise, he started to rut between your legs. His entire, enormous abdomen began to jerk back and forth, sliding his phallus in and out.
‘That’s it, just take it. You’re taking it so well.’
‘Fuck, fuck- Mig, you- feel so, good—’
‘That’s it, you can take it. Mm… Mm… Just let me breed with you, please.’
You lay back as he started to bite at your neck, eagerly nibbling and rolling the flesh between his fangs. You tried to adjust to the sensation.
It was strange, the feel of hot skin against your bare chest mixed with the rough, fluffy flesh of his spider half, both rubbing against your body as he pushed in and out. You could feel him moaning against your skin.
He started to thrust a little harder, drawing almost all the way out before pumping back in. You felt his abdomen smacking against yours with each gruff penetration. A cacophony of sound filled the quiet forest: the smack of skin on skin, the wet sliding squelch of slick and cum, the soft rustling of his spider body and the desperate pants and moans from your joint mouths.
You let out an extra loud moan as his cock began to rib at your g-spot. You clenched him, tight, and he scraped the bark by your head in response.
‘I can’t- believe, I- get to mate with you’ he whined. He seemed rapturous. ‘You’re such a- perfect catch.’
He began to grunt rhythmically with each insertion. You could feel him probing, touching, tasting every inch of your insides. His soft front-legs were pawing at your hips.
‘I would have fought for you’ he hissed. You clenched harder as he nudged at your cervix, right at the same moment his foreleg found its way to your clit. He began to massage that little knub as his thrusting continued.
‘I would have killed males twice my size for you. All for you.’
‘Mig…. Ah—’
You let out a shameless whine as he hit each spot. You were already overstimulated from cumming twice, and now his girthy phallus was bullying you from the inside while his sensitive foreleg began to bully your clit.
‘But you’re all mine’ he groaned. ‘You- gave, yourself- to me—’
Your bodies were almost totally glued together at this point, with sweat and webbing connecting you by the skin. His hot, sweaty abs and pecs were squished against your chest and belly, each moving in unison as he fucked you into submission.
You rasped with a mixture of pain and pleasure as he started to get rough. He bared his fangs against your cheek in a territorial display.
‘My mate. Mi tesoro. Mi arañita. Mine.’
Between the wet slip of his cock and the soft massaging of your clit, you could feel a third orgasm rising. It felt so much more intense like this. You kept tensing and twitching, your muscles squeezing him tight, allowing you to feel every single veiny inch of his shaft.
He must have noticed you getting close as he started to whine, begging and nestling himself into your hair like he was pleading for your favor.
‘Cum for me’ he groaned. ‘I want to feel it. Please. Ah—cum on my cock, please.’
He started to speed up as if he could force it out of you. Somehow, he was right.
With an exhausted shudder you climaxed for the third time. You screamed for this one, as your mind went blank the moment those orgasmic spasms rippled through your body. It was so much more intense while being fucked. You felt his cock nudging each violent burst of pleasure from inside you, and his self-satisfied whines against your head just added to your gratification.
‘Thank you, thank you—’ With each desperate expression of gratitude Miguel gave another sharp thrust.
Your body was a mess at this point, and all you could do was relax into the binding web and let him have you. He continued to hump vigorously towards his own climax.
He could feel it getting close. He could feel the throbbing of his cock increasing, as every hair on his body stood up. His vision was getting spotty. Some deep animal part of his brain took hold and compelled him with one overpowering desire: he had to cum in you. He had to cum now.
‘Okay, just- gotta, feed it through- gently now—’
Miguel grit his teeth as his cock throbbed. He couldn’t hold back anymore.
‘I’m- going to cum in you now, okay? Just, a-ah- stay still. This will probably feel, strange—’
You squirmed in the bindings as he started to pump harder. He was erratic, rough, utterly drunk on his own primal desires.  
‘Just like that, just- take it gently—’
And then, you felt it. He orgasmed abruptly inside you with a guttural moan, and bit by bit you felt his cock pulsing that thick seed into your pussy.
It was strange, like he’d warned. Load after load, rope after thick rope, filled the limited space of your insides until it was physically leaking down his shaft. He had to pull back and give shorter, desperate little humps to make room while still filling you with the last of his seed. You moaned through it all.
Slowly the throbs got shorter, less violent, until he’d thrust the last spurt into your opening. The two of you collapsed into a whining, panting mess.
‘Ah… finally. Finally.’
As he slipped out you realized that he’d squirted some kind of web secretion alongside his ejaculate, and your inner thighs was now coated in sticky webbing. You whined at the sight, as did he.
He was fixated on the cum oozing from your body and down your thighs. It was ridiculously thick. He was proud of that, but he couldn’t stand to see it wasted.
Using one of his spider legs he gently scooped up what cum he could and pushed it back inside you. He nudged it deeper, as deep as he could, before shifting his abdomen down and sealing you off with another smearing of web. You were too exhausted to even move.
‘Perfect’ he purred. ‘There. That-that should keep you plugged. Thank you, I can’t- say that enough, thank you.’ He pressed one shaky kiss to your forehead alongside his thanks.
In that post-cum daze you tried to gather your thoughts.
Oh god, what had you done? Had you really just done this? Had sex with a massive spider hybrid, unprotected?
Before you could think about it Miguel had begun cutting you down. He released your body from the thick web, but he didn’t let you go free. Instead, he wrapped you into a thin sheen of silk that acted as a blanket, covering you from the cold, before taking you into his human arms and carrying you down to his den.
It was a slightly uneven oval made of webbing, suspended between two giant pine trees with a small hole for entrance. He slid inside with your body tight to his chest.
‘Here, mi tesoro. You rest. You did so good.’
As you turned to look around you were surprised to find that the room was far warmer inside than its eerie exterior implied. He’d hung little firefly lamps on the walls to give it a soft orange glow, and the floor was covered in crude furniture made from wood and leaves. He had tables, desks, all covered in similar half-finished technology that the other Miguel’s office had, but he also had hand-crafted chairs and shelves adorning his home.
He crawled through the cosy little nest and lay you down on a silk-spun mattress in the corner. You sank into it immediately.
‘Ah… t-thank you’ you mumbled. Miguel just chuckled.
‘It’s the least I can do. You’ve done far more for me.’
You were too busy enjoying the luxurious bed to notice Miguel as he sank down beside you. His weight on the mattress did cause your body to bounce a few inches into the air, but the moment he settled you slid down to nestle against his side.
‘What’d you mean? I- barely did anything’ you asked with a yawn.
He pulled you in close and sighed. ‘You fool’ he murmured affectionately, ‘you gave me everything. I’m not stupid. Mating with me can’t be easy.’
‘Mm… I mean, I thought it was, really easy’ you sleepily chuckled. ‘Almost too easy.’
He gave a little exasperated head shake. Really you could have been saying anything right now and it would have endeared him to you. He already liked you, but now his hormones on top of that were compelling him to protect you, to keep you.  
‘Pretty little thing’ he whispered. You didn’t hear.
For an hour or so you drifted in and out of sleep at his side while he kept watch. He guarded your body jealously, like a dragon over treasure, with his dark red eyes solemnly fixed on the door. It was like he was waiting for someone to take you away.
As the sun began to set you finally awoke properly, and realized just how long you’d been absent. You noticed your watch beeping and groaned.
‘Argh… I should probably get back to work, but… I really just want to stay here’ you grumbled. The idea of leaving this place, where you were treated so tenderly as this special little one in a million creature, it was difficult to justify.
To your surprise Miguel bristled when you mentioned leaving, his soft black and red hair standing on end. You felt his claws grip you a little tighter.  
‘Ideally, I’m- supposed to keep you here’ Miguel murmured.
‘What? Why?’
‘Can’t have any competition.’
You felt his hands squeezing your flesh as he pulled you close to his abdomen. It was so warm, so strangely fuzzy and soft.
‘I… I assumed that was what the sealing was for.’
Miguel sniffed, his lip curling to reveal one of his fangs. ‘It is. But someone could remove it.’
You let out a sleepy chuckle. ‘Who?’
His eyes narrowed then, his fangs fully bared. ‘Your boss, for example. My, other variation. If you go back, and he smells you, he could… well, like I said, we are territorial. We don’t like competition. He would attempt to clean you of my genes and probably replace them with his own, if he could entice you.’
You blinked in surprise at this revelation. Wait, was that why HQ Miguel kept looking at you strangely? Did he know? Could he, as Miguel here said, smell it?
‘But… I thought, you were rutting because the- I don’t wanna be mean, but um- the splicing? You, being—’
‘He’s just as half-spider as I am’ Miguel grumbled. ‘He just doesn’t look it. But I guarantee he can smell the same as me, he- feels the same urges.’
‘I- Huh. Huh.’
You rolled onto your back to ponder that fact. Mig had always been honest enough, so you believed him that he at least believed the other Miguel would try to entice you too. Did that mean it was actually dangerous to return? Would anyone else smell Mig on you?
Your mind wondered back to the issue of what exactly you’d done here. Was this a mistake? Should you have let this giant spider monster have sex with you?
Now that you were more lucid, the answer was clear. Yes. A thousand times yes.
‘You know, Mig, the- benefit, to being partly human, is I can say very clearly that I don’t want anyone else.’
You felt him bristle with surprise as you spoke.
‘You… you don’t?’
‘Nope.’
‘But- me?’
‘Yeah. You. I like… big.’
The soft arousal in his eyes was palpable. You liked the way his little abdomen twitched and wriggled, almost like a dog shaking its tail.
‘You… You like, me? You liked… it?’
You let your eyelids droop as you pressed against his lower human half, stroking the curves of his pelvic muscles.
‘I like big. I like- rough. I like you.’
His back spider leg did a little stamp against the webbed floor. He was adorably excited by even that small compliment. He bent down to your height while emitting a low purring noise from his throat.  
‘Well… most, spiders, ideally try to mate multiple times. If the, partner is willing’ he murmured. You could already hear that the brief respite your copulation had brought was slipping away. His voice had dipped, growing husky and smooth, a sure sign of his hormonal heat returning. You gave a sleepy chuckle.
‘What about the seal?’
‘I’ll remove it’ he purred. ‘I’ll remove it, cum in you again and then seal you back up. Over, and over.’
Just the words caused a soft moan to escape your lips. You curled closer. ‘Mm. You’re lucky I enjoyed it then. Can I at least rest up a bit first, though?’
His eyes were affectionate as he watched you curl into a ball against his fluffy abdomen.
‘Of course, arañita.’ Miguel bent to press his lips to your cheek. ‘Rest all you want. But… I will have you again.’
His soft words and warm breath made you shudder. There was an intensity in those words. ‘I will take you again, and again, until it sticks.’
‘Don’t- don’t you mean, just, until the heat finishes?’
A soft smile spread across his face as his eyelids drooped. ‘No. Because it will stick. There’s no doubt about that. I will get you pregnant.’
You gasped as his teeth suddenly hit your neck, his lips trailing down your naked chest. You felt his full weight as he held you beneath him.
‘I just hope it takes a little longer, so I can enjoy you fully. Mi hermosa arañita.’
Link to part four
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elitadream · 8 months
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Idk if you’re doing it for this purpose at all but “Mario’s” eyes in the body swap art are so intense with the shading, they look so sunken and hollow. I just imagine Bowser is doing absolutely nothing to maintain the health of Mario’s body. They’re gonna swap back and Mario is gonna feel so exhausted and hungry bc Bowser didn’t bother with any of that, he had more important things to do (like be a total creep)
Oh I'm so happy that someone has pointed this out! :D Okay, so here's a direct comparison:
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One thing I did right away to give Bowser a more evil gaze was make the pupils a lot smaller. That's where a good portion of the intensity comes from. The size of the pupils and irises always plays a huge part in a character's overall friendliness, and it applies for both extremes.
As for the shadows and wrinkles, they make the white areas of the eyes stand out more, which tends to further accentuate that intensity. Even when he's relaxed, my Bowser indeed has those visible creases, but that's mostly because he squints a lot. He's got that typical "evil glare", if you will! 😆 Though I gotta say I love your interpretation of Bowser also neglecting Mario's body to the point where it shows! 👀 I'm definitely keeping that! 👏
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